by M&CNICFYYY2K
Turns out that the guy our bosses told us to meet, their contact in the city, is a lot less formal than we imagined. When he e-mailed us the address of the place where the meeting would be, the last thing we expected it to be was a fast food restaurant. And yet, here we are. Waiting for him with French fries and plastic toys in our hands.
Well, I'm holding French fries and plastic toys, at least. Alfhild just sits there, looking serious... in complete contrast to the screaming kids and laughing clowns that fill the place.
"Maybe this is like an intimidating technique," I say as I examine the mini-Frisbee thrower, or whatever the hell the lame excuse for a toy inside the impenetrable plastic bag is called.
"You think Jolly Meal gifts are intimidating?" Alfhild asks. "You must have had a scary childhood."
"Shut up. What I mean is... maybe he asked to meet us here so we'd be all like, what the fuck?" I'm beginning to struggle with the plastic bag and am seriously considering using my teeth to open it... even though one of my greatest non-dad-related childhood traumas is choking with a small piece of plastic trying to do exactly this, at age seven. Hey, maybe Alf's onto something. "Then he'll show up, and... we'll just... ARGH! How do you open this?!"
Alfhild takes the bag from my hands and opens it with disturbingly little effort. I'd say she's spent her whole life opening little plastic bags with toys in them, but she doesn't look like the type who frequents this sort of establishment.
"Fucking impressive!" someone says, as if reading my thoughts. It's a brown-haired guy in a trench coat, in the process of sitting in our table. "I've never been able to open those little pieces of shit. Never."
"Yeeeah..." I look at Alfhild to see if she's gonna ask what we're both thinking, but she looks even more disconcerted than me. "So... are you our local contact?"
"Name's Richards," he says, helping himself to one of my fries. "You can call me 'your local contact.'" He's a lot younger than I imagined. Late twenties, I think. And he doesn't look the slightest bit like a cape. He's not what I expected at all, but I'm just glad they didn't assign us to one of my dad's friends. I know he still has some connections to the big guys, and that would'a been... weird.
He opens one of my packets of ketchup and pockets two more. "Lemme guess: you're Snap. And..." He turns to Alfhild. "...you must be Burn."
Maybe it's the fact that he's chewing a French fry as he speaks, but he somehow manages to say her codename as if it was a dirty word. Like a part of the female anathomy you never knew had a name. Apparently Alfhild heard it the same way, 'cause she's looking pretty annoyed. She crosses her arms. "Yes, that's me."
"Well," he says, wiping his hand with my napkin, "you kids need anything? Found your place all right? The mayor give you any shit?"
"No, that went by pretty well," Alfhild answers. "We actually thought you had something important to tell us. Hence... this meeting."
"Eh, you know, the usual. I know this city like the back of my elbow, so if you ever get lost, gimme a shout. If I'm not available, there's that other contact guy... whatshisname... Christopher Trinity."
"I don't think they ever mentioned that name to us," she says.
"Yeah, he's the default emergency contact for all newbies. Lovely job. But anyway, I'm the first person you should call for anything. Don't wanna bother the important people with our little problems, do we? You get in trouble, you call me. You need to talk to the guys upstairs, you call me. You feelin' lonely at night... you catch my drift." He winks at Alf, then looks at me. "That last one don't go for you. Nice menu choice, by the way."
I look at the colorful box my meal came from and feel as embarrassed as Alfhild is feeling pissed (seriously, I think the only reason she hasn't kicked his face yet is that they'd probably suspend her). "Um... I just got this 'cause... the other burgers are too big for my stomach."
"No, I'm with you, brother. That's my favorite item in the menu."
"You tasted the nuggets?"
"I've been meaning to! You got five bucks I can borrow?"
"It's only two-fifty."
"Yeah, but now I gotta get a soda and shit. You know how it is."
I laugh awkwardly, unsure of whether I should reach into my wallet or not. Just when it looks like he's gonna open his mouth again, either to repeat his request or say something inappropriate to Alfhild, the sound of a loud explosion cuts him short.
As the kids in the restaurant run to their mommies and a general commotion arises, Richards' attitude changes completely. Probably as an automatic reaction, he reaches into his inner coat pocket and grabs a strange metal artifact. What is that -- the hilt of a broken sword?
"That was about fifteen blocks from here," Alfhild says, leaving her chair as Richards does the same. "Isn't there a bank in that direction?"
"Oh?" Suddenly, the urgency in Richards' actions seems to disappear. "You gonna get that?" Alfhild looks at me and I look at Richards. He sits. "Yeah... yeah, you guys get that. You can use the experience points."
She frowns at him for less than a second. "Will, get my gun and go there. Don't act until we're both in the scene unless there's someone in danger."
"Yeah, yeah, I know the drill."
She turns toward our contact on her way to the exit. "You've been a great help," she says in a sarcastic tone.
"Heh. If things get too hot for you kids, you got my cell number." He sips on my Coke and waves bye-bye.
I'm glad her flamethrower is back home, or he'd be... "WILL! Snap out of it!" she yells. "We have work to do!"
And with that, I'm gone...