Author's Note

Ohtootsie - Yep. I was thinking of Flip Wilson's "Here comes da judge" comedy skits :)

Previously

Tank sighed as his so-called friends teased Stephanie, who now looked even more confused and possibly a little spooked. It was all he could do not to roll his eyes.

"Oh my gosh," she gasped. Her eyes were wide, eyebrows raised high. She put one hand up to the base of her throat. "Who is it? Is it Rodriquez? It is, isn't it? I've never even seen him but his search requests just appear in my inbox like magic!"

CH 2: Origin story

Bobby was the first to crack, letting out a snort. His shoulders shook as he tried to hold in a laugh. Tank smacked him in the back of the head.

"Ha!" Lester pointed at Bobby. "I win, sucker!"

"You'll win the same prize he got," said Tank, gesturing to Bobby, "as soon as I get out of this chair."

Lester made a disgruntled noise, crossed his arms, and settled back into the cushions.

"Babe." Ranger took her chin in his hand, turning her head to face him. He was clearly amused. "It's not Rodriguez but you have met him."

Tank put an end to the teasing. "You remember my big orange cat, Julius?"

"Your cat." Stephanie collapsed back against Ranger, her hands dropping to her lap.

"Yes."

"Is the Judge." She blinked several times.

"Yes."

She mulled that over for a moment. "That's the one with the great big round head, right? His nickname is Big Head or something like that?"

"Blockhead," said Tank.

Lester snorted. "More like Cockblock. How many women has he chased off?"

"Doesn't matter how many bad ones he chases off," said Bobby. "Just count the good ones that stay."

"So, how does he let you know if someone is bad?" Steph asked Tank. "And what kind of bad? Had to hide a body bad or bounce a check bad or call the fashion police bad?" She looked at Lester and Bobby. "And what was that eerie story you two were spinning?"

"This goes back about eight years when we were on active duty," answered Tank, "assigned to special ops. The four of us were stationed out of Fort Benning down in Georgia.

"Often, but not always, we ended up on the same mission, sometimes even the same team. Usually we were each on separate assignments but at least one of us was home while the others were deployed. Whoever was left behind was asked to keep an eye on things.

"That meant traveling to up to three different houses on a regular basis and took a lot of time. It made sense to room together instead. Always had someone keeping an eye on the homefront and didn't have to go out to do it. So, we rented a four bedroom house and became roomies."

Steph's eyes glazed over. She muttered, "Holy hotness overload. Four ultra sexy guys concentrated in one small spot. I bet just driving past the house made panties combust!"

Ranger tugged her ponytail. "Babe."

She turned to look at him. "Out loud?"

Smiling, Ranger nodded.

She blushed and lowered her gaze to her lap. "Sorry guys. I didn't mean to objectify you."

"Beautiful, we're just happy to be included in the hotness round-up with your man there. Besides, I don't know about these goobers," Lester added as he pointed at Bobby and Tank, "but you can objectify me any time you like." He leered and waggled his eyebrows at her.

A large paperclip bounced off of Lester's forehead and fell to the couch seat.

"Settle down, primo," Ranger advised. "Or the stapler's next."

"Better not leave a mark or I'll tell Abuela Rosa what you did."

"Then I'll tell her why I did it. A stapler's nothing compared to the sting she gets out of that wooden spoon. Or worse - her house shoe."

Lester held his hands up. "Whoa! No need to bring out the big guns. I swear I'll behave."

Steph rolled her eyes. "If you boys are done bonding over childhood misdeeds and their consequences? Tank? Please continue."

Tank shifted in his seat, settling in for the story. "Like Bobby said, there was a cold snap at the end of April. There was a light fog when I left the house around 6:00 a.m. for my usual run. Sunrise wasn't for another hour so it was dark to begin with. The fog rapidly got thicker and three blocks later, visibility was down to about 15 feet …"

~ ~ Roughly Eight Years Earlier ~ ~

Damn. This was not the kind of morning that Tank liked.

He dropped from a slow run to a jog. The last time he'd seen fog this thick, he'd been in a mountainous region that he wasn't allowed to name. The next intersection was coming up soon. Tank slowed again to a walk and then halted. The fog hid the traffic on the roads from sight and muffled the sound of the engines. If he wasn't mistaken, visibility had dropped again to about 10 feet. Granted he'd stuck to the sidewalk which was fairly safe but crossing the intersections seemed dangerous under these conditions. Time to retreat. He'd spend extra time in the gym later or run this evening instead.

While debating whether to jog or walk back to the house, he turned around. Sitting upright in the middle of the sidewalk, right at the edge of visibility, was a large orange cat. It sat perfectly still, framed by the fog that swirled behind and to each side of it. Tank would never admit it, but he'd flinched in surprise. He had no idea the cat had been there.

From the big round head and wide cheeks, he knew it was an unneutered male. There were scars on its face along with a fresh scratch or two. The tips of its ears were uneven from fighting. Its tail, curled over its white front paws, had a kink near the end where it had probably been broken. It calmly looked him in the eyes.

"Well, hello there." Tank spoke softly using a higher register that he reserved for animals and small children.

The cat yawned widely, showing all of its very pointy teeth, then continued to sit gazing at him.

Tank sidestepped to the edge of the sidewalk that was closest to the road, then carefully took a few small steps in its direction. He didn't want to spook the cat into the road where it might get hurt. He didn't want to set it off either, if it was feeling defensive or territorial.

The cat kept its eyes on him, turning its head as he moved closer. As Tank passed it, the cat stood, stretched, and fell into step with him.

"Oh? You keeping me company, huh? Just happen to be going my way?"

The cat, of course, didn't reply. It didn't look up, didn't change its gait, didn't acknowledge him in any way. He wondered how long it would keep pace. After they passed the first intersection, he expected it to stop or to go in a different direction. It didn't. With every step, he thought 'This is it. This is where we part ways' but that never happened. They made it through the second intersection and soon they arrived at the house.

The fog hadn't thickened further but hadn't let up either. As the odd pair turned down the walkway to the house, Tank heard footfalls in front of him. Lester, dressed for running like him, materialized in much the same manner as the cat had. Everybody, including the cat, stopped.

Lester looked at the cat, looked at Tank, then looked at the cat again. "Better keep practicing because that is not the kind of pussy you're hoping to pick up."

"Very funny, Santos. Besides, it's a male."

Lester spread his arms out. "I rest my case." He dropped his arms to his sides and frowned. "I take it the weather is not conducive to a refreshing run this morning?"

Tank nodded. "This fog would have to lighten up to be called pea soup."

"It reminds me of — "

"Exactly."

The two men headed back up the walk to the house flanked by the ginger cat. Lester turned the knob on the front door then paused and tipped his head to indicate the cat.

"Uh, what about your new friend there?"

"Shoo!" Tank waved a hand at it. "Go home. Bye!"

Not only did the cat not shoo, it gave him a look that from a person would have meant "Really?"

Tank considered it a moment. "Most cats stand in the doorway thinking for a couple of minutes. We'll slip inside then shut the door before it makes up its mind."

Lester pushed the door open and stepped over the sill.

Without hesitation, the cat strolled in with him, cutting in front of Tank. It didn't pause after it crossed the threshold but kept going, exuding a confidence that made him think of some of the better officers he'd served with. Its head moved from side to side, looking around as it ventured into the living room. It made a beeline to the sofa where it jumped up and made itself comfortable. It looked back at them, where they still stood in the doorway.

"Well," said Lester, "you better name it because I think we have ourselves a cat."

~ ~ To Be Continued ~ ~