Chapter Four
Get Along (Like a House on Fire)
The building they approached was not particularly an inconspicuous one. One could have attributed that to the fact that it was selling itself as a small business, despite it being plastered with some of the most modern updates that technology could offer. They could also point out the fact that the establishment was plastered with posters advertising artillery, demolitions equipment, and other items of debatable legality. The biggest giveaway to the shady nature of the business, though, was the droves of suspicious looking individuals crowded around it—weapons at their sides, and ill intentions gleaming in their eyes.
Stella curled fearfully against the side of the polar bear currently propping her up against his head—looking to the other side she was met with the enthusiastic grin of the explosive duck perched on Bark's other shoulder. He seemed eerily comfortable with this place…familiar with it, even. Really, all of them did. She supposed that three mercenaries who were constantly either packing heat or capable of punching assailants into the next country wouldn't be bothered by this kind of place. It was probably their specialty.
Nack had his head bowed, though, using his hat to shade his face. Though he was very familiar with this particular agency—hell, it was the biggest in Mobius—he knew damn well that he wasn't particularly wanted near it. Nack wasn't really wanted near ANY agency. He wasn't too sure if Bean and Bark were more welcome than he was, but taking a guess based on Bean's habits, the weasel would have to guess that they weren't. Especially since they were getting just as many glares as their boss was.
"W-what is this place…?" Stella stuttered quietly.
"On the outside? Hiring agency. Supposed to get jobs for people." Nack replied as he pushed through the doors, still trying to avoid eye contact with those populating the general vicinity. "In reality they're the biggest agency in Mobius for mercenaries that are willing to do work that's, ah…on the less LEGAL side."
"So hitmen?"
"Hitmen, thieves, whatever strikes 'em. You can hire 'em here. A lotta jobs go through here. If ya had known better you would've come here before hiring us." Nack commented. "But you got the best in the industry instead of wasting yer time on some dime a dozen jackass."
"My dime is pretty impressive in comparison to your penny, boy."
Nack froze as a massive shadow fell over the three of them, both hands going to his hat to pull it completely over his face. Bark turned around to face them at the abnormally huge warthog towering over them—it seemed almost unnatural for a pig to grow to such insane proportions yet there he stood. Each of his tusks was sharpened to a razor tip, with patterns carved into the hard white bone. Messy fur seemed to be matted with a conglomeration of snot, mud, and some dried substance that the mercenaries could only assume was blood. A deceptive, poorly fitted suit was pulled across the boar's massive back—unable to button up, it left his ratty and torn pinstripe vest to be seen. That, and the pair of fifty caliber wheel lock pistols tucked into his belt ringed in bullet cases.
"Well, I'll be damned, if it ain't good ol' Fang the Sniper! Oh, but 'scuse me, it ain't Fang, is it? Nack, innit tha' right?" The massive warthog pushed past Bark, Bean, and Stella to pluck Nack's hat off his head. The weasel cringed. "Been a long time since I see your ugly little mug around this place!"
"It damn well has, Jeb, and ya won't have to see me much longer." Nack grinned—unconvincingly—as he spun around and grabbed his hat out of the hog's hoof. "Because we ain't here to talk to you, we're here to talk to the owner of this fine hellhole that tries to pass for an establishment."
"Oh, is ya now?" Jeb leaned downwards, scrapping the tip of his tusk against the weasel's face—a thin trail of blood ran down from the cut and Nack took a step back. The warthog let out a gruff chuckle. "You always was a little girl, you know that? Always runnin' away at the first notice. But this time, you ain't gonna be runnin' away from ol' Jeb the Tusk. Because ol' Jeb the Tusk done bought this agency out a few years ago."
"WHAT?! You're the OWNER now?!" Bark and Bean stared, the latter with perplexed amusement, at the extreme reaction from their boss. "Ahaha…you're screwing with me, right? That's it, RIGHT?"
"Boy, I ain't got nothin' to gain from lying about this. In fact, I'd say I've got more to GAIN from it. HELL of a lot more." Jeb leaned forward, fixing the weasel with a menacing grin. "You done been owin' me some retribution for some of the crud you pulled over on me before, Nack."
"W-whoa now, that wasn't my idea—"
"BOY, I WILL HAVE YOUR HEAD IF YOU ACCUSE MY DARLIN' OF COMIN' UP WITH YOUR SCAM!" Jeb roared, slamming one foot against the wooden floor—it groaned under the stress. Many of the mercenaries in the room were now mumbling to each other as they stared at the massive warthog and the now shivering weasel pressed up against the wall. The tusked beast wore an unmistakable snarl, thick rolls of spit rolling off his teeth as he reached for one of his guns.
Before he could, a gloved hand rested on his shoulder.
With a snort, the warthog turned to face the polar bear. Bark's face was blank, but his fist was clenched in front of him. Aside his arm rested the green demolitions expert, fingers positioned and ready to summon a plethora of bombs. Still frothing at the mouth, Jeb cast an inspecting eye over the two Hooligans—just a quick glance could tell the boar that there was a substantial amount of muscle and strength underneath the thick yellow fur of the large bear. His little companion didn't seem strong from a cursory glance but something about the way he held himself made Jeb somewhat…uncomfortable. There was something inherently threatening about the pair.
He slowly released his grip on his gun and pulled his hand next to his head. A feral grin passed underneath the sharp bone of his tusks; all he received in response was a stern nod from Bark and a chuckle from the green bird on his arm.
"Look, Stabby-slobber, we get that a lot of people have a grudge against Tooth but we'd also kinda prefer him not dead. Most of the time." Bean explained casually, dropping his hand and draping himself against Bark's arm. The pig raised an eyebrow. "According to Tooth we're gonna be needing your help, so if you could maybe wait to kill him that'd be great. After all, aren't you a business doer now? Not really the way to show yourself, y'know."
"Tch, business 'doer'….jus' look at that, boy, even your own team wants don't like ya." Jeb snorted, smacking the weasel out from against the wall with one large hoof. Nack stumbled forward awkwardly, landing in an undignified heap at Bark's feet—the bear picked him up and slung him under his arm below Bean. "Not that it matters. I ain't got no reason to do business with ya, and I ain't got reason to HELP ya either. So go chase yer own tail somewhere else."
The warthog turned his back to the Hooligans, muttering to himself under his breath as he fixed his rumpled suit and misaligned cuffs. Stella peaked out from behind Bark to watch the giant lumbering off to his office door. She shot a reprimanding glare at Nack, patting her jacket where the diamond was hidden away. Her finger pointed insistently at the boar, then crossed over each over in the symbol of an X. Nack paled—this was seeming too close to the point of getting fired from the chance of a fifty million dollar payout.
"I can pay you back!"
Jeb paused, casting a glance back at the Hooligans.
"What'd ya say to me, weasel?" The suited pig said. His tone was deceptively calm but his furious eyes spoke a different story. "Son…you stole a hefty million dollars from me five years ago, AND you had the audacity to try and take m'wife with ya. And if THAT weren't enough, you decided to dump my beautiful lady in the middle a' nowhere, take the money, and promptly lose it gamblin'. And you think you can PAY me BACK for that?"
"I…if you help us find what we need to know, I can give you all your money back. DOUBLE your money!" Nack stuttered—he had to reassure himself that two million out of a fifty million dollar payout would still leave him a pretty amount of money. It still gained him some incredulous looks from Bean and Bark. Jeb tugged thoughtfully at his beard.
"Triple. For losses. M'wife and I got divorced, y'know."
"TRIPLE?! You conniving—" Nack hissed, only to have his tail roughly tugged by Stella. She glared at him and made the X symbol with her fingers again. "…FINE. Triple your money."
"…You've got yourself a deal, boy. Step into my office and I'll help ya find whatever information yer sleazy little guts desire." Jeb gestured them forward with one massive hoof. Stella pushed—pointlessly—against Bark's back and he followed the warthog through a side door, Nack and Bean still hanging off him. A look of puzzlement passed over the warthog's face when he saw the small child trailing behind the trio. "Who the hell is this? You adoptin' now?"
"She's our client!" Bean chirped.
"…Ya gotta be kiddin' me." Jeb muttered, closing the door behind the four.
" Afraid not, Jeb. Just trust me on this one." Nack interrupted, flopping back into one of the chairs by the desk. His ego seemed to have returned full force once the imminent threat of being gorged was gone. It didn't seem to impress the suited warthog, though—he just let out a derisive snort.
"Trust YOU? That's the funniest shit I've heard all day. And I hear some funny shit from the idiots who come in here tryin' to fleece me for higher payin' jobs." Jeb groaned heavily, lowering his massive girth into the office chair behind the desk. "I'm just shootin' in the dark by givin' you the benefit of the doubt that you'll come through on the money you say you'll give me. It'd just be awfully nice to see yer half-assed self handin' me three times the money you owe me."
"Yeah, yeah, you always were a kind and generous type." Nack groused. "Can we get down to business?"
"A'course, a'course. You came here for information, yeah? What exactly is it that yer needin' to know?" Jeb rustled through the drawers of his desk to finally pull out a thick cigar, lighting it with a quick snap of a match. "I'll admit, I'm surprised to see ya here askin' me for information regardin' a job. Ya usually do yer own recon work, or have one of yer stooges do it for ya."
"Yeah, well, my current stooges ain't too there in the brains department." Nack commented, dismissively waving an arm in Bark and Bean's direction. The bird clutched at his chest to feign hurt. "Besides, this is the kind of information that only a place like your little agency here would have."
"Never thought I'd hear ya say that." Jeb chuckled, leaning forward. "So what is it that this fine establish can get ya?"
"I need to know if anyone here accepted a job with any relations to the Frost family, up in the Aurora Icefield." Nack explained. "Who submitted the job for hire, who accepted it, and the final status of the job would be nice."
"Well, we don't get many jobs up there. It's a pretty barren place aside from a few local organizations and a eccentric billionaire or two." Jeb mused. He spun his chair around to kick open one of the file cabinets behind him, leafing through the files. "Frost family, though, I think we've gotten a few requests not only regarding them but directly FROM them. They've got branches of their folks spread out all over Mobius. It's just the main branch that lives in the Aurora Icefield."
"You seem to know an awful lot about this."
"Like I said, we ain't just got requests regarding them. We've got requests directly from them. Never from the main branch, typically from the rotten fruit that they call an extended family." Jeb replied. He stopped at one file, pushing his tusk through a hole punched in the top corner of the manila envelope. "This was the most recent one that had anythin' to do with them, but I can't tell ya if its really related or not. The request was put in about a year or two ago."
"That fits the timeline!" Stella interrupted. Nack slapped a hand over the girl's mouth and shot a nervous smile at Jeb; the warthog simply raised a brow.
"It's a pretty standard request, by which I mean it's pretty god damn obscure about the intentions. The person hirin' didn't disclose her name, jus' set up a meeting spot with the hitman who took it on." Jeb traced the file with his hoof as he explained the contents. "Not much specifics in here, jus' that the job had somethin' to do with the Frost family and would require someone willin' to knock someone off."
"No employer disclosed? You're sure?"
"Yep. Says right here, big ol' red letters, 'name withheld'. Whoever it is, they don't want to be know." Jeb replied, still studying the document. Then, slowly but surely, a nasty grin spread across his face again. "Oh, this is rich."
"What? What's so funny?" Bean jumped forward off of bark, pushing Nack's hat down over his eyes and leaning over the weasel's head. He growled and smacked the dynamo away. "Whaaaat? I just want to know! Man, you're touchy."
"Trust me, duck, you wouldn't get the joke even if I told it to you. The only ones who would get the joke of who the hitman is would be me, Nack…" Jeb paused, taking an almost self-satisfied puff from his cigar. "…and my dear sweet ex-wife, the fair Miss Svetlana Vasin, who started accepting mercenary jobs again a few years back."
Nack paled.
"Oh no."
