by P. S. Power
“Fuck that, you cock smoking piece of shit!” Denis shot to his feet wanting to jump the man to make his point.
“You don't deserve to live. I'm doing this because that little girl will be severely messed up if you get offed today. If I even hear about you thinking that sex with anyone younger than twenty is a good idea, I will personally grab that fucking folder back and blow your brains out myself. And fuck, if I can't do it, you can damn sure bet I can find myself a volunteer to help. This is a gift, but don't you ever thank me for it.”
Denis really wanted to hit him, but it would hurt too much. Denis looked at his arm for a second, the splinted one.
“Brian, hit him for me will you?” Denis said, half meaning it as a joke. An angry, dire sounding one, but...
The blow landed before the words finished coming from his lips, a hard right to the jaw that took Clark all the way out of his chair and onto the ground, making him roll once he hit. The tall man was out cold.
That worked.
Denis blinked. He'd need to be careful asking Brian to do things like that in the future it seemed. It functioned pretty well this time though. If he'd done the hitting the man would probably still be sitting in his chair. Probably laughing. That or offering to help Denis off the floor where he'd landed in pain.
Marcia offered to take him to holding, her voice almost sweet suddenly, but the Director shook his head and muttered something about him getting there alive. A couple of agents were called in to do it, after a quick trip to medical to make sure he didn't have a shattered jaw. It really would serve him right, Denis knew. He probably should have had Brian kick him in the nuts a few times too. Apparently the idea of pulling punches didn't mix with Proxy's lifestyle anymore. That made sense, but seeing someone like that was scary. Everyone hesitated and everyone had some limits to what they'd do. That Brian didn't...
Was probably how he'd survived this long.
When the room cleared Marcia stared at him, like she wanted to jump up and start re-earning the name Beatdown, but Charlot sat back and just looked down at the table top. He just let Marsh go on with her glaring. Denis understood after all, he really didn't like the situation either. As long as she wasn't hitting he decided to just keep his mouth shut and take it. She wasn't kind, and she did imply that he liked men several times, maybe even Clark, trying to get him going. He just looked at her and waited. Finally, surprisingly, Charlot Chambers stopped her after a few minutes.
“Oh... I hate to say it, but he's right, Marcia. I know my daughter and if we let her “boyfriend” die over this we'd probably all have to watch our backs for years. She may be impulsive, but she has power, and her intelligence shouldn't be ignored. She'd find a way to make us all pay. I still kind of pity most of Team Two... They probably think she's forgotten about the whole thing, or forgiven them, but she rants about it daily to us in private.”
At that, since no one seemed likely to hit him for the moment, Denis decided to go and try to find something to eat. It was between meals though and he didn't know what to do really. Fuck. He just stood and wandered out, not even thinking about it, but Brian and Karen walked with him. Karen patted his back a few times at the door, then they all went down to level nine, since Mark would be able to get them into the kitchen for sandwiches or something. He had a key.
Unfortunately Rachel had taken Bridget into the dining room there for safe keeping. That... really wasn't going well. A lot of cursing and a bit of hitting seemed to be going on, at least from the outside. Without even pausing Brian walked in.
Denis kind of wondered, just for an instant, if the man was suicidal. Denis didn't want to go in there, that was for damned sure, in fact he put his left arm out and stopped in the doorway to keep the lady with them safe. Karen pulled him in with her anyway. Fudge. So much for pretend chivalry then.
At least all of them showing up like that got the tiny girl's attention. Rachel had been holding her in both hands about six inches off the floor by the throat as the smaller form struggled and kicked. Bridget couldn't break the grasp maybe, but she could send both of them careening around the room like pin-balls. Neither one had real wounds yet at least, though only one of the fifteen odd chairs in the room stood upright and what used to be the dining table lay in a collapsed heap in the middle of the floor, propped up by one leg only.
When she saw them, more to the point, Brian, the girl stopped so suddenly that Rachel staggered and nearly dropped her. Staring at Brian she spoke softly. Menacingly.
“If you killed him, I'll hate you all. I'll kill you all.” It came out low, for her normally high pitched voice, menacing and deadly enough, once you factored in that she could bench press small cars with one hand and definitely fit under your bed to wait for a person to be off guard.
Brian shook his head.
“He's alive. Close thing though. Moore had the Death Warrant out and signed. That was the original deal you know, that he not have contact with any minor at all. Especially you. You were warned too, only it's him that gets punished for it.” Brian looked at her and shook his head.
The girl clapped.
“He's alive? Oh! Goody!”
Holding his right hand out firmly, looking stern, Yi shook his head at her.
“Fucking close Bridgie. As it is he's going to be locked up until you turn sixteen and if even one more thing happens like this, he just dies. He'll be out for work, but guarded. This isn't a joke, do you understand? No one will be able to protect him again. Really, I don't think they should. Not to be mean, but I voted to have him killed. The only reason he's alive now is because of Denis and trust me, Denis didn't want to do it either. Just trying to give the guy a chance I think, mainly because he thinks it would hurt you if we did it. That excuse won't play with this crowd twice.”
Suddenly a tiny form flew at him, taking Denis to the ground. For some reason he reached back to catch himself with his right arm, which got a small scream from him. A fairly agonized sound to his own ears. Bridget didn't seem to notice. Little stick arms as hard as iron went around his neck and tiny nubs of breasts pushed into his face through her red t-shirt. It didn't help at all that she'd been wearing a children's program icon on her front through the whole thing, a giant yellow bird head, Denis decided once he could think.
“You saved him? Thank you! I...”
Grunting he whispered into her ear.
“Um, my arm? Kind of fucked up right now kid. Maybe you could get off me before I start bawling in pain like a little girl?”
She virtually flew back then, wide eyed, “oops. Sorry. Forgot about that. You should get some kind of healing power or something you know? Anyway, thanks! I owe you so much. Do you want me to blow you or something? I will. Here...” She moved on him fast, and caught a face full of paralysis for her trouble, before she managed to get his pants off. Barely. She had her hands on his sweats trying to tug them down already. Impulse. She was happy, and it was with him suddenly, so she'd turned it toward sex in her head. Gah.
Darn his good looks anyway.
“No, you stupid little twit! Now I'm letting you up, but if you go for me again I'm getting Rachel to spank you! I'll paralyze you so she can do it right too. No more guys for you until you're legal and even then, not me. Try that again and I'll make you think you're going to vomit for fifteen minutes. I don't mess around with that either, it isn't just “oh, I feel a little sick” I mean you'll be rolling on the ground in pain the whole time, horrible cramping and wishing you could just die.” Denis looked at the others, kind of expecting them to get after him for calling her stupid, but no one did. Sighing he let her up. “Sorry, you scared me a bit there. Real issues with pedos and protecting girls from them. I failed at that growing up way too much. I don't want to go into that, but never do that again, all right? You're not stupid, I shouldn't have said it that way, but it's taking time for me to learn not to be a jerk to everyone when I get scared, and you kind of freaked me out.”
The girl stood back somberly and made a r
eal effort to not touch him again. She fidgeted and moved fast enough that a gentle breeze came from her constantly however. A warm one. The girl had to run a good bit hotter than a regular person and at the moment, after all the effort of trashing the room she had to be hotter than normal by a good bit. Rachel touched his shoulder gently and smiled at him.
“Thank you.” She said, her voice sensuous and smoky. Her red-brown eyes locked to his for a second and held, promising something more than just thanks if he wanted it. Denis guessed that whatever her first mode really was it kind of pushed her to be “friendly” toward almost everyone. Not a bad thing, but the day he slept with the head of the IPB's girlfriend would probably be his last. He'd pass on it. Sure he wanted her. Fuck, he wanted Bridget, if only to collect and keep in a little room as a trophy. Maybe behind glass for her own protection. Desire for things and actions toward getting them were, thankfully, different.
Brian waved at the mess.
“Have fun cleaning this up though. I'll help, but we all missed breakfast, so we came to raid the kitchen. I guess we could eat in the main room for now. This place is a mess. We aren't Team One you know, this could take weeks to get fixed. No magic crew is going to just show up and do it for us, I bet. Does anyone here do carpentry and furniture building as a hobby?”
Bridget looked down at least, for nearly ten seconds, then started righting chairs and trying to make a pile of things too broken to fix. It looked like a small tornado had landed in the room, almost literally. Denis looked at the walls to see if small debris had been kicked into them with enough speed to stick. Frighteningly for a soft regular kind of guy like him, there were wood shards and a few bits of metal sticking out in places. It made him glad that they hadn't killed Clark at least. He kind of liked living for now.
The kitchen raid worked well enough, sandwiches and some corn chips. Nothing fancy, PB&J on wheat bread. Mark made some every other day or so and they wouldn't be getting another meal before dinner most likely. They had some ice tea too. Way too much sugar in it for Denis, so he just had water after the first sip. Bridget and Rachel sucked the stuff down like it was manna from heaven though. Being so metabolically hot had made them into high eaters, like Argos. That probably meant they should get them in for the show, have them eat a whole large cake each or something. It could make an interesting gimmick Denis decided, wondering if the show would ever really do anything like that.
The whole thing took him until nearly eleven-thirty, so he decided to go and wait for everyone else in the kitchen area of the show, the real one behind the fake kitchen set. The whole thing was a clean and shining steel, not warm looking, but tidy. Then, it had only been used a few times. Not hard to keep new stuff looking new after all. In the walk-in cooler there were already several dishes prepared and waiting, and a giant pot sat covered on the counter. What the different things were he just didn't know.
At ten till noon everyone else walked in as a group. Mark smiled when he saw him waiting.
“Den! Good to see you. Didn't know if you'd be around really, with the arm and all. Scott's doing dishes for us, so you can just do your segment with the hot chocolate. I have the recipe and instructions for you. I'd like you to make three batches of it. The first to make sure you can do it right, the second so that we can chill it for the show and the third on air. Normal stuff.” A printed piece of paper jumped into his hand suddenly, making Denis start a little.
Three batches?
And he was still supposed to do the segment? Really, Denis had figured they'd snap up Prime for it, to tell the truth.
The recipe nearly made him blanch. This wasn't exactly Swiss Miss cocoa. No, he could open a packet and add hot water, no problem. This had lightly beaten heavy cream, sugar and real chocolate that had to be melted first as well as whole milk and real vanilla scraped out of a bean. The directions wouldn't have been hard, except that he didn't know what a double-boiler even was, much less how to make one and when he asked Kerry in a low voice she laughed at him.
“Just get a big pot and boil water in it, then use a smaller pot that will sit in the water to melt the chocolate. You're using dark, right?”
As if he had a choice? The chocolate came in large bricks that must have weighed fifty pounds each, wrapped in a shiny gold foil. Kerry was using some herself, so showed him how to chop it into smaller bits before melting. It took an hour to get the first batch done and it tasted a little off to him. Too... bitter? Mark agreed and suggested a little more sugar in the mix. Not a lot, he said, almost as if meditating on the idea, since they weren't supposed to be making a dessert, but a deep chocolate drink that would complement éclairs and torts. Those would be sweet enough, they all assured him.
The second batch was better, huge, about three gallons worth, which kind of stressed him out. What if he burnt it or something? Thankfully that didn't happen. Then, just because there was an hour left to kill, Mark yelled at him to whip some cream and chill it for the show, calling out instructions as he worked on his own project set up. Then Kerry had him shaving milk chocolate off of a block for decorations. That took work, his splinted arm making the whole thing both painful and harder to manage than it should have been.
That done, just as the crew came in, Denis ran to the restaurant to see what Jan had set up for them. It was... magnificent. The woman had two silver rolling carts, each covered with a rich looking deep red cloth and gold colored containers on the top. There wasn't that much food, as she'd promised, but the drinks looked amazing. Colored bottles of flavoring sat in a rainbow row along the back of the first, with coffee, seltzers and even juice ready to go. There was water too, but the glasses looked like fine crystal instead of paper this time. Each cart even had a flower arrangement. The white clad woman helped him move them in carefully which got Warren to walk over and look at the set ups appraisingly. After a second he nodded.
“Good enough. We should have chipped ice too, not just crushed... and possibly shaved, given the array of flavors here.” The man turned without saying more and left without another glance or word of praise.
“Ouch.” Denis said looking at her carefully, hoping it wouldn't be too big a deal for her.
Jan just shook her head.
“He's right. I got busy so I cut corners on it. Sorry. I promise to do better next time.”
Beardo the cameraman was back, something that Denis hadn't been sure of at all. Gary, he thought, trying to remember as he saw the man and waved.
“Hey! Good to see you back... Um, feel all right? I mean do you need anything to feel comfortable here? We have drinks, food and stuff this time, real stuff, not just my feeble attempts.” He pointed at the tables getting a pleased grunt from the man.
“I'm good so far. I may have a coffee later. Kind of had a rough night with the wife. She didn't want me to come back here, but in this economy a guy can't be too picky about where he works. Just make sure I get home all right? She'd kick my ass if I died today.” The guy chuckled but Denis turned and saw Prime walking out, pans and pots already cleaned, thanks to greater than normal speed and strength, so he called him over.
“Scott? This is Gary,” Denis said watching the man for correction, nothing came so he hoped that meant that was right.
“If anything happens today will you make a point of protecting him? He promised his wife that he'd be home safe, and I figure that if anyone can make sure that happens, you can.”
“Of course I can! Surprising that no one thought to ask me yet really. Don't worry Gary, if anything happens, I'm here for you.” If over-confidence could have been bottled, Prime could have sold the stuff by the gallon, still, the camera guy looked... relieved. When the most popular super-hero in the world said he'd guard you personally, it kind of tended to set a person's mind at ease, which had been what Denis had hoped for. Gary grinned.
“Thanks man. Means a lot.”
From behind them a voice came then, slightly less bitchy than at the last shoot, but still not exactly sweet. Darla the Dir
ector.
“Denny! Good. Be a lamb and get me a coffee? Skim milk, Splenda and just off room temperature? Sweet if you can. Thanks doll.” Her tone sounded bored with the topic by the time she got to the last word and she stopped paying attention to him at all.
At least she hadn't called him boy. The “Denny” bugged him a bit, but that got fixed almost instantly, when Mark showed up and spoke a few words to the woman as Denis got her order ready. He didn't even spit in it, or feel like torturing her into submission. Much. In all Den felt like he might be improving in the whole attitude department. Maybe. Mark informed her that Denis would be having a regular spot on the show and that he didn't like to be called Denny.
That the man added in the whole abusive childhood reasoning for that could have been skipped, as far as he was concerned, but the woman didn't mess up again. It was kind of amazing that Mark knew that whole story, since Denis hadn't told him, but after a second he got it. Karen. She'd want to make sure no one messed up and accidentally hurt his feelings, so she'd probably “explained” the whole thing to half the base by now. Well, fair enough, Mark was on every team he was after all, so if anyone should know the back story...
“Thanks Den. I didn't know you were talent too. You certainly have the looks. Maybe not for prime time, but for a cooking show definitely. So what's the angle for your bit?”
Mark smiled peacefully and winked slowly at the woman.
“Each week we set Denis a task and then let hilarity ensue. That or he gets it right and we heap praise upon him. Either way we win.”
“Brilliant! Everyone loves to watch other people fail. That's half of reality television right there. Now all we need is some faked up dramatic tension and we'll have the whole package. Hard to top a terrorist attack though. Maybe a love triangle?” The woman gave Denis an approving nod though and sipped the coffee once before handing it back.
“More Splenda please, Den. Maybe a touch lighter too?”
Right. He should have known. The coffee came back three more times until he loaded about half a cup with the artificial sweetener, poured it two thirds full with milk and barely flavored it with coffee. Then she acted like he'd handed her the holy grail.
