Nick faced him. “I get it. You really do think I’ve never handled a two bit punk like you. Well, pal, there ain’t nothin’ between us but air and opportunity. My partner has my back, and I don’t plan on letting you move around to sucker punch me, so get it on, Sparky! You want a piece of me… then let’s get to it. I don’t plan on wasting any more time with you.”
Nick straightened with haughty disregard of the man’s intended actions, hands at sides, and body ramrod stiff. “I used to face off with goon squads fifty times tougher than you’ll ever be you poser! Come take a shot before you piss yourself and ruin everything.”
The man was beaten before he ever moved on Nick. His shoulders slumped, and he stared down at his shoes. Nick walked over and patted his shoulder. “It’s okay, bright boy. Give me your driver’s license. I’ll have my partner scan it, and you can go without the possibility of seeing Allah before you imagined you would be. Guess what I’m going to do if I ever see you anywhere, even by accident. From now on, if you see me coming, you’d better run like hell is on your heels, because it will be.”
The man took out his wallet with shaking hand, and handed his license to Gus, who handed it back after scanning it.
“Okay, you can go. Remember what I said, because I know where you live now too,” Nick said.
The man trudged off without another word after Gus returned his ID. Nick held out his hand to the film crew. “Get your damn driver’s licenses in my hand in the next sixty seconds or we’re all going to dance. My partner Gus has been chomping at the bit to get a piece of you media pansies. Anyone want to test the theory about how serious I am? Please… oh please, tell me you won’t do it.”
One after another, the media people allowed Gus to scan their photo ID’s.
“Good. Now bugger off. I have other things to do today besides playing games with you bunch. Remember to include all the footage from today’s romp, or you’ll look silly when the full video comes out.”
“This isn’t over, McCarty,” a blonde woman reporter snatched her license out of Gus’s hand. “Freedom of the press is what keeps this nation safe.”
“If you believe that, you’re cat lady crazy. What’s this woman’s name, Gus?”
“Sandy Colinga,” Gus read from the scan, immediately beginning to film the interaction.
“Do yourself a favor, Sandy, and study our Constitution. The only reason the Free Press and Freedom of Speech exist is because of the Second Amendment. You idiots would have been marched into death camps a long time ago in a third world hellhole without the Second Amendment, or printing whatever some joker at the top of the food chain told you to print… oh… wait a minute… that’s what you do now. My bad.”
“Whatever!” Colinga gave Nick the wave off. “What you did to Florence was inexcusable!”
“No… her name on the lips of both murderers breaking into my home was inexcusable. Maybe you think it would have been better if they had simply slit my family’s throats.”
Nick watched as Colinga nearly fell full bore into his trap, and confirmed his supposition. “Go away, you bought and paid for ditz. You’re boring the hell out of me.”
Colinga ran at Nick, her hands in claw form. Nick never moved an inch, nor did the smile ever leave his face as she smacked him across the face, and tore the bandage off his head wound before her cameraman grabbed her.
Her attack made no impression on Nick. The blood from his head wound began seeping down his face while Gus filmed Colinga’s complete meltdown. She was dragged away by her crew, still screaming obscenities at Nick. Turning toward his partner, bloody Nick smiled for the video. “The Free Press seems able to dish it out, but they sure can’t take it.”
Gus stopped filming. “Having been around you, I know exactly how Sandy feels. Luckily for me, it’s not on video. I think we better get you inside the house, and seal the wounds again. What do you think of this new surprise visit?”
Nick began walking toward his house. “I think we had better lock and load, partner. This is going to get ugly. If you thought I expected to get a demonstration with press backup here at my house, you would be wrong. Someone, or something’s in play we haven’t figured on. It’s a thread from somewhere that spotted an opening with my Kader intervention. We need to expand our parameters on this one. I smell something foul in the wind, Gus. The Islamophobia gang who arrived here did so on a call from someone higher in importance. Only that idiot fronting for them actually knew what the hell was going on.”
Gus sighed as they reached Nick’s front door. “We need to bring him in for questioning, right?”
Nick grinned at Gus, shrugged, and unlocked his door. “No… you could retire to the Florida keys.”
“We’re joined at the hip, brother. No need to give me options when I whine.”
Nick nodded his head with a chuckle. “Understood.”
The two of them were met at the door by Rachel with the semi-auto twelve gauge shotgun, and Jean, who hugged Nick. “Hi, girls. I’m sorry for the party haunting our doors while we were gone. I see Ms. Fixit was ready for confrontation.”