Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target but I own a laptop and I'm not afraid to use it...
Author's note: Time for another case-fic and this one is set roughly sometime after Dead Head in season 2. Sorry no Chance/Ilsa shipping in this one as I'm holding off on that until I see where the show is taking their relationship, although there may be a little UST between them. In my mind Pen is played by Zoe Bell, stunt woman and sometime actress whose work most people will have seen even if they don't recognise the name. She was the nutter strapped to the front of the Dodge Charger in Death Proof and she broke her back during filming Kill Bill Vol 2 when she was doubling for Uma Thurman. According to Tarentino she didn't even notice until a month later. The woman is as badass as they come!
"Has anyone seen Chance or Guerrero today?" Winston shouted to the office at large.
Ilsa Pucci poked her head out of her office to see what had got him so worked up and Ames appeared out of the kitchen, a bowl of unnaturally coloured cereal in her hand.
"Is there a problem Mr Winston?" Ilsa enquired.
"No," Winston sighed. "I suppose not. Chance was supposed to be going through our ammo inventory with me this morning but I haven't seen hide nor hair of him since last night. I guess it can wait."
"Have you checked upstairs yet?" Ames asked. "He's not always, you know, a morning person."
"First place I checked." Winston replied, trying not to snap at her as she was trying to be helpful. "I don't think he even slept here last night."
"Hey! Maybe he got lucky!" Ames grinned and poked her tongue out.
Winston looked to Ilsa, to see if she responded to Ames' remark. There had definitely been a weird vibe between her and Chance lately, but all he saw was a brief flicker in Ilsa's otherwise businesslike expression. Winston couldn't tell what Ilsa was reacting to, the crude nature of the suggestion, or the thought of Chance with an unknown woman.
"Mr Chance is as entitled to a private life as any of us are." Ilsa said rather stiffly. "I'm sure he'll turn up in good time. And as for Mr Guerrero, I prefer not to think about what he gets up to when he's on his own time. He does seem to pop up out of the woodwork when there's a case."
"Maybe I'll give Chance's cell another call." Winston said.
As he was dialling, the freight elevator doors opened and out sprawled Chance and a blonde woman, followed by Guerrero, who carefully stepped over them. Chance and the woman were laughing almost hysterically and even Guerrero seemed to be smiling as he hauled the strange woman to her feet.
"Get your lazy ass of the floor." Guerrero said to Chance, who seemed to be perfectly content to lay laughing on the floor. "A ride home is one thing, dude, but I'm so not carrying you upstairs, either of you."
The woman snapped to an approximation of attention and gave Guerrero a sarcastic little salute whilst Chance got unsteadily to his feet. Guerrero rolled his eyes but there was still a hint of a smile on his face.
Ames made no effort to disguise the fact that she was scrutinising Chance's companion. She wasn't really the type of woman she'd envisaged him spending the night with. Ames had pictured Chance with someone classy, elegant maybe; someone a bit more like Ilsa. The woman Guerrero had just dragged to her feet was nothing of the sort. She was blonde and tanned but naturally, as the result of working outdoors rather than from the effects of spray on tan and peroxide, and her shoulder length wavy hair was pulled back into a messy pony-tail. She wasn't dressed so much casually as haphazardly in ripped jeans, a stained grey tank top and a beat-up old biker jacket. A pair of decrepit pink flat heeled sandals held together with duct tape and string completed the look.
Ilsa didn't know what to make of the woman and had just opened her mouth to ask what on earth was going on when the strange woman caught sight of Winston.
"Winnie!" The new comer yelled with obvious delight and literally threw herself at him, forcing him to catch her in an awkward hug.
"Oh hell, I should have known!" Winston said sternly, despite the fact he was smiling at the odd woman as he set her back on her feet. "Penny Dreadful, when did you wash up?"
"Last night." She grinned at him.
"And more to the point, how much have you and Chance had to drink?" Winston added wafting a hand in front of his face. "Nobody light a match."
"Will someone please tell me who this woman is and what she is doing here?" Ilsa demanded.
"Ilsa this is Pen. She's an old friend." Chance said.
"Mr Chance, are you drunk at," Ilsa looked at her watch. "Ten o'clock in the morning?"
"No. Absolutely not." Chance replied, making some effort to control the laughter that Ilsa's indignant tone only seemed to aggravate. "Well, maybe a little."
Ilsa looked furious.
"Don't be mad Ilsa." Chance said leaning back heavily against the wall trying to reign in his laughter to one of his boyish smiles. "I've found us a job."
"I'm not willing to discuss anything with you until you sober up." Ilsa replied. "For god's sake Chance sort yourself out. Winston, maybe you could get…Pen was it?" The woman nodded happily. "…a cup of coffee and we can talk about things properly later. This is still a place of business and I have work to do."
Ilsa retreated to her office and shut the door behind her. As soon as she was gone Pen erupted with laughter.
"That's your new boss?" Pen shrieked with laughter.
"Partner actually. Not boss." Chance corrected.
"Has anyone told her that?"
"Repeatedly." Chance grimaced.
Half an hour later Pen, Chance and Guerrero were sitting around the kitchen table tucking in to a huge cooked breakfast as Winston attempted to sober them up with copious amounts of coffee. Guerrero didn't seem to be drunk but he wasn't one to pass up a free meal if one was on offer so Winston grudgingly cooked for him too.
"Who is she?" Ames asked Winston as he broke another half dozen eggs into a frying pan.
"Penny Dreadful? She's one of Guerrero's contacts." Winston explained. "She captains the kind of boat that doesn't make pit stops for little things like customs and the coast guard."
"Winnie, please!" Pen said as she got up and attempted to fling an arm around Winston's neck, undeterred by the difference in height. "We're like family and you know it!"
"Is it gonna do me any good to remind you not to call me Winnie?" Winston groaned.
"Nope." Pen grinned, giving Winston a sharp poke to the belly with one finger. "It suit's you."
"Why did he call you Penny Dreadful?" Ames asked, fascinated by the way Pen teased Winston and got away with it. "It sounds like a pirate name."
"Nah." Penny replied as she grabbed the toast that popped out of the rapidly overheating toaster. "My dad was the pirate. I'm more of a free spirit with a healthy disrespect for authority. More Han Solo than Jack Sparrow."
Pen ruffled Ames' hair roughly as if she were a small child despite the fact she was probably only five or six years older than Ames herself. Ames slapped her hand away, which only seemed to amuse the older woman.
"So what's with jail-bait here? Has she got skills or is she just window dressing?" Pen asked as she pulled herself up on to the worktop close enough to interfere with Winston's cooking.
"Hey!" Ames objected. "I'm a highly valuable member of the team! And FYI, I'm twenty-five so I'm not jail-bait!"
"Ames is kinda a trainee." Guerrero said. "She was a thief and a grifter that we picked up on a job. Now we seem to be stuck with her, she's trying to learn the ropes."
"Like I said, I'm a valuable member of the team." Ames said glaring at Guerrero with all the bravado she could muster.
"She comes in handy sometimes." Chance conceded, feeling a small pang of pity for Ames at Guerrero's assessment of her role.
"You guys would be lost without me and you know it." Ames said, putting more bread in the toaster.
"I can totally see that, jail-bait." Pen said with mock seriousness.
Ames knew she was still being made fun of but decided it was easier just to let it go. Her curiosity over Pen's nickname was still piqued and she hadn't got an answer.
"So what's the deal with the Penny Dreadful thing then?" She asked.
"Penny here earned that nickname when she castrated one of her father's crew after he got a bit over-friendly." Guerrero explained. "She was twelve at the time, I think."
Ames' eyes widened in surprise, although she wasn't sure if Guerrero was joking or not.
"I was not!" Pen laughed, throwing a convenient plate at Guerrero's head. He ducked and it hit the wall behind him and Ames was surprised to see that far from being angry, he was actually grinning at his assailant.
"Hey!" Winston objected, waving a spatula at Pen. "Quit using the dinnerware like frisbies!"
"It saves on the washing up." Guerrero smirked.
"Actually I was fourteen not twelve and I didn't castrate the guy I only ruptured one of his testicles." Pen explained to Ames.
"Yeah," Guerrero said, "but the damage was so bad they had to cut it off when he finally got to a hospital so what's the difference?"
"Okay." Chance said, pushing his plate away. "You guys have officially put me off my eggs."
"You couldn't have decided that before now?" Winston complained, indicating the half dozen fried eggs that were ready in the frying pan he was holding.
"No one was talking about ruptured testicles before now." Chance pointed out.
"Here, gimmee." Said Pen sliding down from the counter top and relieving Winston of the frying pan. "I'll eat a couple and I'm sure Guerrero will polish off the rest. Unless you want some, jail-bait?"
Ames sighed and rolled her eyes. The gesture made her seem every bit the sulky teenager that Pen had teased her for resembling.
"Sure why not? But my name is Ames, not jail-bait."
"Sure kiddo." Pen said dumping a couple of eggs on a plate and handing it to her. "Whatever you prefer."
Winston helped himself to a cup of coffee and joined them at the table.
"So, what brings you to San Francisco?" He asked.. "Have you really got a job for us?"
"Oh, have I got a job for you." Pen said between mouthfuls of egg. "It's right up your street although I can't guarantee the money will be great."
"That's not a huge issue for us anymore." Chance said.
"Speak for yourself." Muttered Guerrero.
"I kinda got stuck with a cargo and I need you to take care of it." Pen said cryptically.
At the mention of cargo Guerrero's eyes lit up.
"What is it?" He asked. "Is it guns?"
"Oh, god no!" Winston groaned. "Don't let it be guns. Not after the last time!"
"Chill Winston." Pen laughed. "It's not guns. It's a person. Someone who could use the kind of help you guys provide."
To be continued...