Disclaimer: I don't own any of the recognizable characters, Valve does. So long as I can play with them, I'm okay.
"Oh JEEZE, Boomer!" Francis shouted, aiming his gun and shooting at the swollen Infected. The vomiting creature soon exploded in a shower or bile and blood, and Francis grimaced. "Don't think I'll ever get used to those."
Nick propped his sunglasses on his head and chewed on his lip. "Hm. Haven't seen many of the special ones yet. And this week we've seen a Boomer AND that Smoker."
"Yeah, and we killed both of them handily," Francis muttered. The Smoker had been fairly simple. They had head it coughing two days prior, and flipped a coin to see who had to be used as bait. Nick had been the unlucky one, and it had suddenly seemed to him that his recurring Smoker nightmare had been prophetic. Because yes, he did find himself tied up in a nasty tongue, and felt that Francis had taken just a little too much time to dispose of the malevolent thing. But that didn't matter, as the Special Infected was gone, and the toddler finally avenged. "Did Jacobs ever get back to you about the electric fence idea?"
"He said that the barbed wire should be enough," Nick replied, reloading his rifle. Francis shrugged.
"Seems to work well enough so far."
"For now."
"You're more paranoid than usual today," Francis stated. "Hey, what time is it? Is it five? Are we off?"
Nick looked at his watch. "It's four fifty eight."
"Eh, that's close enough, I'm done for the day," Francis said, slinging his gun over his shoulder and walking for the gate. "Are you coming?"
"You can take the car, my ride isn't getting here until 5:15, I'll wait it out," Nick said, and Francis grinned at him. Nick eyed the grin, and scowled. "What?"
"Your RIDE happen to be Ellis?" Francis asked, swinging the gate lock key around his finger.
"Are we twelve year old girls? So what if it's Ellis? We're having a beer after work, who cares?" Nick asked, perturbed by Francis' constant ribbing.
"Still not getting any?"
"Fuck off, it's not your business."
"That's a solid no."
"WHY do you CARE? Jesus, concern yourself with your own dick, would ya?" Nick asked, hotly.
"Hey, can I come too?" Francis asked, ignoring the temper Nick was displaying, and the con man snorted. "Come on! I could use a beer too!"
"Why don't you just continue stalking Rochelle?"
"She works late during the week, if I do get the go ahead to see her it's not til eight, come on!" Francis whined. "Besides, I could use the guy time. She's a cool chick, but she definitely judges me. I hate being judged."
"I judge you all the time."
"Yeah, but I judge you right back. C'mon, let me come with!" Nick was about to call Francis a whiny bitch, when he was surprised to see Ellis' pick up truck pull up alongside the BMW. So instead he waved brusquely, his wave met with a very optimistic one out the window.
"Thought you worked 'til five!" Nick called as Ellis slammed the car door. The mechanic shrugged, grinning.
"Got off early," he replied. "Hey Francis! How're you today?"
"I'm in the mood for a beer, Ellis, what say you?" Francis asked, and Nick glowered his way.
"Well hell yeah, that's what me 'n Nick're doin'!" Ellis said, happily. "Wanna come with?" Francis turned to Nick, smiling smugly.
"Why sure!" he replied, voice mocking, which displeased the con man even more. Nick had many pet peeves, but one near the very tip top of his list was cock blocking. While he hadn't had any luck with Ellis in the past couple of weeks of hanging out, they'd both been having a lot of fun doing just that. Even when they weren't at Carlisle's having a beer, the mechanic would call the Z-Man and chatter on for hours about this and that. Nick had hoped that this meant he was getting closer to a chance at seduction, and had been playing his cards very carefully. If Francis tagged along, it would throw a wrench in the gears.
And frankly, those two had enough in common that Nick would end up being the third wheel.
"Alright, guys night out! I haven't had one of those since before the Infection," Francis said as he and Nick walked through the fence.
"What about when you hung out with Nick?" Ellis asked, and Nick wrapped the heavy duty chain around the fence's gate.
"That hardly counts," Francis joked, and the con man shook his head as he made sure to lock the gate tightly. "Aw I was just kidding, Nick!"
"Shut up," Nick muttered, shoving the key in his pocket. "Let's just go get some drinks, okay?"
"AND chili cheese fries," Francis added, opening the door to the BMW but lingering in the doorway.
"Aw hell yeah! I LOVE those things!" Ellis chirped.
"Oh goody!" Nick sneered, sarcastically.
"Oh boy, seems Suit here doesn't like chili cheese fries either," Francis said, giving Ellis a 'can you believe this guy?' look. "If Rochelle didn't hate you so much she'd probably consider you a partner in the fight against crummy food."
"Her hate for me far outweighs her hate for chili cheese fries, I guess," Nick shrugged, and began to open the door to the black car as well.
"Hey, you aren't riding with me," Francis stated, and Nick frowned.
"What? Why not?"
"Because Ellis came all the way out to the East Gate to pick you up, I'm not going to be the reason that gas went to waste," Francis said, though his raised eyebrow said otherwise. The biker was fully aware that his need for bro time was intruding on Nick's master (if futile) plan. So why not throw the gambler a bone by giving him the alone time with Ellis he so richly desired? Nick nodded subtly, and turned to Ellis.
"If that's cool with you," he offered, and Ellis shrugged.
"Sure is! Hop on in!" he nodded, and Nick's bitterness towards Francis subsided a little bit. Even if THIS act of apology still seemed like something a high school girl would do. So the gambler got in the truck, and Ellis revved the engine. "Oh MAN, I haven't had a guys night out since Keith an' Dave an' I were all livin' in Savannah! This is probably the best idea we've ever had!"
"Wasn't MY idea," Nick muttered, though Ellis was too excited to catch the small bit of resentment in his voice.
"I mean, hangin' out with you is great an' all, but for it to be a REAL guys night there hafta be at least three. That's a fact, I know it's a fact cuz Keith SAID it was a fact," he explained. "So Nick, when's the last time YOU had a guys night out? Did you an' Francis do that kinda thing when you were trainin' an' shit?"
"No, not really," Nick replied. He'd never actually had a 'guys night out' in his thirty eight years, as he'd never had a group of friends that he did things with. He'd always been a loner, ever since he was in grade school and much preferred reading a book under a tree to playing tag with a bunch of other kids. It was easier to move on from people if you didn't get attached. And plus, he was admittedly hard to get along with, so groups of friends tended to shun him away. Yes, he and Francis would hang out with other Z-Men during training, but they would always prefer Francis' company to his. Unless they were interested in fucking him. And there were a few of them, the best being those who didn't know they wanted to fuck him until just a few moments beforehand.
And yeah, his sexual proclivities didn't exactly endear him to large groups of males either. In his experience, he was either seen as competition (competition that couldn't be beaten), or as a threat to their masculinity (because shock and horror, they might just like having his cock up their asses!).
"Well you're in for a treat then, my man," Ellis said, confidently. "Cuz I bet me an' Francis know how t'really party!"
"Yeah, I'm sort of afraid of that," Nick admitted, and Ellis socked him on the shoulder gently.
The three of them walked into Carlisle's, and were seated right away by a more cheerful looking Wednesday. "Hey guys. Come on in. Have a seat and take as much time as you need looking at the menu. Can I get you anything to drink?"
Nick and Francis looked at each other, skeptically, and then back at Wednesday. "Okay, twerpette, what gives?" Francis asked, and she shrugged, exchanging a knowing glance with Ellis, who was trying not to smile. "And you, Motor Mouth? What are YOU smiling at?"
"I wasn't gonna say anything, I was waitin' for Nick to bring it up, but when he didn't I figured you don't get the paper," Ellis said, knee bouncing up and down. "Wednesday, go get a copy!" She nodded, rushing off, and the Z-Men still had no idea what to make of the situation.
"El, come on, what's going on?" Nick asked.
"So you haven't seen the paper?" Ellis asked, wanting to make sure.
"No we haven't seen the paper!" Francis said, impatient. "What's in the paper today? Should we be worried? Is this some kind of Candid Camera or Punk'd kind of thing? Because I hate practical jokes-!"
"Nothin' like that," Ellis promised, as Wednesday came back with the paper. "Oh here we are!" He opened the newsprint to the editorial page, and slammed it down on the table to show the two Z-Men. Nick and Francis read the largest headline, and the biker was the first one to whoop and pound the table excitedly.
" 'Z-Men: Reluctant But Necessary Weaponry'," Nick read aloud, and turned to Ellis. "So Ro's article finally got published, hm?"
"Yeah, it got published alright," Ellis said to him, smiling broadly. "Not only that, EVERYONE'S been talkin' about it. It's a pretty big deal, it makes you two out to be, like, dragon slayers or somethin'! She touched on how you got that Smoker, an' how you've been makin' sure we haven't had ANY attacks since you got here, an how you both do it because you think it's right, not because you're in it for glory or nothin'!"
Nick frowned, and looked over at Francis, who shrugged. "So I take it she got all this from him then?"
"Well she won't talk to you, Suit, so yeah," Francis said as Wednesday returned with their usual drinks. "Well thanks, Wednesday. You remembered."
"You just order PBR every time you come in here, it's not too hard," she said, and Carlisle left the kitchen, smiling gleefully and waving at their table. "Uh oh, boss man's gonna gush. It's what he does."
"Francis, Nick, and Ellis! So glad to see all of you! The men who protect me and the man who fixes stuff around my restaurant, truly you're an epic group," Carlisle said. "Just so you know, this round is on me."
"You really don't have to do that," Nick began, but Carlisle shook his head, adamantly.
"Nothin' doin', I'm buying these for you and that's that," he said, and Ellis and Francis both grinned and raised their beers up. "Hell, I'll even throw in an appetizer-."
"Chili cheese fries," Francis stated, and took his first sip.
"You got it," Carlisle stated, pointing at him. "We have a great French Onion soup too, just so you know, on special tonight. Sheesh, if you want one of those I'd be willing-."
"Please stop at the chili cheese fries," Nick commanded. "These two will eat you out of a livelihood."
"Alright, well, I just want to show my appreciation for what it is you do," Carlisle said, embarrassed but still tempted to give, give, give. "Just let Wednesday know if you need anything."
"Will do," Ellis nodded, and she smiled at him and went back to take more orders from others. "You two are like bonafide celebrities!"
"What all does she say in here?" Francis asked, picking up the paper and skimming her article. "Oh man….. She's good. Listen to this: 'There are those who wish to discredit the Z-Men by labeling them as 'thugs with badges'. While I can only speak on behalf of my own experiences, I believe that OUR Z-Men do not fall into that category. They take no joy in what they do, but they do it so we do not have to. I, for one, am thankful that they are so willing to do that for us.'… I'm in love, guys."
"She certainly knows how to write a puff piece, she oughta be writing propaganda for the Government," Nick said, coolly.
"Aw c'mon, Nick, it was a real nice article," Ellis said, perplexed at the con man's ability to grouse about such a favorable depiction. "What's wrong with it?"
"….. No, it's fine," Nick settled on, swirling his beer, and Francis rolled his eyes.
"Oh boy, break out the world's smallest violin," he said, and Nick kicked him under the table. "OW. You're such a dick."
"What's wrong?" Ellis asked the con man, voice a might concerned, and Nick shook his head, smiling at him gently. "Why don't you like the article?"
"That's not it, don't worry about it," Nick replied, winking at the mechanic.
Ellis was going to push a little bit more, but before he could Francis whistled and nudged his partner in the chest. "Heeeyyyy, Suit, don't look now, but there's a hot red head eying you across the room."
Nick slowly craned his neck to look where Francis was gesturing, and slyly smiled at the woman. She smiled back at him, and pursed her lips momentarily. Where had SHE been all this time? Sure, the article had probably greased the wheels, but he didn't care. He nodded at her, and turned back to his companions.
"Holy shit, I didn't realize they made them like that in North Carolina," he said, running his tongue across his teeth. Ellis frowned at the woman, crossing his arms, and bounced his leg up and down nervously.
"So what then, are you gonna go pick her up or somethin'?" he asked, coldly, and Nick turned back to him, a quizzical look in his eyes.
"Maybe," he answered, brazenly.
"Do it, you need to get laid," Francis stated.
"Thank you, Francis."
"Well why wouldya wanna go for HER?" Ellis asked, trying not to sound put off or jealous. Though he was. Frustratingly so.
"Because I haven't been nailed since we left Missouri, sport, and unlike YOU I can't go that long without going nuts," Nick said, and glanced back at the redhead.
Ellis looked back at her, trying to see the appeal but unable to do so, and turned back to the table, attempting to keep the moping to a minimum. But Nick could tell that his ex was upset by the thought of him excusing himself for a romp in the bathroom.
Initially, it pissed the gambler off. Why SHOULDN'T he go pursue the voluptuous female if she was willing and able? He was certainly free to do so, and Ellis had made it abundantly clear that he wanted nothing from the con man outside of a buddy-buddy relationship at this point in time. For the kid to get all sulky and petulant was immature at best, and infuriating at worst.
However, it also occurred to Nick that if he DIDN'T go get his jollies at that moment, he would have better chance of getting in Ellis' good graces, and THEREFORE have better chance getting his jollies with the mechanic. Which he still wanted to do more than anything.
So he grit his teeth, and turned back to his friends. "Nah, not tonight."
"WHAT?" Francis asked, flabbergasted. "What do you mean 'not tonight'?"
"I'm okay, I have plans with you guys."
"You left me stranded in a thunderstorm to get some tail once, I call bullshit," Francis pointed out, but Nick shook his head.
"Not tonight." He casually looked over at Ellis, who was holding in a smile, rather unsuccessfully. But had he not been trying to hide it, he would have had a big goofy grin on his face, utterly delighted. And he didn't care that none of this should have mattered to him; Nick wasn't ditching him for some girl, even if they were just friends and she was guaranteed sex.
"I really don't want to have to listen to you whacking off anymore, so PLEASE do me a favor and either get some action, or do it in the shower or something," Francis said, shaking his head. "Got it?"
"Understood," Nick nodded, and Ellis did his best not to turn around and give the redhead a smug look.
As they shared a plate of chili cheese fries (even Nick indulged in a couple of them), Barbara Dane walked into the restaurant, hoping to purchase a quick dinner for herself. While she didn't particularly like the atmosphere at Carlisle's, she did enjoy the food. And Carlisle was more than happy to prepare something for her to take home. At first she didn't notice the group of men sitting around the table, as she was focused on grabbing a menu and deciding on something to eat. But she soon heard the familiar laugh that made her heart tingle, and she spun around to see Ellis and the two Z-Men drinking and eating together. Seeing Ellis out with friends, male friends, made her smile all the more, and she shook her head happily. She leaned on the bar, and waved at Wednesday. "Hey, can I order something to go?"
"Yeah, sure," Wednesday replied, planting herself at the computer. "What do you want?"
"The catfish sandwich with a side of fruit," Barbara replied, and her eyes fell back on Ellis. "It's nice seeing that he's finally made friends outside of Rochelle, isn't it?"
"Okay," Wednesday said, typing in the order for the kitchen.
"I was always so worried that he'd never find a good guy friend."
"Why do you even care?" Wednesday asked, skeptically. "It's not like it has any affect on you."
Barbara frowned a bit. She had never cared for Wednesday, and conversations like this reminded her why. "It's just good to know he has a good friend in that Z-Man is all."
"Who, Nick?" Wednesday asked, and chuckled sardonically. "Yeah. 'Friend'."
Barbara turned back to the waitress, confused frown adorning her features. "What does that mean?" Wednesday looked back at her, not having realized that she'd said that comment a bit louder than under her breath, and shrugged stiffly.
"Nothing," she tried, but Barbara's usually chipper face was stony, and she obviously wasn't going to let Wednesday go without an explanation. So Wednesday, taking a certain sadistic glee in making people squirm with offhand comments, wrinkled her nose and tossed her black hair. "Oh come on, Barbara. It's pretty clear that Ellis has the hots for the guy."
Barbara's head turned sharply to the waitress, eyes wide, and then flung back towards the table. "…. What?"
"It's the first and only time I've seen that guy look at someone like that," Wednesday said, airily. "He freaking worships the ground Nick walks on…" She trailed off, knowing she'd stirred up some trouble, and walked into the kitchen to tell Carlisle that the object of his affection was waiting for food.
Barbara tried to focus on something else in the room as she waited for her dinner, but she couldn't help but keep looking back at Ellis and Nick as they chit chatted with each other. She didn't know why Wednesday was making such brash assumptions about the two of them, and Barbara found it rather impolite to spread such an unfounded rumor. She was planning to simply brush it off, chalk Wednesday's opinion up to an overactive teenage imagination.
As she looked at them, Nick leaned into Ellis' ear, whispering something private and placing a hand on the mechanic's arm. Ellis slowly smiled, the smile on his face brighter than any smile she'd ever seen on him, and he looked at Nick, who raised his eyebrows slyly. It was a private moment unwittingly witnessed by the blonde woman, and Barbara's eyebrows drew together, her lips thinning to a subtle frown. What the hell was that about?
"Hey Barbara," Carlisle Smits said as he left the kitchen, and she jumped in place. "Oh, sorry! Didn't mean to startle you-."
"It's fine, Carlisle," she said, scratching her arm and forcing herself not to look at the two men at the table.
"Well, I have your dinner here," he said, handing her a bag. "That will be eight fifty. And I threw in a free side of soup, French Onion, I thought maybe you'd like to try it."
"Oh, thanks," she replied, handing him a ten and taking the bag from his hand. He nodded, his smile wilting a hair, and rang up her cash.
"Would you like your change-?"
"No, keep it, Carlisle," she replied, tucking the back in her arm and moving a stray clump of hair behind her ear.
"Okay then," he said, and shuffled his feet. "Say Barbara, I was wondering, if you didn't really have any plans for the Autumn Festival-."
"I'm sorry, Carlisle, excuse me," she cut him off, barely listening to him as she walked for the exit, and Carlisle nodded in defeat, and tapped his hand to his leg as he walked back into the kitchen.
As Barbara walked by, Nick raised his eyebrows, still goaded that she'd caused him such irritation with her dumbass lie. So he set his beer down and sneered. "So Barbara." She paused, face turning a deep crimson, and turned towards the three men at the table. "Sorry to hear about you and Ellis."
"Nick," Ellis warned, disapprovingly.
"…. I don't know what you're talking about," Barbara muttered, clenching her fists and making her to-go bag crinkle. Before Nick could say anything else, she rushed through the front door. Ellis frowned at his friend.
"You didn't hafta be a jerk about it," he chastised, and Nick shrugged.
"You know me, I'm a huge jerk," he replied.
"I can vouch for that," Francis nodded.
Once the appetizer was consumed, and after another round of beer, Francis pat his stomach, and exhaled in a satisfied manner. "Well, I think it's time for me to hit the open road. As much as I like you schmucks I have other business to attend to."
"You invite yourself and then don't even stick around," Nick tisked, and Francis shrugged. "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to go see a certain lady friend and congratulate her on a job well done," he replied as he stood up, and both Nick and Ellis made mocking hooting noises. "Aw screw both've ya. I'm taking your car, Suit. I need to pick up my motorcycle."
"Taking my car and stranding me so you can get your motorcycle, that's ridiculous," Nick said, making a face.
"I'll take you home," Ellis said, and Francis pointed at the mechanic.
"Thanks Motor Mouth, I owe you a solid," the biker said, and saluted the two of them. "I'm OUT. Tell Carlisle thanks for the beer." And with that, he left the bar, a little more spring to his step than normal. Nick shook his head, and pushed his empty beer glass away.
"…. Thanks for the ride," he muttered, and Ellis hid a smile.
"Not a problem. I used to give Keith rides all the time, especially when he was outta commission cuz've a busted car or a busted leg," Ellis said.
"Oh, joy, I've finally risen to Keith levels of inconvenience," Nick said, and Ellis shrugged as he snickered.
Rochelle's eyes were beginning to strain as she clicked away on her keyboard. Her most recent article had been quite the success, and while riding the high of that had been nice, she now had to come up with a new opinion piece. She wasn't sure if it was a step up from the small news blurbs she'd been writing, but it looked like she was now going to be one of the editorial writers. Which meant she needed to find opinions on an array of things, and fast. Her most recent opinion was on whether or not one of the Mom and Pop pharmacies should be allowed to deny access to birth control, as the owners didn't believe in it after such a population decrease. Seeing as she found that to be idiocy, her stance was easy, but her temper was flaring.
She was about to just write out 'BECAUSE IT'S DUMB' and call it a night, when her apartment buzzer went off. She crooked an eyebrow, not expecting anyone, and slowly stood up and walked for the intercom button. "… Yeah?"
"It's me, Cupcake," she heard the gruff voice say, and she gasped, stomach flip flopping. Though she didn't expect anyone, she REALLY didn't expect Francis. But perhaps she should have, as he WOULD be slapdash enough to just show up on her doorstep.
"…. What is it?" she asked, lost for what to say.
"Can I come up?"
She looked at her clothing, and groaned. Pajama pants and an Ohio State sweatshirt weren't exactly the sexiest fashion statements. She tapped her finger against the wall a few times, and then closed her eyes as she hit the button. "Yeah, but don't knock for three minutes, okay?"
"Uh, okay?" She buzzed him in, and rushed into her bedroom, frantically throwing the dirty clothes into her closet, making the rumpled bedding, and changing into a tank top at least. She quickly looked herself over in the mirror, and wished she had time to do even just a little makeup. But it was too late, as soon Francis was knocking on the door. Why didn't she say FIVE minutes? She threw water on her face, called 'Just a minute!' as she dried it, and then walked to the door, opening it with confidence.
"Hey," he said, stepping forward and leaning against the doorframe.
"Do you always drop in unannounced?" she asked. "At least when I was at work I looked somewhat put together."
"You look fine to me," he said. "…. Can I come in?"
"That depends, what are you here for?" she asked, guarded.
"I read your article and wanted to give you props," he replied. "Nearly made me blush." She could feel her own face turning hot, but outwardly shrugged.
"Glad you liked it… Yeah, come on in," she replied. After all, she'd straightened up, hadn't she? He followed her inside and closed the door behind him. "Now they want me to be in charge of a lot of editorial pieces. They say I'm more spitfire than their other guy. Which means I'll piss more people off, I guess."
"Nothing wrong with pissing people off," Francis said, thudding down on the couch. "I do it all the time."
"I'd believe that," she said, leaning against the breakfast bar.
"…. So I was thinking that since the article is out maybe I'd finally take you out on that date-," he started, but she held up her hands.
"Let's get one thing straight," she interrupted, and he shut his mouth, surprised. "I'm not some dumb biker groupie you can mess around with and then knock to the side, okay?"
"Ummmmm…. I know that-."
"Because I won't stand for that kind of arrogant bullshit. And I'm not going to be there just to inflate your ego at every turn," she continued, doggedly. "If you piss me off, I'm gonna let you know you've pissed me off. And I have a feeling that you're gonna piss me off."
"We talked about that earlier."
"I'm probably gonna piss you off too, because I can be a stubborn bitch when I want to be," she stated.
"Good, I like a challenge," he said, standing up from the couch, as it literally rising to it. She didn't more from the breakfast bar, but that didn't matter as he came to her, trapping her between the countertop and himself, hands resting on the granite but acting as a cage around her. She inhaled sharply, it taking every ounce of strength not to shake in anticipation. She'd sure been with guys before, met them at college parties, in bars, she'd even carried on an affair with one of her coworkers at her Ohio news station. But none of them had been like Francis. And Francis wasn't just a guy. He was a rough and tumble, devil may give a hoot MAN. And DAMN did he pull it off well.
"Francis," she said, carefully, and he leaned in, his breath grazing her chin delicately.
"Yeah?"
"…. I fucking love your vest," she stated, and it was as if those were the magic words, as Francis lunged in for the kiss. Their jaws met eagerly, and as they embraced he lifted her up, ready to carry her to wherever it was he could get on top of her. He started for the couch, but she shook her head and pulled her lips away.
"Bedroom!" she commanded. After all, she'd cleaned up the damn place, she may as well show it off.
"You got it!" he replied, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as they began kissing again.
He knew that as soon as he got home he was going to burst into Nick's room and do his victory dance, which would anger his partner to no end.
As Rochelle and Francis consummated their pent up lust for each other, near the East Gate, Creevy was sitting in his car, smoking a cigarette slowly. He let his arm dangle outside the window, the ash on his cig dangling precariously until he finally tapped it off. It floated to the ground slowly, and he looked at his watch. Jacobs was late. Being an incredibly punctual person, he never had been able to abide those who weren't. He stared at the dashboard of his car, and exhaled the smoke from his mouth.
By the time Jacobs did show up Creevy had gone through three cigarettes, and that wasn't to say that the Sheriff was especially late. The CEDA agent simply had a lot on his mind. Jacobs walked up to the window, and tilted his head down to look into the car. "You wanted to see me, Creevy?" Creevy nodded, and gestured to the passenger seat.
"Get in," he stated, voice flat. Jacobs hesitated a moment, but then complied, sliding into the passenger seat and slamming the door. "…. Did you see that editorial piece in the paper today?"
"So you've been reading our paper, have you?"
"Yes. It's something to do while I drink my coffee, have you seen it?" Creevy replied.
"I did see it, yes," Jacobs stated, trying not to cough as Creevy blew more smoke into the car. "That was a pretty convincing article. Word around town is that most people now see your boys as good things for the community. So I assume that you have called me here to gloat?"
Creevy mashed his cigarette out in the ashtray, lips thin and eyes narrow. After a few beats of silence, he turned towards Jacobs, expression betraying no indication of just what he was feeling. It was a hollow look, and it made Jacobs uncomfortable.
"I've been a part of the United States Government for the past twenty four years," he said, grimly. "I was hired right out of college and worked my ass off to get where I am today. I started at the bottom, ass kissing and bringing coffee to those above me, and now look at me. I'm a second tier agent, one of those picked to salvage a ruined agency. Many of my ideas are implemented and used by the military and the Z-Men, and now I'm overseeing two successful agents who seem to have this town on track to safety.
"But no, Jacobs," he continued, tone changing enough to make the sheriff jump in his seat. "I am not going to gloat because I am NOT happy about this!"
"…. I don't understand," Jacobs said, as Creevy slammed his hand on the steering wheel. "Your boys are doing a good job-!"
"Those two are hardly 'my boys'," Creevy muttered, lighting up yet another cigarette. "If they were anyone else, ANYONE else, I would be willing to gloat. But I can't take joy in their success."
"… I'm still lost, Creevy," Jacobs said, impatiently. "Yes, they're rough around the edges, and I don't like Z-Men in my town, but-."
"I spoke to their direct superior today, and do you know what he told me?" Creevy hissed, manically. "Your mayor has already contacted him, and after hearing about the progress those thugs have made, he's decided that this is their last assignment. When they are done here, they're done as Z-Men!"
"Well if you don't like them wouldn't that make you happy-?"
"No!" Creevy snapped, and took a long drag off his cigarette, hand shaking with anger. He shook his head, and grimaced, teeth grinding together. "Do you know what happens when they're released from duty? They get to retire and slide through life on their goddamn pension plan! Do you know how much the Z-Men GET for that?"
"I have a feeling I don't want to know."
"You don't. But I can guarantee that neither of them deserve it," Creevy said. "…. Which is why I've called you here tonight, Jacobs…. I believe that we can help each other."
"….. How, exactly?" the cop asked, skeptically, though he was admittedly intrigued.
Creevy turned to look at him again, a leer on his face that was downright unsettling. His eyes were glinting with a frenzied ire, and his lips pulled over his teeth. "I have an idea. It will not only get the Z-Men out of your town, it will get these particular Z-Men out of my hair for good. Think you'd be willing to help me?"
"…. I don't have nothin' against THESE Z-Men, Creevy, I don't want ANY Z-Men in my town again. Period," Jacobs said, voice low. "Now can you guarantee THAT?"
"…. Yes. Yes I can."
"…. I'm listening."