"Just - just be careful, OK?" Bobby had given up on arguing with Jim. They needed the work, and as much as he'd rather Jim stay safely on the farm with him and Bindi, he couldn't work without going out into the world. Ever since Sokovia, he'd worried more about what could happen while Jim was out working, especially given how big a target the truck was.
"I'll abandon the truck if I have to, OK?" Jim said, pulling Bobby into a hug and giving him one last kiss before climbing into the cab. He was worried, too, but he couldn't let it show, or he'd never leave the farm, and with all the money they'd spent on security systems after finding out that SHIELD/HYDRA had once had a supersoldier research facility nearby, their savings were down to the point that they wouldn't be able to pay the taxes if he didn't get some contracts. Bobby could do most of his work from home, but that wasn't enough to pay their expenses, so he would have to get back on the road.
Bindi bounded over for her good-bye hug, and Jim wrapped his arms around her leg to give her a good squeeze.
"Daddy be careful!" Bindi demanded. "Daddy come right home if bad men try to hurt, OK?"
"I promise, sweetie," Jim said. Bobby worrying about him was bad enough, but Bindi was already 40' tall, and since she grew every time she got upset, he had to bed as calm and reassuring as he could be. "Daddy will come right back if bad men try to hurt him. You'll keep Other Daddy and Uncle Ted safe, right?"
"Uncle Ted keeps Bindi safe!" Bindi giggled. "Bindi will keep Other Daddy safe. Promise!"
"That's my girl," Jim said, and gave her a toothy grin. Being half ogre, and therefore a lot less breakable than any human - even Captain America - Jim didn't have any real worries for himself, but Bobby and Bindi worried enough that he would do whatever he could to reassure them. He just hoped he wouldn't have to lose the truck. Not only was it a significant investment, it was his only way of making a living. Things had been a hell of a lot easier when SHIELD had been paying him to haul stuff for them, through fronts or not. Now, it took all Bobby could do to scrape up the contracts he'd been able to get. Jim hated to think it, but he really wished SHIELD were back in business. Just one of their contracts would have them set for the next six months, at the very least.
"You and me, both," Jim said. "You'll keep her schoolwork up to date, Ted?"
"We ... will," Dr. Sallis said, the tendrils handing down either side of his face shaking with his laughter. "She'd ... have made ... a ... good student ... when I ... was ... a professor. As smart ... as she is ... big."
"No arguments there," Jim agreed. "Do you have that list of books you wanted me to pick up while I'm out?"
"On ... your pad," Dr. Sallis said. "Ask ... Dr. Strange ... if you ... can't find ... any."
"Dr. Strange?" Jim asked. "Oh! Right. The doctor in New York." He reached into the cab and pulled his iPad out, scanned his list of contracts, and nodded. "Right. My first contract is for Stark Tower. I can swing by the Village while I'm there."
"Good ... good," Dr. Sallis said. "Have ... safe trip."
Bobby grabbed Jim and gave him another kiss before letting him climb into the truck, and the three of them stood back to watch as Jim put his Kenworth into gear and circled the yard to pull out and start work. He wished he wasn’t deadheading all the way to New York, but the money from the Stark job promised to be worth it. He waved to the three of them as he drove away, watching in the rearview until Bindi vanished from view.
Maybe, if they liked his efficiency, he could turn the job from a one-off to regular hauling work for Stark. It’s not like they could do all their transport by battlesuit, after all. He turned his thoughts away from that subject. Stark got away with being public because he was rich and a media whore. Jim couldn’t afford that. He lacked the first quality - at least, financially - and too much publicity could expose Bindi, and that would be bad.
26: Is your OC a human or an animal? (or something else idk) 27: What languages does your OC speak?28: Does your OC like anime?
(Not sure which one you were thinking of, but I'm guessing it was probably Fred, so I'll put him first)
Raven:
26: Yes. He was born to human parents, awakened as an Avatar of Raven (adding the animal *grin*) a couple decades ago, then had his apotheosis just a year ago. (To say that he's been through some changes is an understatement.)
27: As a human, he's a native American English speaker, speaks British English (1920s Midlands/London specifically) passably, is fluent in German, Latin, and Greek and knows enough Russian and Japanese to read technical journals. As a god, he cheats and knows them all. But that's not nearly as much fun as learning them the old-fashioned way.
28: Like? That's like asking if he likes coffee. Every Friday night is anime night in his house, and David almost always has new stuff on tap. Friends are always welcome.
Faern'ya:
26: Drow
27: Drow, Undercommon, Dwarven, Duergar, Elven, Common/English (And with a chance to cast a spell, she can speak whatever language is spoken by whoever she's talking with, but that only lasts as long as the spell.)
28: What's an anime? That's not in my Common dictionary.
Jim Cole (AKA: Prissy):
26: Half Ogre/Half Human
27: American English, the Ogrish dialect of Jotnar, enough French and Spanish to get buy if he has to take a load into Quebec or Mexico.
28: Some. Mostly Miyazaki's stuff, because it's good for Bindi to see kids like the ones in his work and know she can be just as strong and brave.
Agent Meadows:
26: Human
27: American English, German, some Spanish and French, is currently learning Drow (under the assumption it'll be useful if he wants to communicate with someone and not be understood by anyone else)
28: He's seen some, enough to have an idea what it is, but doesn't see what all the fuss is about. Sure, it's animated, but Sturgeon's Law applies to it, too.
Jim sat on the back porch and sipped his coffee while watching Bindi romping in the old elephant paddock. Dr. Sallis and Bobby were looking at something on Bobby's laptop. Jim assumed it was probably laboratory equipment, since Dr. Sallis had taken over one of the smaller buildings - Jim was pretty sure it had been used by one of the sideshow acts - and had been moving lab ware in as he and Bobby had been able to get it.
He had to admit, Bindi was good for Sallis. The creature the papers called a Man-Thing was actually a decent man under all that muck and greenery, and being admitted into the family had brought out his human side. Bindi's delight in playing with him had especially given his human side a boost. Lately, he had begun assembling lab ware and talking about finishing the project he'd been working on when he was killed.
Sure, he still vanished every so often, and come back missing pieces often enough that Jim and Bindi had dug a channel from one of the farm's wet spots to the larger swamp around them, so water and swamp muck could fill it in and give Dr. Sallis a place to regenerate, but he had become a part of the family despite his responsibilities as the Guardian of the Nexus.
"Penny?" Sallis asked, giving Jim an amused look. Jim wasn't sure if it was the influence of the Nexus, or just the fact that he had been one of them for a few weeks now, but it was becoming ... well, maybe not easy, but at least possible ... to get a feel for his facial expressions.
"Not sure they're worth that much," Jim laughed. "Just thinking about family. I was noticing that you're a lot more human now that you're one of us."
"Or ... you ... are ... more ... strange," Sallis shot back, his body bubbling in that way Jim had learned to think of as his version of laughter.
"Hey!" Jim laughed. "I've always been plenty strange!"
"Truth," Sallis said, with an amused snort. "Between ... jobs?"
"Yeah," Jim said. "Ever since SHIELD collapsed, I've discovered just how many of my contracts were for SHIELD fronts. I guess they were more paranoid about me than I realized."
"SHIELD ... collapsed?" Sallis asked. There was an expression Jim had never seen on his face. "How?"
"HYDRA, apparently," Jim said. "From what we saw in the news, Captain America discovered that HYDRA had infiltrated right up to the top."
"Bad," Sallis said. "Very ... very ... bad."
Jim started to worry. Sallis was getting worked up in a way that had him worried.
"Ted? What's going on?" Jim asked. Meanwhile, out in the elephant paddock, Bindi stopped tormenting alligators and turned toward the house.
"So if this was a SHIELD project," Jim mused for a moment, and his eyes opened wide. "Fuck. HYDRA." He stood and called, "BINDI! BOBBY! Meeting at the house!"
Bindi had already started toward the house, so when Jim called, she jumped, landing close enough to bounce things off the porch tables. Bobby, meanwhile, finished his walk from Sallis' lab to the house, sat in a chair near the steps, and set his laptop down on the table next to his chair.
"What is it, Daddy?" Bindy asked. "And why is Uncle Ted worried?"
"Remember the bad people from the flying ships, sweetie?" Jim asked.
"The tentacle skull people?" Bindi asked.
"That's right, sweetie," Jim said. "They might know why Uncle Ted is here in the swamp, and they might come to try and take him away."
Bindi's eyes lit up with a dangerous green glow, and she growled, "Bindi will keep Uncle Ted safe! Bindi will make tentacle skull people into ashes!"
"They might not come," Bobby said gently. "If they do, then you can burn them, sweetie, but I think they've got too much on their plate in New York and Washington to have anyone to spare for bothering Uncle Ted."
"Good!" Bingi roared, her voice causing trees to bend. "Bindi will keep Uncle Ted safe!"
"Thank ... you," Sallis said, and rested a hand on Bindi's ankle. "Bindi ... is ... strong."
Jim noticed that Sallis was shaking, and frowned, then looked up at Bindi. "Bindi, sweetie? Do you want to show Uncle Ted what you've been coloring?"
"But - " Bindi started, then looked down at Jim's smile and gave a happy squee. "Bindi will show!" She bounded toward the performance barn, which had been turned into her bedroom / playhouse / personal sanctuary.
"Thank ... you," Sallis said, as the shaking slowed. "She ... angry ... emotions .... too ... strong."
"Thought so," Jim said. "That's the problem with her age. She feels everything, like a five-year-old should. But anyone threatens her family, and she feels that, too."
"So," Bobby asked, a resigned tone in his voice. "How many trail cameras do you want to buy?"
"Let me get a map," Jim said, and pushed himself to his feet. He took a map from the pickup and spread it on the table Bobby's laptop had been on. "Ted, which areas are impassible? No point in putting cameras there?"
The three men huddled over the map, Sallis pointing out areas that were impassible, as well as areas that were easy to bring an army through, while Jim marked spots for cameras, and Bobby began setting up an order for the needed hardware. All three knew it would take Bindi some time to package her current project so she could show them, so they had plenty of time to work out the details.
Jim double-checked to make sure the note with his appointment to return to Planet Pepper to pick up his new outfit was safely in his wallet, then headed out to 39th Street and turned toward 8th Ave so he could catch a bus to the Port Authority terminal at 42nd Street.
Before SHIELD came crashing down, he would have been happy that he'd left his Mack in Weehawken, where this trip's turnaround was, but now, over a month since that day, he was getting suspicious looks from everyone he passed, including enough of the police officers that he found himself scanning for doorways he could duck into if anyone started stirring up trouble.
In fact, he was focusing so much on where to duck to avoid trouble, his first clue that he wasn't watching where he was going closely enough was when he felt someone bounce off him and stagger back a few steps.
"Oh! I'm sorry." Jim offered a hand to grab for support. "Are you OK? Can I help?"
Is there anything about my muse - ANY of them - that you wish I'd made more clear in my info pages? I'm more than willing to fix things that are unclear, or missing, if it will help make RP easier.
"Here you go, Sam." Jim put his purchases on the little bit of clear space he could find on the old wooden counter Sam Harris' hardware store still used, after over 100 years, to support its cash register. "Gonna fix up a few things before we put the house on the market."
"You sure you want to do that?" Sam asked. He picked up a box of nails, scanned it, reached for another, and was scanning it when the bell over his front door jingled, announcing the arrival of another customer.
"Wish we didn't have to," Jim said. His nose twitched, picking up the scent of the new arrival. Strangers. Not anyone from town. Gun oil. Too much for a personal sidearm. At least four of them. Shit. I was afraid of this. He lowered his voice and said softly and urgently, "Sam. Get downstairs. Now. Don't ask, just go."
Sam looked up from his scanning, saw the fear in Jim's eyes, and nodded. He opened the door to the basement, scurried through, and slammed it shut. Jim heard the sound of several bolts sliding into place. He turned and took another good sniff. Six total. I wonder how many they sent to the house. He picked up the box of nails Sam had just scanned, turned, and leaned against the counter so he could look over the shelves and displays at the newcomers.
"Afternoon, gentlemen," Jim said. "I take it you're looking for me?"
"Shit!" one of the strangers whispered. "No one told us he was as big as the Hulk!"
"Doesn't matter," another one hissed softly. "The reward will be worth it."
"Just, just, come out with your hands up!" a third yelled, the quaver in his voice turning his attempt at an authoritative bark into a laughable parody. "No one has to get hurt! Just surrender now!"
"Surrender?" Jim asked. "To who? I want to make sure I get the spelling right when I file the assault complaint with the police."
"You think the police are going to help you?" a fourth asked, his voice coming through the doorway. "They don't help monsters!"
"Monsters, is it?" Jim asked, his right hand picking up a pipe wrench from where Sam had been using it as a paperweight. "I see. Kid, were you in New York when the aliens attacked?"
"No ... what does that have to do with anything?" the voice from outside demanded.
"One of the people who saved the Earth is a monster," Jim said as he started toward the strangers.
"That doesn't matter," Ah...that was voice number five. Now where did number six go? "SHIELD was watching you. That's good enough for us. Once we turn you in, we'll be set for life."
"Once you ...," Jim paused, then began laughing. "You boys aren't even professionals. I'd be insulted, except ... no, strike that. I am insulted. Tell you what. Here's how it's going to go. You all are going to put your nice shiny weapons down and surrender, and when the police get here, I'll tell them that you were good boys, so you should get probation, maybe community service, depending on how badly you insult the judge. Otherwise ... well, let's just say that this isn't New York City, and there's a whole lot of vets who live here. Vets who have actual combat experience. Do you?"
"Enough to take you down," Number six said.
A moment later, the hardware store's front window shattered under the impact of a 40mm grenade. Jim groaned. Sam's insurance agent was going to scream over this. He knew that for certain, since she was Jim's insurance agent, too.
Jim threw the pipe wrench. The tumbling wrench met the grenade somewhere over the fertilizer display, and when the grenade went off, it created a sticky cloud of liquid and powdered fertilizer that filled the front of the store. The other 'monster hunters' began firing blindly into the cloud, cutting down shelves full of paint, caulks and sealers, lubricants, and bug sprays, bullets ricocheting off tools, striking sparks that set a variety of flammable liquids ablaze. The sprinkler system kicked in, and the water spray soaked everyone and everything in the store, from the clearance rack of last winter's parkas in the rear, to the 'monster hunters' in the front.
Jim hurled the box of nails toward the doorway. The cheap, sprinkler-soaked cardboard came apart, and the nails sprayed the front of the store. Three of the 'monster hunters' fell, filled with enough nails that it would require pliers to get their body armor off at the morgue.
"Put down your weapons and raise your hands above your heads," the sound of Frank Mortenson, the police chief, had the distinctive timbre only a bullhorn could produce. Given that the police station was across the street, he had to have witnessed the attack on Sam's. Jim was surprised they hadn't done something to keep him out of things.
The 'monster hunters' who had been shielded by the three in front turned and sprayed fire in Frank's direction. Now, Jim was pissed. Frank was a good man, and if those assholes had hurt him, he would tear them apart. The sound of a shotgun, followed a moment later by a cry from Number Six, told Jim that Frank, or one of his officers, at least, was still in the fight.
Jim stood to his full height, bringing his head a full foot above the sprinkler-suppressed cloud, and took a deep breath, then waded through the wreckage of the front of the store and out the front door. The last two 'monster hunters' turned at the sound of his footsteps, looked up, and peed themselves while they dropped their guns and held up their hands.
"We surrender! We surrender!" Number Four whimpered frantically.
Jim hoisted one in each hand and growled as he brought them close to his face, "You should have thought of that before you started shooting at the police chief." He crossed the street, carrying the two. Frank groaned and used the fender of one of the two town police cars to pull himself to his feet. Jim dropped the two survivors at Frank's feet. "You OK, Frank?"
"I'm too old for this shit," Frank grumbled, then nodded at Jim. Tony Aiolli, the other officer on duty, ran out of the police station and cuffed the two. "You two are under arrest for assault, attempted murder, destruction of property, attempted arson, vandalism, assault on a police officer, and I'm sure we'll find more things to charge you with once I've had a chance to catch my breath. You have the right to remain silent, and I'd strongly advise you to use it before I pretend my friend here didn't dump you at my feet. You have the right to an attorney, and I'd strongly advise you to use it, because you two are going to be called to account for everything your buddies did, too."
"That's OK," Number Five muttered. "We got the other freak."
"You got the other ...," Jim gasped, his eyes wide. Frank nodded and pointed toward Jim's pickup. Jim threw him a grateful look and ran for the truck.
Normally, it took forty-five minutes to make it from town to the house. This trip, on the other hand, was closer to thirty. Jim used a logging road that cut close to ten miles from the trip, and when he reconnected with the county road and turned toward the house, he let out a string of curses that could have peeled paint.
A crushed Hummer was laying in the middle of the county road, the imprint of a foot across the middle, the frame snapped where the foot had landed. Dead 'monster hunters' were scattered around it, their bodies mostly charcoal that glowed faintly in the early evening shadows. Closer to the house there were scorched, glowing areas of ground, and footprints that couldn't be concealed, pressed at least a foot into the ground.
Jim brought the pickup to a screeching stop by the remains of the house, where Bobby was sitting on the front step, and Bindi, now standing nearly forty feet tall, was standing guard over him and the Mack, which was somehow miraculously unscratched.
"Looks like we're moving sooner than we'd planned," Bobby said calmly, then broke into tears, jumped off the porch, and clung to Jim as if he were drowning.
"Daddy?" Bindi asked. "Will Other Daddy be OK?"
"I, I'll be OK," Bobby said, not relinquishing his grip on Jim, who was, in turn, holding him in his arms as if he could shield him from the world. "I just ... I don't like all this excitement."
"Bindi doesn't like it either," Bindi declared. "The bad men tried to break Daddy's truck! And they broke our house! And my toys! Too big to fit into Other Daddy's truck!"
"I see, sweetie," Jim said. He held out a hand to Bindi and said, "Come here. Daddy wants to hug you, too."
Bindi looked down and moved her feet slowly and carefully, shuffling around the Mack as she approached Jim and Bobby. Bobby looked up and smiled, with tears shining on his face.
"You did good, Bindi," Bobby said. "You were very, very good."
"That's right," Jim said. "You were a very good girl."
Bobby released Jim, who wrapped his arms around Bindi's right leg and squeezed. Bindi sniffled, then began to cry.
"Bindi too big for Daddy to hug!" Bindi wailed. "Want to be small again!"
"I know, sweetie," Jim said gently. "I want you to be small again, too. But you broke the bad men, so it's OK. You did good."
"But Bindi wants hugs!" Bindi sobbed.
Jim sighed, reached up to grab Bindi's hand, and tugged, encouraging her to sit. Once she was sitting on the ground, Jim climbed onto her lap, reached up, and wrapped his arms around her neck. It was like hugging his mother, but the important thing was that she felt him hug her.
"Don't like being big, Daddy," Bindi whimpered, wrapped her arms around Jim, and began rocking miserably.
"I don't care how big you are, sweetie," Jim said gently. "You're still my little girl, and you always will be." He kissed her cheek and began singing the same song he'd sung to her the day he'd rescued her.
"Puff, the Magic Dragon, lived by the sea,
And frolicked in the autumn mist, in a land called Honna Lee ...."
By the time he reached the second verse, Bindi had fallen asleep, just as she had in his truck when he'd rescued her. He climbed down and joined Bobby, and the two looked up at her while embracing.
"I'm going to have to find a flatbed and a shit ton of tarp," Jim said softly, after looking up at her for several minutes.
"Yeah," Bobby said. "If my laptop survived, I could go into town and see what I can find."
Headlights were visible, coming up the county road. They stopped at the crushed hummer, and a moment later began moving again.
"God, I hope that's Frank," Jim groaned. The vehicle the headlights were attached to came into view around the trees. A 2001 Dodge Ram, dark enough that in the twilight it could have been black. The headlights swept over Jim and Bobby, then over Bindi, and she fussed. Jim gestured at the truck, and the headlights died. A moment later, the door slammed, and Frank approached.
"Is that Bindi?" Frank asked, his voice unsteady.
"Yeah," Jim said. "The asshole was right. His buddies were up here, attacking the house. Bindi protected Bobby."
"And your truck, I see," Frank said, chuckling. "You always said she was going to get bigger, but ... this much in one day?"
"It's because they attacked," Jim said. "She gets bigger when she's stressed. And she doesn't get smaller."
"That could be a problem," Frank said. His tone, and scent, carried the message the words only implied.
"Bobby's going into town to try to find a flatbed and some tarp," Jim said. "She's too big to fit into anything enclosed. We were already planning to move. I'm sorry. We'd hoped to get out of town before anything like this happened. Is Sam OK?"
"He's fine," Frank said. "Says you sent him to safety before they started shooting up the place. Luckily, Maria says his policy was written for full replacement value, so he's talking about updating the place."
"Thank goodness!" Jim breathed.
"How about you two - uh, three?" Frank asked.
"As long as we can convince the insurance company all the damage was done by the thugs," Bobby said, "we'll be fine. Luckily, the house was entirely their doing. They shot the propane tank. Bindi shielded me and the truck from the blast."
"Good," Frank said, and gave Bindi a sidelong look. "Is she ... Is she OK?"
"She's unhappy because she's too big for hugs now," Jim said. "And she's mad that the bad men broke all her toys. But other than that, she's OK."
"You might want to call up David Meadows, at Meadows Timber," Frank said. "They might have a flatbed they're willing to sell. Tell him I sent you."
"David is usually complaining he never has enough trucks," Bobby said. "Are you sure?"
"If it'll help you get Bindi somewhere safe," Frank said, "he'll sell. His boys see her as sort of a mascot, you know. Now that she's in danger because of her size, they'll want to help."
"This is why we decided to move," Jim said. "Everyone here has been like family to us, and we don't want to endanger any of you."
"Hell, you three are family!" Frank said. "Which is why we're gonna want regular updates on how you're doing. No, don't tell me, or anyone here, where you're going. What we don't know, we can't tell. But a postcard now and then, maybe some pictures in your new home, that'll make people smile."
"Uncle Frank!" Bindi exclaimed, then began crying. "Too big now. Bindi doesn't like it!"
"Bindi, sweetie," Frank said, while approaching her and putting a hand on her leg, "I don't care how big you are. You're still my Bindi. Everyone who knows and loves you still loves you, honey. It doesn't matter how big you are. You are our Bindi, and you are special to all of us. Now, we're gonna help your Daddies get a truck for you to ride on, so they can take you somewhere safer. Somewhere you can play without bad men trying to hurt your Daddies like they did today."
"You, you are?" Bindi sniffled.
"That's right, honey," Frank said. He looked away from her, his worry strong enough to smell. "I'll be right back, OK? I promise."
"OK," Bindi said, sniffling. Jim and Bobby took the place Frank had been occupying, and gently patted Bindi's legs so she could feel them against her. Meanwhile, Frank had returned to his truck, where Jim heard him talking into his radio.
"That's right," Frank said. "Put me through to Dave Meadows. ... Yes, I know he's probably at dinner. Put me through anyway. ... Dave? It's Frank. Yeah, I need a favor. Actually, it's Bindi who needs a favor. Can you deliver a flatbed trailer to the Cole place? Tonight? Along with enough tarp to cover a load of timber? ... I'm afraid so. We need to get her out of the state. ... You'll be able to tell her yourself when you get here. ... Good. Trust me, no one's going anywhere. Oh yeah, and come up the timber road on the back side of the mountain. The county road's blocked. ... About an hour. Got it."
When Frank returned, the smell of worry was greatly reduced, and he smiled up at Bindi with the look of someone whose troubles had been lifted.
"Guess what, honey?" Frank said. "Mr. Meadows is coming up to see you. He's got a truck you can ride on, and he's bringing it up tonight."
Bobby gave Frank a surprised look, while Jim gave him a grateful smile.
"Like I said," Frank said, "Bindi's a popular girl. And you guys are family. We take care of family. So let's see what we can salvage from the mess, huh?"
By the time the sound of a Peterbilt reached them, nearly an hour later, Jim, Bobby, and Frank, with Bindi's help moving the things too big for Jim to move, had managed to recover the fire safe and a few items of clothing that would require a half-dozen washes to get the smoke smell out. Jim put the entire safe into the Mack, on the floor in front of the passenger seat, while Bobby and Frank packed the clothing into the pickup's back seat.
When the Meadows Timber Company truck pulled in, it was towing a lowboy trailer. A stack of canvas, at least four feet high, was tied down on the goosneck. The truck had barely stopped when Dave Meadows jumped out of the cab and looked up at Bindi.
"Bindi?" Dave asked. "Is that you, honey?"
"Uncle Dave?" Bindi asked, then wailed. "Too big! Bindi doesn't like being big!"
"Bindi, Bindi, Bindi!" Dave crooned as he walked up to her. His scent reassured Jim some. He was obviously scared, but approaching her despite his fear. When he put his hand on her leg, his fear dropped, a lot, but didn't vanish entirely. Just like Frank, he had a healthy fear, but was overcoming it for the sake of the sad little girl inside the kaiju body. "I know. It's awful, isn't it? Too big for hugs, too big to play with anyone because they might break. But your Daddies are here, and Uncle Frank says they're gonna take you somewhere safe. And who knows? Maybe once you're somewhere safe, we can come visit you." The lie was transparent to the adults, but it soothed Bindi.
"Really?" Bindi asked. "Is that why Uncle Dave brought the big trailer?"
"That's right, sweetie," Dave said. "We're gonna hook it up to your Daddy's truck, and then you can ride on it and he can take you somewhere safe."
Bobby climbed up on Bindi's lap and began telling her stories, while Jim, Dave, and Frank transferred the trailer from Dave's Peterbilt to Jim's Mack. Once the trailer was transferred, they began the process of guiding Bindi onto the trailer and securing her so she was safe during the trip.
Bindi lay down on her back, with her feet against the ramp at the rear and her head resting against the gooseneck, with several layers of canvas to pad against bumps. Her arms were tied across her body, while straps held her in place from chest to ankles. As they tied her down, they talked to her constantly, asked her if she felt safe, reminded her that these were so she would stay on the truck and not fall off if she fell asleep while riding. By the time they had her strapped in, she had fallen asleep, and all they had to do was use a tarp to cover the top of her head and shield her eyes.
"Thanks," Jim said, shaking Franks hand, and then Dave's. "To both of you. I'll send a postcard when we're safely at our new address. You sure you want to handle the insurance, Frank?"
"Maria's my wife," Frank said, chuckling. "If we can't figure out an explanation, between the two of us, that makes it unmistakably obvious that the assholes who attacked us in town and your family up here are the ones to blame for all this, we don't deserve our jobs."
"And with testimony from established businessmen," Dave said, "the claims should go through without a hitch. Besides, Maria's a good woman. She's not one of those insurance agents who'll let the company walk all over you."
"I'm gonna miss you guys," Jim said, sniffing just a bit. "You really made us feel like family here."
"That's because you are," Frank said. "I wish you didn't have to go, but with all that crap SHIELD dumped on the world, every asshole with a gun who wants to make his name is going to show up here. Hopefully, once word gets out that your house got blown up, most of them will decide you were already taken out, and they won't bother."
"We can hope," Jim said. He climbed into his truck and waved down at the two men. He really was going to miss them, but better they be alive than caught in the crossfire of all the cowboys, just like his mother had warned against. He picked up the mic on his CB and keyed it. "Break one-nine. This here's Prissy. You there, Numbers?"
"Right behind you," Bobby replied. "I have a good eye on her, but I don't hear any music."
"Oops!" Jim said, flipped a switch that turned on speakers on the back of the sleeper, and started the playlist he'd kept in his stereo since Bindi had been small enough to fit in the sleeper. A moment later the music began. Jim guided the truck down the road from the house for the last time, with Bobby not far behind.
"When I was just a wee little lad full of health and joy
My father homeward came one night and gave to me a toy
A wonder to behold, it was, with many colors bright
And the moment I laid eyes on it it became my heart's delight
...."
One of my favorite secondary muses has poked his ...er, nose, that's it, nose... out in the last couple days, and has become active enough to need a side blog of his own. So, I know there aren't any posts on it yet (although the posts featuring him should probably be moved there, if it's possible), but he does have a couple information pages that I'd really appreciate if anyone who's feeling gracious would give a look at and comment on?
Here he is, Jim Cole, AKA Prissy, the Half-Ogre Drag Queen.
