Visions and Schemes

"It's not the company, it's the boredom," Tommy sighs as she watches Buster make his four-millionth attempt to eat the radiator intake pipe. Thank God it's not on, she thinks to herself. "I know it's only been six hours since we got here, but I feel like we've been sitting here watching that storefront for a year."

Nick smiles indulgently. "Welcome to my world," he laughs. "The vast majority of intelligence and special operations work is sitting around waiting."

"When I was in the service, if you saw a line, you got in it in case it was something good," Mal jokes. He and Nick are bent over the lenses and telescopes, headsets on, listening to the bugs Fither and Chandler installed in the storefront they're watching.

"And most of the time, it's the line for flu shots," Nick snorts.

"PLEASE tell me you didn't get flu shots," Fither gasps in horror. "Don't you know the government puts nano-sized transmitters in the mix so they can track you, that's how they found the Unabomber, when he was on mission for the Illuminati-"

A knock at the door interrupts the pending lecture. Being the closest, Tommy gets up to answer it. Buster's bleary eyes follow her to the door, his jowls dragging lines of drool along the path of his turning head. No one else looks away from their monitors or surveillance gear. Tommy suppresses a frustrated sigh as she looks through the peephole. She sees a mass of uncombed brown hair, and nothing else. "Who is it?" she asks.

"It's not UPS," the hair says from the other side of the door, voice nasal and annoyed. "Who are YOU?" the unseen man demands.

"It's Soup," Mal sighs. "More's the pity."

"At least your life insurance is paid up," Chandler murmurs as Tommy swings the door open. "I'm fairly certain I forgot to submit this month's check."

The man waiting in the hallway looks nothing like some sort of dangerous orphanage-burning maniac. In fact, he bears a slight resemblance to Woody Allen, if thugs had spent a lifetime breaking Woody's nose. His ears stick out from the side of his head, almost concealed by the unkempt mess of tangled curls pouring down to his shoulders. His scrawny frame is buried inside a thick padded military coat, its surface stained and worn bad enough to discourage a homeless junkie from stealing it. His jeans are just as messy, and his oversized Converse tennis shoes look like a child wearing his dad's shoes for fun. The overall impression Tommy draws is of a vagrant on the verge of starvation dressed in an older brother's hand-me-downs.

As he steps inside, the man moves over to avoid Tommy, his eyes darting around the room like a meth-addicted cat. He kicks a large duffle bag into the corner by the door, and scowls in Nicki's direction. "You didn't tell me they'd be here."

"And I didn't tell them you'd be here, either, Benjamin." Nicki looks up from his scope and smiles at the newcomer. "Tommy, this is another of my friends, Benjamin Sopinski. Benjamin, this is my lady, Tommy."

Benjamin produces a wet wipe from his pocket and wipes down the only empty chair. He makes a big show of disliking everyone and everything in the room, settling gingerly into the chair as if trying to minimize contact. "Sorry I'm late." He pulls a small crossword magazine out of his coat, and a pencil stub from his pants pocket. "It was a long walk from the bus terminal."

Chandler leans over to Tommy. "Mr. Sopinski doesn't drive, I'm afraid."

"Couldn't you have called Nicki for a ride?" Tommy asks, holding back a giggle at the horrified look on Benjamin's face.

"I have his number?" Soup shrugs diffidently. "I should interrupt you when you're busy, Mr. Nick?"

Tommy looks at Nicki in surprise. "Mister?"

Nick nods. "Benjamin was in my unit in Afghanistan back in the day. I've only recently gotten him stop calling me Sarge."

"Oooo," Tommy vamps. "Can I call you Sarge?"

"Only if he puts you at attention," Mal quips, and the others laugh. While they continue chatting, Nick motions Chanler over to take his place, and points toward the kitchen as he looks at Soup. The two men stand and walk into the back; curious, Tommy walks over to lean on the kitchen counter as they talk in low hushed tones.

"I did that thing you asked for, Mr. Nick." Soup scratches at the wisps of a beard which fail to cover acne scars on his cheeks and chin.

"Any issues?"

"Nah, I already had a spot picked out. Just in case."

"Just in case?" Tommy regrets it as soon as she asks; Soup turns and gives her a withering glance.

Nick steps in, placing his hand gently on Soup's arm. "And the call I asked you to make?"

"Oh, yeah, the call." Soup opens the fridge, rummaging around for food. "Done. Cash up front, which I handled out of my end. The van will be waiting." he straightens up, a yogurt cup in hand. A small spoon and another wet wipe appear from inside another pocket. "And, as these guys you recommended, threaten them I did not."

"I appreciate that, Benjamin."

"It's a mitzvah." He digs in, then looks toward Tommy. "I can speak?"

"I trust Tommy with my life."

"He's-"

Nick stops Soup. "She. Tommy's preferred pronouns are she and her."

Tommy's surprised to see Soup blushing. "Sorry, boss. Sorry, Miss Tommy. I never met-" he stops, his face crinkling in concentration as he tries to work through what he's trying to say.

Tommy decides to throw him a lifeline. "Benjamin, if Nicki trusts you, then I trust you. So you don't have to explain."

His grin makes his appreciation clear. Looking back to Nick, Soup clears his throat and cocks his head to the side like a dog waiting for orders from his master. "You have a play here?"

Nick nods. "I think Val is right to worry that she's been set up. I've never trusted a word that comes out of Azrael's mouth."

Soup picks his teeth with his fingernail before licking yogurt off the spoon. "So you and Val have a standing order?"

"That storefront we're watching is an internet cafe, open 24 hours. At some point, Val will stroll through, once she knows we're here."

"How will she know that?" Tommy asks.

"We send her a signal," Soup grunts. "I go and sit in front of the place, and when I don't get shot, she'll show up."

Nick nods. "The place has a back door that exits onto the alley. Which leads to the mall we walked through earlier."

"Where Mr. Nick's friends I did not threaten will have left us several things we will use to exit through the parking garage." An annoyed scowl wraps around Soup's face. "And, at any point, given I am working off the worst karma in the universe, we will get ambushed by OPFOR and the nerds will get mad at me for saving their lives again."