THE ZIMVENTURES
THE LACKLIST
Chapter 1: The Cooler
Cris Zim found himself sitting on the fanciest airplane he'd ever seen. The bathroom was huge and easy to use, even for someone as tall as himself. They also served alcohol, which he desperately needed after spending the night in the GCPD jail. He gulped down his drink and asked for another, which was supplied immediately. One day he would go home and brag about this to John Bruni, who would obviously be jealous. Then he changed his mind. Fuck that guy. In fact, fuck all those people back home.
The man who saved him from Gotham sat across from him. He was a slightly pudgy man with almost no hair on his head. His fancy hat now rested on the seat next to him, but he still wore his sunglasses. He sipped contentedly at his own drink.
"Ah! This is a wonderful whiskey," he said. "It reminds me of when I spent some time in Dubai. They're not big on spirits there, which is a very unfortunate part of their religious beliefs. Did you know that Muslims can't drink because Allah says so?"
"Uh, no." Zim said.
"They can, however, drink mead because it's made of honey. But Dubai takes mercy on people who don't observe that faith, so I was able to get one of the finest whiskies in the world at the hotel bar. And my God! They make the best cannoli! If you're ever there, you must try it."
"Uh, okay." Zim had no idea what a cannoli was.
Raymond Reddington took another sip. "They charge an extraordinary amount of money for whiskey there. You could probably get a glass of Fleischmann's on the rocks for the equivalent of eighty American dollars. It's ridiculous! But the good stuff? It's wonderful." He gave an odd shake of his head when he said that final word.
They sat in silence for a while. Zim glanced over to the black guy who had been with Reddington when he'd been freed from the GCPD. He acted like a bodyguard and a driver. Reddington had called him Dembe. Dembe rarely had anything to say, and his facial expressions were always blank. It made Zim feel weird.
Reddington placed his empty glass down for it to be refilled. "Mr. Zim, do you know why I require your services?"
"I have no idea. And you can call me Cris."
"Mr. Zim," Reddington said, "are you familiar with the concept of a 'cooler'?"
"Oh, you mean like the Cooler King in The Great Escape?"
"Absolutely not." Again, he did the head shake thing. When it stopped his head was tilted to the side. "There are some people who just flat out have no good luck. It's all bad. No one can really explain it, but they call such people coolers. Las Vegas casinos routinely find these people and hire them to walk the gaming area. The theory is that because the cooler is around, everyone around them would have bad luck and lose. I believe you, Mr. Zim, are one such person."
"Great," Zim said.
"In fact, considering all the information I have on you, you might be the most effective cooler in the history of the world."
"Hey, fuck you! I get lucky." Not really, but Zim didn't want Reddington to feel like he could be pushed around like that.
"No, you don't," Reddington said. "I have an entire file cabinet dedicated to your bad luck. I've taken to calling them the Zimventures. A lot of it is quite funny, to be honest. I particularly enjoyed the time you spent as a Red Shirt in Project Stargate."
"What?"
"Oh, I forgot. You were reborn and your history was undone. But rest assured, every stupid thing you've ever done and every indignity you've suffered has been recorded regardless of the space-time continuum. Does Dodge City ring any bells?"
"Uh, no."
"How about Paladin? Does that name sound familiar?"
For some reason Zim thought of a business card with a chess piece on it. "No."
"That's all well and good. My favorite part was the one time you had sex in ancient Kyoto, and time corrected itself so you didn't actually have sex. Because frankly, the idea of you reproducing even by accident scares the living daylights out of me."
What the fuck was Kyoto? And why was it ancient? And Zim got laid there? He kept coming up with blanks.
"Mr. Zim, if I may cut to the chase. I'm involved in a business deal that is about to get very ugly for me and my partners. We're in the middle of negotiations, and I want to ensure that they get the short end of the stick. Do you understand?"
"You think because I have shit luck, I can make this business deal suck for your enemy?" Zim asked.
"Exactly!" Reddington smiled, but he showed no teeth. "I was afraid you'd be slow, but you seem to have grasped your purpose very well."
Zim had never been complimented before. He didn't know how to take it.
"Shortly we will land, and I'm going to take you to a black site so you can meet my partners. A fair warning, they are federal agents. I trust you have no problem with that."
"I guess not," Zim said.
"Excellent. Have another drink."
Zim did. It felt good to be hanging out with someone who seemed to genuinely value him. No more seeing the likes of assholes like Fitz, Brandon, Bruni and the rest of them. Fuck 'em all. Zim felt very special as he felt the whiskey warm his belly. Things were finally starting to look up.
What could possibly go wrong?
The plane suddenly bottomed out, and the remainder of his drink splashed his face. An alarm went off, and the copilot rushed into the room, gripping a seat for dear life.
"What's going on?" Reddington asked.
"A flock of birds just flew into our engines, sir! We're going to crash!"
"Goddammit," Zim said. "Just . . . goddammit."
TO BE CONTINUED! With all apologies to The Blacklist and everyone involved. I am so sorry.
