Work Text:
While he’d never aspired to be Bunky Bear the role came surprisingly easy to him. Dancing up and down the side-walk in front of Bunky’s Burger Bar in a blue and yellow bear costume, Murdock was a delight to children and adults alike. Yes, it was hotter than Satan's pizza oven inside the suit, and he was sweating like a polar bear giving a commencement speech, but Face paid money to sit in saunas to do that, and here he was getting the same experience for free. Though part of him suspected Face only did that because it was the only place he felt truly warm. Wait, why wasn’t Face in the bear costume?
Then someone tackled him over.
While the suit cushioned the blow it wasn’t made for fighting in. He could only bat ineffectively as he was lifted off the ground, presumably by a group, and shoved into the back of a van.
Then someone yanked his head off.
He’d seen the goon before when they’d come to shake down Bunky’s Burger Bar, a wiry, weaselly ‘get ‘em boss!’ type with a pencil moustache and a chip on his shoulder. He tossed the Bunky head to another guy sitting in the van, then pointed a finger uncomfortably close to Murdock’s nose.
“Listen up, ‘Bunky’,” the goon said, scowling, “When Mr Francisco says sell, you sell.”
“Hey man, I’m just a teddy bear,” Murdock protested innocently, “I don’t know who any of you guys are!”
The van came to a stop and Murdock was bundled out.
“Take the suit,” the goon told the others, watching smugly as Murdock was manhandled out of the costume and left in his Spider-Man shorts and contrite expression.
“Don’t come into work tomorrow, or ever,” the goon added as he got back into the van.
Murdock watched them drive away.
There were worse things than being left at the side of the road with only your dignity, better things, too, far, far better things, but far worse things as well.
“Well,” Murdock put his fists on his hips, staring after the van, “this is another fine mess you’ve gotten me into.”
At least he was cooler now. He started walking back along the road towards Bunky’s, fortunately the kidnappers – or wait, were they kidnappers if they only stole your mascot costume? Thieves, scoundrels, Bunky bandits – had driven in a mostly straight line. It’d be a long walk but it was a nice day, and maybe he could get some help along the way.
____
The lady behind the counter at the clothes store stared at him, wide eyes, mouth slightly open. She smiled reassuringly into her shock.
“I just got robbed and I need to use the tele-”
She shrieked, throwing up her hands and running through the door behind her. Murdock rolled his eyes and sighed.
“They’re clean!” He called after her, about to turn around when she came running back out, still shrieking, and carrying a broom.
“Woah!” Murdock turned heel and ran, bursting back out into the street as she chased him,
She was surprisingly fast for an older lady wielding a broom like a cudgel.
He sprinted across a junction just as the lights turned, cars honking at him as he ran in front of them. He ducked down a side street, slowing down, and risked peeking around the corner. He saw the woman stop, stand at the junction a moment, then turn around and leave.
Letting out a breath Murdock turned, and found another woman in chef whites leaning by an open doorway, smoking while she watched him curiously.
“There are some crazy people in this city!” Murdock shook his head, gesturing behind him. “I only asked to use the telephone. I don’t suppose I can use yours?”
The woman continued to watch him silently.
“No?” Murdock sighed, “how about a spare pair of nine and a halfs?” He gestured down to his bare feet.
The woman dropped her cigarette and crushed it, then went back inside, closing the door behind her.
“Well, nice talking to you.” Murdock half waved and let his hand drop, turning back to the road. “Face would’ve had a butler by now.”
He heard the door open again and he turned, just in time to see a worn pair of flip-flops get tossed out onto the sidewalk and the door close. Murdock blinked at them, then at the closed door, and smiled. He walked over, sliding the sandals on. They weren’t his usual style, but at least they fit.
“Huh.” He smiled gratefully at the closed door. “Thank you!” He called, but there was no answer. He jogged down to the other end of the street, the flip-flops pattering against his heels, and peered around the wall to get the name of the restaurant. He didn’t go in, no need to make it weird. He made a mental note to bring the guys, or at least Face, and to leave a robust tip.
“Walk a mile in my shoes…” Murdock sing-hummed as he walked, ignoring the looks he was getting. All he needed was a public telephone and one collect call and he’d be picked up by either BA with the most embarrassed scowl he could muster or Face barely containing laughter. There was an outside chance it would be Hannibal who would act like this was the kind of thing that happened all the time.
At least he could work on his tan.
_____
Bunky Bear had been strung upside-down from a light pole outside the burger bar, his head on the ground beneath him, with the words ‘get out!’ spray-painted across his tummy.
Hannibal grimaced, tutting. “Sick bastards.”
“It does seem a little much,” Face agreed, gazing up at the costume.
“Where the hell’s Murdock?” BA asked.
“Good question.” Hannibal said, still frowning up at Bunky, “Lieutenant?”
Face looked across at him.
“Go check out Frank’s place, make sure they’re not holding him there.”
Face turned and walked away without answering, his destination implied.
“Let’s get poor Bunky down, huh?” Hannibal said, glancing at BA.
BA nodded and pulled a folding utility knife out of his pocket, crossing over to the rope holding Bunky in the air that was tied around the bottom of the pole. He cut the rope and the costume fell into a heap on the ground.
“BA, have a little respect,” Hannibal said reprovingly.
BA shot him a look, picked Bunky’s head off the ground, and tossed it to Hannibal, then he gathered the costume up and carried it inside the restaurant.
_____
A gaggle of women having coffee outside a cafe wolf-whistled Murdock as he passed. He gave a little turn with a wiggle and they whooped and cheered before breaking into raucous giggles. A server was standing in the doorway, watching him like a hawk, but Murdock kept going. He saw a telephone booth up ahead, glinting in the sunshine like a little glass beacon. He smiled to himself, hardly any of a day wasted. He wondered, idly, what happened to Bunky. He imagined a box arriving at the burger bar, a big fur-covered foam ear inside, and the guys wavering between serious concern for his, Murdock’s, well-being and uproarious laughter.
Poor Bunky, so carefree and innocent. He didn’t deserve to be bear-knapped just because some people misunderstood the term ‘hostile takeover’. Frank, properly Franklin R. Francisco, of Frank’s Franks and Dogs, thought that he could corner the market on small town fast food by pushing out Bunky. Murdock wondered if he was going to try to strong-arm the Kentucky Fried Chicken next, or, god help him, the McDonald’s in the mall a town over. Ronald McDonald was a stone cold killer, you could see it in his eyes. There was a reason they had the fast food business by the McNuggets.
Then again, the Colonel was no slouch either, he’d probably seen service somewhere too. He’d come in at night and have you battered and deep fried before you could count to 11 secret herbs and spices.
Bunky rested in that comfortable zone of the fast food joint that had been in town forever, that had a good reputation and people had been going there for years. Frank’s had opened a year ago and had only garnered rumours they used real dogs in their franks and dogs.
What Frank really needed was business advice. Murdock had some ideas. For instance, instead of hiring thugs to run out the competition, hire some cleaners. Instead of wasting time kidnapping mascots, make food people actually wanted to eat. It was a hot dog place, the bar wasn’t exactly high, how did you mess up selling hot dogs? Murdock thought he, who had once put toothpaste and anchovies on a hot dog, could probably set up a fairly prosperous hot dog place tomorrow, if he got Face involved they could be a franchise by the end of the week. Even Hannibal could successfully cook and assemble a hot dog and that was really saying something. BA made Chicago style hot dogs because of course he did, but even they would sell like hot – well – sausages.
Secretly Murdock liked Chicago style hot dogs, but it was more fun to pretend he didn’t.
The phone booth was in range. A few more yards and he’d be home free. All things considered, not one of the worst kidnappings he’d ever participated in.
A patrol car slowed to a stop beside him and a cop got out.
Murdock was confident that Face would’ve been able to bluff his way out of a trip to the station, even in his underwear and flip-flops. He himself not so much. He stopped when the cop called out to him, looked over his shoulder, then broke into a sprint.
The cop, stupidly, ran after him instead of just getting back into the patrol car and following him in it. Murdock blew past the phone booth with a grunt of frustration, the cop yelling for him to stop. He could stop, of course, and they’d check him out and find out he was literally an escaped mental patient, or he could run.
Was it possible to run in flip-flops? Yes. Was it easy? No.
These ones, however, powered by old foot sweat and mental fortitude, admirably stayed on, even though the slap-slap-slap of them against the pavement was a little off-putting.
Murdock took a corner at speed, barrelling down a short street to another corner and turned again, glancing back as he did so to see the cop flagging. Really was this what he paid his taxes for, a guy who couldn’t run a couple of blocks without getting winded? He was pretty sure he paid taxes, anyway. For the guy on the team who was the only one legally allowed to own anything, at least anything he could access without every law enforcement agency flag going up, he ended up legally owning quite a lot. Murdock was a surprisingly wealthy man, although most of it was held in trust and cared for by his own personal accountant, an old family friend who was suspiciously handsome and very rarely in his office.
Up ahead a guy was trying to take an old lady’s purse.
Still at full speed Murdock shoulder-checked him into a wall, grabbed the purse and, with a spin, tossed it back to the stunned woman with a salute and sprinted off again.
He heard her shout for the cop, and glanced over his shoulder to see the cop slowing to a halt by the dazed mugger.
All in a day’s work for Half-Naked Man, defender of the innocent.
The cops would be looking for him now, though.
It was fine, everything was fine. He just needed to get back to the burger place, hide behind one or all of his team and he’d be fine. He kept going for a little while, turning down a narrow side street, slowing to catch his breath.
“I’m never letting Hannibal give me shit about my fitness again,” he panted.
____
Face returned from his scouting mission half dragging the weaselly goon by the back of his shirt like a naughty schoolboy. Hannibal and BA, who had been discussing their next move, turned to him quizzically.
Face shoved the goon so hard he toppled forward to the floor, then Face planted his foot between his shoulder blades, stopping him from getting up again.
“This is Tony,” Face said cheerfully, looking down at the goon, “say hello, Tony.”
Tony made a sound like the air slowly being let out of a balloon.
“That’s one of Frank’s guys, isn’t it?” Hannibal asked, tilting his head as gave Tony a little wave.
“Tony didn’t want to tell me what happened to Murdock,” Face said with a condescending sigh directed at the back of Tony’s head.
“Oh Tony,” Hannibal crouched down, frowning in mock disappointment, “that’s not buddies.”
“Go- go to hell,” Tony ground out, only for Face to press down slightly with his foot, making Tony cough.
“Rude little bastard, isn’t he?” Hannibal stood up, tutting. He sighed, “well if he’s not going to talk…” he turned to BA, “ok, kill him.”
Face removed his foot from Tony’s back only for BA to drag him to his feet.
“Woah!” Tony yelped, cringing behind his hands, “we didn't do anything to him, I swear! I swear!”
“Hold on BA,” Hannibal said, even though BA wasn’t actually doing anything but holding him, “seems like Tony changed his mind.”
“We just took the suit and left him, I swear to god!” Tony was deathly pale, “we told him not to turn up for work tomorrow, that’s all!”
“Where’d you leave him?” Hannibal asked.
“I dunno, at the other end of town. I think it was around Millford street.” Tony whimpered, “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, but he was fine, I promise!”
Hannibal nodded, patting Tony gently on the shoulder. “There, don’t you feel better now you’ve come clean?”
BA let go of Tony and he stumbled back, lightly bumping into Face. He flinched away and Face cast him a beatific smile.
“Go tell Frank he’s made a big mistake,” Hannibal said, “and we’ll be seeing him real soon.”
Tony nodded strenuously as he backed away, then, having built up enough distance, turned heel and fled.
“Huh.” Hannibal smiled, “well at least we know Murdock's ok.”
“I’ll take a drive around, see if I can see him,” Face said.
“Me too,” BA said.
“You better stay here,” Hannibal told BA, “Murdock’s probably already halfway back by now, or he’ll call any minute, and we don’t know when Frank and his buddies will come around.”
_____
Halfway down the street the side of the building gave way to a parking lot surrounded by a chain link fence. Murdock would hardly have noticed if not for the sudden appearance of a little dachshund running up and launching itself at the fence in a flurry of angry barks and growls. Murdock yelped, flinching almost into the road, then huffed, glaring at the little dog.
“You almost gave me a heart attack, you angry little fleabag!” Murdock snapped, then growled and barked back.
The dog responded by running in a circle to launch itself back at the fence.
“You’re a cute little guy but you’ve got a hell of a temper,” Murdock admonished, “I’m gonna call you BA. Bark Attitude.” He started off again towards the end of the street, the little dog followed him on the other side of the fence, barking the whole way.
“Yeah yeah yeah,” Murdock sighed, “keep away from me, naked weirdo, I get it. I’ll have you know these Underoos were clean on this morning.”
He liked dogs, especially cute little dogs, and big fluffy dogs, and regular medium dogs, and dogs that weren’t even dogs, like cats and bunnies and fish. But dogs, like people, came in all different flavours. Some of them were mean and bitey, even if it wasn’t really their fault, and some dogs, and some people, were perfect.
“Captain, can I ask you a dumb question?” Face had asked while polishing his boots, in that little sliver of time when he’d only been Templeton on the inside, and before Murdock even knew that.
“Course, I love dumb questions,” Murdock had replied.
“It’s about Billy.”
Foolishly Murdock had been suspicious. “Yeah?”
“Is ‘invisible’ Billy’s breed, or his colour?”
Murdock had been blind-sided, and stared at the kid for a bit too long before his brain started forming an answer.
“If Billy was only invisible-coloured you’d still be able to see his eyes,” BA had replied in a rare off guard moment that he, from the time immediately afterwards to the present day, insisted never happened.
He came to the end of the road and the chain link fence, the little dachshund pressing its muzzle into the corner as it tried to bite its way through.
“Oh give it up,” Murdock told it, “you’re gonna hurt yourself trying to-”
Suddenly the rusted corner of the fence gave out, forced out by the little dog’s efforts and letting it wiggle through.
“Oh shit!” Murdock yelped, turning and running as the dog was suddenly at his heels.
If the little animal hadn’t been trying to savage his ankles it might have been adorable, bounding after him, big floppy ears bouncing with every step. At least the dog would tire soon, probably, he’d already been barking a lot, he had to be getting barked out sooner or later. A single dachshund couldn’t be that much trouble.
He thought he heard another bark.
Sure enough a quick glance over his shoulder revealed a rat terrier had joined the chase, trailing a lead behind it. He could also hear someone shouting in the distance.
“Oh for-” Murdock panted, trying to pick up speed. Two small dogs and him without boots or pants.
Then a Labrador bounded past, not barking, just running beside him while furiously wagging its tail.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, buddy,” Murdock took a sharp right behind a building, down the back alleyway, and scrambled up the wall separating it from the street over. He landed heavily on the other side, startling a guy walking along the street on the other side, the sound of raucous barking behind the wall.
Murdock lent back against the bricks, chest heaving, then looked down at the flip-flops still stubbornly on his feet.
“I’m going to marry that woman,” he said, then addressed each sandal individually, “you I name Alexander Flip, and you I name Nigel Flop.” He lent his head back against the wall, gazing up at the sky, “together we are unstoppable.”
______
Murdock walked again, turning back onto the main road, the one that would lead him back to Bunky’s Burger Bar in the shortest amount of time. His limbs were beginning to feel like jelly, and he was hungry, and he was starting to get annoyed at Frank Francisco of Frank’s Franks and Dogs for putting him through all this. They’d only wanted the costume! Just take it in front of the burger bar, why did they have to drive him out to the other side of town? By the time Murdock was done with him the franks and dogs would have real Frank in them.
The Corvette was waiting at the crossing up ahead.
Face’s Corvette.
An old couple were crossing the road, and Face’s Corvette was sitting, waiting.
Murdock could’ve cried with joy. Face was probably driving around looking for him, and there he was, right there. He broke into a run, waiving, his legs protesting since they’d had the opportunity to cool down.
The old couple were getting to the other side, the Corvette’s parking lights turned off.
“No, come on,” Murdock tried to focus his vibes towards Face, “c’mon buddy…”
A cop car came down the other side of the road and the Corvette was already pulling away. Murdock whimpered unhappily, forced to duck between the sidewalk displays of a nearby store.
He could only watch helplessly as the Corvette drove away, and he had to duck in further behind a tower of sunglasses as the cop car drove past.
“Ugh!” Murdock sighed.
“Hey!” The shopkeeper came out to their doorway, “get out of here you weirdo.”
Murdock spun on him with a scowl, lifted his chin and declared haughtily, “as if I would debase myself purchasing any of this… rubbish.” He flicked a dismissive hand towards the sunglasses and stalked off, the shopkeeper frowning after him.
_____
This whole business was getting old, fast. He was at least about two thirds of the way back to the burger place and having serious thoughts about stopping at Frank’s Franks and Dogs and setting the whole place on fire. He wondered what they did with the Bunky costume. He wondered why they had to drop him at the other end of the god damn town.
He wondered if those dogs got home ok.
Once, when he was younger, he’d taken the family dog out for a walk and it slipped its leash and ran off almost immediately. Fraught with panic, young Murdock had scoured the land around, calling for the dog, pleading with it, threatening it, apologising. He’d searched for hours, returning home distraught, only to find the dog had just run straight home and was lying on its bed, presumably giggling to itself in canine.
He loved that stupid dog.
Would a dog-themed hot dog place work, or would people become suspicious? Not that the hot dogs would have any dog in them, but perhaps people would think they protested too much.
He’d only put the toothpaste on the hot dog because there wasn’t any mustard. He didn’t crave toothpaste, though one of the guys who lived down the hall from him did. Toothpaste and pencils, those were the things he was always trying to eat and the nurses were always trying to stop him from eating. Pretty nice guy though, great teeth.
The anchovies were to cover the taste of the toothpaste. Mint on a hot dog? He was crazy but he wasn’t insane.
Face liked anchovies. He liked most things, he was a surprisingly unfussy eater, or maybe not surprisingly at all, considering the trajectory of his life. BA was fussy about everything. Liked order, and logic, and pizzas that were actually soup bowls, which wasn’t logic in any reality, and had violently rejected Murdock’s creation by crushing the hot dog in his hand and tossing it out a window.
Probably for the best, on reflection, there was likely a reason the nurses were trying to stop his fellow patients eating toothpaste, though honestly he could eat anything. Right now he’d even eat one of Frank’s franks or dogs, and the box it came in, and the napkin. Though actually the box and the napkin might be better than actually trying to eat the food.
Hannibal liked everything. Murdock had once witnessed him eat an entire rotisserie chicken. It had been like watching a lion eating an antelope on the dinner table. Awful, in the old-school meaning of the word, like a medieval cathedral, or Niagara Falls, the kind of thing that sent a shiver up your spine. Sometimes it was difficult to believe he was human.
Hannibal did not eat one of Franks franks or dogs, or even the onion rings, which was the most damning condemnation he could think of. They’d gone for some light reconnaissance, he and Hannibal, and both decided they didn’t even need to set foot on the premises. They’d returned with three Family Buckets, sparing them the Colonel’s wrathful gaze just a little longer, and surprised and delighted their friends with food you could actually eat.
It was also nice to have a break from Bunky’s dinners. A man could not live on ‘burgs alone, though Bunky’s were pretty good ‘burgs. Sometimes they arrived to save a business that was clearly not going to survive long anyway. Their job wasn’t really saving the business anyway, it was making bullies regret their decisions. Murdock had quite a lot of investments in small businesses, apparently, as recommended to him by his accountant, through a small investment management service with an innocuous name like ‘Smith Holdings LLC’. A difficult name to remember, when pressed, he let the accountant handle that kind of thing. His accountant? Oh he was out of town, maybe, somewhere, who could say? Murdock was locked up in a hospital after all, how would he know about what his accountant got up to when he wasn’t maximising Murdock’s ROI. All he was worried about was his taxes getting paid on time and a getting little extra spending money to buy comic books.
The funny thing was BA was always side-eyeing Face about the money when in fact Murdock was the one who could royally screw them over.
Face tried to help all these little businesses, in that carefully casual way of his, if he saw something that was going to kill it stone dead quicker than any amount of thugs with guns, but people were stubborn. Of course we need a hotel in this one horse town, look, there’s the horse now, and surely he needs a place to sleep.
All the small business Murdock was invested in were family-run, and the profits were largely re-invested, and nearly all the investments were short term, no more than a couple of years. One might ask why he was invested in any of them since he really didn’t make any money out of it, and firstly, he was a philanthropist, and second you should really direct these questions to his accountant. Oh, he’s not answering the phone? Well he’s probably off doing numbers somewhere, what did he look like, his mother?
_____
Bunky’s was in sight. Like an oasis in the desert it called him forward, promising Frosties and sweet, juicy hamburgers with all the trimmings. And his pants, which he missed dearly. He broke into a jog, deliriously happy, though maybe that was heat stroke or at least dehydration.
Then he heard car doors slamming closed, and the distinct ‘hey!’ of a cop.
He looked over his shoulder, sure enough two of them were closing on him.
He broke into a sprint.
He careened through the front doors of the restaurant, vaulted the counter, and crouched low by a startled Face, who was wearing a Bunky uniform for some reason. Murdock couldn’t speak, too breathless from the sudden sprint to the finish, and all but collapsed against Face’s legs, hugging them for safety.
Before Face could even ask, the two cops came in.
“Hey there,” Face broke into a full beam smile, the kind best used to dazzle, “what can I get you? Coffee’s always free for officers of the law,” he added.
The first cop hesitated, clearly considering it, and the second one shoved him lightly in the back.
“We’re looking for the guy who just ran in here,” the second cop said, casting a gaze over the nearly empty restaurant and back to Face.
“A guy?” Face frowned, the picture of innocence.
“He was naked,” the first cop said.
“A naked guy?” Face repeated as if he’d never even heard of the concept before, “uh…” he looked around as if expecting one to materialise, “I’m pretty sure no naked guys came in. I’d remember,” he added with a chuckle.
“We saw him come in here,” the first cop pressed, scowling.
“Oh, uh, I don’t doubt you, officers,” Face said, looking doubtful, “but um, are you sure? He couldn’t have run down the side of the building or something?”
The first cop’s expression lightened into a more puzzled frown. “Uh…”
“Can we look around?” The second cop asked testily, throwing a glare at his partner.
“Of course,” Face smiled.
“Check the bathroom,” The second cop told the first.
With a faint grimace, the first cop did just that.
The second cop walked over to the old man sitting by the window, who happened to be Hannibal wearing an old hat and a fake nose.
“Excuse me, sir, sorry to bother you,” the cop said, “did you see the man who just came running in here?”
Hannibal looked up from his plate, “nope.”
“You didn’t see a naked man just come bursting in here?” The cop asked incredulously.
“Nope.” Hannibal shrugged, finishing up his last onion ring, “only people I saw coming in were you two.”
The cop let out a quiet sigh, “right.” He walked away, towards where BA was sitting in a corner booth with a plate of fries and a copy of The Thorn Birds. The cop approached hesitantly, clearing his throat.
BA looked up at him with a scowl.
“Did you see a guy come running in here a minute ago?” The cop asked.
“I ain’t seen nothing,” BA said gruffly, gesturing with his book.
The cop smiled thinly, “sorry for disturbing you.” He walked back towards the bathroom just as his partner emerged.
“Nothing.” The first cop shrugged.
The second cop sighed, turning to Face, “we’d like to check out back.”
Face smiled and shrugged, “of course.”
Murdock had been judging the various cupboards under the counter to see if he could cram himself into any of them, but they all seemed too small. Maybe if he pretended to be dead the cops wouldn’t notice him.
With impeccable timing Frank Francisco, famously of Frank’s Franks and Dogs, with friends, burst in to bust up Bucky’s Burger Bar with baseball bats.
At this juncture Hannibal and BA would have sprung from their seats, Face would have taken the gun from under the counter, and the trap would close. Instead, Face just stared at the newcomers for a moment.
Then, with a smile like Frank was any other customer, Face asked, “what can I get you?”
“Alright sweetheart,” Frank said, too focussed on Face to notice things that he really should have been noticing, “we warned you and your friends to close up and ship out,” he slapped the bat threateningly against his palm, “now you’re going to get that pretty face smashed in.”
One of the three men he’d brought with him had turned towards BA, one remained at Frank’s shoulder, glaring at Face, and the last man had turned towards the bathrooms and frozen in wide-eyed shock at the two cops staring back at him. Like Jerry Lewis spotting Dracula he made a few silent facial expressions of horror before some inarticulate sounds.
“What the hell’s the matter with-” Frank turned, eyes going wide, “ah shit.”
In a move befitting his intellect, Frank hurled his bat at the cops, pushed past his friends, and ran out the door. Two of the others followed, while the third man just clutched his bat to his chest and flinched when the cops barrelled past him to chase Frank down. After a moment he turned back to Face, opened and closed his mouth, then inched his way out.
Once they were gone Hannibal pulled off his rubber nose and dropped it into the middle of his empty plate. “Huh,” he said contemplatively, watching Frank and the cops vanish into the distance.
Murdock clambered up Face’s side to stand, and Face cast him a look.
“Well done, captain,” Hannibal said, casting Murdock a smile.
“Thanks boss,” Murdock gave a sloppy salute.
“I guess that solves our little Frank problem.” Hannibal stood, carrying the plate back to the counter.
“Kind of a shame,” BA said, walking up beside Hannibal, “I was looking forward to teaching him a lesson personally.”
“At least nothing got smashed in,” Face said. He looked Murdock over. “Nice shoes.”
“Thanks,” Murdock flashed him a smile, “say guys, now that we’re all done here, I know the perfect place for dinner.”