Hey guys! Sorry about the wait on this one-writer's block hit and hit hard. Fortunately I've already got a jump on the next chapter, so the wait shouldn't be too long...
Heh.
Chapter Eleven: Everyone Calls Him Mundy
Blood roared into Spy's ears and he had just planned his escape when his unknown assailant sniggered, and Sniper's chin began to tremble from the effort not to laugh. But for all his renowned self-control he couldn't help himself, and burst out laughing.
The kukri came away from his neck and instantly Spy sprang forward, shoving Sniper roughly. "You bastard!"
"Oh God ya should see yer face, spook," Sniper stumbled to the ground, laughing and clutching at his sides, "ya looked ready ta shit yerself!"
Spy stood over him with fists clenched, ready to beat the ever-loving daylights out of the Aussie, when the lights flicked on overhead. Spy wheedled around to stare at the Aborigine leaning against the wall with a massive grin on his face. The Frenchman withheld a huff and smoothed out his shirt. "Hello," he began, doing his best to ignore the man's smirk, "you must be a friend of Lawrence's." The name came out in a snarl.
"Lawrence? I don't know a Lawrence. But I do know a Mundy." And with that, he moved around Spy and grabbed Sniper's hand, pulling him to his feet and embracing him. "And he got old!"
Sniper grinned as he returned the embrace before pulling away to study the man. "Old? Well, at least I didn't get fat, hm?"
The man patted his slightly paunchy stomach with pride. "I didn't get fat, I got comfortable. There's a difference." He released Sniper with a wink.
Spy coughed a bit, and suddenly Sniper remembered he wasn't alone. "Phil, lemme introduce ya ta me mate Christian. Christian, this is Phil."
"Nice to meetcha!" Christian bounced forward and seized Spy's hand, pumping it up and down with great enthusiasm. Spy withheld a grimace at the man's rough shake. "Any friend of Mundy's is a friend of mine!"
Christian was a dark-skinned man, a full head shorter than Lawrence, with a barreled-chest and a round stomach. He had a small beard, nearly trimmed, and dark, curly hair. Even as he sized the new man up, Spy managed a pained smile and a nod. "The same." He finally wrenched himself away from Christian, holding his throbbing hand close.
"So, where you from, Pete—"
"Hey! You can't start the party without me!"
At the sound of Lizzie's voice in the doorway Christian froze. He spun around very closely, with the odd look of a man who'd just gotten punched in the face and was happier for it. He straightened and sucked in his gut a bit. Spy watched him, eyes narrowing, and Sniper was too busy admiring the décor to notice.
"Hey there, Lizzie." Christian cleared his throat as Lizzie stepped into the light. His eyes landed on her rounded stomach before widening. "You need to get that bloating checked out, girl!"
"I'm not bloated, Christian," Lizzie laughed, "I'm pregnant."
"You mean you got a baby in there? Sheesh, didn't anyone ever tell you that babies have no nutritional value whatsoever? Who let you eat a baby?!" Christian rushed over and crouched down in front of the laughing Lizzie, pressing his ear to her stomach. "Uh-huh. I can hear it. 'Let me out! Let me out!'". He glanced up at Lizzie, pleased to see her face flushed with laughter, and his expression softened. When he spoke, however, his voice had deepened dramatically: "Congratulations, Lady Lizzie. As your humble servant I swear to spoil this baby rotten." He bowed his head in mock reverence.
"Arise, Sir Christian," Lizzie managed through giggles, "I gladly accept your services."
A very loud cough shook the pair out of their moment and somehow Sniper appeared between the two, sliding his arm around Lizzie in an as tactful manner as he could. Spy stood the side, feeling very out-of-place and forgotten indeed.
"Ah, where are my manners? Come in, come in!" Christian shooed the trio into his living room and seated them on his lumpy, moth-beaten couch.
Sniper bounced up and down a bit, testing the couch. "So, wot's new?"
"Young people are leading revolutions, old people are griping, taxes are spiking and the pub business is booming." Christian smiled wryly. "You know the saying, the more things change, the more things stay the same."
"I heard about the pub." Lawrence grinned. "Congratulations."
"I owe it all to your parents, really, they helped out with the down payment on the property—say! Shall I show off my fabulous bartending skills for you?" Christian beamed at the idea.
Sniper grinned and nodded. "I'll take a Roy Rogers, if ya got the supplies."
"No problem! And Lizzie?"
"Just water, thanks!"
"Bah, you're no fun. Pete?" Christian rounded on Spy, eyes expectant.
"Phil." Spy corrected. "And some water would be excellent."
Christian shrugged and moved into the next room. "All right—"
There was a sudden bang and a woof, and a fluffy dog came bounding into the room, howling excitedly. The dog made a beeline for Sniper, claws scratching against the wooden floor. With a happy yip the animal jumped onto the couch, licking at Sniper's face. Sniper laughed and cuddled the dog into his chest. "Kida! Good girl, good girl!"
"Kida." Christian popped his head around the corner. "Down, girl."
"Nah, she's good. Good ol' girl." Sniper buried his face into Kida's fur, hugging her to him. He scratched behind her ears, making her tail thump madly. "Haven't seen ya since ya were as big as a loaf of bread!"
Lizzie cooed and reached over, rubbing Kida's fluffy back. "Hiya, Kida!"
Spy sat rigid on the end of couch, staring at Kida in ill-disguised disgust. His lips pulled back into a sneer as the dog spun in Sniper's lap to face him, tongue hanging out of her mouth. "Stay. Stay. Stay, mongrel!" He scooted backwards as Kida plodded off of Sniper, towards him. She climbed up onto his lap, tongue wagging out of his mouth. He stiffened, arms pressed to his sides as Kida planted her paws on his shoulders, licking him wildly and getting slobber all over his fancy pajamas. Spy screwed his eyes shut against the unwanted affection, while Sniper and Lizzie just smirked. "'elp," the Frenchman managed. "Get this THING off me!"
Christian came back into the room, balancing four drinks in his hands. "Kida. Off! Paul doesn't like you!"
"Phil," Spy snarled as the dog jumped off of him. He stared at his ruined clothes in mourning and attempted to wipe some of the dog slobber off of him.
"Sorry about Kida. She's a bit…excitable. You can go get cleaned up in the dunny, if you like." Christian jerked his head in the direction of the bathroom, and Spy eased off the couch, glaring at Kida as he did so.
Once the Frenchman had left, Christian's shoulders relaxed and he passed the drinks off to Sniper. "Odd sort of fella. Where's he from, anyway?"
"Montreal." Sniper sipped his drink nonchalantly.
"I think he's nice." Lizzie chirped, sipping her water.
"Ya think he's noice because ya don't work wif him."
Christian arched his eyebrows. "So you an' him work together?"
"He's a Spy," Lizzie whispered shrilly before polishing off her water. Christian looked to Sniper.
The older Mundy scowled and stirred his Roy Rogers with his pinky finger. "Liz, I don't think ya quite grasp the secret part of secret occupation."
Lizzie shrugged sheepishly before changing the subject, "So, Christian, how's business?"
"Not bad." Christian shrugged. "With the new GI factory just about up and running, I got something besides bums and druggies to serve, y'know? 'Course, not many are willing to risk setting foot in the establishment of a, well, man like me, but you gotta roll with the punches." Kida settled down at his feet and he rubbed behind her ears.
Sniper arched his eyebrows. "No hollerin' out in the streets fer ya?"
"Nah, mate." Christian shook his head. "Let the young people try to change the world. They got twice the energy and half the brains." He collapsed down beside Lizzie and stretched. "I got my hands full with the bums."
Sniper hesitated, and then cleared his throat. "S'bad, then?"
"Worse." Christian shook his head. "With the Australium supplies drying up, everyone's scrambling for synthetics, and some of the results have been…" he shuddered, "not pretty."
Sniper rested his chin in his hand. "Drying up?"
"Well, between GI's mining, the drug trade, and the damn pharmaceutical companies hoarding whatever bits they can find for 'research'….s'bad out there. Very bad."
Lizzie shook her head. "Australium isn't going to give you immortality and it never will. It'll only drive you crazy."
"That's wot they're claimin' now?" Sniper arched his eyebrows. "That's bullshit."
Christian held up his hands in a "what-can-you-do" gesture. "People are willing to listen to anything if they think it'll keep 'em young and attractive—where ya goin', Liz?"
For Lizzie had stood abruptly, rushing to follow wherever Spy had gone. She stopped and turned around with a wry smile. "Funny thing about being pregnant—you've got a another person pressing down on your bladder." She dashed off, leaving the two men to stare after her.
"Speakin' of families." Finally Christian cleared his throat. "Got a gal, Mundy?"
"Nah," Sniper grinned over his drink and shook his head, "haven't found the roight one fer me yet."
"What, no girls in America—"
"American girls are all flash, no substance! Not the type I want fer a wife. And what about you, huh? No Sheilas catch yer eye?"
Christian's dark eyes flickered from Sniper to the hallway Lizzie had disappeared down. "Still looking."
Sniper watched his momentary flicker and scoffed. "Get yer head outta yer ass. You'll have a better view."
…
Grumbling about stupid mongrels under his breath, Spy wiped away furiously at the dog hair and drool on his nightshirt. When that failed to work—save to make him sneeze—he scowled and took off his shirt, shaking it furiously.
He hated dogs. Hated, hated, hated dogs. No-good, slobbering things that barked and whined and made messes everywhere.
Just like Snipers.
The thought made him smile a bit, and he laid his nightshirt out on the sink, continuing to brush away at it. He shouldn't have worn one of his better nightshirts, he should have known this was going to happen—
The door was flung open suddenly. Spy yelped and jumped backwards at the sudden intrusion, but Lizzie had no time and/or patience for his formalities before she had grabbed him and flung him out of the bathroom with surprising strength.
The door slammed shut behind him and Spy scowled, spinning on his heel and banging on the door. "Elizabeth! My shirt, if you would be so kind!"
An instant later his shirt hit him in the face and the door shut again. For a moment Spy stood stock-still with his shirt draped over his face, glaring daggers at the bathroom door. "Merci."
He pulled his shirt off of his head and began to slip it on, freezing when he realized his tattoo was in plain view. Had she seen it? Would she ask about it? What was she going to—
No, his rational mind informed him firmly. Lizzie had been too focused on throwing him out to notice anything out of the ordinary. She hadn't seen it. And even if she had—well, she was Lawrence's sister, and if she was anything like her brother (and Spy had a feeling she was), she wouldn't pursue the subject.
So he took several deep, easing breaths as he buttoned his shirt up again, wondering if there was some great, cosmic entity out there who just loved screwing him over.
He smoothed out the front of his shirt—noting with dismay that it still wasn't clean—and went to rejoin Sniper and Christian in the living room.
Only to find that it was only Christian sitting there.
Spy stopped short. "Where's Lawrence?"
"He took Kida out for me."
"Ah."
He sat down across from Christian. The other man leaned forward, clasping and unclasping his hands. "So, Montreal, huh?"
"What?"
"Mundy says you're from Montreal."
"I'm from France!"
"Mundy says you're not from France, Mundy says you're from Montreal!"
"Lawrence Mundy cannot be trusted!"
Christian laughed and ducked his head. "Whatcha call him Lawrence for?"
"What do you call 'im Mundy for?" Spy returned.
"Everyone calls him Mundy." Christian shrugged. "He hates being called Lawrence. Didn't he tell you that?"
Spy recalled, faintly, Sniper being furious with him for calling him by his first name rather than by his class name. At the time he had supposed he'd been upset by the breach of professionalism. He shook his head. "Lawrence doesn't tell me a lot of things."
"Ah." Christian sat back again, studying him. "So, what are you two anyways?"
"Co-workers," Spy said coolly.
Christian rested his chin in his hand. "Uh-huh. Funny, never pegged Lawrence as a—"
Spy's eyebrows flew into his balaclava.
"—guy who hung out with Canadians."
Spy's right eye twitched wildly. He gritted his teeth. "French. I am French."
"French-Canadian?"
Spy sank forward and pinched in bridge of his nose. He sighed heavily, looking up only when Sniper reentered with Kida. The dog clattered over to Christian, tail wagging, and settled down at his feet.
Sniper planted his hands on his hips. "Chris, ya gonna be in town tomorrow?"
"'Course! Here, lemme give ya the address to the pub…" Christian stood and rummaged around for a piece of paper and a pen. He scrawled down the address hastily and was about to give it to Sniper when Lizzie reentered.
"Sorry!" Lizzie smiled as she stepped down into the room. "So sorry about—what's this?" She looked down at the piece of paper Christian had shoved into her hand.
"Come see me this afternoon?" Christian beamed.
Lizzie studied the address for a minute and nodded. "Of course! I'd love too!" Behind Christian Sniper gave a square look and she hastily corrected herself, "We'd love too."
Christian's smile was dazzling. "Great! I'll spruce up the place for you!"
Lizzie yawned widely. Sniper came around to allow Lizzie to lean up against him. "Better get you home, Sheila."
Lizzie closed her eyes and nodded, exhausted. Carefully, as if he were handling china glass, Sniper scooped his sister up into his arms.
"Careful," Lizzie murmured, resting her head against his shoulder, "wide load."
Sniper laughed. "Let's get ya home." He nodded to Christian and Spy, who followed him to the front door.
Spy took the sleepy Lizzie from Sniper and descended down the porch stairs with her in his arms, leaving Sniper to face Christian.
The shorter man studied Sniper for a long moment before grabbing his chin and yanking him down to look him dead in the eye. "You clean?"
"I've been clear fer years!"
"Swear it."
"On me mum's cookin'."
Satisfied, Christian released him again. "See ya later, Laaaawrence."
Sniper rolled his eyes. "See ya later, Chris." He followed Spy to his van.
Christian leaned up against a porch post, watching as the trio bundled into the van and drove off. He didn't move until the van had disappeared into the dawn, and Kida came outside to whine loudly.
He glanced down at her with a fond smile. "Good girl." He reached down to scratch her ears before looking up to the spot the van had disappeared into. "Good girl."
…
He wasn't ready for the next entry.
Beside him, Archimedes cooed faintly and Medic glanced up. He scratched at his days-old beard and sighed, leaning over to smooth out Archimedes' feathers.
His journal lay in front of him on the desk, but he wasn't ready to relive the next entry. Not yet.
Feeling much, much older than his actual age, Medic stood slowly and walked to the telescreen mounted on the wall. With slight motions he punched a number into the keypad and waited.
When there was no answer, a metallic voice prompted him to leave a message.
Medic sighed again even as Archimedes fluttered over to rest on his shoulder. "Hello Fräulein Administrator. I am calling once again to discuss the matter we spoke of several days ago. The matter of my…" he paused, and the next words out of his mouth appeared to cause him physical pain:
"The matter of my resignation."
…
Far, far away from the despairing Medic—on the other side of the world, in fact—a man in overalls stood away from his latest creation. He wiped his greasy, calloused hands with a ragged cloth, admiring his craftsmanship.
After a moment his creation jerked and rattled, coming to life with what was easily mistaken for a gasp of breath. Its eyes illuminated automatically even as it stared forward blankly.
The light from the robot's eyes gleamed off of the man's well-worn goggles, and the madman grinned darkly.
"Well, would y'all look at that."
THINGS ARE HAPPENING.
Up next: "Holy shit...is that Engie?"
