Work Text:
It was always a good thing to get some fresh meat in town. Hell, that’s part of how they got this city the way it is today. The trick was keeping that new meat in check, lettin’ them know the rules around here, if you will. Of course, the welcoming committee was a courtesy reserved for a select few of the new residents to Midnight City, especially if it was a personal visit from all four heads of the Midnight Crew.
Tonight, it was a team of ex-prospitans, fresh from a cluttered and nearly desolate city in the east, so they heard. Unlike any of the other new guys in this week, or really, anyone in the past six months, these guys had a reputation. Supposedly, there were some kind of crime-fighting snoops, and if that was true, they needed to know where they could and could not stick their noses.
That was why Spades Slick, Diamonds Droog, Clubs Deuce, and Hearts Boxcars were standing in the office belonging to the leader of this group of gumshoes. Boxcars was covering the door simply by standing in front of it, Deuce was bouncing on his heels a few feet in front of him, and Droog was simply leaning against the wall, closer to the desk of their new arrival. Slick of course, was doing the talking, leaning over the desk and practically snapping his teeth a few inches from the prospitan’s nose.
The prospitan, whose designation according to the sign on his door was ‘Problem Sleuth’, was taking the meeting well. He sat with his elbows on the desk and his chin resting in the hammock his fingers made. He had an infuriatingly polite smile on his face as he nodded along to Slick’s profanity and threat-ridden ultimatum.
Even Slick could pick up that he wasn’t getting through to this Sleuth character, and he punctuated his next sentence by burying a knife deep into Problem Sleuth’s desk. Sleuth’s eyebrows arched and he spared the blade a quick glance, then he nodded again. However, as Slick entered his next tirade (this one about which casinos he could do his investigating in), Sleuth sat up and pushed his typewriter to the center of the desk. Slick paused to give it a glare, but when Sleuth looked at him curiously, he continued like he hadn’t noticed.
In fact, Slick was still ranting even as Problem Sleuth retrieved an ink ribbon from his desk drawer. He was still yelling at Sleuth as he placed the ribbon spools on their posts, as he very gently set them around the type guide, and as he carefully spun them just enough to remove the slack. Slick was still threatening Sleuth as he carefully slipped a piece of parchment into the paper table, and rolled the platen enough to set it in place.
While Slick was ‘negotiating’, it was up to the other three to observe and make sure Sleuth wasn’t about to do something dangerously stupid. So far, Droog had the impression that Sleuth was a naïve idiot who thought that because he’d taken down some two-bit criminal in his home city, he was some kind of superhero. If he kept up that attitude, then the crew would be sure to correct him in the immediate future. This loading of the typewriter had to be part of the act, pretending to be casual and unconcerned as threats were made on the lives of him and his ‘team’ by the most dangerous man in the city.
He had no reason to think otherwise, until Slick finished describing what he would do to Sleuth if he broke any of the rules he had just outlined.
“What do you think of that, wise guy?” Slick sneered.
Still smiling, Sleuth’s fingers hovered over the keys.
“I think I’ll write you a letter,” he said pleasantly.
Seconds later, amongst the sound of rapid gunfire, Boxcars burst into the hallway with Deuce on his heels. The larger dersite took cover behind the wall closer to a door marked ‘Ace Dick’ and sorted through his cards, while Deuce dove to the other side and drew his gun. Droog ran out next, but he had a pair of his guns drawn already, and the moment he was covered by the wall he returned fire as best as he could.
Slick could be heard swearing and hollering in the office, until a cheery ‘ding!’ cut the air followed by a loud smack, and Slick flew through the door, hitting the wall with enough force to leave cracks in the plaster. The cause of his exit appeared to be the piece of paper stuck to his face outlining that, aside from being a dangerous criminal Sleuth would never listen to, he was also a huge jackass (bluh bluh).
While the rest of the crew was distracted by Slick, Sleuth had walked over to his door and was leaning against the frame.
“I think that was an enlightening discussion,” he said loftily, and cleared the smoke from the end of his gun with a quick puff of breath, “but I think it’d be best if I never saw any of you fellas around here again, you follow?”
Droog and Boxcars narrowed their eyes, while Deuce was awed by how totally hardboiled Sleuth sounded. Slick was still swearing and sputtering and scratching at the letter. Satisfied with this answer, Sleuth waved and shut the door.
Behind them, Slick finally got a hold on the piece of paper and tore it from his face. Snarling, he crumpled it and threw it to the ground.
“What the fuck! What the fuck was that?!” he hollered, throwing his arms in the air before turning on his crew.
“That was a goddamn embarrassment, s’what it was! The hell were you guys doing the whole time? Fuck, we watched the asshole load the damn thing and nobody thought to do something about it?! And what the fuck are you lookin’ at?!”
The last was directed at the far end of the hall, where a tall, frail, and frazzled looking man had leaned out of his office to see what the commotion was about. At Slick singling him out, the man jumped and disappeared back through his door.
Slick growled, brushed the plaster off his sleeves and glared at Problem Sleuth’s sign.
“Whatever, this dick is on my shit list.”
Deuce had started saying ‘hey, that’s funny, boss!’ but Droog had the sense to give him a warning smack, and Slick continued, none the wiser.
“We’ll make him pay for this.”
There was a pause, before he spitefully added “Later”, spitting it out like a curse.