***
Ethan is already cursing before he’s stepped onto the pier. “Oh goddammit! Goddammit fuck! That fucking whore actually woke it already?! Fucking bitch!”
Ethan begins walking the pier as his lackey’s footsteps hurry behind.
“Sir, if the Cyndril has indeed already awoken, then we need to exercise caution. I need you to stay here while Wilcox and I evaluate the situation.”
“I don’t need a babysitter, Marlo. If i want to walk on the fucking beach then I’ll walk on the fucking beach.”
“Apologies, sir, but this situation dictates I follow protocol.” Marlo’s voice is cool and unperturbed, the very paragon of unflappable ex-military. “I can’t permit you to leave the pier at this time. Steelson, Brooks, ensure Mr. Cordellis is comfortable here” —there is a simultaneous “Roger that” and then the clack of metal and a sharp crackling sound— “Wilcox, you’re with me. And remember, if you’re actually stupid enough and slow enough for that fucker to grab hold of you, protocol dictates tasers first. But if it doesn’t let go immediately, fuck protocol, you’re cleared for immediate kill-shots, base of the stalks, ideally the one that’s got ahold of you first.”
“Roger that,” The voice is raspy, emotionless.
“And Wilcox.”
“Aye?”
“Don’t fucking hesitate either. If I greenlight neutralization, or if the situation calls for it, do it, no questions asked. If we ever have to put one of these things down and Cordellis Sr. or Boucher or anyone else gives you any flak, I’ve got your back. Harder to replace one of you or me than it is to roll a fucking carpet fifty feet farther to the next fucking urchin.”
“Copy that.”
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“Although I can tell you this much, if you are actually dumbass enough to get outwitted by one of those fuckin’ things, you’ll be handing in your resignation the second we get back anyhow.”
They march off along the pier, boots clacking, while the other three stay at the boat.
“Didn’t know you two were glorified babysitters. As I recall my father hired you bunch to do as you are told, no?” Ethan’s tone is patronizing, contemptuous. When neither man offers a response, he continues, sighing. “So why is it then that my father hired you? What exactly is your job description?”
“Close protection officer, sir. We’re here to ensure your safety.”
“What is it that Marlo called you again?”
“Steelson, sir, Alasdair Steelson. He’s Cole Brooks. Brett Wilcox is with Mar—“
“Yes yes, that’s quite enough now, Steelson.” Ethan says, smirk audible. “Tell me something, Steelson, suppose I wanted to call you Dog, or Mutt, suppose I wanted to refer to Brooks here as Boy, eh? What would you say to that?”
“That’s your prerogative, sir,” Steelson replies.
Brooks agreement comes shortly after—not unbegrudgingly—pause betraying more accurate a depiction of the man’s true feelings. “Yes sir, your prerogative, sir.”
“Indeed it is,” Ethan snorts. “You’d both do well to remember as much. You may answer to my father as of now, but he won’t be the one signing your checks forever, don’t forget who the future of th—“
“Subject’s gone.” Marlo’s voice is dispassionate, matter-of-fact. “My guess is she was consumed not mor’n half an hour ago.”
“Wha… you’re serious?” Ethan says, annoyed.
“Affirmative, Mr. Cordellis.”
“Looks like she put up a hell of a fight too.” Wilcox adds. “Cunt tried to chew her damn hand off by the looks of it” —there’s a small plopping sound on the deck— “fuckin’ chunk of her finger I found laying in the sand.”
“Ha! You sick motherfucker!” Brook’s laugh is high and nasally. “I knew she was a feisty one! Wonder how long she lasted. Wish I could’ve seen the bitch throwin’ hands with that fuckin’ thing” —he clears his throat— “hey, Mr. Cordellis… sir… how’s that black eye she gave you? Looks like it’s still, ah, a bit tender.”
“Can it,” Marlo barks. “Mr. Cordellis, we should return to the marina, notify your father and the others. Today’s viewing will have to be postponed, but I’m sure—“
“Yes yes, Marlo, please,” The irritation is plain in Ethan’s voice, like a brat denied their toy. “I’m well aware of the contingencies my father has in place. There’s plenty other real estate to host a viewing, no doubt he’ll have us reroute to one of them” —he lets out a deep sigh— “alright, I suppose it’s back to the marina” —the boat rocks slightly as he steps aboard— “well? Let’s make it snappy then shall we? We’ve all got our work cut out for us, you four get to go update my father on the clusterfuck of a situation, while I procure some fresh talent for later this week. Hey, Brooks, maybe you can help me go through my contacts list and decide which of the completely out-of-your-league bombshells I should take out for a bite and a fuck. Whattaya say, Boy?”
The men pile into the catamaran after him and set off from the pier.
***
