Welcome welcome, Eagle Crow fans! How about that Penelope Bellows, eh? What a heartless backstabber! I won't take up too much of your time before we get to the story. Today, we begin at the White House. That's right, *that* White House. ------ EPISODE 6: Official Ass Shit - Even though the Carrack problem has kind of resolved itself, it seems like Eagle is in even more danger than he had been when the old man was kicking. [1600 Pennsylvania Ave., Washington, DC. Two weeks back. Garbo sits outside the Oval Office, waiting to be called inside. Sitting next in line after him is a little girl in scout uniform. Garbo looks at her disapprovingly.] Garbo: “What the hell are you meeting with the president for? Birth control for you and your Brownie friends?” [The girl’s mother gasps and covers the girl’s ears, but before she can protest the door opens and Garbo is called into the office. As he walks inside, he leaves them with parting advice.] Garbo: “You’re on your momma’s insurance, so don’t go asking for handouts. Or better yet, just keep away from boy scouts.” [He walks inside, and sees the president sitting behind the desk, a stern expression on her face.] President Thorpe: “I know I didn’t just hear that.” Garbo: “I just did you a favor, now you don’t have to listen to that girl scout beg for free morning after pills. That’s what those cookies are supposed to pay for, for Christ’s sake.” Vice President Lange: “I think it’s best if we just get right to the point as soon as we can, Madam President.” Pres. Thorpe: “Yeah, no shit. So Garbo, can I assume you’ve read the dossiers your handler provided to you?” Garbo: “Yes ma’am, front to back. Weirville, huh?” Vice President Lange: “Or as they call it there, ‘Weirdsville’. ‘Weirdsville’.” [Lange repeats it again with a chuckle, which draws a bemused glare from Garbo.] Garbo: “Yeah that’s… that’s… so, yeah, Weirville. I’ve heard about a bunch of ops going down that way recently, what’s the deal? What does it have to do with those dossiers?” Pres. Thorpe: “All the names in those dossiers are of people who are operating in Weirville that… well, they shouldn’t be operating there. They shouldn’t be operating at all. Congress is coming back from recess next week, and they’re in the mood to do some serious housecleaning. I don’t know what it is about Weirville, but with those players you read about there, there’s definitely something.” Director Shubert: “If you don’t mind me interjecting, Madam President…” [Garbo jumps at the sound of his boss’s voice behind him, and he turns around in his chair.] Garbo: “Whoa, motherfucker! I didn’t even see you! You gotta put some bells around your neck or something, man.” Shubert: “... The Agency isn’t going to risk losing some of the funds for its black budgets by letting a gang of rogue agents run around an American city with impunity. Agent Garbo, you’ve shown a talent for snooping out these kinds of rogue elements in the past. We’re going to be setting you up with a condo down there, along with a black budget of your own.” Garbo: “I promise to be more responsible with this one, sir.” Shubert: “You shouldn’t even need to tell me that. But yes, you’re going to be very responsible with it. We expect receipts. And we’re going to make sure that your handler keeps a very close eye on you throughout your time there.” Garbo: “So you need my special talents, but I still gotta get babysat. Nothing like cutting my nuts off and handing them to me in a box tied with an ugly motherfucker of a ribbon.” VP Lange: “Crass, but accurate. We’re serious, Garbo. We completely understand that the… transgressions of certain members of congress, and their decisions to unilaterally create.. antagonistic circumstances for all of us requires that you be given a long leash.” Pres. Thorpe: “But a leash no less. So, in the common tongue, Garbo, don’t be a dumb fuck.” Garbo: “Damn, I didn’t vote for you, but you say ‘fuck’ like you mean it.” VP Lange: “Okay, that will be enough of that.” Shubert: “Do you understand your mission, Garbo?” Garbo: “Is the Pope Muslim?” VP Lange: “... nnnoooooo.” Garbo: “Alright, then we’re on the same page. Leash me up, set me loose. And get that black budget set up, I’m starving. Please tell me they have fuckin’ Waffle House down in Weirville.” [Back to the present, and we see Weirville North Cemetary. Eagle approaches a grave marker that reads “Topher Key (1991 – 2014). Beloved son, beloved friend. '(Insert appropriately hipsterish song lyric here)'”. Eagle sets down a 6 pack of craft beer on the tombstone, and he sits down. Eagle: “Hey man... I'm... I'm really sorry I haven't been around too much lately. Things have been in flux, man, especially recently, but.. I know, it's no excuse. Man, things are fucked up right now, buddy, I can hardly deal with the shit that's being laid on my plate these days. Old man Carrack... he told me about the job. Man, I don't know what you were thinking, but the minute you saw Tony Lampanelli in the crew, you should have fucking headed south of the border. If you just disappeared, if you didn't tell a fucking soul... Whatever, I'm not mad, or anything.” [Eagle opens one of the beers and takes a sip.] Eagle: “Carrack is dead, though, so... that's pretty big. I don't even want to go into the details right now, I'll tell you when I'm a little less on the verge of shitting myself at the thought of it all, but that problem is over with. I mean, well... it actually has opened up a whole slew of new problems, but no more Mr. Carrack means that I can look forward to doing some of the things that I had wanted to do back before you...” Eagle: “Anyway. So.. before Mr. Carrack died, he told me why he put you on that job. Toph, man, I can't fucking blame you one bit for going to the Feds, man. That's in fact the reason things are so fucked up right now. See, there's this one Fed that has been hounding me for days, says I'm his 'pawn'. I've been trying to get out of it, but Mr. Carrack found out like right at jump, and...” [Eagle suddenly pauses, jaw agape, as he ponders a sudden thought that karate punched into his brain.] Eagle: “Oh... no.... fuck no!” [Eagle stands up, and pours the beer out onto the grave.] Eagle: “Toph, I love you man, I miss the fuck out of you, but I gotta check on something man. Fuck, if the Fed that you...” [Eagle doesn't even finish, and runs back to the SHO and burns out of the driveway and back onto the road. Cut to Garbo driving down the road, likely on the way back from Waffle House. His phone rings, and he answers it upon seeing it's Eagle calling.] Garbo: “Tony's House o' Blowjobs, Tony speaking.” Eagle: “Dude, you need to tell me something, right fucking now.” Garbo: “Oh I need to tell you something, huh? Is that how anything has worked so far?” Eagle: “Cut the shit, you need to tell me right now if you were the fucking Fed that got Topher killed.” Garbo: “Man I wouldn't work with anyone named 'Topher'. I wasn't going to work with anyone named 'Eagle' either, but your resume was too good.” Eagle: “Well then fuck you, because Topher and I were both the best fucking drivers in the whole fucking city. Did you fucking get Topher killed, you son of a bitch?!” Garbo: “Hey, skidmark, lower your god damn tone! If I were the guy responsible for it, I'd lie to you about it at this point to get you to fuck off. But no, I'm not the guy, and AS PER THE ARRANGEMENT, you have to fucking TRUST me! Comprende?” Eagle: “If I find out you're lying...” Garbo: “If you find out I'm lying then I'll shit a fucking horse and name it after you. What the fuck, Crow? You should hold off on sending that application to Gitmo, because your interrogation game is weak tea.” Eagle: “I'm coming to Waffle House.” Garbo: “Bitch I just left Waffle House!” Eagle: “Turn around!” Garbo: “Fine!” [Garbo cuts hard into traffic, sliding into the opposite lane, and heading back to his point of origin. Shortly after, Eagle arrives. He gets out of his car, looking mad as the fuck.] Garbo: “Before you say a god damn word can I get you to fucking agree that you'll calm the fuck down first?” Eagle: “Nope!” [Eagle hauls off and punches Garbo right in the face. Garbo is dazed and stumbles back as he grabs at his chin.] Garbo: “God! Fuckin'! Son of a mother! You realize you die now, right?!” Eagle: “Waffle House, asshole! Your rules!” [Eagle lunges at Garbo, trying for another punch, but Garbo is prepared for what comes now. As Eagle's fist swings wide, Garbo reaches his arm out and bends his arm to lock behind Eagle's elbow. His other hand grabs Eagle's wrist, and he wrenches the arm down – not enough power to break it, but Eagle screams like a fucking banshee and Garbo is able to get him down to the ground with little hassle.] Garbo: “Til I see your ass on the Agency email list your ass is exempt from Waffle House sanctuary! Now calm the fuck down!” [Eagle continues to struggle, and Garbo bends the arm harder, until Eagle is doubled over and screaming in pain. Meanwhile, they are approached from behind by the two agents from before. Agent 2 sips from a take out cup.] Agent 1: “What do you think, Flores? I'm putting money on the Bee Gee.” Flores (Agent 2): “Bee Gees are lovers, not fighters. Garbo's gonna wear his ass like Davy Crockett.” Agent 1: “Yeah, well... HEY! Garbo! The fuck you think you're doing, man? Waffle House!” Garbo: “Mmmff, fuck off, Gaye!” Eagle: “ARRGGH!! You're such an asshole! You homophobic fuck!” Gaye (Agent 1): “No, my name is Agent Gaye. Family name, man.” Garbo: “Yeah you little twat! Stop assuming the worst from me!” Flores: “Garbo, come on, let him up.” [Garbo hesitates for a moment, but begrudgingly releases the hold and backs away quickly. Gaye steps between the two of them, as it's obvious Eagle still wants blood.] Gaye: “Now I don't know what the two of you are squabbling about, but I know one thing. It's nothing a plate of steak and eggs can't fix. On me, guys, get the fuck inside.” [Eagle climbs up off the ground, still shooting daggers at Garbo. They follow Gaye and Flores inside, and are gestured to take the inside seats of the booth – to ensure they don't try to start shit again without having to go through the other agents. The waitress comes by and asks for the orders.] Gaye: “Usual for me, Tammy.” Flores: “Same.” Garbo: “Yeah, same shit. And a bag full of ice.” Eagle: “I'm not hungry.” Gaye: “Get him the same thing as this guy (points to Garbo). The ice, too.” [The waitress walks away, and the agents lean in.] Flores: “So you know you're not supposed to be fighting in Waffle House, right guys?” Gaye: “Kid, you may not know the importance of the Waffle House, but Garbo does.” Eagle: “I really don't. It's fucking Waffle House. Drunk people bust these places up all the time.” Flores: “Hey. We're representatives of a higher power, though.” Gaye: “Yeah, this is government work, kid. We're out there risking life and limb, all day long. We need a spot to just chill.” Eagle: “That's the extent of it...? It's just that you guys need a place to call neutral territory?” [Flores and Gaye look at each other and shrug.] Gaye: “Well, it's actually in the handbook, there's a regulation for it...” Flores: “Yeah, and it's other spots in states that don't have Waffle House.” Garbo: “Yes, you cracked the fucking code. Waffle House because Waffle House fucking rules and there's one in every town in our standard operating zones.” Gaye: “You know, the one I like is Friendly's, up in New England.” Flores: “Yeah yeah, they have those frappes, those are really good. I dodged a Lebanese hit squad by ducking into one of those in Saugus, Mass.” Gaye: “The fuck were you doing in Saugus?” Eagle: “Shut the fuck up. Shut up. Don't fucking say, or look, or fucking...” Garbo: “Yeah guys, skidmark here needs time to find his center.” Eagle: “Fuck you!” Gaye & Flores: “Hey hey, shhhhhhhh sh sh sh!!” Eagle: “Fuck you. Fuck you man, are you going to tell me that all of a sudden you come find me in this town, a year after my best fucking friend gets shot on a job because Mr. Carrack found out he was talking to a Fed, and you have no idea who it was that he was working with?” Garbo: “No, as a matter of fact those words have never been uttered by these lips.” Eagle: “The fuck?!? So you DO know?!” Gaye: “Ah shit.” Flores: “Garbo, what the fuck, man?” [Eagle exasperatedly gestures with his arm toward Flores.] Eagle: “This guy knows how fucked up this is. And he works with you. He's on your side.” Flores: “Well, I mean, I don't know exactly about...” Garbo: “Gaye, Flores, do you know how many times I've had to give the whole 'don't ask me fucking questions because I won't fucking answer your questions because you're my pawn' speech to this little asshole so far? A fucking lot, okay? So he knows there's shit he doesn't get to knowyet, but instead of just waiting to find shit out when it's not going to compromise his fucking volatile post-pubescent emotions, he just flies off half-cocked and acts like Encyclopedia fuckin' Brown, peepin' his nose into places it shouldn't belong – Did you know he fucked Penelope Bellows??” Flores: “Whoa! Damn, kid good get!” [Flores reaches out for the dap, which Eagle returns.] Gaye: “Yeah, bro, well done. Crazy bitch, though. Crazy, crazy bitch.” Garbo: “No it's not well, done! Not one iota! What exactly was it that happened post-coitus, eh skidmark?” Eagle: “Well no one said it worked out...” Garbo: “Yeah, you went dark, and when I finally heard from you again you were bawling my ear off about how she was about to feed you to the guy you've been begging me to protect you from – which I had been doing QUITE SUCCESSFULLY to that point, you may recollect.” Eagle: “By keeping me locked away in fucking a safe house, or fucking Waffle House!” Garbo: “The two safest places in the whole wide world, right.” Eagle: “I don't want to be locked away anywhere! I want to get the fuck out of Weirville and go to live on fuckin' Mauna Kea or something!” Garbo: “Mauna Kea is a fuckin' volcano! What the fuck would you be doing going there?” Eagle: “No it isn't, you fucking moron! Mauna Kea is a fucking beach in Hawaii!” Flores: “Nnnnno.... actually, Garbo's right. Mauna Kea is a volcano.” Gaye: “Highest point in Hawaii.” Garbo: “Suck upon it. Great idea, kid. Run for your life from Weirville, and move to the base of a volcano. You're safer here with all the crooks running around this town wanting your blood. At least shit doesn't just explode here.” [Funny Garbo said that, because at that moment a rocket propelled grenade shoots from on top of the overpass next to the Waffle House, slamming into Garbo's Charger. The windows shatter from the shockwave of the explosion, showering the inside of the Waffle House with broken glass and dust. Everyone – agent, civilian, and waitress alike – dives for cover. Slowly, the four agents peek up from behind the wall, surveying the burning wreckage of Garbo's car, along with every car within 10 feet. Luckily, Eagle sees that his SHO is fine, albeit it covered in dust.] [Garbo is the first to stagger to his feet. Gaye and Flores are right behind him, and Eagle is last to recover. As he stumbles his way outside to join them, he sees them all staring angrily up at the overpass. There, Penelope Bellows. She sees Eagle, and in an exaggerated fashion blows a big ol' kiss.] Eagle: “Fuckin' bitch.” [And the episode ends. Ending theme: Cover of Black Flag's “Nervous Breakdown” by Rise Against.]