Boilersuits
Written as a fan contribution for Spirits of Raleigh by ParanoidFighter
"Why did you bring me along?" Zelig hissed as he and Sasha made their way through the crowded downtown streets. "You know I'm shit at this!"
Sasha cast a sharp glance to the man at his right. "You need the experience."
"Like fuck I do," another hiss, almost as sharp as Sasha's narrowed-eye stare, "I mix drinks for a living."
Another sharp stare that came with a perfectly plucked raised eyebrow.
"Okay, fine, you're right." Zelig sighed in defeat. "I don't just mix drinks and I probably do need the experience." He looked around again while resisting the urge to rub his arms. "You know I just... don't do well with this sort of thing."
"We're literally just walking on the street."
"Yeah, but we're about to—" he clamped his mouth shut, pursed lips twitching from side to side as he forcibly bit back their plan.
"And this is why you need practice," Sasha said in a sage tone that, annoyingly, suited him. "Besides, I have my reasons. You said you know this building—"
"I said I've been there once—"
"—and that's all I need. You'll know exactly where to go—"
Zelig stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to stare at Sasha, an eye twitching as the opposite brow raised. "You," he sputtered, "do-do you do realize who you're talking to?"
"Z—"
"My GPS Agent gave up on me! It quit. It fuckin' quit. It just up and left—"
Sasha's facade broke. "Wha—they can do that?"
"Apparently!" Zelig heaved a sigh and resumed walking. "So, yeah, brilliant plan, bringing me along for directions," he sulked. "I hope you like China. We may end up there in the next twenty minutes..."
*
Spoofed ID cards got them into the building without any suspicion; the glass gates swung open and the pair passed through while wearing the time-honored uniforms of boilersuits with a clipboard and toolbox. And, as per the other part of the time-honored uniforms, the toolbox contained Sasha's deck and a few other tools of the illegal trades. They showed their work orders to the appropriate guards, along with their spoofed credentials, and were given the all-clear into the rest of the building.
"Lead the way," Sasha — Null Kit — said with the smallest of mock-bows.
Zelig — no, Ouzo — glared but smiled his customer service smile as he began walking through the cubicle farm, Null Kit trailing in his wake...
They went up two flights of stairs, walked across the floor to the other side of the building, walked up another two flights, walked down one, walked to the middle of the floor and then up the central stairwell for another two flights.
"Are we there yet?" Null Kit huffed, only to find himself blinking as Ouzo turned on him with a speed rivaled only by The Baker whenever he smelled something burning in the oven.
"You," a quivering finger was jabbed under Null Kit's nose, "shut."
He nodded as Ouzo stepped out of the stairwell and looked around. The bald head nodded twice before the rest of the body turned on its heel and took off toward the left, leaving the Decker to scramble after him.
This time was different, though; Null Kit could tell the man had finally gained his bearings. He was walking with purpose and authority, so much so that Null Kit had to discretely grab the back of his boilersuit.
"Look. Natural." He hissed. "Slow down and remember you're pretending to be someone who gets paid by the hour."
Ouzo's mouth clamped shut again but Sasha could see the thoughts swirling behind his eyes.
"One comment," he relented in both grasp and reluctant agreement to whatever quips Ouzo had thought of.
"Bit rich, you telling me to look natural." He spoke quickly, smiling.
Null Kit frowned, tried to retort, but sighed. "Okay, fine, but really: slow down."
"But this is my natural—"
Null Kit's right hand twitched, a motion not unseen by Ouzo; he fell silent and matched Null Kit's pace, staying only a step ahead of the Decker as they made their way past a deserted set of cubicles.
Ouzo bit back a sneeze as he passed by a particularly dusty desk. "We're almost there," he scrubbed his face into the rough fabric covering the crook of his arm, "left at the end of this row, down another hall, and then it'll be the last door on the right, next to the exterior stairwell door." He discretely pointed as they went, taking care to not bump or tap any of the dusty dividing walls.
Null Kit stayed silent as he followed Ouzo, declining to comment that Ouzo had mixed his left and right again. He had to admit, though, that their disjointed path had taken them by multiple keycard scanners which helped sell their persona of maintenance men checking for bad routers. They had somehow even managed to avoid almost all of the security cameras and thermal-sensors, including one that was almost unavoidable... save for a very narrow blindspot between a bushy plant and the wall.
Always nice to see the potential in the bartender, Null Kit smiled as he stepped through door that Ouzo held open for him. The door closed behind the pair as Null Kit surveyed the room. Everything was covered in a visible layer of dust — not thick enough to show years of unuse but enough to ensure that there was minimal foot traffic in the area; it was almost as ideal a location that Null Kit could hope for as he worked: there was air conditioning, solid walls, someone standing guard, and an escape route a few feet away. Nodding to himself, he placed his toolbox down on a dusty copier and pulled out his deck. "This won't take long," he said as he sat down on the floor, his deck on his lap. "Keep an eye out and I'll be back with you soon."
"Okay," Ouzo was glancing nervously at the dust, "be quick."
Null Kit gave him a thumb's up with his left hand as the right connected a cable from his deck to his datajack. He blinked once, twice, before the golden glow left his artificial eyes.
"Lights out, nobody home," Ouzo gave one last look to the Decker before turning his gaze to the door. It took him only a second more before he closed his eyes, preferring to listen for the sounds of someone or something approaching, rather than sticking his head out the door to look...
*
Null Kit slowly began to rouse himself, a routine that started with his fingers. They splayed, curled into fists, and then relaxed as his right hand began tapping on the screen of his deck. Next came a blink, followed by—
"Doo doo doo," Ouzo lilted in a bad imitation of a startup jingle as the light returned to Null Kit's eyes, "welcome back. It's been—" he closed his mouth, paused, and then smiled, "welcome back. Done?"
He nodded and accepted Ouzo's hand. Pulled upright by an arm used to hauling kegs, he stood straight and busied himself with securing his deck while saying nothing of what he had done; he'd fill Ouzo in later, when they were safe at the bar.
Closing the lid to the toolbox, Null Kit gave a nod to the other man and watched as Ouzo opened the door. He stepped out into the hall, followed by Ouzo, and gestured to the stairwell.
"After you," Null Kit said, "remember: natural. But it's time to go."
"Understood." Ouzo's gloved hands pushed open the door to the stairs. "Front door?"
"Front," Null Kit held his toolbox as steady as he could as they hurried down the stairs.
The pair nodded to the guards as they tapped their badges to open the glass gates before clearing the lobby in a few normally-paced strides and making their way through the front doors. Null Kit watched as Ouzo ran his hand over one of the many leafy green things growing in a planter near the door... and then pinched off the end of the branch. Just as quickly, the plucked leaves and stems disappeared into Ouzo's pocket. Null Kit said nothing but added it to the list of things to discuss later...
*
They had walked in near total silence all the way back to 7 Bones Gastro — a three mile walk with a detour into a stormdrain to remove their boilersuits and shove them into the toolbox Sasha carried.
Dressed once more in their normal garb, Zelig had resumed his point position while Sasha walked behind at a pace most would consider "brisk." That was normal for Zelig, though, even if no one else would call the overly-caffeinated bartender a "coffee bean" like they called him a "sentient funyun." If it were anyone else in the Cabinet, he'd be annoyed at the one-sided razzing, but razzing Zelig frequently came with its own set of challenges.
Even if the man himself didn't respond, fate often would. And fate didn't take kindly to anyone else messing with their favorite whipping boy.
Zelig slowed as they neared the gastropub, yawning as he stretched his arms over his head. "Almost don't want to work tonight," he adjusted his bowtie, "but tips are good."
"John's making you work after this?" His surprise was audible.
Zelig glanced over at Sasha. "Not all of us work for a boss like Ezra."
Sasha paused and then nodded. "Understood." He looked at the front door that was growing steadily larger. "Still, if you're not up for it, I think we can get John to cover for you tonight."
The bartender hemmed for a moment before Sasha cleared his throat.
"You made more earlier than what you'd make tonight, if that helps."
"That does help," Zelig admitted as he stepped into the bar. "We'll see."
Sasha nodded and hopped up onto his normal stool as Zelig ducked under the bar and immediately grabbed a half-dozen shotglasses. Picking up his soda gun, the bartender filled each glass with water and then carefully pulled a handful of leafy green things out of his pocket. With a smile seen only in the mirror behind the bar, Zelig placed the pinched plants into the glasses. "There. That'll keep you happy until I go home."
"There, what?" Sasha looked around the tap handles. "Leaves?"
"For now," Zelig was nodding to himself, "but hopefully plants here in a bit, if these grow any roots."
"And where'd those come from?" Sasha smirked as Zelig blanched.
"Places." He said quickly, turning to make Sasha his normal drink in hopes of distracting him from this line of questioning.
"Oh, I know where—" he paused, only to narrow his eyes as he stared at the bartender. Every single time Zelig dragged him across the office building, they had passed by a planter... "How many floors did you drag me across so you could steal those plants?"
"I didn't steal them, really," Zelig pressed a highball glass into Sasha's hands, "and none, actually. But it was a happy coincidence, wasn't it?"
Sasha took a drink of the top-shelf whisky mixed with diet cola. "I don't believe you."
"It's mostly true."
"Still don't."
"Look at it this way," Zelig began filling a pint glass for a new order, "it was either a coincidence or I actually knew where I was going. Take your pick because it can't be both."
Sasha sipped his preferred drink as he mulled over the bartender's words. "...still don't believe you."
Sasha cast a sharp glance to the man at his right. "You need the experience."
"Like fuck I do," another hiss, almost as sharp as Sasha's narrowed-eye stare, "I mix drinks for a living."
Another sharp stare that came with a perfectly plucked raised eyebrow.
"Okay, fine, you're right." Zelig sighed in defeat. "I don't just mix drinks and I probably do need the experience." He looked around again while resisting the urge to rub his arms. "You know I just... don't do well with this sort of thing."
"We're literally just walking on the street."
"Yeah, but we're about to—" he clamped his mouth shut, pursed lips twitching from side to side as he forcibly bit back their plan.
"And this is why you need practice," Sasha said in a sage tone that, annoyingly, suited him. "Besides, I have my reasons. You said you know this building—"
"I said I've been there once—"
"—and that's all I need. You'll know exactly where to go—"
Zelig stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to stare at Sasha, an eye twitching as the opposite brow raised. "You," he sputtered, "do-do you do realize who you're talking to?"
"Z—"
"My GPS Agent gave up on me! It quit. It fuckin' quit. It just up and left—"
Sasha's facade broke. "Wha—they can do that?"
"Apparently!" Zelig heaved a sigh and resumed walking. "So, yeah, brilliant plan, bringing me along for directions," he sulked. "I hope you like China. We may end up there in the next twenty minutes..."
*
Spoofed ID cards got them into the building without any suspicion; the glass gates swung open and the pair passed through while wearing the time-honored uniforms of boilersuits with a clipboard and toolbox. And, as per the other part of the time-honored uniforms, the toolbox contained Sasha's deck and a few other tools of the illegal trades. They showed their work orders to the appropriate guards, along with their spoofed credentials, and were given the all-clear into the rest of the building.
"Lead the way," Sasha — Null Kit — said with the smallest of mock-bows.
Zelig — no, Ouzo — glared but smiled his customer service smile as he began walking through the cubicle farm, Null Kit trailing in his wake...
They went up two flights of stairs, walked across the floor to the other side of the building, walked up another two flights, walked down one, walked to the middle of the floor and then up the central stairwell for another two flights.
"Are we there yet?" Null Kit huffed, only to find himself blinking as Ouzo turned on him with a speed rivaled only by The Baker whenever he smelled something burning in the oven.
"You," a quivering finger was jabbed under Null Kit's nose, "shut."
He nodded as Ouzo stepped out of the stairwell and looked around. The bald head nodded twice before the rest of the body turned on its heel and took off toward the left, leaving the Decker to scramble after him.
This time was different, though; Null Kit could tell the man had finally gained his bearings. He was walking with purpose and authority, so much so that Null Kit had to discretely grab the back of his boilersuit.
"Look. Natural." He hissed. "Slow down and remember you're pretending to be someone who gets paid by the hour."
Ouzo's mouth clamped shut again but Sasha could see the thoughts swirling behind his eyes.
"One comment," he relented in both grasp and reluctant agreement to whatever quips Ouzo had thought of.
"Bit rich, you telling me to look natural." He spoke quickly, smiling.
Null Kit frowned, tried to retort, but sighed. "Okay, fine, but really: slow down."
"But this is my natural—"
Null Kit's right hand twitched, a motion not unseen by Ouzo; he fell silent and matched Null Kit's pace, staying only a step ahead of the Decker as they made their way past a deserted set of cubicles.
Ouzo bit back a sneeze as he passed by a particularly dusty desk. "We're almost there," he scrubbed his face into the rough fabric covering the crook of his arm, "left at the end of this row, down another hall, and then it'll be the last door on the right, next to the exterior stairwell door." He discretely pointed as they went, taking care to not bump or tap any of the dusty dividing walls.
Null Kit stayed silent as he followed Ouzo, declining to comment that Ouzo had mixed his left and right again. He had to admit, though, that their disjointed path had taken them by multiple keycard scanners which helped sell their persona of maintenance men checking for bad routers. They had somehow even managed to avoid almost all of the security cameras and thermal-sensors, including one that was almost unavoidable... save for a very narrow blindspot between a bushy plant and the wall.
Always nice to see the potential in the bartender, Null Kit smiled as he stepped through door that Ouzo held open for him. The door closed behind the pair as Null Kit surveyed the room. Everything was covered in a visible layer of dust — not thick enough to show years of unuse but enough to ensure that there was minimal foot traffic in the area; it was almost as ideal a location that Null Kit could hope for as he worked: there was air conditioning, solid walls, someone standing guard, and an escape route a few feet away. Nodding to himself, he placed his toolbox down on a dusty copier and pulled out his deck. "This won't take long," he said as he sat down on the floor, his deck on his lap. "Keep an eye out and I'll be back with you soon."
"Okay," Ouzo was glancing nervously at the dust, "be quick."
Null Kit gave him a thumb's up with his left hand as the right connected a cable from his deck to his datajack. He blinked once, twice, before the golden glow left his artificial eyes.
"Lights out, nobody home," Ouzo gave one last look to the Decker before turning his gaze to the door. It took him only a second more before he closed his eyes, preferring to listen for the sounds of someone or something approaching, rather than sticking his head out the door to look...
*
Null Kit slowly began to rouse himself, a routine that started with his fingers. They splayed, curled into fists, and then relaxed as his right hand began tapping on the screen of his deck. Next came a blink, followed by—
"Doo doo doo," Ouzo lilted in a bad imitation of a startup jingle as the light returned to Null Kit's eyes, "welcome back. It's been—" he closed his mouth, paused, and then smiled, "welcome back. Done?"
He nodded and accepted Ouzo's hand. Pulled upright by an arm used to hauling kegs, he stood straight and busied himself with securing his deck while saying nothing of what he had done; he'd fill Ouzo in later, when they were safe at the bar.
Closing the lid to the toolbox, Null Kit gave a nod to the other man and watched as Ouzo opened the door. He stepped out into the hall, followed by Ouzo, and gestured to the stairwell.
"After you," Null Kit said, "remember: natural. But it's time to go."
"Understood." Ouzo's gloved hands pushed open the door to the stairs. "Front door?"
"Front," Null Kit held his toolbox as steady as he could as they hurried down the stairs.
The pair nodded to the guards as they tapped their badges to open the glass gates before clearing the lobby in a few normally-paced strides and making their way through the front doors. Null Kit watched as Ouzo ran his hand over one of the many leafy green things growing in a planter near the door... and then pinched off the end of the branch. Just as quickly, the plucked leaves and stems disappeared into Ouzo's pocket. Null Kit said nothing but added it to the list of things to discuss later...
*
They had walked in near total silence all the way back to 7 Bones Gastro — a three mile walk with a detour into a stormdrain to remove their boilersuits and shove them into the toolbox Sasha carried.
Dressed once more in their normal garb, Zelig had resumed his point position while Sasha walked behind at a pace most would consider "brisk." That was normal for Zelig, though, even if no one else would call the overly-caffeinated bartender a "coffee bean" like they called him a "sentient funyun." If it were anyone else in the Cabinet, he'd be annoyed at the one-sided razzing, but razzing Zelig frequently came with its own set of challenges.
Even if the man himself didn't respond, fate often would. And fate didn't take kindly to anyone else messing with their favorite whipping boy.
Zelig slowed as they neared the gastropub, yawning as he stretched his arms over his head. "Almost don't want to work tonight," he adjusted his bowtie, "but tips are good."
"John's making you work after this?" His surprise was audible.
Zelig glanced over at Sasha. "Not all of us work for a boss like Ezra."
Sasha paused and then nodded. "Understood." He looked at the front door that was growing steadily larger. "Still, if you're not up for it, I think we can get John to cover for you tonight."
The bartender hemmed for a moment before Sasha cleared his throat.
"You made more earlier than what you'd make tonight, if that helps."
"That does help," Zelig admitted as he stepped into the bar. "We'll see."
Sasha nodded and hopped up onto his normal stool as Zelig ducked under the bar and immediately grabbed a half-dozen shotglasses. Picking up his soda gun, the bartender filled each glass with water and then carefully pulled a handful of leafy green things out of his pocket. With a smile seen only in the mirror behind the bar, Zelig placed the pinched plants into the glasses. "There. That'll keep you happy until I go home."
"There, what?" Sasha looked around the tap handles. "Leaves?"
"For now," Zelig was nodding to himself, "but hopefully plants here in a bit, if these grow any roots."
"And where'd those come from?" Sasha smirked as Zelig blanched.
"Places." He said quickly, turning to make Sasha his normal drink in hopes of distracting him from this line of questioning.
"Oh, I know where—" he paused, only to narrow his eyes as he stared at the bartender. Every single time Zelig dragged him across the office building, they had passed by a planter... "How many floors did you drag me across so you could steal those plants?"
"I didn't steal them, really," Zelig pressed a highball glass into Sasha's hands, "and none, actually. But it was a happy coincidence, wasn't it?"
Sasha took a drink of the top-shelf whisky mixed with diet cola. "I don't believe you."
"It's mostly true."
"Still don't."
"Look at it this way," Zelig began filling a pint glass for a new order, "it was either a coincidence or I actually knew where I was going. Take your pick because it can't be both."
Sasha sipped his preferred drink as he mulled over the bartender's words. "...still don't believe you."
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