CENOTAPH

NOTHING WRONG WITH PUNCHES

YEAR 2089

AURORA CITY, NOVEL CALIFORNIA

CLEPSYDRA PROJECT, BUILDING G 

QUINN

"I don't know why they had to bring him back."

"'Cause Singh's the best."

"Fuck you, Jagger. I am the best. That idiot forfeited the title when he quitted four years ago," Quinn growled.

"Oh, boohoo. Spare me your whining, Fondant." The big guy rolled his eyes, adding, "I still don't understand why you hate your ex-partner so much."

"I have my reasons," Quinn said, twisting his mouth a bit.

"Well, you gonna have to swallow your reasons 'cause President Alicja specifically asked for Singh's return."

"I'm pretty sure there was a lot of money and cock-sucking involved..."

Quinn Fondant knew this to be more than BS because it was precisely because of Veer Singh's religious beliefs that their entire partnership (and whatever that partnership was becoming) had gone into the fucking toilet.

They were watching Veer talk to their team leader, Ramsey, through a two-way mirror. In any other facility this would have been a place for questioning suspects, but here (at the heart of Clepsydra Project) it was just a way for team members to learn about their co-workers unobtrusively. Team Aegis was a six-member unit even though they were partnered in pairs. Unluckily for Quinn, his partner, Len Faludi, had died in a car accident the previous month, leaving the team incomplete.

"We all know you're a perv and resolve everything with sex, but don't ascribe your methods to other people," Jagger huffed, annoyed. He inserted a finger into the collar of his ill-fitting shirt and pulled as if the thing was strangling him.

Quinn's behavior was all a front, though. Just his way of keeping the team away from his private life. If they thought him a pervert, they'd leave him alone and able to take care of his damage heart. And being half-gypsy helped with the dark caustic carnality aura. Many of his "quote on quote" cousins had amassed great fortunes by satisfying Aurora city's filthy needs. Funny how his mother's people looked at his blond hair askance (gift from his Frenchy father), making him the odd man out. "You got that one right."

"Huh?" Jagger looked at him perplexedly for a second (a half movement away from scratching his almost bald head) and hissed, "Fucking queen of non sequitur."

For him it was a joke that every time his teammates wanted to make him feel special they used queen instead of Quinn. "At least I am not a size queen, like you, hotshot."

"There's nothing wrong with loving big boobs." Jagger was a big guy, six-foot-two and brawny; known for his lack of fashion sense, his persistence in keeping those few sparse hairs on his head, and his love of petite women with giant chichis.

A total wiener, but good at his job.

Quinn chuckled, making a gesture like squashing massive breasts. "Sure, especially when you put them together and they look like a hunk's ass."

Jagger pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger, shaking his head, instead of his usual eye roll. "We need to pay attention to their conversation."

"For shits and giggles? It's not like we don't know him already," Quinn growled at Jagger. The big man had joined the team a year before Veer abandoned them.

Inside the not-interrogation room, Veer laughed at something Ramsey said. Blinding white teeth and a caramel complexion so fair (what was that they called it in India, wheatish?) that he didn't exactly look Indian. His dark hair was still thick and frigging wonderful, although a bit shorter than the last time they'd seen each other. And that little, almost pencil thin mustache paired with the hair neatly trimmed on his chin was pissing Quinn off, triggering all kinds of things he shouldn't be thinking of.

Before Jagger could come up with a suitable response, Veer and Ramsey stood up and shook hands.

"Thank God, they're done. Five more minutes around you, and I'd have punched you in the face," Jagger murmured under his breath.

"And the crowd roars. Ahhhhh, 'cause you don't have Hollander and Russo to cower behind... ahhhhh." Quinn's hands cupped his mouth, making the far away noises of an agitated crowd at a baseball game.

He was the one with a punch (or three) reserved for Veer Singh.

****