A/N: Once again, thanks for the awesome reviews, you guys! Hope you enjoy the latest installment; I was in sort of a rush to get it finished, so please let me know if you find any mistakes.
Chapter Four
Kiss Me Deadly
The heel of Spock's shoe had barely passed the threshold before the regulars started to talk amongst themselves.
"Have you ever been to a bar before?" I asked my partner as we stood awkwardly by the entrance. A burly man at a table near us did a double-take; if these people thought I was loony before when I was just bringing Bones in, they must have thought I was certifiable now.
"I don't believe I have," Spock replied after a moment of thought. "I have never had much reason to socialize in such manner."
"So I gathered," I mumbled, cringing at how I was starting to sound like the guy. Shaking the Spock-speak from my mind, I did a quick scan of the bar.
Through thick clouds of smoke, I could make out the forms of several waitresses, clad in uniforms of white long-sleeve button-ups and black knee-length skirts. Most of them passed through a set of swinging doors, nearly hidden in the back, into the connected area reserved for formal dining. The rest of them scattered throughout the bar, taking orders from patrons too lazy (or too otherwise occupied) to walk across to the bar to get drinks.
I caught a glimpse of black hair swishing and black pumps clicking, and when I looked back, Officer Uhura's unflinching gaze met mine, asking us just what the hell we were doing here.
Spock shifted uncomfortably. If Uhura could make even Mr. Emotionless flinch in fear, I figured only God (and possibly Captain Pike) could know what kind of other-worldly power she was capable of.
As she sauntered away, I followed her swaying hips with my eyes. It was unbelievable – the most gorgeous dame in the world lived in San Francisco, and she wouldn't even give me the time of day. I guess I shouldn't complain; after all, I did get to see her every day at 'work,' which gave me more than enough time to appreciate her luscious–
Mister Kirk?" Spock said, derailing my train of thought. "Perhaps we should find an adequate place to be positioned."
"Right," I agreed, shaking my head and hoping he meant we should find a place to sit.
Without realizing it, I headed in the direction of Uhura's table. I nearly grabbed for Spock's wrist to ensure that he was following me, but I figured I had already reached my limit of making physical contact today. When I thought about it, wrist-grabbing seemed downright scandalous; hopefully he would forgive me the shoulder poke in the car.
A man at one of the tables leaned back in his chair just as I was about to walk past him. I stopped abruptly, Spock nearly bumping into me, and snapped my eyes up.
Across the room, seated at the table Uhura had been at only moments ago, was one of the scariest-looking thugs I had ever seen. Bald – whether by choice or by nature I had no clue – and hulking, the man was staring directly at Spock and me, a vicious smirk forming on his lips. Given the tattooing on his forehead, I mentally labeled him the leader of some sort of gang before realizing his ears were pointed and his eyebrows slanted upwards much like my partner's.
"Spock," I whispered, moving my mouth as little as possible. "Who is that?" The rest of his posse, most of which looked like they could snap my spine with their bare hands, was now taking turning stealing glances at us, which sent a slight shiver up my spine.
"You do not know them?" he replied, cocking his head. "I assumed they were friends of yours based on the fact that they appear to be waiting for you to join them."
"Waiting for me?" I repeated, turning to face Spock. "I've never seen that guy before in my life!"
The man whose chair had blocked our path cleared his throat, clearly indicating he had heard enough of our prattle.
"Well," I said loudly and to no one in particular, "I suppose we shouldn't keep them waiting then."
"I'm not sure I follow, Mister Kirk," Spock replied.
"Well you should," I remarked flippantly as I resumed walking confidently towards the table of thugs.
As Spock and I drew near, the chatter around us increased. The burly men-alien things gave each other the occasional knowing shove and derisive chortle; the only member who remained still and silent was their intimidating leader, who continued to look me directly in the eyes.
A few short yards away, I felt one of the waitresses bump into me. As I turned slightly to apologize, the woman gave my jacket a violent tug, pulling me backwards and ramming me into an empty table.
Shocked, I turned back to face an impassive Uhura. "Whoops," she said with a shrug and a glance before continuing on her way, her tray loaded with drinks.
Confused, I took a step forward. Uhura did also, her ponytail swishing menacingly.
I took another step towards her table and Uhura crossed my path, directly cutting me off.
Silently, she gave me another dark look. Through the smoke I swore I saw her head move slightly, a shake warning me not to go there, and her arm twitched, her fingers almost brushing against Spock's sleeve before she pulled it away.
Giving her a fleeting glance, I jerked my head around to face a rather concerned-looking Spock, hands clasped behind his back attentively.
"Come on," I said hoarsely, "let's go this way." Retracing our path, I led Spock back to the bar where we nabbed two stools in the middle of the row.
"I must admit, I am not entirely sure what just happened with Officer Uhura," Spock commented after our drinks had been ordered.
"That makes two of us," I added with a scoff, hoping he wasn't expecting me to have an answer for him. "What are those guys?"
"Romulans, if I am not mistaken," Spock replied. "A distant relative of the Vulcan race." The bartender set a pair of whiskey shots down with a thunk and promptly ignored us.
"Another species to share your freaky, logical tendencies with?" I wondered as I took a drink, trying to gather information in case I did find myself trying to make conversation with one of those guys in the near future.
"On the contrary," Spock explained, sliding his glass around but not really drinking. "Romulans are known for the cunning and passion, frequently searching for opportunities to better themselves and their race."
"So, they're ruthless," I translated for myself, and Spock didn't correct me.
"They are, in many ways," Spock said solemnly after a pause, "the polar opposite of the Vulcan race."
"Ruthless, illogical, emotion-management issues," I listed before an involuntary shudder overtook me, whether from the thought of scary Romulans or from the aftertaste of my beverage I didn't know. "I think I'm starting to see why Uhura cut us off."
"Still, that does not excuse her improper social conduct," Spock stated, looking deathly serious while staring off into space.
"Improper social conduct?" I laughed. "All right, you really haven't ever been to a bar before." I chuckled to myself again, and something behind my eye started to twitch. Suddenly feeling a little paranoid, I replayed the scene in my head.
Uhura shook her head, a warning for me to step back. Only she wasn't looking at me… she was looking past me. With something in her eyes like worry or… it couldn't be… love?
Her fingers almost brushed against Spock's sleeve before she forced them away…
"Oh shit," I hissed. Uhura was in love with Spock. It was as simple as that.
I looked over at my partner. Fortunately, he wasn't paying attention to me. Unfortunately, several of the people around us were paying close attention to him. Pshh, I thought, like he's that interesting.
Newly confused, not to mention frustrated, I turned back just in time to stop a mysterious hand from snaking my drink away.
"Hey, whoa!" I interjected, my arm shooting out and clenching around my assailant's slim, green wrist. As this realization sunk in, I slowly brought my gaze upwards and was pleasantly surprised.
"Come here often?" the Orion woman asked. A pearly, perfect white smile dominated her fine features, dark hair swirling to meet her shoulders in a trendy wave fashion. A sinfully black dress draped her curves, and despite being acquainted with several women of her species, I swore I had never seen her before. I'd have to remember to ask Gaila about this one… on second thought, maybe not.
As I released her, my hand brushed against hers, and I could have sworn I felt something small and round, almost pill-like clenched between two of her fingers. I shrugged it off as residual paranoia – a woman this stunning surely wouldn't need to drug a guy to get him to notice her – and looked back up at her.
Before I could reply, the green woman suddenly looked suspicious, cocking her head to the side slightly in an adorably coquettish fashion. "Don't I know you?" she asked, pursing her lips.
"Um, no," I replied, laughing slightly due to my nerves. "I don't think so."
"Yes," she insisted with a brilliant smile, "I think I do."
"I really don't –" I started to counter, hoping against hope she wouldn't out me as a private detective in front of the whole bar. Sure, most of them already knew who I was, but this Romulan crew could cause some serious trouble with that type of knowledge.
"You're that actor, the new guy in town," the green woman exclaimed, and I let out a small sigh of relief. Tonight was turning out to be my lucky night. Well, except for that whole Uhura-loves-Spock thing.
"Well, you got me," I lied, lacing my voice with what I hoped was sheepishness. I never had much use for that emotion, but it was worth a shot. "I'm, um, Thad Wabasha." I extended my hand to her.
"Wow," she replied, shaking my hand in awe and giving me another look over, "it really is you. It's so nice to meet you, by the way."
"Well," I said, channeling all my charm, "it's not so bad to meet someone such as yourself either."
The woman giggled charmingly but made no move towards introducing herself. This didn't concern me as much as it should have. I needed some attention of the female variety after being snubbed by Uhura. Plus, this dame thought I was famous! How could this possibly work out any better?
The Orion leaned in closer with a slight smirk and a whole lot of cleavage.
"Who's your friend?" she asked coyly, winking at someone farther down the bar.
I glanced over my shoulder then did a double-take. Spock was now invested in our conversation, apparently waiting for my reply to her question.
Jumping to the conclusion that this sexy dame had winked at my partner, my blood began to boil. It was bad enough that Uhura was smitten; I didn't need him and his stupid pointy ears competing with me for every woman present.
Cockily turning my back on Spock, I faced the green woman and said the first thing I could think of.
"Alvin," I stated, accenting my words. "His name is Alvin, and he is my agent."
I felt Spock twitch behind me, and I prayed to God that he wasn't preparing to pinch my nerves or whatever it was that Vulcans did to people who angered them.
"Huh," the lady replied, her forehead wrinkling mildly. "Are there a lot of Vulcans in the film industry?"
"Oh absolutely!" I exclaimed. I took the risk of turning toward my partner and slinging an arm over his shoulder for effect. "As you know," I said, attempting to stall Spock from talking, "Vulcans are known for their decision-making, which proves very useful for aspiring actors when choosing a film in which to appear."
"So," the green woman summarized after a beat, "you chose him because he makes the most logical film choices?"
"Bingo," I affirmed, pointing and grinning at her. Spock's head looked like it was about to explode.
"Well," the woman said with a smile and pointed look up and down both of us, "I'll bet you could both use some company." She titled her head to the side to indicate something across the room. "Let me go talk to my… 'associates' and see if you can join us."
I wrinkled my brow in confusion before looking in the direction she had noted. As I should have suspected, her 'associates' were the group of Romulans Uhura was waiting on. On second thought, this was how it could work out even better.
I surprised all of us by smiling. "Sounds swell," I replied. With one final flirtatious glance, the green woman slid off her stool and strolled across the bar.
"'Alvin,' Mister Kirk?" was the first question out of Spock's mouth once she was out of earshot.
"I don't know what kind of names you have," I hissed, "you're the first Vulcan I've ever met!" This outburst earned me another raised eyebrow but thankfully no scathing remark.
"You do realize that regardless of your apparent suspicions, this could end poorly, for everyone involved," he said, phrasing so that I shouldn't doubt his meaning.
Instead of agreeing, I finished my whiskey and slammed it down on the counter without as much as a shudder.
"I don't believe in no-win scenarios," I stated, looking Spock square in the eyes.
Behind me, I heard someone politely clear her throat, and Spock and I turned at the same time to face the returned Orion.
"Shall we?" she said, smiling and inviting us across the room with one gorgeously green arm. I looked at Spock once more before getting to my feet, hoping he would follow suit. He did, and I thanked him silently, hoping he was better at interpreting emotions than he was at conveying them.
We left our drinks where they were and followed the green woman through the clouds of smoke to the corner where her 'friends' sat, awaiting our arrival. Again, most of the Romulans were laughing amongst themselves and jostling one another. This time, however, their leader had eyes only for the green woman, who promptly took a seat at his side. Spock and I edged our way around the table so that we sat against the wall. In retrospect, that was probably not the smartest decision in seating, but I really didn't want Scary Romulan Head-Honcho staring at us the whole time.
He stared anyway.
"Nero," the green woman said, "This is Thad Wabasha –" At my alias's introduction, I waved. "– and his agent Alvin. Thad, Alvin, this is Nero, from the planet Romulus." Head-Honcho Romulan nodded in acknowledgement.
"Romulus, eh?" I said cheerily. "What brings you to our fine planet?"
Nero sighed through his nose as if thinking about it pained him. "My crew and I were sent here by our government on an exploration mission several months ago. However, our spacecraft was damaged upon entry and we have lost all contact with our planet leaders."
Lacking a proper condolence since I had barely just met the guy, I let my gaze linger on his drink, a strange blue-looking ale. After a sufficient pause, I looked back up at Nero with a semi-hopeful, semi-sorry-please-continue look.
I must have nailed it because he kept talking, his gaze growing distant. "On the day we departed, my wife informed me that she was expecting a child… Every day, I am reminded of her, and the promise I made to return to Romulus safely…"
"I'm sorry to hear that," I replied, though really I was glad that I still had a chance with the Orion girl since Nero was hitched.
"While I sympathize for your current situation, Mister Nero," I heard Spock begin, "I feel I must inquire as to whether or not you are the owner of a third series Rolls-Royce Phantom." Silently, I groaned; Way to cut to the chase, pal, I thought.
This question certainly snapped Nero out of his daze, and he turned to look at my partner with a slow-building anger in his eyes. "What did you say?" Several of the various Romulan guys stopped their talking to watch their boss.
"I inquired as to whether you drive a Rolls-Royce," Spock reiterated, determination crossing his features.
"Yes," Nero spat, growing defensive as he leaned forward menacingly, "and why would you care to know?"
"It's, uh, it's a great-looking car, that's why!" I cut in, shooting Spock a quick glare before continuing. "So what have you guys been doing here in San Fran to pass the time?"
The Romulans resumed their personal arguments as Nero leaned back in his chair and looked at me warily. "We work for various organizations. Most of us have secured jobs as flight mechanics for Hikaru Sulu."
At the introduction of this foreign-sounding name, I turned to Spock for an explanation.
"Mister Sulu is a locally acclaimed pilot, renowned for his superior skills at such a relatively young age," Spock stated. "He was recently recruited by the San Francisco branch of Pan American World Airways to fly a shift in their commercial cross-continental circuit."
Glancing back at Nero, I noticed he was stroking his chin with one hand in a knowing manner. "You've never heard of Hikaru Sulu?" he asked curiously.
I shrugged impishly. "What can I say? I'm still pretty green about town."
"I'll say," Nero remarked. He looked around the bustling room before turning back to Spock and me conspiratorially. "The thing is, there's something fishy about that guy."
"Fishy?" I asked. "What do you mean, fishy?"
"For starters, he's a Jap," Nero stated, and I flinched a little at the term, which I was hoping would be outdated already. As you might have guessed, I wasn't a big fan of the most recent world war, partly because I hadn't been drafted, but that's another story.
"So?" I said nonchalantly, not particularly liking where this was going.
"How many Asians do you know in California who weren't rounded up during the war?"
Spock and I looked at each other as if seriously contemplating it. "Um, none?" I replied.
"Sulu wasn't," Nero stated, "and on top of that, he's already got his job back, flying planes for an international company."
"Oh…kay," I said, not really sure I followed. It was sort of a consolation that Spock looked as confused as I did.
"What I'm saying," Nero continued, "is that he has an in with someone, someone who means serious business. I'd bet even that saintly old Roosevelt of yours would have agreed with that."
"All right," I said, a little confused by the reference to our former president, "so you think some of this Sulu business is suspicious, but what has he ever done to you?"
"Easy," Nero replied, moments away from taking a drink. "He borrowed my Royce and brought it back all dinged up."
"Wait, he borrowed your car?" I interjected. The car was the only thing we had that tied Nero to the case. If it turned out someone else had been using it…
"Sure," the Romulan replied, setting down his drink, "a few times lately. Fly boy's been having some sort of car trouble lately, so I generously offered my own ride."
"Do you remember when exactly?" I asked, enthusiasm getting the better of me. "Like what days he had it or where he said he was going or anything like that?"
"Why is it so important to you, Thad?" Nero wondered. "What use does an actor like you have for dates and places and who's been driving a Romulan mechanic's car?"
"Right," I said, gritting my teeth, "sorry to be wasting your time."
"I believe Mister Wabasha was merely acting upon his excitement," Spock lied smoothly. "He is, after all, quite new in town."
"Nobody asked for your opinion, Vulcan!" one of Nero's friends shouted at us.
From all around the bar, pairs of eyes began to focus upon my partner; whether or not he realized it I couldn't say. Spock didn't seem to notice how closely everyone human had finally started to stare; heck, he was probably used to it if he had been here long enough to go through the police academy.
"I was merely stating an observation," Spock defended politely. "I was attempting to help Mister Wabasha 'save face,' as I believe you say." Nero nodded in response but kept his gaze fixed on the Vulcan.
"Speaking of face," began another Romulan who had circled the table to stand on the opposite side of us, "haven't I seen you before? I can't say I know many of your type here in San Francisco. As a matter of fact, you don't see many Vulcans anywhere outside of the desert areas."
As my intestines started tying themselves into knots due to this guy's apparent knowledge of Spock's day job, my partner surprised me yet again with another lie.
"I also have not been in the city long," Spock stated, looking off into the distance before snapping his attention back to the questioning Romulan. "I do not believe I was the one of which you speak. As I'm sure you know, we Vulcans have a tendency to appear similar in facial construction to the untrained eye."
At this more of Nero's crew gathered around us, causing me to curse picking our seats all those moments ago. I happened to glance over at the green woman, who seemed to be enjoying the spectacle as much as her male comrades. I made a mental note to never fall for a trap like that again… if I could help it.
"The untrained eye, huh?" a new Romulan asked Spock with a derisive laugh. "Listen to this mook, tryin' to show how much smarter than us he is. You Vulcans always like to think you're so high and mighty, waving your knowledge around like you're Surak himself." I had no idea what he was talking about, but the rest of the gang seemed to find it funny.
"You're one to talk," I rebuffed, growing angry on my partner's behalf. "Romulans are like, what, a genetic sequence away from Vulcans?" I prayed on behalf of science that I was at least in the ballpark with that estimate.
A different Romulan, this one even bigger than the last, leered across the table at me. "Are you trying to insult us, Hollywood, or our intelligence? We may share a common ancestor, but we Romulans are nothing like your snivelly little friend, mentally or scientifically."
"Well then that must explain why he isn't acting like a total heathen," I replied without thinking.
While I'm no mathematician, I've found that nine times out ten when I talk without thinking in a bar, something very bad happens. This time, said bad thing was a severely-pissed off Romulan lunging across a tipsy table directly at me.
Sliding down at the last moment, I heard the thug above me crash into the wall with a sickening crunch. I shot up, overturning the flimsy table in the process, and the glasses went flying.
During the brief pause before I got jumped, I glanced quickly at where I had been sitting a second ago with a sense of panic. Fortunately, Spock had managed to escape and hadn't ended up trapped under my wreck. Turning around, I caught of glimpse of his sullen face and Uhura's dark eyes, the pair of them watching from afar. I gave them a brief thumbs-up.
The next thing I knew, someone's fist was in my face and the taste of copper flooded my mouth. With a mighty "oof," I took a step backwards before leaping right back into the melee.
Arms and hands and boots were flying in every direction and made it impossible for me to tell up from down or left from right. A random set of fingernails raked across my face, causing me to elbow one of the thugs in the stomach. I released a mean left jab with my eyes closed and heard a shout as it connected with something bony.
I tilted forward violently and took the risk of opening my eyes once more. While the rest of his gang was occupied fighting me tooth and nail, Nero sat perfectly still in his original spot. I swore I could see something like gears turning in his head as he watching us, not maliciously but with an expression more like fascination.
Leaping across a pair of struggling tattoo-heads, I charged for their leader, hoping to throw the rest of the fighters off guard and allow for my escape.
My plan failed when, mid-jump, I found myself suspended in the air, the front my shirt cutting off my air supply. I thrashed my legs around for a good thirty seconds before my heel knocked against a shin. Released, I made my way forward only to be stopped once more.
"Come on, pretty boy," one of the thugs growled, picking me up by the jacket collar, and faster than I could say "Romulan bastard," I being thrown out of the bar into the dark side alley. With a whoosh of cold air and a thump, I landed on my back; staring up in surprise, I realized Spock had followed us and was now standing over me, his eyebrows knit together slightly more than usual. I coughed to let him know I was still alive, and he backed up a few feet.
"Okay, that guy," I said, standing up to dust the alley grit off my clothes, "that's my new suspect."
Spock sighed in frustration. "I see no obvious or probable connection between Mr. Nero and our case."
"I'm sure we could find one!" I insisted, my words spattered with blood.
"'We,' Mr. Kirk?" Spock asked, giving me an odd glance.
"Yeah, you know, we're a team, we're equals, right?" I asked, sounding a little too eager. I got silence and another funny look from my 'partner.'
"Kirk!" a voice exclaimed from far away. The door burst open and Uhura rushed outside to join us.
"Aw, did you miss me?" I asked her cheekily even though my heart still stung from the knowledge of her true secret love. "Come to tend to my battle wounds?"
"What the hell was that?" she demanded, standing next to Spock with her hands planted on her hips. "You think you can just waltz into the bar that I'm undercover at and start a fight with my suspect –"
"Whoa, whoa," I interjected, motioning for her to stop with my hands. "Your suspect?"
Exasperated, she threw an arm back in the direction of the door. "Nero is the main suspect in the case I'm working. I'll enlighten you some time if Pike hasn't fired your ass by tomorrow."
"Nero is already the main suspect of a case?" I restated, resting my chin on my hand in an unconscious imitation of Spock. "Fascinating…"
"Can he even hear me?" Uhura asked, turning to Spock for help.
"I suspect Mister Kirk has taken a serious blow to the head, if not several," Spock replied humorlessly. "Perhaps it would be in his best interest to seek medical attention of some sort at the present time."
"What about you?" Uhura went on, tentatively reaching out for my partner. "Are you feeling all right?"
"Don't worry about me," I said, ignoring her sickening sentiments directed at Spock. "I'll be fine." To prove how stable I was, I got up and started towards the opposite side of the street in the direction I assumed Spock's squad car was. I got as far as the curb before stumbling and falling down.
As I let out a groan, I heard the door above me creak open.
"Hey, girlie," an unpleasant male voice said, "I know you ain't a regular, but those tables aren't going to bus themselves!" There was a collective silence before he added, "What's this guy's problem?"
"I'm fine, no thanks to these two," I mumbled into the concrete before pushing myself back up to a standing position. "You should really look into being more selective about who you let your bar. It's always people like me who end up getting drugged or bleeding to death in the gutters." Okay, so that was quite an exaggeration, but hopefully it would get a reaction from Mister Hotshot Boss.
"It's people like you who are constantly damaging my property!" the manager guy said, jabbing a finger in my direction and completely missing my hints about Nero and company.
"Oh, screw you, buddy!" I exclaimed before storming off, almost swearing I saw a smirk flit across the half-Vulcan's face.
A/N: That's right; Nero's playing the blame game. Silly Romulan… And why Alvin? It was the dorkiest name I could think of, plus it had a V in it (V for Vulcan!). I got Wabasha from the town in "Grumpy Old Men" since it's quite Midwestern, don'tcha know? Also, shameless post-chapter plug; this "Star Trek 2009" video makes me laugh every single time I watch it, so you might get a kick out of it, too. It's called "Nero Said We're Wack" and the YouTube URL is /watch?v=k1ZowuGGa7M