Thanks to max2013, bhar, Caranath, Xenitha, hlahabibty, ukfan101, Jilsen, and SnowPrincess88 for their reviews. Sorry for the long wait between chapters; RL and a bad case of writer's block took hold. Anyway, on to Chapter 4!
"So, this is home sweet home?" Frank stood in the open door, keeping Agents Malone and Vickers behind him, and made sure both his words and the accompanying contemptuous tone were loud enough to hear up and down the hallway. He dropped his duffel bag down on the cracked linoleum floor, forcing it to land with a loud thud then kicked it out of the way, allowing the others enter the apartment. "Kinda looks like student housing," he said, his eyes sweeping the empty room for places where cameras might be hidden.
"That's 'cause it is student housing," Vickers said, an annoyed note in his voice, his affected Boston accent sounding rough and out of place. He shut the door behind them, then reached into his own bag with one hand while waving his other around to indicate Frank should keep talking.
Frank cleared his throat and started walking around. "This the best you could do, Dad? The place is a dump."
The door had opened into a small galley kitchen with a larger living/dining room on the other side of the counter. As Frank looked around, he could see a hallway on the right side of the room that held three open doors. A few steps showed behind the doors were two small bedrooms and a crowded bathroom.
"We're lucky we've even got a place to stay, Zack," Vickers said as he swept a small electronic device over each of the walls in the main room, then followed Frank down the short hall to the other rooms.
"Hate ta break it to ya, but this ain't a place. It's a closet." Frank stomped around the hall maintaining a steady gaze on the sensors on Vickers's device. No bugs so far, he thought. And I haven't seen any cameras. Not that there would be a lot of places to hide them in here. He turned back to the older agent. "So, which bedroom's mine?"
"Neither," Vickers said. "Carrie gets the back room, and I'm taking the front one."
"What?" Frank raised an eyebrow at him, then lifted his voice in apparent outrage. "Then where do I sleep?"
"Duh." Malone's voice came from the kitchen area. Frank strode back to the front room, and saw she was sitting on the counter, her legs swinging back and forth. "You get the couch."
Vickers leaned around the corner, moving his free hand in a large circle. Frank nodded, his heartbeat quickening. "The couch?" he yelled at Malone over his shoulder. "What couch?"
Vickers' voice came from the bathroom. "It's coming later along with the rest of the furniture."
"Why the hell couldn't we have gotten an apartment with three rooms?" A pounding noise sounded on the floor.
Malone gave him a thumbs up sign and laughed. "Still can't count can you, big brother? It's got three rooms. Just not one for you to have all to yourself." More pounding came from downstairs.
"Enough, you two." Vickers boomed from the hallway. "Carrie get off the counter. It's for food, not your behind. Zack, you know money's tight right now. We're staying here until the renovations are done. Jack said once a bigger place opens up, he'll let us have it. This is what was available."
Frank stomped on the floor a few times, stopping as the older agent walked back into the room.
"Looks clean," Vickers said, his voice lowered to a whisper. "And it looks like you two are doing a good job establishing our credibility with the neighbors." He flashed them a quick smile. "Oh, and about that couch..." His eyes ranged over Frank's lanky figure, taking in the ripped jeans and the black t-shirt spotted with bleach stains. "I made sure we're getting one you'll fit on. With good springs. It'll look pretty beat up, but the support will be fine. After all," the smile widened, "having you bent over like a question mark from sleeping on a lousy mattress won't do the mission any good at all."
"I appreciate that, sir." Frank kept his voice to a whisper. "I admit I was a bit concerned. Most sofabeds and I don't get along all that well."
Malone pushed herself lightly off the counter, a smile playing across her lips. "If you weren't so abnormally tall, it wouldn't have been an issue."
Frank sent a mock glare in her direction. "Really getting into your character, aren't you, Carrie?"
The petite agent shrugged and resettled the ripped, oversized sweatshirt on her shoulders. "I'm not a huge fan of the look, but I'm comfortable. It's a fair trade-off."
Vickers gave them an indulgent smile. "Well, we're here to work, so I want you two to go explore. Kara, you head onto campus and look around. Frank, you walk around the neighborhoods, get the lay of the land." He paused, then indicated Frank with his chin. "You go first. Make a fuss on your way out. We want the neighbors to get used to you as a hothead."
"Yes, sir," Frank muttered. He took a deep breath then stomped to the front door. "Fine," he yelled, a note of barely supressed rage in his voice, "then I'll find someplace I am wanted!" He jerked the door open, then slammed it shut as he exited the apartment, listening to the wood reverberate as it settled. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, lowered his head, and muttered to himself as he stormed down the hallway, noticing the number of doors that cracked open as he walked past. Good, he thought. It's a start.
Once outside, Frank walked to the end of the street, then turned right, skirting the edge of the University. Most of what was around looked like more student apartments, a few multi-family homes, and some strip-mall type businesses. Idly, he cataloged the street names as he walked – Blake Avenue, S. Deakin Street, W 6th Street, S. Almon Street. As he turned on E. 3rd Street, a light drizzle started falling from the sky, the water droplets falling faster and heavier as he continued. Just as the skies really opened up, he ducked into a store called Quest Star, hoping it didn't turn out to be some New Age store selling crystals and incense, and feeling pleasantly surprised to find it was a comic book and game shop.
He shook the water from his hair and glanced around, noticing all eyes in the store were turned toward him. A scowl touched his face, his eyes narrowing. "What?" Every head turned away, some looking down at books in their hands, others exchanging looks across the tables in the back of the store.
A noise came from Frank's right, the sound of a throat clearing. "Uh, can I help you find something?" a nervous voice asked.
The guy sitting behind the counter was a little older than college-aged, maybe twenty-four or five, wearing a t-shirt with a Doctor Who logo. His hair was longer than Frank's, dark brown, and pulled back in a short ponytail, revealing small plugs stretching his earlobes.
Frank looked at him for a moment before speaking. "Whadda you got on Daredevil?" He made sure to play up the Boston accent on the last word. "Anything by Miller. If you don't got him, Brubaker."
The cashier's eyebrows went up. "You sure know your writers. Let me check the inventory." He leaned over a computer keyboard and ran his hands over the keys. "My name's Chuck, by the way. I own the place. You new here?" When he got no answer, he flicked his eyes back to the computer screen. "Right. Looks like there are a couple of single issues mixed in Miscellaneous D section." He pointed down the 3rd aisle on the right. "Condition issues, but still readable. Feel free to take them out of the plastic and look at them." He sat back down but watched Frank carefully as he walked over to where the comics were housed.
Slowly, conversations started up again, punctuated by the sound made by the hard-driving rain each time the door opened to admit a new person. The third time the door's bell sounded, two guys came in together, arguing loudly.
"Dude, there's no way Batman would lose." The smaller of the two gestured frantically with his hands. "He's too smart. He'd know a way to outwit Superman." He wore a black leather aviator jacket that was at least two sizes too big. As his hands moved, the sleeves slid up past his elbows, and his blue eyes sparked with his argument.
The second guy was much taller and wore a Vandals hoodie over a tight blue t-shirt and jeans. His hair was cropped close to his head, making him look like a perfect, clean-cut farm boy. "Okay, Randall, explain how you outwit a guy with laser vision and super-breath who can lift buildings and fly." He put his hands on his hips and started talking again before the first guy could answer. "Here's how. You don't. Brute strength is going to overpower intelligence."
Randall turned around, walking backwards down the aisle to Frank's left. "But he's a boy scout, Matt. Superman isn't going to do anything that's not fair and above-board. Batman doesn't have that compunction. He'll do anything to win." He stopped and pointed at Matt. "And that, my friend, is the end of the argument. Work calls." Turning, he sprinted down the last few feet and disappeared behind a door at the back.
Frank grabbed a comic book and brought it up to the front of the store. "Guy's a menace," he said, tossing the book on the counter. "He works here?"
There was a momentary pause as Chuck and Matt exchanged a quick glance. "There's extra space in the back," Chuck said, a forced brightness in his voice. "This guy leases it out. He runs a computer business." He kept his eyes down, counting out Frank's change. "Games or something. Randy may seem like a space shot, but he's a wiz with comptuer graphics. You never know, right?"
"Yeah." Frank kept his expression neutral, but his mind was racing. Computer graphics? He shook his head. "Guy hiring?"
This time it was Matt who answered. "Randall hasn't said anything, but I don't think..." His voice trailed off.
Frank shrugged. "Whatever." A glance out the window told him the rain had stopped. He grabbed his book started walking toward the door. Just as he reached out for the handle, he turned to Matt. "Zatanna."
"What?"
"Zatanna would beat both Batman and Superman. Neither one is immune to magic." He pushed the door open and walked out.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
By the time Frank got back to the apartment, some of the furniture had arrived – a used dining room set, beds for the two other rooms, and the sofa. Neither Vickers nor Malone were home, so he sat down, took out a notebook, and started drawing a map of the area to keep the details fresh in his mind. Before he was finished, the door opened, and Malone walked in, the ripped white sweatshirt she had on hanging damply from her tiny frame.
She raised her eyebrows at him. "Dad home yet?" He shook his head, still concentrating on his map. Malone disappeared down the hall for a moment, then returned with a towel around her shoulders. "Find anything useful?"
"I don't know." Frank put the pen down. "Comic book store with a suspicious tenant who does 'something with computers.'" He made air quotes with his fingers. "Seems odd to me that the guy who owns the place wouldn't know what was going on. Could be I just made them nervous. Who knows? How about you?"
Malone rubbed the back of her head with the towel. "Let's see. There's not a big punk presence here. I got hit on by about twelve different frat boys. I did get in with a few of the sorority girls. We're meeting tomorrow for lunch. I'm hoping I can start dropping hints about parties and fake IDs."
"Just be sure to be subtle about it," Frank said as he picked up his map again.
"You don't trust me?" Malone's voice had an slight edge to it.
"What? No. I mean, yes, I trust you." He let out a breath. "This is your first undercover operation, right?"
"Yes." The edge grew harder.
He looked at her. "All I'm saying is, let them tell you about it. Don't ask where you can get one. It's too obvious." He paused. "I know you know this already, but sometimes it's easy to get caught up in the... excitement of what we're doing. If we're going to catch this guy, we need to take it slow."
Malone relaxed. "Yeah, I know."
The front door opened, and they both jumped slightly. "Good." Vickers's voice came from the hallway. "You're both here. Now get off your butts and help bring the groceries in."
Frank rolled his eyes. "No rest for the weary, I guess. Back to the grind."
