The Replacement Killer

I don't normally leave my building during the course of my 'day'. The Entity I work for is a little touchy about security and a forgotten ID or proxy card can leave the inattentive out on the sidewalk. Managers have to be roused from their slumbers and promises of proper bollockings made before I make the sheepish trudge back to my desk.

In short it's a pain in the hole.

Every now and again though I have to deal with a complete fuckbake of a client and an escape becomes necessary. One of our people in the Middle East (can you guess which country?) wanted admin rights to install an unlicensed bit of software she had picked up in the local fucking bazaar. SMS push and/or diplomatic pouches being 'unacceptable and ridiculous options'.

Um...that would be a 'No'.

Half an hour of histrionics (from the client) later I deploy the I'm Telling Teacher option and all resistance is crushed. Sweetness and light is restored and there is suddenly a 'pressing need' and a willingness to 'take another look at the options'. What was previously ridiculous now became 'very doable' and I fucked off for a bit of a break.

At 3 AM the 7-11 on 19th St. is probably the best defended convenience store in the city. When I walked in the door I counted no fewer than 7 cops from nearly as many agencies. That Slurpee machine is se-fucking-cured ! It was like that scene in Reservoir Dogs when Tim Roth walks into the jacks filled with cops. Two University cops (GWU) were covering off the snack cakes and a Metro P.D. cop was throwing shapes with a couple of comely students. A Smithsonian cop was explaining to beardy student type that the exhibits don't actually come to life at night.
There was even a stormtrooper from the Secret Service in full ninja/batman gear in the queue with an ice-cream cone. Sort of spoiled the effect there.

The usual bum/wino/student matrix was a bit more subdued than normal because of this Peeler Party. I wasn't in the mood to be fending off panhandlers nicely but I could feel a pair of eyes on me all the same. Now if a have a bit of change I'll part with it gladly but there have been times when the two or three bucks in a bum's cup is a bit more than my net worth. Sometimes though you just don't want to deal with it. I did a quick circle of the coffee bar and fixed a Bill Hicks-sized coffee. Instead of a bum it turned out to be a somewhat familiar face in a very familiar uniform.

"Sarge? Is that you?"

This particular Pauncho Villa was the man who filled my old position back at the Hangar. He had lamped me right enough. Chalk one up for his observation skills.

"Not anymore Pauncho."

Then it got weird. He went from coffee grabbing slouch to the Field Interrogative Stance (hands loosely clasped over belt buckle yet very close to the things ON the belt, a slight turn to the side and keeping a very specific distance between us.) I couldn't stop myself from laughing.

"Like that now is it?" I ask.

"Like what?"

"Good luck to you now Pauncho. I'd say "Be careful out there" but I can see you already are."

" Aww Sarge....Don't be like that."

" I'm a Sergeant no more. Thank Fuck."