by thedoctor and TheTimeTrust
Dirk Bell loved the sound of his teeth breaking the skin of the apple as he bit down on it. The fight with Dr. Zachary Knell, the Leviathan, had left him with a shattered jaw. But Turkish Stringfellow, in a display that Dirk took as proving the prophet had a little mean streak in him, made the calcium in Dirk's jaw heal faster so that the gunslinger could once again speak freely to any and all who came around him. The leg was still in a cast, which kept him from being able to wander too far from the apartment complex and further proved his point about Turkish.
So Mick Harrison and his chick were getting married. Nice, but who cared? It wasn't as important as other things that could be and were happening elsewhere. Dirk concentrated all his time and energy on something that was really important. Since he had first come to the group, the marksman had slowly been moving his belongings up to the abandoned ninth floor. He had filled all the rooms with the things that he had brought with him and a few more items that he brought back after a few excursions into town, before the fight that broke his leg.
The others crowded around the two lovebirds to congratulate them. Grimm whispered something into Mick's ear that caused the man's face to turn almost as white as Grimm's. Then Lance Lorenzo and Tobias Christopher said they were leaving the team, something about needing time off to search for missing relatives or something. The focus soon shifted to them, and although Mick looked sad at the news of their departure, Shirley Francis merely looked annoyed that the focus had shifted away from Mick and her. She left the kitchen, saying she had to get to work.
Dirk sat in the chair with his cast propped up on the table, apple in one hand and a bullet bouncing between the knuckles on the right hand. His eyes never watched the bullet's progress. They concentrated more on the apple.
That Kristofer Schanz dude, who had just popped in out of nowhere, dropped into a chair next to Dirk with a look like he just had his testicles crushed in a vice. "So," the gunslinger said in between chomps, "who the hell are you, and how in the hell did you get here?"
"Wha--?" Schanz said after finally realizing someone was talking to him.
"You heard me, slappy. Who are you, and how did your ass end up with us?"
"I'm Schanz. Chance. I've been a member of this team since almost the beginning." The whole situation seemed perplexing to the man. Why was everything so much different than he remembered it, and why was everyone treating him like a stranger?
"I admit that I don't know every jerk-ass that does or has worked here, but everyone else here doesn't seem to know you, either. They may not have said it aloud, but I know it. I have a pretty damn keen eye and can see things most people just overlook. I've seen how everyone reacts to you. You're a stranger in a strange land, bud." Dirk returned to his apple for a few more bites. "Just fair warning: I'm watching you." Standing up from the chair, he said as he hobbled away from the table, "If you'll excuse me, I've got to take a wicked shit."
Chance had never liked Dirk Bell. He knew that from the moment he first saw him. It wasn't just the guns -- although Chance had always hated guns and he believed that anyone who relied on guns was essentially at heart a coward -- but it was Dirk's attitude and lack of respect for life that really riled Chance. That was why he had spoken against Dirk's being allowed to join the company. Yet here he still was.
The funny thing, though, was that Dirk didn't seem to remember him very clearly, and in fact his little sideways speech at him was, with a few variations, almost word-for-word of what he had said shortly after they had met in the Castle of Crossed Destinies.
He had no intention of worrying about such a crude killer like Dirk Bell, though, not when his heart seemed like it was being ripped apart by wolves. After so many months of seeing Shirley Francis behind Mick's back and feeling terrible guilt about it, while at the same time knowing that they were meant to be together by some unlucky (for Mick) quirk of fate, Chance began to feel like he was having his deserved comeuppance. Fine. Perhaps he had misled himself on how Shirley actually felt about him, but he still needed answers.
He found Shirley at her desk across the hall from his apartment in the MBL Consulting office near the first floor lobby and, after a minute trying to decide whether or not he should do this or not, he finally walked in and sat down before her desk. She was quietly humming to herself, the joy she felt from the engagement announcement obviously still at the forefront of her thoughts.
Shirley looked up, smiling at this cute, muscular Swede before her and said politely, "Hi. Uh, can I help you with something?"
"Perhaps," said Chance, a sad smile on his lips as he looked into her eyes. "So how long have you and Mick been planning this? Getting married, I mean?"
"Oh, Mick proposed a few weeks ago. He's not the most romantic guy in the world, but he's always treated me like a princess."
"Huh. I see," said Chance, looking down at his feet. "And do you... do you... truly love him?"
"Of course I do!" Shirley said without hesitation. "I would never have agreed to marry him if I wasn't completely, head over heels in love with the guy." She continued to smile as she spoke about her fiancée.
Chance smiled back at her, a sad little smile, and saw complete honesty in her eyes. "I believe you, Shirley." After a moment, he added as he stood up to leave, "And I wish both of you the best of luck. I'm sure you deserve each other."
"Thank you!" Shirley said, smiling.
He walked out quickly as Shirley said, "Hey, what was your name again?"
But Kristofer Schanz had already left the room.
Continued in Chapter 6: This Mysterious Origin Crap is Getting Old