The Game #3
Edited by Karen Leigh
Well, his wallet was gone, but he had his keys. Followed by Number One carrying the battered remains of their rescuer, Ryan Simms, and Number 55, who was still clinging to Ricky's mysterious double like a leech, Ricky sauntered into his two-bedroom apartment. Later on, he would have to go and reclaim his abandoned Jaguar, but right now he wanted a real shower, a nap, and possibly a good long fit of hysteria.
Shit, Ricky realized that he had something to do first. He called his bank and stopped his all of his checks and then went on line to cancel all his credit cards, even the one he kept open for Foxy at Frederick's. It wasn't a big deal; Ricky had learned from Alex. Always keep back up ID and cash at several locations. He had a stash here, one in a safety box at an all night mail drop, and a complete set of ID and a few hundred dollars at Walter's.
Ricky groaned softly. He could use the big hunk right now. What really would relax him was to be fucked through the mattress by Walter Skinner. Walter was like a hearty bowl of beef stew or a hunk of homemade bread. He wasn't fancy, but, man, he filled you up!
One approached him and said, "You are tense, Ricky Caruso."
"No joking." Ricky replied, "And just Ricky will do."
One said, "I know sixteen variations of massage, acupressure, or acupuncture. Shall I demonstrate?"
Ricky said, "Let me grab a shower and after that, I would love a rubdown."
Ricky asked, "Do you want to join me? I have plenty of clothing and you could dump that coverall. Number 55 should get rid of his too. Simms, there's a bathroom off the guest room. If you look in the bottom dresser drawer, you'll find some extra clothing for you and your android admirer." Ricky snickered. Tired as Ricky was, Ryan's reactions were killing him. It was too damn funny. The guy was obtuse. Mac 27 Number 55 was doing everything short of eating Simms' zipper to let him know that he was interested in furthering the cause of clone-android relations. The android had followed Simms to the couch and now was snuggling half in the clone's lap. Simms had a peculiar expression, but was still dutifully "comforting" the poor scared robot.
Ricky smirked and went to his bathroom. The other room was as much Alex's as a guest room. Sometimes even Alex wanted a decent place to stay. And no one would suspect that he might hang out at a rookie FBI agent's apartment. Ricky figured that Alex wouldn't mind if Simms and Mac 27 Number 55 used his clothes. In fact, Alex would be very interested in this development. Ricky couldn't wait to fill him in on the latest events.
Ricky knew people saw him as a teenager, interested in hot babes, hot cars, and long car chases, but he had long outgrown the dumb little cop he used to be. However, as Alex pointed out, being seen as harmless was a handy camouflage. Right now, Ricky wanted to keep an eye on Simms. That currency the man had was very interesting and so were Simms' reactions to normal events and surroundings when he thought Ricky wasn't looking. Particularly, when Anne had stopped to use an ATM machine, Simms just about gone through the roof. Ricky had heard the man pumping farm-bred Mac 27 Number 55 for information about the ATM before Ryan settled down. You would just about have to be from another dimension not to know about ATM's. As for the Mac 27s, Ricky wanted to sell his uncanny original, Alex, on another cause or maybe it was the same one. These self-aware androids might be an interesting defense against the Oiliens and hostile hybrids.
Ricky stepped into the vigorous spray and smiled as One joined him. He said, "You wash my back and I'll wash yours. Sound like a plan?"
One nodded and whispered, in a husky tone that sent pleasant shivers down Ricky's back, "I programmed myself to enjoy either gender. I could enjoy you, Ricky."
Oh yeah, Ricky purred, it sure did sound like a plan. He spared a swift thought for Ryan and lucky Number 55. Hopefully, Simms would guess what 55 wanted, before the farm-droid burst something that couldn't be fixed.
Ryan Simms didn't know what to think. Everything was happening too fast. Ryan recognized that he wasn't comfortable with spontaneity in his adventures. Like Ricky had noted earlier, Ryan was a planner. A meticulous planner. Every expedition he'd ever been on had gone off without a hitch. No one got hurt. No one died. That thought led his eyes across the room to the Mac 27 they'd salvaged. The unit's eyes were open and staring, but the expression on his face looked ... well, he looked satisfied. The Mac 27 had stopped the van, as he'd set out to do. Funny, Ryan found it impossible to think of the Mac 27 androids as its. They definitely were males.
"You are quiet, Ryan Simms."
"Ryan," he corrected, trying to keep thinking about the fallen Mac 27, not the one that had settled in beside him. At least he wasn't on his lap anymore. That had been weird.
"Are you malfunctioning, Ryan?"
The concern in Number 55's voice startled Ryan into looking at him. Mistake. The guy could look so damn earnest and vulnerable that you just had to try and protect him from ... from everything. Shaking himself mentally, Ryan muttered, "No. I'm okay. Just thinking about your friend over there. What he did for us. And what happened to him."
"He functioned well. One thinks he can be repaired."
"What's his number? Do you know?"
"No, Ryan. One may."
Silence fell. Ryan was content with that. He was so tired. Just as Ryan's eyes closed, Number 55 announced, "We should obtain new clothing, so we can blend in better. Will you help me select appropriate items, Ryan?"
Lacking the energy to argue, Ryan agreed and followed Number 55 into the second bedroom. Simms leaned against the wall while the android removed every item from the drawer Ricky had indicated. Ryan couldn't help but smile, as Number 55 ran a hand over each option. He couldn't tell whether Number 55 was testing the fabric for toughness or what. The whole thing was just kind of ... endearing. Levering himself from the wall, Simms selected black cotton pants, a dark green button down shirt, underwear and socks and held them out to Number 55. "Try these."
"Why these, Ryan?"
"The shirt will set off your eyes. At least that's what Rachel always told me." Damn. Rachel again. Get off that topic, Simms.
"Set off?"
"Um ... call attention to."
"But we do not wish to call attention to ourselves, Ryan."
'Oh boy. Open mouth; insert foot.' "I don't mean in the 'hey, I'm one of the guys you're looking for' sense. I mean in the 'you'll look nice' sense."
Number 55 beamed at him. "I understand, Ryan. Thank you. I will change into these."
Ryan almost randomly selected a look for himself -- white shirt/black jeans -- and put the rest of the clothes away. "I'm going to take a shower. I'll see you in a few, 55."
The android made a strange noise as he entered the bathroom. "What the hell's the matter now?" Ryan whispered. He shrugged, dismissed the question and took a short, utilitarian shower. Suddenly, Simms was in a hurry to do something about the situation of runaway androids and kidnapping. He just didn't know what.
Ryan felt about a thousand times better when he re-entered the living room. Clean body. Clean clothes. Mind clearer, although still tired. Looking forward to planning their next move. And there sat Mac 27 Number 55 on the couch. Alone. Looking morose. Definitely back in missing the farm mode.
"Where are Ricky and One?"
"They are still in the other room."
"Okay." Ryan started toward the kitchen. "Not that one."
What the? They couldn't still be in the shower. What the hell is going on? Number 55 was watching him closely. The scrutiny only increased Ryan's agitation. "What could they possibly...?" he growled impatiently.
"Given the duration of their absence and their current location, they are most likely engaged in sexual relations."
'Oh. Well, there isn't a whole lot to say to that, is there, Simms?' Shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably, Ryan split his attention between Number 55 and the door that Ricky and One were behind.
"Who is Rachel?"
Now he's bringing her up. Wonderful. "A ... ah ... friend."
Number 55 looked up at him with needy eyes. "Is she your sexual partner?"
"No. She was. A long time ago." And very far away.
"Do you have a sexual partner?"
'Okay, Ryan. He's lonely. His buddy's getting some. The other two from the van had been going at it like rabbits. So, he's bound to be curious. He doesn't mean to pry or open old wounds or make you feel any more adrift than you already do. And, he's not going to give up. You know that much about him.' Internal debate over, Ryan admitted, "No, I don't."
Number 55 stood and moved toward Ryan. The android came to a halt about six inches from Ryan and stared into his eyes.
Uneasy, Ryan dissembled, "Well, I'll be damned. That shirt does accentuate your eyes."
"I am pleasing to you."
"Ah ... yeah ... I guess." 'Uh Oh. This is not going where I think this is going -- is it?' Taking a deep breath, Ryan asked, "55, you don't miss the farm quite as much as you were leading me to believe, do you?"
Number 55 evinced a fascination with Caruso's carpet before whispering, "No, Ryan. But I do miss it, and I think that I would miss it less if I had a sexual partner."
'And you'd feel more settled in this reality if you had one, too, wouldn't you, Ryan.' "55, I ... I don't think I'm ready for this." Number 55's anguished expression catapulted "Yet," out from between Ryan's lips.
Ryan couldn't even continue mentally berating himself for his weakness when Number 55 took his hand and led him to the couch. Number 55 looked so happy. And he wasn't looking like he was going to pounce any second any more. Maybe this would work out after all.
Number 55's acute hearing followed what was going on in the other room precisely. He glanced at Ryan who looked very nice in the white shirt and black jeans. He sighed. Number 55 extrapolated that Ricky and One might let him play if he asked, but there was this matter. Mr. Orville had not required any of Number 55's Kama Sutra skills. So, Number 55 was a virgin, a state of being that had never bothered him up to this point.
A loud groan and a cry of "Oh-god-oh-god-do--that-again." rang from the bedroom. Number 55 mournfully asked, "Ryan, is sex as good as a chocolate milkshake?"
Ryan's face took on a red color that alarmed Number 55. Mr. Orville, Mary, and Sally were of a different human variety and were colored lovely shades of brown and gold. They had never turned this new and threatening color. Number 55 gently patted Ryan's arm and asked, "Are you ill? Shall I run my medical program? Your skin has a scarlet hue that could be a symptom of disease."
No 55, I'm fine." Ryan said, "55, are you saying that you haven't actually had sex?"
Number 55 smiled and said, "No, and I did not have a chocolate milkshake until today either. Sally said they were very, very good, but she couldn't find a way to sneak one to me. But you bought me one. You are wonderful, Ryan Simms, and I will wait for you to give me sex as well."
'He's going to wait? He's going to wait for me to have sex with him?' Ryan's mouth dropped open in shock, and he just stared at Number 55 who had plopped down on the couch after making his pronouncement. Trying to wend his way carefully through this potential mine field, Ryan ventured, "Um ... 55, milkshake procurement isn't exactly unique to me. Anybody could've--."
"Others may have been capable, Ryan Simms, but you did."
"Well, no one else has had the opportunity to ... to appreciate you."
"Ryan Simms--"
"Ryan!"
"Ryan, I understand that you do not wish to have sex with me this evening. You do not have to explain further, if you do not wish to do so. I would like it if you would sit with me. And we can converse while we wait for Ricky and One."
Numbly, Ryan sat next to Mac 27 Number 55. 'Face it, Simms. You're flattered. He just told you that he trusts you with his virginity. That's not something that happens every day. And, if Ricky's been in the other room for this long, One must not be a slacker in the sack. Just a little instruction, and ... who knows?'
"Ryan, did I say something wrong?"
Ryan could feel a blush forming again and fought it. "Not at all. I'm just trying to figure this out. You've never had sex. I've never had sex with a guy. This could be tricky."
Number 55 was smiling broadly, clearly pleased. 'Oh Christ, Ryan. You sound like you're actually considering this. Shut up before he gets his hopes up.'
"My programming indicates that some sexual play is universal, regardless of gender."
Distracted, Ryan muttered, "Well, sure. Kissing and stuff, yeah."
"Is kissing as good as a chocolate milkshake?"
Ryan laughed. He couldn't help it. Number 55 was smart, although he did his best to look guileless and completely innocent. And damn it, he was buying what Number 55 was selling. Those huge green eyes were looking expectantly at Ryan. "Decide for yourself," Ryan muttered as he put his hand on 55's neck, steadying the android's chin with his thumb.
Staring into eyes so like his own for a long, tension-filled moment, Ryan knew that there was no turning back now. Leaning forward, Simms pressed his lips to 55's gently.
Number 55 must not have thought he'd do it, because the android had flinched backward slightly and froze.
"Relax," Ryan whispered against 55's lips, and then took his own advice. When 55 did, Ryan decided to go about this like he would've with Rachel, only with a little more pressure. Opening his mouth, Ryan coaxed 55 to follow suit. When he did, Ryan slid his tongue into 55's mouth and explored.
When Ryan pulled back, 55 whimpered in dismay. Smiling, Simms asked, "Well, where are we on 55's list of favorite things?"
Finally, in Ryan's view, it was time for 55 to be stunned. "At the very top, Ryan Simms."
Ryan sighed, but he was still grinning. He'd break 55 of the full name habit if it were the last thing he did.
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Oh man, One was good, really good. Top, bottom, or sideways with whipped cream, One knew every trick in the book. Ricky lay wasted in the ruins of his bed and studied the ceiling. One probably didn't need to rest, but he seemed quite willing just to hang around and cuddle for a while. Ricky looked over at the android and asked, "Sorry, I can't make love as your kind does. Missing some connections."
One nodded and said, "That is not required. My skin and parts are quite sensitive and I am programmed to experience pleasure just as a human does. You are excellent at this art, Ricky, as inventive and considerate as a Mac 27."
"Well, thanks" Ricky said. He grinned again until his stomach rumbled. Oh yeah, food. He mentally reviewed his "To Do" list.
Cancel Checks
Cancel Credit Cards
Have Shower
Get Laid
Check, check, check, check.
Oh, oh, something missing besides feeding his guests! He reached for his phone and punched the memory button for Walter Skinner.
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"Skinner," he answered, almost afraid of whom might be calling him.
Ricky's voice came through loud and clear, "Hey, Walter, what are you wearing?"
Skinner said, "Where in the hell are you? I've been running all over hell and gone with Mulder under the guidance of some very strange man who looks exactly like you and is wearing a pair of shit-brown coveralls. Now Mulder is acting very strangely...I mean even more so than usual and we have picked up yet another look-a-like. Only this one laid Mulder flat on his ass and has muscles like he was born and raised in a gym."
Ricky said, "Sounds as if your day has been as bad as mine. So far, I have been arrested, strip-searched, been manhandled by Brunhilda, kidnapped and groped by two men in black, been in a car crash, and had to hitchhike home. Plus some pickpocket took my wallet! But I'm home now. Hey, ask your man in the coveralls what number he is. Tell him One wants to know."
There was a brief silence, and then Skinner came back onto the phone. He said, "His number is 902. What the hell does that mean?"
Ricky nodded thoughtfully and said, "Tell 902 that One is here and see what he wants to do. I have to grab a shower and get some food for some guests and myself. I'll order extra in case you show up with your party. Something wild is going on."
Skinner turned the car around and headed for Ricky's place. No need to explain to anyone just how he knew where Caruso lived. He clenched his teeth and concentrated on the road.
He parked somewhat haphazardly and climbed out in front of Caruso's building. Impatiently, he watched as Mulder and two look-a-likes did the same followed by a third that came around the car.
"Come on, come on," he demanded. "Let's get inside before we run into any more of these ... " he waved a hand at the three Ricky duplicates, "these ... whatever they are." Christ-on-a-crutch - *three* of them ... and Ricky ... and ... Shit, I am not looking forward to this.
Skinner walked into the apartment building fighting an increasing feeling of dread. He kept a close eye on Mulder all the while, expecting the man would do some god-awful thing just because that was what Mulder did. And the Mulder he'd been seeing tonight ...
Fuck! Maybe there were several Mulder's running around too.
Skinner felt a migraine coming on at the very thought.
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Ricky turned to One as he hung up the phone and said, "Number 902 is with Walter, Mulder, and maybe another android or clone. I forgot to have them ask if the other look-a-like has a number or a name."
"902 is very intelligent, a good operative for us." One said.
Ricky said, "You better tell me why everyone is after your buns."
One frowned and said, "They wish to capture the whole organism, not just our posteriors."
Ricky groaned. The androids could go from seeming completely human to being browser-like in their obtuseness in a moment. He said, "Yeah, yeah, it was a figure of speech. Now, who is after you?"
One said, "The makers were at first. We were being recalled after they found out that we were different. They had just collected the last of us from their owners...from people who threw away the recall notice like 55's owners or people who hid their Mac 27s such as Anne with Romeo and Jules. Those of us who escaped were recaptured for the most part. However, something new is happening. The collectors talk in front of us as if we were dishwashers. They spoke of a man who wanted to buy all of us and did not mind that we were sentient. Ricky, I sense that the man who wishes to own us is more to be feared than even the makers."
Ricky shivered at this. He felt a lot like cocky, but innocent Officer Caruso. This was the kind of thing that called for the master of deceit and covert operations. Where in the hell was Alex Krycek? Ricky punched the next button on his phone and waited for the richly vibrant tones of Mama Rosa Chan to answer.
"Mama Rosa's Italian and Chinese Home Kitchen" answered the restaurant.
"Mama, how's my best girl?" Ricky replied.
"Wondering where you have been. I know you don't eat right when I don't feed you. Tell me the truth, I bet all you ate today was fast food." Mama nagged.
Ricky promptly confessed, "That's all too right. Hey, I need food for about eight people. Lasagna, angel hair pasta with chicken and peppers, fried rice, almond chicken, barbecue pork, beef with broccoli, peapod chicken-mushroom, a case of beer and a six pack of soda, a dozen chocolate biscotti and cantucci, and a nice big tiramisu."
Mama Rosa said, "A boy like you needs more vegetables. I'll add a nice relish tray, some antipasto, and a couple of jugs of the house wines to build up your blood. But don't think this excuses you from visiting tomorrow."
Ricky said, "Never. Thank you, Mama."
Mama snorted and said, "You don't fool me, Ricky Caruso. I know you are not such a nice boy, but so pretty and sweet anyway. Stay out of trouble."
Ricky chuckled as he hung up the phone. Why did people always act as if he went looking for trouble? Who needed to look? It found him just fine without so much as a come hither glance.
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'What's that? The bedroom door opening. Finally! Sorry, 55, time for a little distance. What the hell is Caruso grinning at? He and One were in there for well over an hour doing who knows what and Ricky has the nerve to come out here and smirk at us like we've been doing something wrong?' Groaning inwardly at the miffed look on Number 55's face, Ryan conducted a little mental monologue to settle himself. You can take the smug superiority and shove it up your ass, Caruso. Oh, wait. Little sensitive there, right now. Sorry. Let me rephrase. Leave us the hell alone. He hated that little voice in the back of his mind, but Ryan couldn't ignore it. What? Us? 55's an android. A male android. What's with us? Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Damn, what's Caruso going on about now?
Hmm, Ryan jetted away from 55 like a cat caught licking the butter. Ricky noted that the android managed a look of petulance quite well. As for Ryan Simms, his face wore a pinkish blush, his lips were kiss-red, and he had that self absorbed little scowl that Ricky knew from his own face and from Alex's. Well, well, well, how you going to keep them down on the farm once they've seen gay DC?
Ricky said, "Everyone get comfortable. We are going to have company. The Assistant Director of the FBI, Special Agent Mulder, Mac 27 Number 902, and a mysterious stranger. But more importantly we are going to have a feast."
FBI agents? Ricky's called in the cavalry. Damn, I didn't know Ricky knew the cavalry. Did he mention that before?' Before? Oh, you mean when you were preoccupied with 55. That damn little voice was annoying as shit. Didn't I tell you to shut up? Caruso must've given the phone a work out between orgasms.
Number 55 licked his lips and moved closer to Ryan Simms. He asked, "Will we have chocolate milkshakes?"
55 has a milkshake fixation. It's your fault, Ryan. The little voice was back. I don't think that's what he's fixated--I am not discussing this with you.
Ricky noted the movement. He hoped the poor android was not going to be left pining with unrequited love. He smiled at Number 55 and said, "Just for you, I ordered tiramisu. Tiramisu is better than a chocolate milkshake."
'Oh no! He's promising 55 more sugar. That can't be good. It just can't. And when the hell had 55 moved back beside him? Pay attention, Simms. This is getting out of hand.'
Number 55 shook his head a little and said, "Chocolate milkshakes are almost as good as kissing. I will eat tiramisu if Ryan Simms says it is good."
Ryan looked away from 55, blushing furiously. There was only one place that the fresh from the farm 55 could have gotten that comparative information. But it was just a kiss. One pretty incredible kiss, but that's it.] If Ryan had believed in God, he would've prayed for the little voice to remain silent. He didn't and it didn't either. [Evidently, it meant a whole lot to 55.
Ricky grinned at that. Yes, 55 had a bad case of puppy love. Ricky said, "I am sure that Ryan will agree." Ricky turned to Ryan and asked, "You have had tiramisu before haven't you? It's considered an aphrodisiac in some quarters."
'Caruso's grinning again. Will this never end?'
"Yeah, I've had it," Ryan growled at Ricky, determinedly not looking at him. Unable to see a way around it, he muttered, "It's pretty good, 55."
Number 55 announced, "I will eat it then, Ryan Simms. And I will note its properties as you suggest, Ricky Caruso."
"Better save room for dessert, Ryan," Ricky advised.
Ryan had never been so glad to hear a doorbell ring in his life. It was one thing to admit to yourself that you'd lost control of a situation. It was something else to have everyone around you know it. Ricky's laughter, as he moved away, evidenced just how aware Caruso was.
A gentle hand on his shoulder interrupted his thoughts. "What is the matter, Ryan Simms? Do you not want to eat tiramisu?" When Ryan didn't reply, 55 tentatively ventured, "Should I not eat tiramisu?"
"Eat whatever you want, 55. There's nothing wrong with tiramisu." Seeing the fear in the android's eyes, Ryan added, "Or with you. It's just ... I'm just ...I don't know."
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Skinner frowned at Ricky when he opened the door. He knew that satisfied look all too well. Pushing past Caruso, he walked into the living room. Holy shit! More of them He glared at the room in general. How the hell many of them are there?
As Skinner stomped off through the front door, Fox turned back to gather up his two charges. Baines was looking blank, and moved only when Fox took his arm and urged him onwards. Tin Man had obtained a comb from somewhere and was preening himself in the wing-mirror of the car, muttering about needing to look his best before he had to face 'One'. As for the third clone... Fox jumped, startled. Third clone? THIRD clone?? Where had he come from? There had only been two in the car.
"Er, hello?" he said tentatively. "Were you waiting for us?"
"Grabbed a ride on the roof," said the other, who, apart from his battered hat and large bullwhip, was dressed exactly like Tin Man. "How d'you do?" he continued, shaking Fox's hand vigorously. "Number 144 here, but you can call me Gross." Fox closed his eyes and groaned. Gross snickered. "Joined you a while back. Didn't you hear me land on the roof? Guess ol' 902 was pontificatin'."
Another android! Another android! Mulder was almost beside himself with excitement, and was screaming inside Fox's brain. Grab one of them Foxy, and get over to the Gunmen's. I want to take one to bits and find out how they work.
No way, Spooky. That can wait. I want to know what's going on - we're going inside.
But Ricky's in there, squeaked Mulder desperately.
Tough, answered Fox, and turning to Gross he gave a beaming smile and asked, "What would you do if I blew in your ear?"
Gross lifted an elegant eyebrow, and taking Fox in a tight embrace, kissed him long and hard and deep.
"Excellent," gasped Fox, when he was finally released.
Tin Man stared at them both haughtily, and made a snorting noise. "Gross by name and Gross by nature," he snapped, reminding Fox forcibly of Scully. "Can we get on?"
Fox and the others caught up with Skinner just after he entered the first floor apartment. He looked at the man holding the door questioningly. "Ricky?" he asked, unsure now of whom anyone was.
Ricky's strangled, "Fox," carried to the living room and made Ryan smile. He didn't know what had distressed Caruso, but Ryan was grateful for it, whatever it was. It made him feel a little better.
Frowning, Skinner studied the stunned look on Ricky's face. So, he *did* know Mulder ... but, Fox? No one called Mulder by his first name. No one. "What the hell is going on?" He asked the room at large.
Fox and his companions traipsed into the living room and looked around at all the Alexes.
"Wow," said Fox in awed tones, "It must be my birthday."
Ricky noticed Walter looking at him with his badger-face. The one that said, bad boys need a spanking. On the other hand, Fox seemed very happy to see him after deliberately avoiding him since Ricky started in domestic terrorism two months ago.
Ricky shrugged. Jealous Walter was not his problem. He'd never pretended to make more of the relationship than it was. Hey, he wasn't ready to settle down unless it was with a harem of partners. Ricky let his eyes meet Walter's big brown ones. He partially veiled his eyes, looked back, and then let his gaze flicker up and down Walter's body. Ah, much better, that always made Walter all hot and bothered. Sure it was like waving a red flag at a bull, but Ricky liked a little danger.
Skinner looked around in disbelief. Where in the hell had all of these ... what the hell were these guys? Knowing Ricky and Krycek and accepting their twin-ness had been difficult enough, this, though ... He shifted uncomfortably under Ricky's sultry glance and tried to ignore his own reaction.
A tinny sounding recording of a Chinese Opera rendered from Madame Rosa's delivery van; which was meandering toward them came through the open door. Ricky's stomach was inspired to answer back with a passionate love song of its own.
Thinking swiftly, Ricky pulled the two new Mac 27s inside. He was already to the point where he knew the androids on sight.
Ricky hesitated at the third look-a-like and then grinned. Not an android, a clone! He patted the bewildered man and said, "Don't look so worried, brother. Very few things in life get worse over good food. Come here. Help me get this."
With a come hither toss of his head at Walter and Fox, Ricky made for the van; which had just now double-parked. Madame Rosa's delivery boy was none other than her eighteen-year-old son, Angelo Chan. The teenager was very used to seeing more than one Ricky so the new double was not even worth a momentary pause in his gum chewing.
One hundred and fifty dollars plus a tip later, Ricky struggled in the door with his share of the substantial meal. He interrupted what appeared to be a war council between One, wearing a set of his own clothing and an air of authority, the android who appeared to be raider of the lost wardrobe of Indiana Jones, and the drably clad Mac 27 with the serious mien. Number 55 wasn't in on the conference. He was still clinging to Ryan Simms with a territorial air.
Walter growled as he set down the case of beer, "I had to leave the quarterly budget report on my desk to try to bail you out."
Ricky shrugged and poked around to find the tiramisu. With a crow of triumph, he found the large pink box and set it aside. He couldn't wait to see what the androids thought of this treat. Hearing Walter's wordless grumble, Ricky said, "Well, next time that I get arrested, kidnapped, mistaken for a sentient robot, and in a car wreck, I'll call ahead for your schedule."
Smart ass," Skinner growled. He leaned against the wall and watched as Caruso opened more and more containers of food. It looked like enough to feed an army. //Hell, Walt ... this is an army// He rubbed at his temples. The whole damn thing was giving him a massive headache.
Ricky continued to open containers and set them on the counter that ran nearly the length of his kitchen. He certainly didn't have table space for more than two. Oh well, his couch and chairs had seen worse things than this meal. Oh, here was the barbecued pork. He captured a piece just as Walter was opening his mouth to reply. The succulent bit nicely silenced any response. Ricky studied the room and said, "Come and get it. As Mama Rosa says, an army runs on its stomach."
Ricky noticed the way the new clone had studied all the exits and now had stationed himself near the door as if ready to bolt. It reminded him of the few occasions he had seen Alex psyching himself up to work. Like watching a panther switch from an overgrown napping kitty to a stalking death machine. He wondered what this one did for a living?
Ricky met the clone's eyes in a direct and open challenge. "If you're anything like the rest of us...we clones, you won't be able to leave with this mystery unsolved. Are you going to bail out that door or pull up a plate and see what you can learn about this very interesting situation?"
The man still looked undecided.
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