"Showdown," Pt. 8 - With a Thong
in His Heart
by Robin
Alex Krycek shivered but whether it was
from the chill wind, the thread of excitement that snaked up his
spine or the pressing need to pee was anybody's guess. He'd spent
more than 17 hours on a Greyhound Bus to get to his destination
and an unexpected attack of shy bladder rendered him unable to
use the onboard restroom. It may have been the two nuns in the
seats adjacent to the restroom door. Or it may have been the awkwardness
of trying to deal with all those buttons on his fly with one hand
in a rocking bus on a downhill curve. Whatever. None of that mattered
anymore.
He was here. Standing in front of the locked iron gates to *her*
house. The woman who created the Thong of Power and then bestowed
it on Krycek's personal fury - AD Walter Skinner. Pausing only
to give a quick lick to the wrought iron initials, Krycek squeezed
himself between the bars and stealthily crossed the lawn. His
return was much more speedy due to the enthusiastic pursuit of
two large Rotweilers and a brindled Great Dane. It was the Dane
that brought him down and clamped slobbery jaws on the collar
of his jacket. One Rot grabbed his boot and the other ripped off
his prosthetic arm and ran playfully around him while he was held
fast. Needless to say, finding a restroom was no longer an issue.
Because he was screaming mindlessly, it took a few minutes for
Krycek to realize that the dogs had released their grip and that
he was writhing on the ground solo, to the apparant amusement
of a patrician looking woman who stood over him with a rather
scary looking taser device in her hand.
"Who are you and what have you done to my dogs?" she
snapped.
"What have *I* done to your..." his voice trailed off
as he realized to whom he spoke. "You're...it's you!"
She nodded benignly, obviously used to fame and adoration.
"That's right. I'm Marta Stuart, high priestess of home economics
and gracious living. Now tell me who you are before I fry your
ass!" She waved the taser menacingly.
"No! Don't!" Ratboy squeaked. " I'm unarmed!"
"So I see. Bruno! Drop that thing! You don't know where that's
been!" Marta screamed at the Rot who promptly spat out the
remnants of the prosthesis.
"Get up, little man, and let me take a look at you."
Alex rose to his feet, cautiously. He was potently aware of two
things: the taser that was aimed menacingly at his crotch and
the wet stain which would only aid in conducting the electric
charge.
"I just came to t-t-talk to you," Krycek stammered.
"I need to ask you something." She sighed in resignation.
"Why can't you people just buy my books?" She gave him
a once over. "What is it? Bar mitzvah? Asparagus bed? Mother's
Day gift?"
"No! No...I need to know about...The Thong of Power!"
The words appeared to affect her like a ballpeen hammer to the
forehead. The color drained from her face. She staggered back
nearly falling over a lovely border hedge of varigated marigolds.
The dogs drew closer, growling.
"Walter! You...know Walter Sergei? he told you about the
Thong...?'" Krycek decided that this was one of those situations
in which dishonesty was the best policy. Rubbing his one remaining
fist over his nose in a rather rodentlike fashion, he tried one
of his patented 'I'm stupid but sincere" looks.
"It was stolen. He asked me to help him find it but before
he could give me the details there was a horrible accident. I'm
afraid..." he let the rest of the thought hang, leaving her
to draw her own conclusions. The results were gratifying. Her
eyes grew large and dark and she pressed her glue-encrusted fingertips
to her knifeblade lips.
"Oh! My Sweet Walter! My brasserie mug of borscht! My Argentinian
beef and onion stuffed piroshki! My...!"
"So it *was* you. You made the Thong?"
She nodded, bereft of speech, tears coursing down her ashen cheeks
in perfectly parallel tracks, arriving at her chin and dripping
off with the impeccable timing of Olympic synchronized swimmers.
Alex sidled over and draped his arm across her bony shoulders.
"The thong...what makes it so powerful?" he asked sympathetically,
using his empty sleeve to mop up her face. She received his ministrations
gratefully, then looked up at him winsomely, trustingly.
"Even Walter doesn't realize the full extent of the Thong's
power. If it ever gets into the wrong hands..." She shook
her head and closed her eyes in horror. "I don't know what
possessed me to do it. It's just that I was so crazy for him!!
I couldn't stand the thought of anyone else caressing those iron
thighs. Those twin columns of granite. That incredibly huge..."
"Yes! Yes! But what about the thong?!"
"Don't tell him!" A familiar voice cut through the night
blooming jasmine that had been so carefully coaxed up the trellis
to their right. The speaker stepped into view and Krycek gasped
in surprise.
"You!"
"That's right, Alex. It's me," Marita Covarrubias said
in her cool and kind of scary voice. "Don't tell him another
thing, Ms. Stuart. This man is not to be trusted! If you truly
love Walter Skinner (and who doesn't) you'll step away from Krycek
and leave him to me." Something in her voice moved the Diva
of Domesticity to obey. She wrenched herself away and called the
dogs to attention.
"No! Marta! She's the dangerous one! Quick! Give me the taser!"
"Alex, you always were a fool," the Uniblonder sneered.
"That's not a taser. That's a hot glue gun." Alex looked
at Marta, stunned. She shrugged and nodded.
"I was getting a head start on my Christmas ornaments..."
"Oh, *man*!" Krycek whined.
"Now *this* is a taser," Covarrubias whipped the evil
looking device from her coat pocket and levelled it at Alex. He
had just enough time to throw a protective hand over his crotch
before she fired. And for another second he watched the pretty
sparks bounce off his leather jacket as his legs began a wild
fandango without him.
Then everything went black...
Krycek awoke to find himself stretched
out on an elegant early american sleigh bed, swaddled in 64 count
pima cotton sheets and duvet of a lovely shade of aquamarine that
exactly matched his eyes. He frowned, trying to remember where
the heck he was. He could hear murmuring - two voices - nearby
and smelled the mouthwatering fragrance of hot Earl Grey tea and
freshly baked madeleines.
He also realized that underneath all that pricey linen, he was
nekkid as the day his mama popped him out into the world. Hmmm.
Interesting. Slowly he pulled his right hand out from under the
covers and rubbed his right eye. Then he pulled his left hand
out from under the cover, rubbed his left eye, pulled on his earlobe
and then reached back down to scratch his... whoa!!!left hand!!!!
Krycek yelped and blinked at the technological marvel that was
now attached to his shoulder. It was a thing of beauty, made of
metal, mesh, wiring and covered with a thin coat of space age
polymer that looked not unlike his real skin.
"Like it?" Marita asked. "Marta made it for you.
You should be grateful, little Rat."
Krycek looked at them standing in the doorway, arms twined around
each other's waists, looking like the Bobbsey Twins from Hell.
"I...I...it's amazing!"
"Nothing really," Marta said coyly. I just used what
I had on hand. Some copper wire, a soldering iron, some silicon
chips I had left over from my 'Make your own PC' segment..."
"Get up and get dressed, Krycek" Marita ordered, nodding
at his clothing, which had been laundered, hanging on a padded
hanger on the closet door and his jacket which had been treated
with saddle soap, taking years off it's appearance. When he hesitated,
she smiled evilly and aimed the taser at him.
"I'd do it if I were you," Marta offered in a confidential
tone. "That thing will raise hell with the prosthesis. You
might rip off your own..."
Krycek was up and out of the bed in a nanosecond. He rather enjoyed
dressing himself with two hands again, even if the two harpies
were watching his every move.
"Well," Marta sighed. "He's nice but he's no Walter."
"You can say that again," Marita nodded.
"Yeah, yeah," Krycek winced. He finished buttoning everything
up, picked several pieces of lint off his shoulder, caught a fly
in mid air, lifted the bed off the floor to find his other boot
and adjusted himself - all with his left hand. Then he grinned
and turned
to the women. His grin faded like cheap chintz in a summer house.
"Now what," he asked nervously. Covarrubias fixed him
with her most evil, gloating look.
"Now, Lover, you are going to find Walter for us and bring
him back here..."
"..With the Thong..." Marta interjected.
"With the Thong." Marita agreed. "And we want you
back here in 72 hours or there will be hell to pay."
"But I don't know where the Thong is. I don't know where
Skinner is!" Krycek protested, while simultaneously making
a shadow puppet of a duck on the floral wall paper.
"Alex, Alex," Covarubbias crooned reaching over to stoke
his cheek with a blood red fingernail. The duckie dropped dead.
"You have exactly 72 hours to come back with the goods or...boom!"
she gave him a loving little smile.
"What do you mean, boom?!" Alex, suddenly soprano, asked
stepping back from her outstretched talon like a 4-star chef from
a bologna sandwich.
"Marita said that you couldn't be trusted out of our sight,
so she insisted on wiring a little incendiary device into your
prosthetic arm. There's a timer and it's set to go off in 72 hours."
Marta explained carefully, using various props and diagrams to
illustrate her point.
"Oh my God! You...you..." he took a menacing step toward
the Uniblonder his bionic fingertips clicking like castenets.
"Alex, don't be stupid." Marta said reasonably. "She's
the only person who can disarm the device. Without her, you're
one toasted Rat!"
"You should know," Marita added "that when last
seen, Walter was dangling from a helicopter somewhere off the
eastern seaboard. You'll probably want to head for the docks to
see if anyone has heard anything."
Krycek snarled in impotent fury, clenching the back of an antique
but refurbished rocking chair, rendering it to sawdust
"You really should be going, Lover," Covarrubias told
him. She pointed at her watch and gave him a fond smile. "Tick!
Tick! Tick..." she cooed. With blood rushing in his ears
Alex made for the door and passing into the cold, dark night he
heard Covarrubias
speaking to Marta.
"Tell me, do you know anything about bee husbandry...?"
To be continued...