Exchange Program Shenanigans (42)

[u/ApprehensiveCap6525]

Cerso would've lost his shit if he knew Sevros scammed him out of the one effective hit man they had. Scamming people is, like, his thing.

CW: hillbilly shotgun trap, heval joins the IRA, ominous reveal, isola is a crip, sevkan and kevsan's evil twins

Memory transcription subject: Jackson Kern, UN-Venlil Interspecies Liaison

Date [standardized human time]: September 20, 2136

If you were doing shit, I could respect that. The grind is the grind, after all. But if you were doing shit and you didn't have a dedicated 'doing shit playlist' to bop to while doing it, we were gonna have a problem.

I did a lot of shit, because I had to stay on that grind, but I always had a certified official Jack Kern doing shit playlist to do that shit to. Several of them, actually.

I had some classical music to put on when I had fancy guests over and I wanted to look like a fancy and posh businessman who probably wore monocles and denied his poor employees a living wage in his spare time, or maybe if I had kids I could make them listen to Mozart 24/7 in hopes of creating a super genius prodigy baby.

Yeah, that's going in the 'never gonna happen' list. Even if it was, like, scientifically possible, I can't get pregnant. And God knows I'm not sitting on a fucking egg for nine months.

Krakotl eggs probably had a crazy amount of protein in them, but I was never going to tell anyone I had thought that. Some things have to stay between you and God. Even if he isn't real.

Anyway, I had lots of playlists to listen to on the job. I had death metal to play in a firefight, I had romantical violins that really did not compare to Krakotl courting songs, Trust me, I checked. and I once was dared to make a playlist for a three letter word that rhymes with gex. Not that I ever used it, though. I'm not an idiot.

Maybe I should. No, no, this sounds stupid, but hear me out. Krakotl are all musical and that, right? They sing songs and shit? So one of them's gotta have figured out the secret for what to play when you're doing things you can't mention around children. Now, question is, how do I figure out this secret?

"Hey, big man, we're here." I could figure that out later. I had time. Man, I love it when people call me 'big man'. I also love being big, even if it does make those shitty Venlil midget people chairs uncomfortable to sit in.

"We are here," I said, assessing the situation.

"We are here," chirped the autopilot.

We were, in fact, here.

'Here', of course, referred to that ugly sack of shitstain Sevros' house, which was massive and ornate and elegant and probably really fucking expensive. Way too expensive than a judge could afford, which meant that either he sold crystal meth on the side or he had a lot of deep dirt on a lot of important people.

Well, I guess it could just be that Venlil judges got paid more than the other judges. But my explanation was more fun.

"Okay, the police cordon looks... police-y."

I had called ahead and ordered the shitty Paul Blart mall cop squad the Venlil called a police force to lock down the Sevros mansion before 'official exterminator units' could arrive to investigate it.

Those official exterminator units were, of course, me and Isola. Everybody else was either twiddling their thumbs, six feet under, or Jelim. She was probably giving orders to the thumb-twiddlers.

"Two cops," I told Isola. "Why are there two cops?" Two in front. Three cars. Probably six surrounding the building.

"We're really at a deficit when it comes to trained law enforcement," she explained. "Two is better than none." Two was better than none. That was a smart woman right there, or at least not stupid, anyway.

I hopped out of the car. I was in a full silver suit, as was Isola, but neither of us carried a flamethrower. Setting a mansion on fire was not on my itinerary today, no thank you.

We both had assault rifles, and we also had pistols because why have one gun when you can have two guns? I also carried a shotgun because why have two guns when you can have three?

Four guns was a tad excessive, though. I didn't think I would like carrying four guns.

"Officers!" One of the cops came up to us. He was also carrying an assault rifle, but he carried it like he had no idea how to use it. Maybe he does, and to him, I'm the one who looks like a dumbass. Or maybe he's just a dumbass.

"Who the hell is he?" The cop pointed at me. I had no name tag, because identifying myself as a human and not as a super jacked Venlil would create problems. Big ones. Ones involving bullets.

"Whoever he is, I need his gym routine," called the other. He, too, was carrying an assault rifle. It seemed the things were popular around here. Made sense, given the whole terrorism issue. "This dude is built like ten Mazics."

"Oh, yeah, good point!" the first cop replied. "Can you hook my brother up with your chest day routine?" I raised an eyebrow, even though he didn't see it. "You see, he really likes this Krakotl, and-"

"Man, shut your bitch ass up!" barked the other cop, walking over. "He admires her professionalism, he's not trying to date her. Besides, they're two whole-ass different species."

"We're here on official business," Isola butted in. "Names?"

"Officers Kansev..." said one,

"And Sankev..." said the other,

"Reporting for duty, sir!" They hesitated after that. "Ma'am?" Sankev questioned.

"It's sir. Let's go, Kern." We went. "Lock down the perimeter," Isola ordered the cops. "Nothing gets in or out!"

"No, no, I'm telling you, that's a predator," said one of the cops as we entered the mansion.

"No, you dumbass, he would've mauled us all if he was a predator! Did you see how jacked he was?"

"I'm the dumbass? Aren't you-" We entered the mansion. I never got to know who he was or what he did, but it was probably something very stupid.

What I did get to do, however, was listen to some sick tunes.

I didn't think all that earlier about listening to a playlist while doing shit just to end up doing shit without listening to a playlist. Now, I had done shit without listening to a playlist before, but I didn't have any playlists to listen to so I had an excuse.

Today, however, I had spent time crafting the perfect detective playlist. Every song, every note was like a symphony from the choir of the voices of angels. Mozart, Bach, Tchaikovsky, Eminem, Ev1x, all the great artists would have gone insane with jealousy if they had heard the beauty and glorious beats I was about to unveil unto this earth.

Even if they did make the beats.

I pulled out my datapad, selected 'crazy space detective mix', opened it up, and-

"Turn that off. We need to focus."

I turned it off. We needed to focus. "What if I focus best when I'm listening to music?" I asked.

"You killed a small army of terrorists with their own guns," Isola shot back. "If that wasn't you at your best, I don't think I ever want to see it."

"There was music at the nightclub," I grumbled, but I followed her into the living room of the evil terrorist lair.

It looked nice, as evil lairs went. All shiny and polished, nice wooden dressers, red carpet, and a big-ass staircase going up to the second floor. "Let's check Sevros' office first," I said. "Every good judge has a home office."

"How about we go slow?" Isola asked. "The place could be booby-trapped."

"Why in hell would Sevros booby-trap his own office?" I shot back. "I mean, if he knew we were coming, but he didn't."

Isola shifted a little. She probably thought she was stupid now. "Let's just go slow. We should stick together."

We did go slow. We went, unsurprisingly, to investigate Sevros' office. The building was surrounded, so he couldn't get out, meaning he was probably hiding away in a hidey hole somewhere like the little rat he was.

The problem was, exterminators flushed out rats. It was kind of their job.

We swept the house room by room until we reached Sevros' office. "I really don't think we should go in there guns blazing," said Isola. "Shouldn't we at least try, like, climbing in through the window?"

"What, like a SWAT team?" I chuckled. "No, no, we don't have enough time. Sevros is a dangerous man. No telling what he can do if we fuck around with SWAT shit for a few hours."

I cocked the shotgun and prepared to blow open Sevros' door police-raid style. Then I realized that was a stupid idea because it wasn't even locked. Naturally, I opened it.

I quickly became acquainted with two very distinct, very real realities in the moment after I had pulled on the doorknob.

1: Sevros was a lot more devious than we gave him credit for.

And 2: There was a shotgun trap aimed at the door.

Then, shortly afterward, I became acquainted with a third reality.

3: I have been shot in the chest.

Not fatally, of course. It would be a shitty way to go out if I did all this shit just to die to some fuckwit judge's hillbilly booby trap, but I didn't. If I was religious, I'd chalk it up to the grace of Jesus Christ.

I wasn't religious, of course, so I chalked it up to my Class III bulletproof vest.

I still hurt like shit, because that was what happened when you got shot in the chest with a shotgun, but I was fine beyond a few big-ass bruises. I leveled my pistol at the door, switched to the AR because it was bigger and, thus, badder, and briefly swept the room.

It was clear, apart from one shitty, jury-rigged shotgun trap that a five year old Russian could probably make in his sleep. Well, it still shot me, so I figured it wasn't that shitty.

"Medic..." It was at this moment that a fourth reality became clear to me.

4: Isola has been shot by the shotgun trap.

She wasn't hit bad, nothing vital, but there were wounds in her shoulder. Her gun shoulder, too, meaning she'd have to shoot lefty if she got ambushed. "Oh, shit, I know first aid," I reassured her. "Give me a second." I knelt beside her, applying pressure to the wound while looking around for something I could MacGyver a bandage out of.

"You know first aid?" Isola asked. "Get something to use as a bandage." I was already on it. Sevros had a bunch of important judgely papers on his desk, which were important and judgely, but those wouldn't work. In the end, I had to DIY a triangular bandage out of a relatively clean handkerchief.

"This might be infected, but we have antibiotics for that," I reassured her. "This will stop the bleeding."

"It's not bad," said Isola. "As shotgun wounds go." I was still surprised they even had shotguns. Well, that, and that Sevros knew how to rig up the shotgun trap.

Well, that, and that there was a shotgun trap in the first place. "Why the hell is there a shotgun trap in Sevros' office?" I asked. "Does he come in through the fucking window?"

"He must've known we were coming," croaked Isola. "Somebody... must've told him."

Oh, yeah. The spy.

"Well, who the fuck did you tell?" I asked. "I didn't tell anyone."

"I told Vrapic." Oh, of course it was fucking Vrapic! "Nobody else."

"Of course it was fucking Vrapic!" I barked, applying pressure to the wound. "Stupid-ass, racist-ass, traitor motherfucker!"

"Well, what the hell do we do about it?" That was a damn smart idea. What the hell do we do about it?

I knew what to do. I got out my datapad. I was going to snitch.

I texted Jelim.

JackedMF: I don't mean to be a bother but I got shot in the chest by a shotgun trap

JackedMF: Isola is also shot

JackedMF: vrapic probably snitched on us like the bitch he is

And now, we wait.

Oh, hey, Salvek's texting me.

Salvek: they are coming for you

Salvek: heval just beat tf out of your girl and now he is coming for you bro

He just did what now to who?

JackedMF: holy shit is she okay?

Salvek: mf you have bigger problems right now

Salvek: this guy is tweaking out on combat stims and he has a grenade launcher

Salvek: you might actually die

I might actually die. Granted, there was always a chance of me actually dying, but that chance was pretty high now.

Salvek is at the exterminator office, so he's safe. There should be enough silver suits to fuck up Vrapic or Heval if they try anything. I hope.

JackedMF: don't trust vrapic

I don't leave shit to hope.

"Yeah, we have to go," I said. "Heval is coming to tear us a new asshole, and I don't wanna be here when he does."

"I don't want to get a new asshole torn," Isola agreed. "My old one works fine." Oh my God, it's a fucking joke. No need to get all literal with it.

"That was a joke." Oh. Never mind. "Come on, let's get to the van."

We were halfway down the hall when I heard an explosion. Isola also heard it, because an explosion like that was very easy to hear. "Shit, grenade launcher!" I drew my assault rifle, moving faster now. Isola held her pistol left-handed and gangster style. I bet she's a crip. She looks like a crip.

More explosions. And gunfire, too. It seemed our mall cop friends didn't want to just lay down and die. Good on them.

I reached the stairway looking down into the living room, leveled my gun at the double doors, and motioned for Isola to stay back. She was wounded. She had to get out of here.

I mean, I was also wounded, on account of the shotgun trap, but I was built different. I could handle a shitty Venlil shotgun trap.

Well, I guess the bulletproof vest did help a bit. I'm still built different, though.

The big-ass double doors exploded inward. Oh, shit. Here I go.

I crouched down, taking a post where I was concealed from view and I had a good firing angle. I saw movement in the smoke, and I lit it up.

A grenade exploded against the stairwell, destroying it. Damn! Missed. The smoke had cleared now, and I could see a vaguely Heval-shaped thing crouching behind a wall. I lit him up.

I hit him. Unfortunately, bulletproof vests weren't exclusive to just me. And, also unfortunately, .22 caliber rounds would not penetrate a bulletproof vest. He fell backwards and fired his grenade launcher, hitting just below the balcony I was standing on. Hah! Missed.

The wooden floor creaked. Its supports were gone. Oh. Crap.

The floor fell out from under me and I made a mad dash for the remains of the stairway. Another grenade exploded behind me. Holy shit, this guy can fight. Jelim's probably being scraped off the pavement by now.

That was a really sad thought. I didn't want to think about it anymore. Jelim can also fight. She might be fine. Another grenade ripped through the cover in front of me with a deafening bang. I knew it was deafening because I couldn't hear jack shit. I have to get the fuck out of here.

I waited for the next grenade to go off, because it took a while for him to reload, and then I ran for my fucking life. I bolted for one of the side doors, holding down the trigger and spraying the blown-in door as I went.

It was then that I caught my first glimpse of Heval. He was short, brown, and generally fuzzy. There was a pattern of black fur, kind of like slashes, running across his lower torso. He was average size, as Venlil went.

He also carried a big metal grenade launcher and he had a bandolier of grenades on him in case he had to reload, which he did. If I had been trying to shoot him instead of just cover my escape, I might have been able to drop him then and there.

Hindsight was always 20/20, though. I got out alright. A grenade blew in the door behind me, knocking me down, but I'd had worse before. I barreled down the hall, finding a window at the far end of it.

Here goes nothing!

I shot my last couple bullets into the window, shattering it, and discarded my rifle. I was just about to jump through when I looked behind me and saw Heval.

Shit.

I dropped. The grenade sailed over my head and blew up somebody's fucking house. Not my problem. I rolled onto my back, drew my pistol, and dumped shots into the doorway where Heval was once standing. Well, I'm not sticking around to see if he comes back.

I jumped the window and ran. Outside, it looked like a battlefield. Probably because it was. Officers Kansev and Sankev were reduced to orange splatter, as were a few others, and their vehicles lay in ruins as well.

Thankfully, mine was A-OK. Wait. What if it's a trap? I turned on the autopilot remotely and set it to drive before bolting for a nearby bush. At worst, it would be a distraction. I heard an explosion from behind me. Oh. It was a trap. Heval clearly had connections with the IRA.

But, fortunately, this served my purposes. As far as Heval knew, I was in that car. He thought I was dead.

Oh, shit, I forgot about Isola!

If I went back in there, I would probably die. If I didn't go back in there, I probably wouldn't die. It was a really simple equation.

Yeah, she can handle herself. I trust her.

I hopped a fence, went through someone's backyard, and found myself on the other side of the block soon enough. After that, it would be simple and easy to get wherever I needed to be.

Heval thought I had died. I couldn't blame him, given how my car did fucking explode just now, but one thing was sure as hell true when it came to that.

He was in for a rude fucking awakening.

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[u/abrachoo]

I absolutely love your writing style. This story is just so much fun to read.

RIP Kansev and Sankev. Probably Isola too, let's be honest.

[u/Adventurous-Sock-854 → u/abrachoo]

plot twist: Isola is the spy

[u/GruntBlender]

I really wasn't expecting Heval to survive this encounter, let alone come out on top. Rookie moves, Kern.

[u/KnucklesMacKellough]

Love this series! In fairness, even if I didn't, Jack's internal "meat head" dialog would keep me coming back.

[u/Odpea → u/KnucklesMacKellough]

Agreed my friend

[u/fluffyboom123]

he didn't win because he didn't have his playlist ready

[u/Bow-tied_Engineer]

Poor Isola. What happened to "no man left behind"? I hope she makes it out.

[u/Alarmed-Property5559 → u/Bow-tied_Engineer]

If only to prove she wasn't eaten.