GK Fic: Mr Frosty Part V
Warehouse, Outskirts of Boston, MA
The party was in full swing by the time they showed up at HQ. Smoke was thick in the air, a stereo was belting out tunes, Ray had a keg hooked up to the soda dispenser, and even Godfather was toasting everyone's success amongst a cacophony of sounds.
"Godfather would like to congratulate everyone on an amazing job..."
"CIA can suck my big fat dick."
"Anyone seen Kocher?"
"Yeah, but who'll clean up the fucking mess?"
"Shut up, dawg," Poke said with a large stogie in his mouth while smacking Lilley upside the head, "or it'll be you."
"'Bout time you guys showed up," Ray said, slapping Brad on the back while passing them both a bottle of beer. "I was beginning to think you were enjoying a party without us!"
Lady Gaga started belting out tunes and then Ray was off as quickly as he'd come by, dragging Walt behind him as he climbed up on the roof of Poke's truck.
"I've been meaning to ask. Are they..." Nate started as Ray danced, mimicking the video to 'Poker Face' surprisingly well.
"Don't," Brad said, basking in the newness of having Nate standing next to him with such a relaxed, open expression on his face. "We have our own Don't Ask policy here. Mostly to save ourselves the mental images."
Nate continued to stare at them, mouth hanging open slightly. Brad threaded his fingers through Nate's and tugged him in close.
Suddenly, there was a loud ruckus in the back of the warehouse that drew everyone's attention.
"Holy fuck! Patterson just decked Encino Man."
"No fucking way!"
"'Bout time someone did."
Everyone seemed to shift in the direction of the brawl, Brad forcing his way through the crowd with Nate discreetly in tow. Someone had seen fit to turn off the music, and everyone's attention was focused on the scene.
"What the fuck happened?" Brad turned to Lovell.
Before Lovell could answer, Bravo-Three pulled into the warehouse.
"Good Lord! Thank God you're all alive." Dave McGraw jumped out of the Hummer running toward them. Encino Man left the scene nursing his face, Griego following close behind while most of the men jeered, all under the disapproving eye of Godfather.
"Where the fuck have you guys been?" Brad turned to Kocher who was also getting out of the Hummer. He looked exhausted.
"You wouldn't fucking believe me if I told you," Kocher replied. Dave had made his way to them and suddenly enveloped Nate in a bear hug.
"I thought you were dead, amigo. I heard it on the comms when the yacht was blown sky high. I thought you were all fucking dead."
Brad firmly detached McGraw from Nate and settled him back down on his feet. "You made it to Jersey?"
"My uncle has a few connections still. He got us released from custody. As soon as we were out, we headed to the rendezvous."
"Then where the fuck where you? We could have used some help securing the scene," Brad said. Another team would have been useful. Maybe they could have had fucking eyes on the entrance to the bay.
Dave shook his head. "Sorry. I was ordered to proceed south to cut them off in Atlantic City."
There was a ripple of confusion through the crowd as everyone's eyes cut to Godfather who was looking less and less impressed with the whole evening.
"Godfather ordered no such thing," Godfather said slowly, gesturing to some men standing off to the side. The next thing Brad knew, they were standing on the perimeter of the crowd, arms crossed in front of their chests. "Where did you get these comms?"
Dave pulled the Bluetooth earpiece out of his ear, and Brad saw right away it wasn't standard issue. "I found it in the Laundromat and kept it as a souvenir. I reprogrammed it with our encryption protocols; I don't understand what the problem is."
"The encryption protocols I found in the yacht?" Nate said with a grimace. There was silence as the implications percolated through the crowd.
Suddenly Kocher rounded on McGraw, stopped from landing a punch by one of Godfather's men. "You son of a bitch. I told you to get rid of those. Instead, you were telling the cartel every move we made."
Godfather gave a curt nod of his head and his men grabbed Dave, Kocher and the rest of the team that had gotten out of the Hummer and started escorting them away.
"Wait!" Brad yelled, trying to go after his friend. Nate was barely able to stop him.
"Not now, Brad," Nate said. "Give them some time, then I'll go see if I can help."
"Godfather will have them blacklisted. He'll lump Kocher and the guys in with McGraw and that'll be it. No one in the intelligence community will touch them after that."
Pulling out his cell phone, Nate quickly punched in a number. "Godfather still has to report to the oversight committee. It's your turn to trust me."
Brad shook off Nate's arm and watched everyone slowly start dispersing from the scene. There were a lot of angry mutterings. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Patterson leaving as well, his face angry and set.
Brad ran to catch up with him. "Are you okay?"
Patterson turned back. "I can't do this anymore Brad. I've had enough of this shit, and enough of watching good people get fucked by the incompetence of the men leading them. We're not in the Corps anymore. We don't have to put up with this. I'm through." He shook Brad's hand. "Take care of yourself. I suspect this is it for Godfather's little operation, but who knows. I've been wrong before."
Brad stood by himself as Patterson left and listened and watched everyone else. With a sinking feeling, he realized that Patterson was probably right. Now that the op was over and the celebration cut short, there were angry mutterings everywhere.
"Yo bro, we can get double doing private consulting," Q-Tip was saying to Christenson as they went back to their vehicle.
"Wanna come visit?" Poke said to Brad as he passed by. "The kids would love to see you."
"You too?" Brad replied looking around, helplessly. It hurt and angered him to see such potential wasted. And even with all the shit they had to deal with, they had fucked up the Leon cartel.
"I don't know man. You really think anyone's going to listen to anything brass has to say after this? The cancer has spread, Brad. There's no fucking therapy that's going to wash it away. Things will never be the same."
"Fuck that," Brad replied. "I'm not letting all you fuckers off that easily."
"What are going to do?" Poke asked. "Tie everyone down? Force everyone to stay?"
Brad turned around and searched the crowd. In the corner he saw Nate watching the crowd as well, a concerned look on his face. Brad sent him a silent plea, begging him to do something. Brad didn't have eloquence, not with Godfather, not with senators. He could get shit done, but he needed someone to make sure there was shit that needed doing. That's the other reason he'd never applied for the job.
Nate met his eyes, then gave him a nod.
That was the last Brad saw of him for eleven days.
Epilogue
Brad forced himself to exhale. There was very little point in holding his breath when the news was inevitable. Nate was standing in front of them, looking like the world had changed. His hair was cut short, and he was sporting a suit and tie.
It was a good look, just not one Brad would have expected.
"Well, gentlemen," Nate said holding up a blank manila envelope. Everyone was crowded in the back of Mr. Frosty: Brad, Ray, Walt, Trombley and Nate. Poke was standing at the serving window, and Doc, Pappy and Lovell were sitting in the front seat. The air was heavy with impatience. "It's official. You are all now independently owned and operated."
Ray leaned forward and snatched the envelope from Nate's hands in the stunned silence that followed. "No fucking way."
"It's true," Nate said with a smile. "After all the goatfucks in the last op, I managed to convince Godfather that the true effectiveness of his operation lay in having fully independent teams."
"So we're not disbanded?" Pappy asked.
Nate shook his head. "Far from it. I have orders for your next mission in fact."
"But what does that mean?" Brad asked from his spot in the back. This wasn't what he'd been expecting. The last two weeks had been filled with theories and hypotheses from the guys who had stuck around the HQ and not gone on liberty, but none of them had really taken this possibility into account. Honestly, most of them had believed they'd end up back in the Corps.
"It means that you're in charge of your own team, Brad. Same with you Lovell, Poke and Pappy. Godfather will give you a budget to handle the food, supplies and maintenance on the vehicles but it'll be up to you to take care of things as you see fit. From your budget, you'll pay your guys, which means they work for you. You can hire or retain services as you need, or if people want to move on, you can release them and hire someone new. Although, I suspect with this new arrangement, there won't be too many openings."
"Wait. No more Encino Man?" Ray practically squealed.
"Schwetje has been reassigned to co-ordinate with the oversight committee," Nate said with a grimace. "Senator Rundle will have his hands full getting any sort of coherent answer from him, but I suppose that's Godfather's point. Also McGraw has decided to pursue other employment..."
Ray threw himself backwards against Walt, in a mock faint. Walt rolled him over and left him on the floor without cracking a smile, and not for the first time, Brad wondered what had happened on the trip they had taken. Walt and Ray had been roaming the Midwestern United States for the last eight days, but both of them refused to talk about what had passed or the reason for the matching tribal tattoos on their arms.
"As far as I know, McGraw is opening up his own close, personal security business for celebrities and rock stars."
"What about you?" Brad asked, perfectly still as he waited on the answer. Nate had said your mission. Not ours.
Nate gave him a smile. "I'm your team's liaison with Godfather. All missions and ops will come through me. Also, I will co-ordinate any third party comms or logistics you might require."
"So you are staying?" The exhale was involuntary now as a smile spread across Brad's face.
"I'm staying."
Ray tackled Nate's leg. "Does this mean you're still riding with us?"
Nate eyes were only on Brad and Brad felt the ball loosen in his stomach. "I'd love to ride with you guys when the time is right, but let's face it, it's a little crowded in here. Schwetje had a red Mustang he was willing to give me for a good price. As you may recall, it needs an engine, front struts, radiator, front engine mount, not to mention some cosmetic work, but I think it'll work nicely in the end."
"But..." Ray trailed off looking around them all. "We could always fire Trombley."
"Hey," Trombley said in protest.
"It's okay," Brad said with a nod. And it was. He had to admit that having Nate in the vehicle on the last op had proved a bit of a distraction. Having Nate in his ear and in his bed was the best of both worlds. "Will you have any staff? I can't imagine you driving yourself around all the time."
Nate chuckled. "Turns out, Mike Wynn's looking for a job and he said he wouldn't mind riding shotgun. Also, I managed to talk Christeson and Stafford out of self-employment. They've agreed to be my guns, should I need any. I think it'll work out nicely."
"He wear no shoeshine" Ray started by tapping a beat against his leg. "He got toe-jam football, he got monkey-finger, he shoot Coca Cola...He say I know you, you know me, one thing I can tell you is you got to be free."
Brad gave Nate a toothy grin and shot him a suggestive look that he could take which ever way he chose. Nate returned it in kind with a slow nod.
"Come together, Right now. Over me."
The End.
Lyrics
A Little Respect by Erasure
Ice Cream by Sarah McLachlan
Do You Think I'm Sexy by Rod Stewart
Sea of Love by The Honey Drippers
I Touch Myself by The Divinyls
Allentown by Billy Joel
Born to be Wild by Steppenwolf
Come Together by The Beatles
Index
Part I * Part II * Part III * Part IV * Part V