"Mouse vs. Rat" (1/1)
by RhymePhile
Krycek POV vignette, Humor
PG-13 for language

For Mads, because I'm appreciated.

This story mentions Chuck E. Cheese's, a themed pizza restaurant for kids. There are video games and crap, and sometimes you get to see some poor slob dressed in the Chuck E. Cheese costume.


"So," he says at last, "what are you in for?"

That cliched question and the way he spits when he talks makes me want to strangle the old man right then and there in the cell.

"Attempted murder," I answer. I'm really in no mood to be talking to grandpa here so I lie. It's not attempted murder. In my entire life I've never *attempted* to kill someone. I just generally make my mind up and pull the trigger. I sleep better at night that way.

The old man seems to take my answer at face value and goes back to staring at the grafitti all over the cell block wall.

The truth is I punched some asshole in a Chuck E. Cheese costume in the face. It sounds worse than it is, actually, except for the huge scene I caused with the kids crying and shit.

Don't ask me why, but my contact chose the "family atmosphere" of the happy children's pizza place to do business. Maybe the guy got tired of smoky bars. Who knows? All I can really remember before my temper got the better of me was the costumed idiot touching my ass.

The giant mouse had its hands on my butt, and not in the "excuse me, I'm sorry" type brush of the hand either. One second I have my contact spilling his guts about an arms shipment coming into Port Elizabeth headed for the wet green land of Northern Ireland, and the next I feel this mousy presence at my back.

The furry hand slides down my jacket and cups my right ass cheek. My mother fucking luck holds out for once, and I chose to wear the Glock in my front waistband instead of in back. The mouse missed the gun but made full contact with my back Levi's pocket.

If I wasn't already on edge I would have reacted better. My contact had such a heavy Northern Irish accent that I was really focussed. Well, I will admit that I also had thoughts at that moment of murdering the little bastard his mother called "Precious" who kept making faces at me. Kids who aren't raised right always end up on the wrong side of the law. Or in a sticky booth talking to a crazy Irishman named Jose.

Anyway, the mouse feels up a hunk of my butt, and I turn around and slam the sucker so hard that the nose falls right off the costume. Of course Precious starts screaming that the "bad man killed Chuck E.!!" and the place erupts in waterworks. I'm serious. Kids were screaming and yelling like I murdered a pet dog or something.

Which I don't do, in case you were wondering.

Eventually the cops show up right after Jose splits. I'm stuck being implicated in a mouse assault. Remind me to break into that place after I get out of here. My Glock is in the plastic ball pool.

I end up in a holding pen that smells like piss and grandpa next to me. I'm just about to try and read some of the interesting pornographic grafitti when I hear my name. Well, sort of my name. I'm a killer. What did you expect?

"Val Arntzen, your bail was posted."

No shit. No one knew I was going to be there, and I know for a fact Jose didn't pay my way out. He's on a ship back to Derry no doubt, just itching to try out his six new rocket launchers on Brit copters.

The deputy leaves, and when the cage is opened for me I come face-to-face with the goddamned costumed mouse. The sick fucker bailed me out.

I'm just about to re-land myself in jail when the mouse takes its head off, the one without the nose attached anymore.

"Well I'll be a son of a bitch," I mutter.

Scully puts her hand back on my ass as she leads me from the cell. She leans close to my ear when she whispers to me. "Working undercover has been a real pain in the ass today thanks to you. You owe me."

"But I didn't know it was..."

"I know you didn't," she whispers again. "And we got your friend 'Jose', too. You must've gotten lucky, Alex."

Scully hisses when she says my name, which sends shivers down my spine. She must have caused the commotion to keep me out of the FBI sting to collar Jose.

I take the bait and press closer to her. "I haven't gotten lucky in a while. Want to help with that?"

"You nibble my cheese," she grins, "and I'll nibble on yours, Ratboy."

Then she grabs my crotch, and I know I'm following her furry ass anywhere she tells me to.



Adieu RhymePhile