Pawns on the board
Zev didn't know there was such a thing as a DOPE agency, a few days ago. Now he knows one of its agents and has just become aware that there is a double agent working between that group and his own. It's amazing the things the CIA doesn't consider to be on his 'need to know' list. This morning, though, he received an order to meet in private with
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He sees the guy coming in wondering if that's Saturday's type. Zev doesn't seem so great to him. He goes to the bar, ordering two whiskey sours and then plops down at Zev's table.
"CIAfagsayswhat?"
This will be the height of his immaturity if they are both lucky.
"In my fantacies you looked like an art college student with a fat cock. Sort of Kurt Cobain, but smoother. I wanted someone really really pretty so I could set up a camera and watch you suck each other off until there was only air coming out. Wiry little hairless bodies sliding over each other and a hard wood floor. You'd be the one brave enough to finally try eating out his asshole and he's be on all fours right in front of the camera screaming. But you'd never ever fuck. I wonder why that is?"
He shrugs good naturedly and then gives Zev a hard disapproving look.
"You're nothing like I pictured his first experiment to be."
West is much more interested in talking Saturday then talking shop. He could give less a fuck about work.
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"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."
He grins sharply, gleefully destroying West's joke.
More unexpected than the joke is the lengthy --and rather enjoyable-- descriptions of West's sexual fantasies about Zev and Saturday. He just leans on a hand, soaking it all in. Christ, it's a beautiful image. Someone should stick their tongue in that smug bastard's tight little asshole and wiggle until he screams. Zev will if given the chance, but he'd just be satisfied to know somewhere, somehow: it happened.
This isn't the conversation or the agent he'd anticipated.
"And here I'd expected another baby-faced fascist boyscout who sold his soul and his nuts and is peddling the same 'lifestyle choice' to anyone he meets who makes his prick tingle. Guess we're both a little surprised."
Zev grabs one of the whiskeys and holds it up.
"I'm assuming this is for me, unless you're doing all of Saturday's drinking for him. Because honestly, someone has to. Let me know when you want to set those cameras up in my place, I know all the good angles."
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"Noooo way, sunshine. That cherry cannot be popped. I've been trying for years. Especially after he got hitched. They sent you pictures.. fucking gorgeous woman. And she tried everything even tried talking to me about it. I offered to teach her, but... I was walking fucked up for a few days after. Saturday was real protective of his wife. He tried harder then I've ever seen a homo try and I think a lot of it was to make her happy not just to make himself feel straight.
Look- it's like living in a christian camp. All the time. There's no other opinions no other point of view. I'm all he has and... he thinks I fuck guys just to rebel against the system. Sometimes I wonder if that's the case too.
I do, in fact, do all his drinking. You've never met such a light weight. The booze from our world is so watered down I don't think he knows what real alcohol tastes like. And he's not any easier to handle when he's drunk in case you're wondering. He just pukes a lot. But go ahead and take it. I'm keeping 'em coming.
I didn't become an agent until I was much older."
This is to explain his lack of youthful appearance. In case Zev doesn't know about the DOPE Juice, it doubles as the logical remark.
"He's not bad, just like the rest of them. Saturday had been in the system so often he never had a chance to have his own thoughts. He hardly has a personality and that took years. I take it the date went badly."
He raises both eyebrows as he drinks, clearly finding the idea funny.
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Zev shakes his head. He tried being straight for a while. He really did. Thought it would fix a lot of his problems. Just made him feel like an insecure, limp-dicked loser who was a master of angering and disappointing women.
"I know about the drinking already. I bought him one. Watched him get half-way through it and then return it all over the floor. Not a pretty sight. Of course, I think it was half the booze and half culture shock. I don't think I've ever seen a cultural shift give someone actual shock before..."
He finishes his own whiskey sour fairly quick and orders the next round to keep things fair. This guy is something of a dick, but in ways Zev can relate to. He's actually enjoying their conversation outside of being less informed.
"I take it you're his partner? West, right? I suppose 'badly' is one way of putting how things went the other day. He told me all I needed was willpower and a good woman to 'cure me' of my faggotry...and I threw a table and let him get cuffed and nearly shoved in a patrol car for it. All in all, not the worst date I've ever had. .... He gave me a goodnight hug. I felt like a fuckin five year-old... So how long have you been working both sides like this? How long have you known there's a better America but left him comfortably ignorant?"
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He works on his next drink a bit slower.
"He told me all about it. I was waiting for him when he got back. You freaks him out. He thought the cops were taking him to be held in a reeducation camp. It took me a long time to convince him otherwise and settle him down."
West laughs, having to put the drink down for it.
"Come on. 'Left him'? I'm not his sitter. The guy is an agent. He only looks like a baby. Besides, what was I going to do. Even if I wanted to tell him I couldn't. That prick would sell my ass down the river so fast my cheek would have skid marks. I know what the CIA got on him but not what they gave you. He offed his entire family. Slow. Do you think he would be overcome with emotion and not turn me in? Fuck you. You sound like you want to take him home and keep him. Don't get so attached. He's just a good face and a cute ass, there's nothing special about him."
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Zev lets this drink sit a while as well. He holds the glass, swirling it and letting the ice melt into odd little patterns on the surface.
"If he thinks the camps are so fucking good for people, why doesn't he check himself in? Why does he look like a kid in a candy store everytime I give him any little hint of information about this world? A world where it's all ok and no one sticks electrodes in your cock and lights up your balls like a christmas display every time you disagree with the nation..."
He stops himself, realizing he might be selling Saturday out. That's not his intention. Zev just got a little worked up. He hasn't felt passionate about his country in years. The kid brings it out in him, for some reason.
"Ok. Given. If you told him anything, he'd probably wrap your ass up like a present for his beloved country. Jesus. I'm not saying he's special. Never did. I'm not going ring shopping, I just think trying to haul him out of the iron closet he's in seems like a hell of a hobby. You seem to have kept at it, so it must be worth while, huh? Don't worry. I'll wear a cup for protection."
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West doesn't believe Saturday would rebel against his America. As far as he's ever seen Sat lives for it. He waves off all the evidence Zev thinks he has.
"You misunderstand. The reeducation camps aren't where they put us for 'sexual retraining'. We've both bene there a couple times. He thought he was being taken to the sort of place his family was in. Two different things. Saturday is agfraid of the camps. Anyone would be. He's scared of being held there, but that doesn't mean he didn't like being the interrigater."
West doesn't like where this is going. He's being called on his own feelings for Saturday and Zev is quick.
"There's a difference with amusing myself and making an effort."
He doesn't want to talk about it anymore.
"Stay close to him if you can. Saturday is being trained to replace me in a decade or so- in the nexus. CIA is unhappy because they'll lose a double agent when that happens. If he can't be turned, and I know he can't, I'll get orders to kill him so they replace him with someone that will work both sides."
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Zev has no reason to believe he knows better than West. In fact, logic dictates quite the opposite. Still, he wants to tell West to go fuck himself and that he's going to turn Sat against Uncle Sam soon enough. Every man thinks his dick can do magic. Zev feels his can work miracles.
"We'll see what happens. I plan to keep an eye on him and I've got a few others watching his moves when I'm not. I've got it under control. ... So I've read about the reeducation camps. What the fuck are the sexual retraining camps like?"
He'll get Sat to work both sides. There's no way he's letting that little bastard just get his ass killed. That is unless he gets too annoying.
"And where do you retire to when he takes over?"
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"He says he has two hookers watching you."
West finishes off his drink. It's his turn again. He motions for two more to the waitress.
"Actually they aren't much different then some places you have where Christian parents send their little future gym teachers and waiters to be healed by God. There's group therapy, lectures, rules.. a lot of classes where they're taught to conform to sexual norms like fixing a car or baking, whatever the case may be. The boys are taught to act and sound like boys. Only difference is they don;t have the privacy for the usual hanky panky kids do in your world. Ours are constantly monitored. If it's bad enough they go to mental institutions instead. It took a whole lot of brainwashing on Saturday's part because he was in and out all the time. He's a voyeur."
West is already seeing an all out battle for Saturday between the two of them. What right does this prick have> He's brand new and West has been trying to wear the guy down for years now.
"A beach."
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There's a small grin and a bit of laughter under his breath. Zev can't believe Saturday thought just having Neil and Chase spy on him was going to do him some great good.
He listens to the stories of the camps. He's heard about that sort of thing being done by religious groups, but he's never experienced it.
He finds it hard to believe that a double-agent working not just between agencies, but between worlds is just going to quit it all and go off to lay on some beach. That reeks of bullshit. But Zev has more interesting things to worry about than what West plans to do with his spare time.
"He's a voyeur, huh?" He smiles wickedly. "Someone ought to put a show on for the poor guy."
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Right. That was probably his job at some point considering he's Saturday's only link to reality.
"I'm not helping you seduce him. Just giving you the information I was told to."
West doesn't ever bother to makes his lies seem believable. It takes energy. He finishes the rest of his drink.
"I have to get back to the baby. He needs his cigarettes."
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Or at least just listen in and hear Saturday interrogating the poor little prostitutes about homosexuality. So cute. West is really missing out on some good stuff here.
"Right. Well, I'll have to recruit help elsewhere then."
He smiles, being a real prick about this.
"Go on, then. Make him happy. Wouldn't want him worrying."
Zev holds his drink up in toast. He isn't out to compete with West, but he isn't polite enough not to.
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But if Zev pops his cherry West is going to be worlds and pissed. This was only supposed to be a meet and greet so they know who the other is. West was more interested in the Saturday drama then work. Work is slow. It's been a constant trickle of info back and forth without any real purpose whatsoever.
West leaves him there, the smug punk.
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