Yo! Sorry for the wait. I've actually been working on this chapter for quite a while. This chapter and half the next is for the TOS fans who should know what's coming from the chapter title alone.

Question for you guys! I got a request for twincest. Yeah? Nay? Or make it ambigious where it can be taken as twincest or bromance.

BTW: There is a reason why Sovik and Serik are emotional

With his phaser on his hip and his knife sharpened and in its holster, Spock waited for Kirk to do the same. The human was slightly pale, and his skin damp with sweat, but Kirk moved as if he hadn't been in the agony booth for a full duration. Unfortunately, Pike wasn't giving Spock much time; therefore, Spock was unable to give Kirk a chance to recover either.

Not that Kirk wanted to wait. With irritation, he fiddled with the phaser Spock had given him, radiating restlessness. He hadn't spoken a word since he was released from the booth, focusing only on getting ready for their departure.

"Are you ready to depart, Mr. Kirk?"

"Yeah," he replied crisply, stepping onto the transporter pad as well. "You sure you want to trust me?"

"I trust no one."

"Good policy."

Spock glanced at the human, wondering if it was a warning, but Kirk didn't show any signs that he had something up his sleeve. "Sovik, energize."

The first thing Spock noticed once they had energized onto the planet's surface was the smog. The thick layer coating the atmosphere was enough to indicate that the civilization was still in the industrial age. The sounds of the motorized vehicles that followed supported that theory. The second thing Spock noticed was the clothing and building structures. It was like he had materialized into Earth's early 20th century.

"It's like the 1930s," Kirk muttered, watching the Iotians pass them by. It appeared that they had arrived in the middle of a busy intersection, blocking traffic. With an anger honk from a disgruntled driver, they carefully made their way to the sidewalk.

"I do not recall it being typical for humans to carry firearms during this time period," Spock noted as two women with revolvers walked by.

The slave rolled his eyes. "It's okay to call them guns you know."

Not surprisingly, Spock ignored him.

Jim was ready to suggest moving since their appearance was drawing attention when a group of Iotions came out of a nearby alley. All of them were dressed in suits and fedoras, holding Tommy guns directed at them. One was dressed in a dark brown striped pin suit with a khaki fedora. He had a bored expression as if he rather be someplace else. "Hey you, let's see you petrified," he said with an old Chicago accent.

Both Jim and Spock looked on with confusion. "Explain that statement," Spock asked.

"Let's see you turn to stone," the man said again impatiently. "Put your hands over your head, or you ain't going to have a head to put your hands over."

Kirk glanced over at Spock, glaring at him as if it was the Vulcan's fault they were put into this situation, but slowly did as he was told, raising his hands over his head. Spock followed.

One of the Iotions lowered his weapon to approach them and pat them down, emptying their pockets and removing their weapons. One of the small pocket phasers was handed to the one Spock had deemed as their leader. "What's this?"

The Iotaian's hand brushed against one of the two buttons while the weapon was aimed towards Spock and Jim. "The item in your hands is very dangerous. I suggest taking your finger off the trigger else risk harming the civilians." Spock spoke up.

"A heater huh?" The Iotian's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Hey, the boss will love that." He pocketed the phaser and lifted the gun again. "Get moving. That direction."

Jim and Spock were led at gunpoint down the street and into a four story, rectangular, brick building, reminding Spock of the apartment buildings of old earth seen in holos and then into a large office. The room was spacious with a pair of couches next to the fireplace and a wooden coffee table between them with a red rectangular rug protecting the wood flooring under the furniture. The east wall had been converted into built in book shelves, filled with a variety of hard cover books. And on the north wall was a large window framed by heavy dark green drapes. In front of the window, a large wooden desk and a plush chair sat. Next to the door they had entered was a small cabinet with a decanter and four crystal glasses on top of it. And finally, in the center of the room was a billiards table with a half played game.

"Someone has taste," Jim muttered under his breath looking quite impressed with the décor. Spock however thought it over the top and wasteful. An office's function was to be able to work, and there were too many distractions present in the room.

There was one thing that caught Spock's eye. It was a white leather bound book with gold lettering, sitting on display next to the bookshelves. Spock got closer to make out the title, Chicago Mobs of the Twenties. Carefully, Spock opened the book.

"What did you find?" Jim asked.

"I believe the source of the contamination that you previously mentioned. Its publication was in New York, 1992."

"No wonder it looks like it's a holo out of Earth's history. Some moron must have left it."

"Hey, don't make no more cracks about the book," a new voice joined in. Spock and Jim turned simultaneously at the new voice. He was an older man, slightly balding at the top. He too wore a pressed pin striped suit, but lacked the hat. A women dressed in a red dress followed him, sitting on his desk while he sat in the plush chair behind it.

While Spock was cautious around the new comer, noticing how the rest of the gangsters in the room were more alert with his presence, Jim was trying not to smile. "Who? Me?"

"Don't give me those baby blue eyes," the man replied with annoyance.

"What?" Kirk's lips twitched.

"I'm saying I don't go for that innocent routine. Now, keep your yap shut, or you'll be wearing cement overshoes."

There was a glint in the human's eyes and a smirk playing on Jim's lips. Spock decided to intervene before the human got them into further trouble. After all, they were on a mission. "And you are?"

"Boss Bela Oxmyx," the man said, lighting a cigar. "And I brought you here to make you a deal."

"A deal?" Spock repeated.

"You got wax in them pointed ears of yours? Look, I'm a business man. I'm a peaceful man at heart, and I don't like fighting." Jim snorted at Bela's statement, but the Iotian didn't seem to hear. "This nation is falling apart with all the bickering. If all them other territories are led by one boss, it would put an end to all the hits and things can finally get done 'round here." By the way Bela talked, it seemed as if the mobster assumed that they knew the political situation of the planet.

"And let me guess," Kirk drawled, walking up to Bela. "You want to be in charge, and you want our help to do it somehow."

Bela smiled. "I like you. You're smart. What's your name?"

"You can call me . . ." he spared Spock a glance, that mischievous glint back in his eyes. "Captain James Kirk," he answered.

"Nice to meet ya, Captain. Grab yourself a glass. It's good. Distilled it myself."

"Don't mind if I do." Kirk made his way over to the decanter by the door, pouring himself a glass. Spock frowned disapprovingly.

Bela stood, making his way to the billiard's table and picking up a pool stick. He handed a second one to Kirk who took it without a second thought. "Listen up, Captain. You don't wanna pass this deal up."

"Of course not," Kirk gestured to the guards with his glass.

Bela chuckled and waved off his men. "Put that chopper down Kalo, these guys are our guests."

The guards shared a look before lowering their weapons. Spock walked to the other side of the billiards table. He was impressed. Kirk had managed to make the enemy at ease enough in his presence to lower their weapons. "What is it that you wish of us, Mr. Oxmyx?"

Bela smiled wider when Jim took a shot for the nine ball at an almost impossible angle and manage to get it into the pocket. "It's simple really. You supply me all the heaters I need, enough to knock off all the other bosses. I'll take over, and all you have to deal with is me."

"Right, so let me get this straight," Kirk leaned over the table to take another shot. "You want us to give you arms and assistance so you can kill off your neighbors?"

"Yeah, simple right?"

Kirk sat on the edge of the pool table. "I have another offer. You give us back our weapons and tell us what happened to the first group of people who came to your planet 48 hours ago, and we don't off you and your men."

Bela's friendly demeanor fell and instead filled with a calm anger. "Now you see here captain, I'm gonna give you just 8 hours to give me the things you want or else I'll have you sent back to your ship." Bela looked over to Spock. "In a box." He snapped his fingers, and the two guards held the guns up to Kirk and Spock's head. "Is that understood, pal?"

Kirk didn't seem to waver, matching Bela's gaze with a cold one of his own, the smirk never leaving his face. "Crystal."

The Iotain named Kalo shoved the muzzle into his back, forcing the human off the table and out the room. Spock was escorted out in the same manner, and together they made their way to the basement.

The basement mostly consisted of unpainted plaster walls and filled with cargo boxes. A couple more guards were down there as well, surrounding a small table playing a card game of some sort. Given the world they had walked into, Spock was fairly certain it was poker.

Kirk took a seat on one of the crates making himself comfortable and looking rather unconcerned of the development. Spock sat on one of the crates as well waiting for the extra guards to leave.

"Not going to say anything about me impersonating a higher ranking officer?" Kirk whispered then finished his glass of alcohol.

"You are not an officer therefore it is not violating any regulation. In addition, your performance gave me time to observe," Spock steepled his fingers.

"I know I said these people were imitative, but this is ridiculous. It's like we stepped into a movie."

"Indeed," Spock agreed. The coordinates they beamed down to was the same coordinates the previous landing party had used. That in itself told Spock that it was highly likely that the party had been sent into a trap. They had sensors. Spock himself knew that the Iotians showed up on those sensors, yet the party was still beamed into the middle of a crowded city. And not even in an alley but an intersection. Someone had changed the original coordinates he had originally plotted.

In addition, the Iotions didn't kill them right away, they wanted to make a deal. It was possible that they had done the same to the landing party that had been left behind. The story the returning landing party had given was that the Iotians had attacked without warning, mowed down half the party and hunted them until the survivors managed to escape. The story and how the events were playing out now were inconsistent.

Kirk taking the role as the superior was unexpected yet useful. Bela was focused on Kirk rather than him, letting the real threat be unnoticed, and it gave Spock the opportunity to see what Kirk would do in the situation they had found themselves in.

"How long did Chris give us by the way?"

"Four hours."

Kirk hummed. "Well I guess knowing how much time is useless if there's no way to keep track of it. We don't even know if they use the same time measurement."

"We have 3 hours, 39 minutes, and 13 seconds until the captain attacks the Ioatians," Spock responded, thinking over how they should escape.

The human stared at him bewildered. "Seriously?"

"Vulcans have an innate sense of time," Spock replied.

"Of course they do," Kirk muttered, rolling his left shoulder. "So . . . you're not going to get all pissy about it?"

Spock glanced at the human in the corner of his eye. Whatever Kirk saw seemed to annoy the human as he scowled a bit. "I found your falsehood to be more beneficial given the circumstances; however, do not forget it is your duty to stay truthful to me."

Jim did not like the way those eyes looked at him. They were cold, distant, and made him feel like he was below nothing. Looking away, he turned his gaze to the Iotians playing cards, though they would look up to check on them occasionally.

"I am curious to hear what you think of this situation," Spock said, studying every move Kirk made intensely.

"If I know my movies, chances are there are other bosses around and given what Bela said, they fight over territory often. We might be able to make arrangements with another boss and find out what they did with the other landing party, or at the least where your shipmates did with the bodies if they were the ones who killed them."

"Interesting," Spock said levelly. "And do you have an idea on how to escape our captivity?"

A big, confident smirk graced Kirk's face. "Yeah. Do you?"

"Three, however, I am curious to what you are planning."

"How good are you at hand to hand combat?"

Spock raised a condescending eyebrow. "More proficient than Sovik."

Smiling with a promise of mischief, Kirk stood. "Good, just follow my lead."

Jim made his way over to the group of Iotians playing cards, pretending to study their game. The movement caught the guards' attention, watching him carefully as they continued to play, guns aimed at him from under and over the table. "Gentleman, gentleman," Kirk said, raising his hands in a reassuring gesture. "I just wanted to say that this game you guys are playing is a kid's game, that's all."

"You think so, huh," the man named Kalo said, aiming his gun at Kirk.

"Yeah," he sighed, sounding almost disappointed. "I wouldn't even waste my time."

"Who's asking you?" Kalo asked annoyed. Spock too was wondering what Kirk was up to.

"See, on Beta Antares IV they play a real game. It's a man's game. I was thinking of teaching it to you, but I think it might be a little too hard for you. It requires intelligence."

"Listen Kirk, I can play whatever you can figure out." Kalo gestured to the seat beside him with the gun. "Sit down and show us how it's played."

Spock moved closer as well. He had been to Beta Antares, and he was not aware of any card game that was popular there.

The others handed Kirk the cards which he skillfully shuffled as he talked. "The cards on Beta Antares IV are different of course, but not to different," he explained. "The game is called . . . fizzbin."

"Fizzbin?" One of the gangsters asked.

"Fizzbin," he confirmed. "It's not too difficult. Each player gets six cards except the player to the dealer's right who gets seven."

"On the right?" Kalo asked.

Kirk met Kalo's eyes with a friendly smile. "Right. The second card is turned face up except on Tuesday when it's the third."

This caused the Iotians around the table to look at Kirk with confusion. "On. . . Tuesday?"

"Uhuh," Kirk said, with very little care in his tone. He placed the card face up in front of Kalo and feigned enthusiasm. "Oh, look at that, you got two jacks. You have a half fizzbin already."

Getting excited, Kalo grinned too, leaning forward in his seat eagerly. "So I need another jack?"

"No, if you got another jack you'd have a . . . a schrawg."

"A schrawg?"

"Yeah, that means you'd be disqualified. What you need is either a king and a two, except at night of course when you need a queen and a four."

"Except at night," Kalo was thinking hard, clearly giving his entire attention to Kirk. His brows were drawn together in concentration and his finger was easing off the trigger.

"Riiight," Kirk drawled flipping over another card. The human froze for a second before once again faking enthusiasm. "Hey look at that, another jack. You lucky son of a bitch."

At this point, Spock had caught on that this entire thing was made up though it appeared the Iotians had not as Kalo laughed in delight.

"Now if you didn't get another jack, and had gotten a king, then you get another card, except when it's dark when you'd have to give it back."

"If it were dark on Tuesday?"

"Yeah, but what you're after is a royal fizzbin, but the odds of getting that is," Jim looked up at Spock, and the Vulcan had the slightest feeling the human had lost himself in his own convoluted explanation of the made up game. "Spock, what are the odds of getting a royal fizzbin?"

Spock couldn't help the small dark amusement that slipped into his eyes as he said, "I never computed them before, Captain," leaving the human to fend for himself in his own lie.

Kirk did not seem happy about the response as he hesitated for a split moment and sent Kalo a strained smile. "Well it's slim, I'll tell you that." He flipped over another card. "Now for the last card, let's call it a krawlk, you got that?"

Kalo looked at him with confusion shaking his head slightly. He was on the edge of his seat, practically hanging off his every word, determined to prove to Kirk that he could play the fake game. Watching Kalo, Kirk dropped the card onto the floor.

Kalo eagerly said, "I'll get it," bending over. Seeing Spock nearly behind Kalo, Kirk flipped the table startling the other two guards. Spock placed his hand between Kalo shoulder and neck. The man fell unconscious a moment later. Kirk had already charged the other two, grabbing the Tommy gun from one before he could shoot, yanking it out of his hands, while kicking the second guard in the gut, making him stumble back into Spock, allowing him to deliver another nerve pinch while Kirk hit the last guard with the butt of the gun, knocking him unconscious.

"You are a bastard," Kirk growled, walking over the unconscious body to join Spock.

Spock however had already turned to the back door of the basement. "I don't know what you are referring to," he said, acting oblivious.

Jim rolled his eyes, muttering about stuck up Vulcans which Spock pretended not to hear. He did wonder why Spock was allowing him to practically take charge of this mission. It made him nervous and wonder if the green bastard was planning something. It reminded him of a predator, silently watching its prey and waiting, analyzing. No doubt that was what Spock was doing. He was calculating enough, waiting for Jim to show a weakness, yet, at that moment, Jim only cared for little except foiling Pike. If the Vulcan wasn't going to stand in his way, then he wasn't going to question it until after they were aboard the ship. Spock probably wouldn't do anything unless Jim tried to interfere in finding Serik. Why did Spock care so much for an underling anyway?

Kirk ran his hand through his hair. How were they going to find out where the other crime bosses were?

"Alright, any ideas on how to . . . what are you doing?"

Spock had gone over to Kalo, kneeling beside him and taking off his glove. "Unless you have an idea of where to go next, we require information. This is the quickest way."

"We don't need him screaming and alerting everyone that we're escaping," he hissed.

"He will not scream," Spock said calmly, placing his fingers on the unconscious man's psi points.

Seeing Spock touch the man's face, Kirk grew uncomfortable, turning away to keep guard of the entrance. They had made noise flipping over the table, and he wasn't sure how sound proof the basement was.

"I have acquired the location of a boss named Krako," Spock said standing up. "We should leave."

"Go on ahead, I'll be right there." Jim said heading back to the unconscious bodies.

Spock looked at him with curiosity, but sensed that the human had no intention to run. "I will acquire us a mode of transportation."

"Great," the human said distractedly.

Spock left through the basement door that led into an alley. It was full of trash, but near the exit was a car. The car, not surprisingly, looked like Earth's antique models; the strange thing though was that it was a decade off from the rest of the world around them. The body was more rounded and sleek, painted a pale yellow with black accents and lacked a top. The key was still in the ignition, making Spock wonder if the owner did not plan to be away long. Still, it was quite careless.

Spock checked the car for any useful gear that they might need. He did find a gun and additional ammo in the trunk along with what looked to be a radio. That might come in handy given that his communicator had been taken.

"Hey," Jim called out with an armful of clothes. The human shoved some of them into Spock's arms. "Change into this."

"Do not forget who is in charge Mr. Kirk," but Spock started to change into them none the less.

Kirk however was distracted. "Holy shit! Is that the Cadillac V-12 1931 model?" The human ran his hands over the hood in excitement.

"Mr. Kirk, we are in a hurry if you recall."

"Just a minute," he waved him off. The human's eyes were lit up with excitement, opening the hood an inspecting the engine. "Oh god, this is a perfect replica, or is this considered legit," he murmured under his breath.

"Mr. Kirk," at the stern tone, Kirk looked up with annoyance only for it to melt away when the blue eyes finally landed on him. Was there something wrong with what he was wearing? The brown pinstripe suit fit perfectly on his frame, and the khaki shirt underneath still looked rather pressed despite having been warn just minutes ago by its previous owner. The orange tie and handkerchief gave the ensemble a splash of color without drawing too much attention to them, and the fedora hid the tips of his ears at first glance. From his calculations, he would blend in rather well unless held under scrutiny but Kirk kept giving him that strange look. "Mr. Kirk?"

At his voice, Kirk seemed to snap out of it and closed the car's hood. "I'll get changed in the car. You do know how to drive a stick right?"

"While I assume you mean a clutch, this ancient technology should not be difficult given that I am proficient in many of the sciences."

"Uh-huh," Kirk said but he didn't sound convinced. Spock sat into the driver's seat, assessing the three different pedals, the gear shift, and the wheel while Kirk got dressed in the passenger seat.

Spock started the car, pleased to hear the engine turn on. He pressed on the gas then attempted to shift gear, causing the car to lurch forward and the gears to grind loudly. Spock tried again with the same result, the car moving forward in jolty movements over and over again.

"You have got to be shitting me," Kirk groaned, shrugging into his jacket.

Spock said nothing as the car lurched forward again.

"Let me drive," he complained, already moving into the driver's seat and therefore, Spock's lap. Spock felt the unreasonable urge to throw the human out of the car for invading his personal space, but settled on it being unproductive. Instead, he slipped into the passenger seat, bodies brushing against one another. The closeness made the Vulcan uncomfortable, but as Kirk flawlessly put the car into drive and the car began to move down the street without problem, Spock couldn't argue that the change wasn't needed. Why was Kirk so knowledge about antique vehicles? To Spock's knowledge, automatic transmission had been used since the late 20th century, and manual transmission had become obsolete by the mid 21st century. It was another mystery added to many when concerning the slave.

Spock directed them to their destination. The sun was starting to set, but the streets were still filled with armed civilians and children playing in the street with pocket knives. Jim parallel parked about a block away from Krako's base.

Turning off the engine, he leaned on the steering wheel. "What are you up to?"

"Pardon?" Spock asked, keeping his gaze forward.

"I know you aren't stupid, and I know you're a control freak after only being with you for a couple of days, yet you've been quiet and let me lead this entire time." Kirk turned his head, his eyes staring Spock down, the blue darkening with danger. "What are you planning?"

Spock met his gaze unflinching. "You are a dangerous man, Mr. Kirk. I was aware of this the moment I saw your performance in the arena. However, regardless of the circumstances of how we were brought together, I value intelligence and a common goal. We both wish to foil the captain's plans, and if your plans are effective, I have no qualms about following them."

Jim hadn't expected Spock's answer to be so . . . reasonable, but he also suspected that was not the only reason. Spock was resourceful and clever. Strangely though, he felt no ill will from the Vulcan. Rather, he felt curiosity, like the Vulcan was observing an experiment.

"So I can suspect that this amicable behavior between us is only temporary, and we'll be back to hating one another when we get back."

"Undoubtedly," Spock replied.

"Good. Now what did you get from the idiot."

"Oxmyx did not meet the previous landing group. He was distracted by a hit that coincided with the landing party's arrival by a boss named Krako. There is a rumor that Krako's men had put the bag on some aliens they had found during the confrontation." Spock grew tense as he added, "I admit I do not know what is meant by the terms 'bag' and 'hit'."

A snicker left Kirk's lips even though he tried to stifle it by biting the inside of his cheek. "You should watch more movies. It would help get out the ten foot pole lodged up your ass."

"There is no such-"

"It's a saying," Kirk interrupted, chewing on his bottom lip, seemingly in thought. "Will you be helping me come up with a plan?"

"If you are in need of my assistance."

Kirk scowled but didn't say anything besides, "useless bastard" under his breath. After a while, he began mumbling, though Spock supposed it wasn't for him to hear. "We need to save the landing party and find out what Pike was up too. There are two of us, two weapons, and a car. We don't know the layout of the inside of the house, there are at least two guards outside, and if we cause a fuss outside, we draw the attention of every armed civilian in the area."

Kirk kept mumbling information to himself and was too engrossed with his thoughts to notice that a child had walked up to the car until he poked Kirk's arm. "Hey you, are you planning a hit?"

Kirk was startled at first, eyes widening slightly in surprised, but he quickly recovered, eyes narrowing. "What's it to ya?"

"You ain't gonna get far. You in Krako's territory. You cause a scene and people will blast you from the windows across the street."

"You ain't telling me nuthin' I don' already know." Spock raised an eyebrow in surprise at Kirk's tone. The human had adopted a Chicago accent and his body posture became slack as if the child posed no threat to their cover. In fact, he gave off the same air as the Iotians had as if he too was a gangster. "So I'm gonna say it again. What's it to ya?"

The child crossed his arm over his chest, his chin sticking up defiantly. The kid couldn't be more than twelve. He had a dusting of freckles over his face and messy brown hair hidden under a cap. "I want in."

"Young man," Spock said, drawing the child's attention to him. "This will be dangerous and as such I would recommend against this."

"Cool it, Spock. Don't get so riled up about words coming out of the mouth of babes."

"Hey! You callin' me a babe?"

"Yeah, I'm callin' you a babe," Kirk said with a hint of annoyance until the child held a pocket knife to Kirk's throat. For a brief second, a threat of danger flashed in his eyes before a casual smile appeared on his lips. He grabbed the child's hand and forced him to lower the knife as he stepped out of the car. "But it's nuthin' to get upset about." He lowered himself so he could meet eye to eye with the child. "So what you want out of it?"

The child shrugged. "A piece of the action."

Kirk looked as surprised as Spock felt. "You do not even know what this action is," Spock said, but the child paid little mind to him.

"I figure it has to be a decent percentage, else you wouldn't bother trying to hit Krako."

Spock couldn't help but think it was a logical conclusion given the world the child lived in.

"Alright, I'll bite. What's your idea, kid?"

The kid's eyes lit up with excitement. "You'll know it when ya see it."

The boy ran off toward the building and Spock and Kirk grabbed the Tommy guns they had swiped, watching the kid from a distance. He was playing with the knife, yelling, "Take that! And that!" as he approached the building, fighting an invisible enemy. The boy drew the attention of the guards and both smiled fondly at the kid in amusement as they watched. The boy got so far as climbing a few of the steps before tripping and falling and screaming, "Daddy", at the top of his lungs as he pretending to sob. Both guards went to the kid's side to attend to him.

Kirk and Spock figured that was their cue. He had just heard them say, "cute kid," by the time they got close enough, and Jim immediately played the concerned father. "Sonny, oh sonny, what did they do to you," he said, going to the boy's side and subsequently in between both guards. This allowed Spock to get close enough to the one on the right and nerve pinch him. Before the other guard could react to his partner's suddenly limp form, Kirk knocked him out in one punch.

The child made a run for it, smart enough to get the hell out of there before he got into too much trouble, leaving Kirk and Spock to quickly carry the two guards inside before anyone noticed.

It only took three door checks to find Krako's office. He was sitting behind his desk with a young woman perched on the surface. The three guards in the room moved to point their weapons at them, but both Spock and Kirk had theirs pointed at the group already. "Don't move," Kirk ordered. "Else you'll be riddled with holes." The guards hesitantly listened, sparing glances at their boss who had stood up at their entrance.

Knowing Spock would keep his gun on the guards, Kirk lowered his and sent a suave smile at who he presumed to be Krako.

"You must be Kirk," Krako smiled uneasily. Krako was a smaller man than Oxmyx, and looked more like an entertainer with his bow tie and straw hat than a mobster, but he did hide his nervousness well.

"And you must be Krako." Kirk smirked, shouldering the gun. "Got eyes everywhere do ya?"

"I wouldn't be a good boss if I didn't. I know everything Bela does. He doesn't make a date with a broad unless I know about it."

"Don't doubt it," Kirk walked up to Krako with a sort of swag and a commanding presence as he looked down at the boss. Despite his smile, his eyes conveyed that he was speaking with a lesser being. He pointed at Krako with his gun then gestured away. "May I?"

"Of course," Krako laughed nervously, vacating his chair.

Kirk took a seat, placing his feet onto the desk and leaning back into the chair. "You're a smart man, Krako. I don't want to cause too much trouble."

"Glad we agree on something, Kirk. See I have a proposition for ya."

"You want me to help you get some heaters and teach ya how to use them so you can knock off the other bosses and take complete control. Ain't that right?" Kirk said with almost a bored tone.

Krako didn't look surprised. "Bela offered you the same thing."

"Bela ain't no fool. So," Kirk grinned maliciously, "how can you top him?"

"I know Bela, he didn't offer you nuthin'." Krako leaned forward full of confidence. "But I'm a fair man. Help me and I'll give you 30 percent, skimmed right off the top."

Kirk laughed. "Please, this organization is peanuts compared to something like the Empire. Isn't that right, Spock."

". . . Indeed." Spock said not taking his eyes off the guards.

"Indeed, captain," Kirk stressed, making the Vulcan direct his cool gaze at Kirk for a brief moment. However, Spock didn't correct himself.

"But let's discuss business," Kirk put his feet down and got up to sit on the edge of the desk, leaning towards Krako, his barrel pointed towards Krako in a lazy fashion. "Tell me what you know about Pike, and we might come to some sort of understandin'."

Krako's eyes darted to the left, clearly nervous. "I dunno who you talkin' about."

Faster than what Krako was prepared for Kirk grabbed his lapel and pulled him forward, pressing the barrel into Krako's stomach. "Don' play games with me, or I'll have you wearin' cement overshoes before ya gal knows you're gone."

Krako swallowed hard. "Look here, Captain. We ain't done nothin'. Pike gave me a ring a month ago. Promised to help me get rich if I let him borrow two of my boys."

"What did he have 'em do?"

"He made them empty a couple of barrels in the city dump, but when he didn't hand over the goods, we cut him loose."

"What was in the barrels?"

"Some sort of liquid. We didn't ask."

Kirk wasn't satisfied with the answer, but he also didn't think he'd get a better explanation either. "What about the aliens?"

At the mention of the landing party, Krako scowled. "Either sleeping with the fish or getting acquainted with my butcher, Bobby."

Spock grew tense; his grip tightening on the gun, and Kirk swore he could feel the air around the Vulcan drop. "Alright, Krako, here's the deal. You give me them boys you have locked up, and I'll see what I can do about them heaters."

The Iotian seemed to consider it, but Kirk didn't trust him. He was holding Krako and his men at gunpoint after all, and he'd seen enough gangster movies to know that there were betrayals left and right. In addition to the fact that neither Spock nor Kirk knew how many people were actually in the building, left them at a disadvantage. There was only so much time before the rest of Krako's men realized they were keeping Krako hostage.

"You got yourself a deal, Kirk," Krako extended his hand which Kirk shook, sending a sidelong glance to Spock.

Spock aimed the gun down as an act of faith, but still kept hawk like attention on them.

"Alright Krako, lead the way," Kirk gestured to the door. "Spock, you stay here and keep the boys company, would ya?"

The commander didn't move at first. He just kept staring at the guards, unmoving.

"Spock?"

". . . Yes . . . Captain."

"He alright up here?" Krako pointed to his head.

"Yeah," though Kirk couldn't help but look back at Spock. "He's golden. Shall we?"

He led Krako out of the room, gun at the ready if he tried anything. The hallway was silent as they walked to a door that led into a basement. The nice wood paneling turned to stone and the air turned cool. The scent of copper wafted to his nose, and a dull thud reached his ears. At the bottom of the stairs was a corridor with three doors on each side. Krako lead him to the door at the end to his left. As they approached, the thud got louder and Kirk could faintly hear a groan from the other side of the door. Krako opened the door, letting the smell of copper grow stronger.

The room itself was covered in dried blood, but currently green was the predominant color staining the floor. Serik was tied to a chair, his hands cuffed to the table. His right temple was bleeding, his hair matted to his face with the blood. The left side of his face was swollen to the point his eye could no longer open, and his body was hunched over as if he was barely conscious. Kirk couldn't tell what other injuries he had sustained other than the green stains in his uniform. His left hand however looked crushed.

The other man in the room, Kirk could only assume he was the interrogator, held a hammer in his hand, covered in green blood, looking surprised to see Krako enter his domain.

"You haven't moved on yet?" Krako sounded irritated. He didn't spare Serik a glance as he walked further into the room.

"Boss! I wasn't expecting you. I was just about to sharpen Betsy and Clover." The man picked up a rather large pair of scissors. "But you wouldn't believe how sensitive his hands are. Had him screaming like a girl." The man slammed the hammer down on the table, just missing Serik's left hand by a hair. It was enough to make the Vulcan flinch before he could stop himself, trying to pull his hands back but unable to due to the cuffs. Kirk noticed that his wrists were chaffed to the bone.

"Change of plans, we're going to let them go. My boy Kirk here is going to take care of him, assuming he keeps his end of the deal."

The interrogator seemed almost disappointed at the news. "Whatever ya say, Boss," he said with a sigh. The man took the keys off his belt, and removed the cuffs.

Serik met Kirk's eyes for a moment then back to his hands. His body straightened as if trying to hold onto his pride and dignity, but unable to hold himself up. Every second his body slumped a little more, his eye drooping closed.

Kirk frowned on the inside. He was hoping the Vulcan would be able to walk by himself, but that wasn't a possibility given the Vulcan's condition. He'd have to carry him, and it would leave him open. "Got any more of my boys you put the bag on here?"

"Three more. I'll give 'em to ya once you deliver those heaters."

"Right. . ." He was considering how exactly they could leave when Spock walked into the room.

"Captain," Spock's attention went to Serik as he spoke. "If we are to prepare Mr. Krako's . . . heaters . . . we should leave now."

At the sound of the commander's voice, Serik once again tried to sit up. "Nu'ri-trensu." His voice was raspy and cracked, no louder than a whisper. It was a rather pathetic sight if Kirk said so himself, but he saw something change in Spock. His features grew softer for a moment as he regarded Serik, then hard again as if restraining his anger, but Kirk knew. He could see the promise of death behind those eyes. Kirk knew those eyes well.

"Why don't we bring out your drinking stuff and celebrate our partnership?" Kirk placed his hand on Krako's back guiding him out of the room in a friendly gesture. Just before he left, Kirk saw Spock start to remove his glove. The interrogator followed him out, glancing at Spock uneasily.

"Nu'ri-trensu," Serik said again, struggling to his feet.

"Hafa'un. Nam'tor du kobat." Serik hesitated before allowing his legs to give out and stay seated. Spock took a knee so he was more at his companion's level assessing the damage.

"Ni'droi'ik nar-tor. Ki'avshau nash-veh du."

Spock shook his head, feeling his stress, anger, and guilt. "ki'dvin-tor du lo'uk nash-veh. Kal-tor nash-veh." He lifted his hand to Serik's psi points and the man nearly relaxed into his touch.

"Shaya tonat."

Vulcan obtained from Vulcan Language Dictionary
Nu'ri-trensu : Young master
Hafa'un. Nam'tor du kobat: Stay. You are weak.
Ni'droi'ik nar-tor. Ki'avshau nash-veh du: Forgive me. I have failed you.
ki'dvin-tor du lo'uk nash-veh. Kal-tor nash-veh. : You have served me greatly. Allow me.
Shaya tonat: Thank you

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