94, Roquefort

“Your god damned crotch smells like moldy yogurt, you sick fuck.”  Special agent Bradley McVandalay was crouched behind a trash can.  “I can’t believe I’m actually having to say this to a grown human being.  For the love of sweet Jesus, Murdock.  You fucking stink,” he whispered quietly but angrily.

“My bonch is clean, I promise!” special agent Trent Murdock whispered fiercely back in reply.  He was defensive as McVandalay’s face was smashed up close to his crotch while the two men tried to hide from the view of an open air Mexican restaurant.  The men they were spying on had unexpectedly walked out onto the patio as the two white Americans were looking through binoculars.  In the nick of time, they both had dove behind a large trash can to avoid being seen, and now their mutual position was far too intimate for their comfort.

“You need to get penicillin, dude.  Your dick is gonna fall off,” McVandalay whispered matter of factly.

“My dick is fine, asshole!”  Murdock exhaled but before he could explain himself, another barrage of whispered insults was raining down on him.

“If you weren’t so busy trying to stick your pecker into every hole that moved, I wouldn’t be inhaling your god damn stinky crotch cricket infested nut sack.”

“I accidentally…” Murdock started to whisper in reply, but he paused for a moment, appreciating the incredible insult that had just befell him.  “Say that again?”

McVandalay couldn’t remember what insult he’d just hurled at his friend.  He whispered quietly with fiery passion.  “Your balls smell like a fucking frat house bathroom that hasn’t been cleaned in decades!  This is awful, dude!”

Murdock loved his friends and had to give credit where credit was due.  “Fuck yourself, Bradley!  I accidentally spilled that bowl of roquefort dressing on my lap at lunch and I obviously didn’t expect your nose to be snuggled up to my nuts, fucker!”

As the two agents bickered, an unmarked van with no license plates or windows pulled up to the front entrance of the restaurant.  A handful of thugs wearing biker jackets and sunglasses piled out from the side door of the van and walked aggressively into the eatery.

“Are you two love birds seeing this?”  The voice of special agent Laura Lorenz filled their ear pieces.

The bickering momentarily stopped as McVandalay lifted his watch to his face.  “What are you talking about, Lorenz?” he whispered to his wrist.

Lorenz informed them of the situation.  For the moment, Murdock and McVandalay did not need to be hidden.  They took the opportunity to pop up and quickly walk around the back of a building, out of sight from the restaurant as Lorenz spoke the play by play into their ear pieces.  “The bikers are forcibly hauling out two men wearing really nice suits.”  She paused, then added, “Damn, those are the best Mexican mustaches I’ve ever seen.”

Murdock was still defensive about spilling blu cheese dressing on his lap earlier in the day.  “I didn’t have time to change, Bradley!  Obviously I fucking would have if I’d have known that your nose was gonna be planted in my nether regions for any amount of time!”

Lorenz couldn’t hear Murdocks horse shit since he wasn’t pressing the talk button on his wrist watch communicator.  “The biker thugs have thrown the two mustached men in the van and they’re piling back in.”

McVandalay ignored the play by play and snapped back at his friend.  “For the love of God and country, you honestly smell like a fucking trash can full of rotting dairy.  It’s awful.”

“I’m aware!” Murdock answered honestly.  “I fucking told you, it was a fucking accident!”

The agents could hear Lorenz clicking a button, then they heard her say, “Honey, the van is on the move.  Pick up the Ms and tail ’em.”

The agents could hear the voice of Laura Lorenz’s boyfriend, special agent Jack Miller, say, “Roger.  Let’s roll, boys!”

As McVandalay was about to throw another insult at Murdock, he paused.  “Did Lorenz just call us the Ms?”

Murdock crinkled his brow.  “I think she did, yeah.”

A second later, a car screeched to a halt right next to them.  The window was rolled down and Miller’s beautiful, bald white head glistened in the Mexican sunlight.  “Get in, fuckers!”

“What took you so long?” McVandalay asked sarcastically.

Jumping right into the sarcasm, Miller replied, “Traffic was hell.  Let’s go!”

Within a few seconds the car was screaming away in the direction of the van.  It hadn’t been five seconds until Miller’s face crinkled up in disgust.  “Jesus, Murdock!  Is that stench coming from you?”

Instantly defensive, Murdock blurted, “Yes it’s me.  I’m fucking sorry!”

Without skipping a beat, Miller started with the insults.  “You smell like you’re dying from an infection dude.  It’s bad.”

“It was the best stinky blu cheese dressing that I’ve ever had, and I accidentally spilled some on my lap!” Murdock protested.

McVandalay was seated in the back seat and leaned forward to join in on the insults.  “You gotta start wrapping your dick when you’re banging whores, Murdock.”

Even with the window down, Miller was disgusted.  “Or just stop banging whores, would you?”

“I don’t bang whores!” Murdock screeched.

The car jerked hard as Miller cranked the wheel into a fast turn.  “It honestly smells like your testicles are moldy.”

Grinning, Murdock asked, “And how would you know what moldy nuts smell like, eh, Miller?”

“Because I’ve been working with you for the past ten years, dude,” he answered.

“Good one,” McVandalay said as he cheered on the insults.

The car was at the perfect distance from the van that it wouldn’t be noticed.  There was very little traffic in this part of Juarez, Mexico.  “You need to jump into a bathtub of liquid antibiotics and hang out for a week,” Miller sneered as he expertly tailed the van.

“That wouldn’t help him, Miller,” McVandalay added.  “Murdock’s fingers and toes are gonna fall off any minute now.  The syphilis is too far gone in his system.”

“Fuck you both!” Murdock said, but secretly he was having a blast with the insults.  He knew he stunk to high heaven, but there was nothing he could do about it.  He decided to take his beating with grace.  “You both can suck my moldy balls!”

All three of them paused as their wrist watches lit up with the same group call from special agent Death.  Murdock answered, “We’re all together.  Talk to me, sister.”

“First off, you’re a tool of epic proportions.  Never forget it,” Death said plainly in her driest tone.

“Everyone is busting my balls today.  What did I do to deserve this?” Murdock protested.

“Because you’re an idiot and you need to be reminded of that fact daily, asshole,” Death joked.

Miller chimed in on his wrist watch as he expertly weaved around cars to keep the perfect distance between himself and the van.  “Murdock smells like someone fingered him to death and left him to rot.”

Before Murdock could speak, McVandalay spoke to his wrist.  “Murdock smells like a fermenting bowl of jizz.”

Death said, “I don’t even want to know.”  She got to business.  “Listen up, fuckers.  Roar hacked the phones y’all got last week and Langley has figured out that El Padre was supposed to have a meet up with some South American cartel leader.  No one used a name, so we don’t know the identity, but we know there’s gonna be a lot of gang bangers hanging out somewhere in town.”

Miller informed Death, “We’re following El Padre’s bikers currently.  They kidnapped two dudes in three piece suits and threw them in a van.”

Death asked, “Do you know their identity?”  

McVandalay answered, “No clue.  Miller’s driving and Murdock stinks like a festering crotch wound.”

Murdock finally had to speak up.  “God dammit!  I smell like blu cheese!  That’s it!  No body odor, no farts, just fucking salad dressing!”

With her trademark sarcasm, Death said, “Serves you right for eating rotten cheese, dick weed.  I’ll call you fucks back if we get any more intel.  Death out.”

A minute later, the van was pulled over outside of a very large warehouse.  Miller decided he’d park behind a small car to try and stay concealed.  The agents watched as the van door flew open.  The thugs were dragging the two men in three piece suits through a large docking bay where eighteen wheelers would load or unload cargo.

“Who do you think those two are?” Miller asked?

“Did your girlfriend get any pictures of them from her vantage point?” Murdock asked.

“Not that I know of.”  Miller froze.  “Oh fuck!  There’s a man in the car in front of us who’s looking through binoculars at this warehouse!  What the hell?”

In the small car that was parked in front of them, the three agents could see the outline of a man in the drivers seat.  They could see he was looking through binoculars, and he seemed to have no idea that a car was parked behind him.

“What the fuck do we have here?” Murdock asked casually.

The man in the car put down his binoculars, then reached down onto the empty passenger seat.  The agents saw the silhouette of a hand gun, then watched the man pull the barrel down to load a bullet into the chamber.  Instinctively, all three men grabbed their guns and did the same, ready for a shootout.

The man opened the drivers side door and stepped out into the Mexican sun without showing his face to the agents.  Miller had to shield his eyes as the sunlight hit the strangers incredibly white shoes.  The stranger looked around, then took off at a fast walk for the warehouse.

Confused, McVandalay spoke up.  “That man has no stealth with those blindingly white shoes.  He’ll be seen from space.  Christ.”

The man looked both ways before crossing the wide street and Murdock got a look at his face.  “Whoa, wait.  Is that Dirt?”

“Who the fuck is Dirt?” Miller asked honestly.

McVandalay used his supernaturally powerful eyesight to focus in on the man walking.  “Dirt is a friend of ours who lives in Bogota, Colombia.  And dude, that’s gotta be him.  He’s wearing an obnoxiously bright Hawaiian shirt with blindingly white shoes.”  The thought crossed McVandalays’ mind.  “What in the fuck is he doing in Juarez?”

“Of all the border towns, that fucker pops up here.  I don’t know if it’s fate or a bad joke,” Murdock smirked.

“Wait, hold on!” Miller gasped.  The three agents watched Dirt walk right up to the outside of the van, put his gun to the window, then lower it.  “He was checking to see if the driver was still in that van.  I thought he was gonna kill someone!”

“I’ve never seen the fucker shoot, but with shoes that clean, I’m guessing the guy can’t hit the broad side of a barn,” Murdock joked.  “Let’s join him.”

Pointing to a warehouse that was across the street, Miller said, “I’ll climb up to that roof and see if I can’t get a clear view in with my sniper rifle.”  He opened the drivers side door and popped out.  “Make sure that bay door stays open.”  He ran around the trunk of the car to retrieve his high powered rifle, then said, “And be sure to tell Dirt that I’m one of the good guys, cuz I don’t know who in the fuck he is.”

“We just saw him a few weeks ago before coming here.  He helped get Doc patched up after their little mushroom ceremony,” McVandalay explained.

“Wait, what?”  Miller was confused.  “Doc did mushrooms with that guy?”  He’d slung the rifle over his shoulder and was about to take off but he wanted an explanation.

“Long story, but Doc tripped balls and in his fucked up mind he put the pieces together in a way that he decided he wants to marry Blacktide,” Murdock said.

“No shit,” Miller answered plainly.

“Yeah.  Don’t know if you heard, but Doc popped the question.”

“No shit!” Miller answered more animatedly.  “I’m so far behind the eight ball, it’s ridiculous.”

“Where’ve you been, dude?  For real?” McVandalay asked.

Without hesitation, Miller answered, “Banging Lorenz on the beach.  What the fuck else do you think I’d be doing while in Mexico?”  He grinned.  “Did you think I’d actually be working?  Ha!”  With that, Miller took off to climb up the fire escape ladder to get tot he top of the warehouse.  “Good luck, fuckers!” he yelled as he started climbing.

After sneaking across the street and peering into the warehouse, the two agents saw nothing.  They walked in with their guns drawn, pointing them this way and that, but the place felt deserted.  McVandalay saw an open door and gestured with his neck for Murdock to follow.  The two men approached cautiously, then stepped through as they saw and heard no one.

After a few minutes of snooping, McVandalay and Murdock happened to sneak into an area where they found the biker thugs surrounding the two businessmen who were now back to back, tied up to folding chairs.  The agents could see Dirt hiding behind some large oil barrels not far away.  He seemed oblivious to anything other than the scene that was unfolding just thirty feet away.  The agents snuck up to Dirt, then waved with their guns pointed towards the sky.

Dirt was startled as fuck but quickly recovered as his eyes got huge.  He gritted his teeth and gestured at the men as if to ask, “What in the fuck are you idiots doing here?”

Murdock snuck up to Dirt and used his hands to indicate that they were spying on the bikers.  Dirt nodded, then recoiled in disgust.  In a whisper, Dirt said, “Fuckin’ A, Murdock, you smell like the waiting room of an STD clinic.”

Deciding he wouldn’t fight it, Murdock nodded in agreement.  He whispered in a barely audible tone, “I spilled roquefort dressing on my lap.”

“Is that like fermented jizz or something?” Dirt whispered.

Trying not to lose his patience, all Murdock could whisper in reply was, “Blu cheese dressing!  Fuck!”  He lifted his finger to his lips to show that he was going to be silent from here on out.

The thugs were yelling and waving guns in the air and the two men in business suits looked scared.  One of the thugs caught a whiff of something foul and turned his head to investigate.  He took several steps towards the agents position.  When he stepped around the barrels, McVandalay grabbed the man by the legs while simultaneously punching him with the force of a wrecking ball in the kidneys.  Murdock caught the man before he could make any crashing noises, and the two Americans set the thug to the side.  They could see the man was in pure pain but he couldn’t scream or groan due to his lungs having been robbed of their air from the ferocious hit.

“You’re a liability!” McVandalay said.  “Get the fuck out of here!  Dirt and I will scope this out.”

A second later, one of the thugs had fired a gun shot.  The agents popped their heads up to investigate and found that a thug had fired his pistol into the air to try and intimidate one of the dudes in suits.  The thugs seemed riled up by this and were getting loud and vocal, but two of them had caught a whiff of something foul.  They whipped their heads around but the agents couldn’t duck fast enough.  They’d been spotted.

Yelling followed as the agents tried to backtrack out of the room, but it was too late.  The thugs were now no longer interested in the two businessmen tied up.  With their guns up, they stormed towards where the agents had been hiding.  Upon seeing their fellow thug knocked out and fighting for breath on the ground, the thugs started yelling and running towards the doors to find the intruders.

Abandoning all stealth, Murdock yelled, “What in the fuck are you doing in Juarez, Dirt!?”

“I got a tip that El Daga is trying to make a deal with El Padre and it’s all going down here!”  He tripped and scuffed one of his perfectly white shoes and gasped.  “AHHHHH!  NOOOOO!”  He instantly bent down and tried to rub the mark off of the white shoe but it was apparent that the shoe leather had been lightly torn.  Dirt seemed devastated.

“Dude!  We gotta go NOW!” McVandalay said as he yanked Dirt up by the arm.  

Dirt was remarkably light for being a pudgy, middle aged man.  His grey mustache twitched as he got momentum going again.  “I love these fucking shoes!  God dammit!”  He was clearly distraught.

Instinctively, the two agents dove for cover as McVandalay yanked Dirt with him.  Bullets started flying around them, smashing into the metal walls.  McVadnalay crawled on his belly behind some pallets as he yelled behind him, “How many bullets do you have, Dirt?”

The old man was too upset to answer.  He was on his knees behind a pallet that had wrapped up aluminum cans.  The thugs fired bullet after bullet at the Americans without any regard to any of the contents in the warehouse.  A bullet ripped through the cans and liquid started pouring out over the back of Dirt’s shoes.  As if he were scrambling away from a spider, he fearfully started yelling, “No no no no no no!” but it was too late.  His shoes were covered in some sort of sugary energy drink.

Murdock popped up from his hiding place and returned fire, then ducked down.  He didn’t hit anybody, but he temporarily slowed down the onslaught of oncoming bullets.  He looked over a Dirt.  The man was sitting on his ass with his knees slightly bent.  He was looking at his shoes in absolute horror, completely frozen.  “Dirt!  Are you hit?” Murdock yelled.

His words seemed to bring Dirt back to life.  Dirt’s eyes got big and a demon expression crossed his face.  “I’m going to kill everyone of these mother fuckers!” he yelled back.  He pulled out his hand gun from his waist band and snapped his head at Murdock.  “You fucking stink, Murdock!”  He faced in the direction of the oncoming thugs and took a deep breath.  Dirt growled, “No one fucks with my shoes!”

In the distance, ace sniper Jack Miller sat on top of a building with a perfect view of an open docking bay warehouse floor and although he could hear the shootout going on inside, he saw no humans from his vantage point which made him anxious because all he wanted to do was shoot bad guys and get his friends out of that warehouse.