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Picture this:
The Man in Charge. Master of All He Surveys. The Chief. The Boss. The Big Man.
Agent Zed.
In his office at the heart of MiB HQ.
A good day. Quiet. Productive. The kind of day a man expects he'll be able to look back on with tremendous satisfaction.
Well, half a day, anyway....
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What comes next starts with a slight twitch of his right brow. And then slowly builds.
After the confrontation with the Black Oil last year, Zed had the entire MiB HQ rebuilt from the subfloors up. Naturally, that included some heavy reinforcing of the walls, particularly the glass walls of his office, which would probably hold up respectably to anything short of a direct hit from a tactical nuclear strike.
So when said glass walls begin to vibrate, you know you're in for something good. Unless you happen to be standing right in front of it. K isn't surprised to see several Agents down on the main floor already diving for cover under their desks.
You could call the funny sound in the air a strangled growl, but that doesn't nearly do justice to the vibrato that's got Zed's mug heading for the edge of his desk. K hadn't known Zed's eyes could bulge quite like that, but he's even more impressed by how well the Chief's bulk is matching the resonant frequency of the entire building.
Years later, several veteran Agents will insist they felt the Emergency Tectonic Response System kick in a full two seconds before:
MMMMMMRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!
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"Oh, that was a thing of beauty. I hope you got that, Jen. I know I'm going to want to see it over and over again."
Grinning madly, she pulls out the digital decibel reader from her jacket pocket and checks the measurement.
"Yes!" she then exclaims.
"One hundred and twelve decibels. I told you he'd top a jet at a hundred yards. That's fifty bucks you owe me, girlfriend."
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Naturally, she tries to calm him down. "Smile, Chief! One more for the books!"
She holds up her handheld multiversal PDA, which happens to have been recently modified to be able to pristinely capture the technicolor nuances of someone in profound spiritual agony. How she got it past MiB security involves a truly labyrinthian tale and a generous portion of cleavage.
Smile, Zed! You're on Candid Camera!
"Can I pay it off in Rhunian martinis. Goldy? I think you'll love them."
Not to mention that each Rhunian martini averages about Olympic pool size.
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"Whoa, Chief!! Whoa!!"
Unfortunately, it takes Zed no time at all to realize that this works out even better. Which is why K now feels two meaty mitts closing around HIS neck.
"Goddammit, it was you!! YOU did this!!
"What'd He do??!? What's that fucking Landlord giving you to get at me?!?
K stumbles back, and calls out a strangled, "Chief!!--ggghhhn---Chief, wait!!--nnnngghh!!!"
THUD!!
Nothing like Zed falling on top of you to make the breath explode from your lungs.
Yeah. Not their finest moment.
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Nita says a word to dissolve the muffler wizardry, scrambling to her feet.
"Boss!"
Crap.
She babbles out a phrase in the Speech (K might recognize parts of it, actually) -- and Zed freezes.
Of course, he's still kind of on top of K, but at least he's not actively throttling him anymore.
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He's fast for his behemoth size, but not Cass or Miho fast—she is quite sure that she could dodge if someone didn't intervene. And someone did. The ensuing Agent-on-Agent struggle and timely wizard magic are given an amused eyebrow from her relaxed pose on the desk corner seat. And then an impressed nod.
"Not bad, sweetheart. Not bad at all."
Showing no more interest in the situation, she gets up and wanders over to the glass that overlooks the main hall. The fact that this puts her in the sacrosanct area behind Zed's desk does not seem to concern her either.
"Oh, I remember this view. That's the room where we fought those ugly flying clone robot things. Do you remember, Jen? I got thrown up against this very glass." She peers more closely at the transparent wall in question, and sniffs distastefully. "Great custodians they have here. I can still see a smear of my lipstick."
"Maybe I ought to requisition the Oompa Loompas to do some work on the side around this place."
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On top of K.
She's not quite sure what caused it - sudden back spasm, or the kid with the strange glossolalia?
A massive back catalog of potential superpowers opens up in her mind, lovingly maintained and frequently referenced.
Density manipulation?
Energy projection?
Psionic blasts?
Concussive beams, gravity manipulation, mesmerization, eyeball lasers, paralytic venom blasters?
Or, possibly, something more subtle, such as magic.
"What's this?" she muses, gently taking hold of the scruff of Zed's neck - or rather, his suit - and lifting him to dangle four feet above the ground, gazing at him curiously, then a penetrating glance at Nita and Goldy. "What happened, Chief? Did you trip on your wounded pride?"
"You can get up, K. He's not going anywhere. Get a stretcher, some Gatorade, and a Diazepam drip. Just in case."
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"Sorry, sir. K, are you, um, okay?"
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"That... could have gone better."
He eyes Zed warily.
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"Welcome back to the land of civility, Zee," she says.
Finally, she systemically opens drawers in the desk until she locates Zed's secret candy stash, and helps herself to one of the mini Twix bars she finds there.
"All shock-value fun and japes aside," she solemnly continues as she tears the wrapper, "we're serious about this. I for one promise to respect you as the head honcho once I'm working. And I further vow to uphold all the bureau rules and codes of conduct. I can be a good girl when I need to be."
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Zed still dangles, held in the gamma grip of Jen's left hand, but when she speaks, her tone is soothing, coupled with the crisp professionalism of someone that has talked a lot of people off a lot of edges over the last decade.
"I'm blast proof, Zed, remember? That's why K wanted me. Impervious to most physical and psychological harm. Now, hear that? Goldy and I will behave. That's not so bad, is it? You're up two operatives that are willing and able to take directions and think on their feet. I'll even minimize my initiative for the first sixty days. Can I let you down?"
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"While I'm not indestructible, I am immortal, so I never really die and I heal super fast. I have marksmanship talents and can handle most weapons, and I'll sleep with anyone or anything. That will work well alongside Jen's diplomacy skills."
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Well, they've made their case. And the longer Zed stays up there, the worse it's going to be.
He nods to Jen to let the Chief down and gives Nita a wink.
After that, K braces himself for impact.
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"Talk to me, Chief. Nouns and verbs, complete sentences, absence of material threats."
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--and lines up the words of a shield spell in her head.
Just in case.
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Which is why Zed's first act, inevitably, is to reach for his tie, much like K did, and start rearranging it back into a semblance of dignity. He says nothing while he does this (and then his Suit), and he takes his own sweet time at it.
Then comes the most baleful Zed glare to date. K gets the first and the harshest, but no word is spoken or needs to be.
Nita is next, with pointed finger. "You: internship accepted. Furthermore, you'll fulfill its terms as my executive assistant. With the proviso that you don't pull that shit on me again ever, unless you're intent on spending the rest of your life on Balbazol Prime. Look it up."
The finger turns next to Jen: "You: offer accepted, starting immediately. If you're going to be a fucking skip tracer, you might as well be going after fugitives in your threat level. I'm talking intergalactic felons, not shit-heeled biker gangs from Oakland."
"As for you," he turns to Goldy. "OUT OF MY FUCKING CHAIR. Offer also accepted. About time we got you on the payroll. I've got a list of miserable sons-of-bitches as long as my arm who ought to consider themselves lucky to end up gutted like fish for the shit they've pulled around the galaxy. You want asses to kick, and you kick them like no other. You're finally going to get some worth your time."
"Now," Zed straightens and surveys the office once more. "Have we got a fucking deal or not?"
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"Yes, sir!"
Hey, if he doesn't give her cause to go throwing spells around, she won't.
(She's gonna get Spot to calculate the odds of him not giving her cause the minute she gets home. She's guessing they're pretty low.)
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Well, most of the time.
"Accepted in turn," she hastens to add, with a wide smile.
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"This is the best decision you've ever made, Zee. You won't regret it."
He undoubtedly will, of course, and he probably knows it. That stuff about her abiding by the rules was utter horse shit. Then again, empires are never built by saints alone.
"Deal."
She unfolds her other fingers and offers her hand to shake on it.
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"Fine," Zed smirks. "And here's your first mission: get coffees all around and meet us down by the lockers."
Wolf down his Twix, will she?
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"I can do that. See you there."
She then struts out of the office, already armed with the knowledge of everyone else's drink preferences.
Take that Zed!
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"So. Anyone up for a quick tour of the facility?"
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