RUSTY | frank castle

NINETEEN

William 'Bill' Rawlins III. 

"What a fucking prick." Rusty scoffed, her arms crossed as she sat in front of David's monitor with Baldie on the screen. Frank stood behind her, his hands on Rusty's chair, supporting his weight. 

"He's the director of covert operations for the CIA." David said.

"What a fucking mega-prick."

Frank chuckled, shaking his head at Rusty's childish behaviour. It occurs sometimes. 

David continued what he does best - analysing. "This is not some field agent running rogue. I mean, it takes a guy like this to pull it all together and make it stick."

Rusty read the screen. "Injured in the line of duty? More like beaten the hell up in the line of duty! That's from Frank smashing his eye."

"Son of a bitch used it to climb the ladder." Frank protested. Rusty scoffed.

"No he didn't. He was born at the top of the ladder." David continued. "The Rawlinses are practically royalty. They're the power behind the throne. They're old, old Virginia money. Plantations, shipping and industry, arms. I mean, who knows what else they have their hands in."

Rusty put a hand to her mouth as she said in a sing-song voice, "Someone's got a crush!"

"He's the director of covert ops, Rusty." David looked at her, his curly hair a little dishevelled on his head. "I mean, for all I know . . . shit."

Frank looked contempt. "What is it?"

David sighed, taking a chair and turning it to Rusty and Frank. "For all I know, he's been waiting for somebody to look for him." Then he started stammering. "A-and by searching his file, I've just blown us. There could be a team on its way right here."

Lexi stood up, her head tilted as she heard David's panicked voice. Fender lifted his head as Rusty said, "Someone's insecure as fuck."

"Wait a second." Frank frowned. 

"Give me a second-"

"No, you give me a second." Frank interrupted, standing up straight and pointing to the monitor, his finger above Rusty's head. "You've been on that CIA site all day, right? You seen anything about us? Any chatter at all?"

"Wha- no."

"No, right?" Frank said, crossing his arms. 

"No."

"You're saying the guy's got unlimited resources. You're saying he's the kinda guy, he farts, the president catches a whiff. That's what you're telling us?"

David let out a single chuckle. "Uh, yeah, actually."

Rusty continued Frank's little 'lecture'. "David, the CIA and the FBI and all those shitty secret services and special forces, they're not coming after us. You didn't see anything on there about Henderson, right? Kentucky? They probably don't even know I'm alive, dude."

"Well, the Bulletin published a piece about Bennett being stabbed to death in a motel." David included.

"They killed him?" Rusty asked, her voice high. 

Frank added simply, "Good."

"Look, the point is," Rusty looked the Lieberman in the eye, resting her elbows on her knees, "they're not coming after us. Frank took a shot at this motherfucker and there's nothing on it."

Rusty sighed. "You're scared, Typo, I get that. Just think about how Baldie feels. I think that all of us - we're sitting pretty right now."

David nodded, mostly to himself and looked at Rusty comfortably. He was more calm right now, so Rusty guessed he just needed a little calm talking to. Fender and Lexi decided that they were gonna play with some old cloth that Frank left lying on the hood of the black car he was fixing in the garage.