Delilah
Secret Agent Asshole
"Everyone knows I am in over my head"
Delilah sits in the stuffy black van as it travels down the highway. She watches the Armstrong house from the security cameras. It's empty, her trip was pointless, and she is such a pawn.
"We had to do it; it is our job," the man that mainly communicates to her through the earpiece spits out his opinion on her face.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever."
"You're just one step closer to being a secret agent."
"Hopefully I won't be as dirty as you assholes."
Delilah looks away from the agent when she noticed someone walking into the Armstrong household. First it was Mr. Armstrong himself, then Mr. Dirnt; they were pulling someone in by the arms and leg. Delilah watches as the body struggles against their grasp and she turns on the sound to their microphones.
"You fucking bastards, I didn't do it!" the man yells at them, she could hear the laugh in his voice.
"You drank all the beer, you queer," Mr. Armstrong states, on a closer inspection she realizes that the man is just their drummer boy. His stronger upper body rapping around Dirnt's sides, making the man yell that he doesn't want to be tickled.
"Either get tickled on your sides," Tre Cool gasps out from his fighting with the lanky man, "Or get tickled on your behind."
Armstrong ignores their banter and saunters over to the refrigerator to pull out three beers, the men calming down when he hands over their favorite beverage.
Cool was still laying on the floor where he was dropped by Armstrong and Dirnt was still holding onto one of his feet, using it to keep the man on the floor so his sides and behind stay out of the drummers grasp.
Delilah laughs to herself when the argument was completely forgotten and the men sat around the table, joking about things that Delilah didn't have a back story on, old memories from the tour, and funny stories of the children. Serious subjects turning into more banter as the men brushed off the topics. Then Armstrong mentions the scare from last night.
"Maybe it was just Jake's imagination running away with him," the lanky man states, shrugging, "It's not like anything was stolen."
"Yeah, but this morning, the dog was acting like he was stoned all to hell."
"Oh, shit, he must of found my stash," Tre Cool yelps out, jumping out of his seat and looking for the dog that she drugged last night, "Did you get baked last night, mutt?"
The security van hits a bumpy road when they pull off the highway, losing the signal to the Armstrong household. Cutting off Delilah's entertainment and pulling her back into reality.
***
Delilah explored Los Angeles while waiting for the men to come out of a bar that they had ventured into after their concert. She wasn't excited about this case, about this 'breakthrough' because she knew that the men were in the bar getting drunk, not relying information to big bang mafia members.
She was still trying to think of a way for her to get caught up in the world of Green Day, but so far she had come up short. Hell, she didn't even know what the government wanted her to do, stay back or go right in?
"Hey, shitty take us somewhere interesting," three men and a slew of other people slide out of the bar, they throw themselves into the limo that they had waiting on the side of the street and pull off into Delilah's direction.
Seconds later, she steps off the curb of safety and into the path of the limo. She threw her injured side into the headlights of the vehicle, faking her crash but moaning pain for her unprotected rib cage.
"Dude, what the hell is your problem?!" Armstrong yells at the driver, she feels people coming towards her, her first contact with the members of Green Day.
"Hold on, babe, we're calling an ambulance," Tre Cool says, she hears him tell her to stay awake, he ask her how bad it hurts, then somebody yells out, "Oh, holy fucking shit."
Her shirt had lifted up and they could see her bruised body with the headlights of the limo. "Hold on," she hears someone whisper, then the ambulance arrives, she feigns unconsciousness as the EMT's rush her into their ambulance and takes her to the near by hospital.
"Don't touch me," Delilah says when she is in the confines of the vehicle.
"You've been injured," Delilah hold's out her FBI badge and tells the man that she needs to go to the hospital to meet up with the men in that limo.
"Okay, I understand."
***
Delilah lays on the bed for appearances, she watches as the Doctor walks into her room, she's met him hundreds of times for all her on duty injuries, he knew very well who she was.
"Hey, David," she laughs when she hears his annoyed sigh.
"Since when do you intentionally try to kill yourself?"
"Something about the FBI brings it out in me."
"Well, your little boys are in the waiting room, what do you want to do?" he asks her, walking over to her bed and checking out her injuries...probably for knew one's.
"Do you think they will go for some homeless chick?" she states, looking at his surprised expression, "A hopeless woman, with horrible injuries, who ask them to take her back to the shelter so she can forget about everything."
David tenses, his face set in a hard expression, he clearly did not like the idea, but he could do nothing but agree, because he knew she had already made up her mind on the topic. Besides, she is apart of FBI secret services and he could not interfere with an investigation.
"Okay, lay down and look pathetic," he whispers, starting to head out the door.
"I am pathetic," she mutters, crawling into the hard bed, trying to look sleepy and in pain at the same time. She hoped she didn't look constipated.
Delilah sits in the stuffy black van as it travels down the highway. She watches the Armstrong house from the security cameras. It's empty, her trip was pointless, and she is such a pawn.
"We had to do it; it is our job," the man that mainly communicates to her through the earpiece spits out his opinion on her face.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever."
"You're just one step closer to being a secret agent."
"Hopefully I won't be as dirty as you assholes."
Delilah looks away from the agent when she noticed someone walking into the Armstrong household. First it was Mr. Armstrong himself, then Mr. Dirnt; they were pulling someone in by the arms and leg. Delilah watches as the body struggles against their grasp and she turns on the sound to their microphones.
"You fucking bastards, I didn't do it!" the man yells at them, she could hear the laugh in his voice.
"You drank all the beer, you queer," Mr. Armstrong states, on a closer inspection she realizes that the man is just their drummer boy. His stronger upper body rapping around Dirnt's sides, making the man yell that he doesn't want to be tickled.
"Either get tickled on your sides," Tre Cool gasps out from his fighting with the lanky man, "Or get tickled on your behind."
Armstrong ignores their banter and saunters over to the refrigerator to pull out three beers, the men calming down when he hands over their favorite beverage.
Cool was still laying on the floor where he was dropped by Armstrong and Dirnt was still holding onto one of his feet, using it to keep the man on the floor so his sides and behind stay out of the drummers grasp.
Delilah laughs to herself when the argument was completely forgotten and the men sat around the table, joking about things that Delilah didn't have a back story on, old memories from the tour, and funny stories of the children. Serious subjects turning into more banter as the men brushed off the topics. Then Armstrong mentions the scare from last night.
"Maybe it was just Jake's imagination running away with him," the lanky man states, shrugging, "It's not like anything was stolen."
"Yeah, but this morning, the dog was acting like he was stoned all to hell."
"Oh, shit, he must of found my stash," Tre Cool yelps out, jumping out of his seat and looking for the dog that she drugged last night, "Did you get baked last night, mutt?"
The security van hits a bumpy road when they pull off the highway, losing the signal to the Armstrong household. Cutting off Delilah's entertainment and pulling her back into reality.
***
Delilah explored Los Angeles while waiting for the men to come out of a bar that they had ventured into after their concert. She wasn't excited about this case, about this 'breakthrough' because she knew that the men were in the bar getting drunk, not relying information to big bang mafia members.
She was still trying to think of a way for her to get caught up in the world of Green Day, but so far she had come up short. Hell, she didn't even know what the government wanted her to do, stay back or go right in?
"Hey, shitty take us somewhere interesting," three men and a slew of other people slide out of the bar, they throw themselves into the limo that they had waiting on the side of the street and pull off into Delilah's direction.
Seconds later, she steps off the curb of safety and into the path of the limo. She threw her injured side into the headlights of the vehicle, faking her crash but moaning pain for her unprotected rib cage.
"Dude, what the hell is your problem?!" Armstrong yells at the driver, she feels people coming towards her, her first contact with the members of Green Day.
"Hold on, babe, we're calling an ambulance," Tre Cool says, she hears him tell her to stay awake, he ask her how bad it hurts, then somebody yells out, "Oh, holy fucking shit."
Her shirt had lifted up and they could see her bruised body with the headlights of the limo. "Hold on," she hears someone whisper, then the ambulance arrives, she feigns unconsciousness as the EMT's rush her into their ambulance and takes her to the near by hospital.
"Don't touch me," Delilah says when she is in the confines of the vehicle.
"You've been injured," Delilah hold's out her FBI badge and tells the man that she needs to go to the hospital to meet up with the men in that limo.
"Okay, I understand."
***
Delilah lays on the bed for appearances, she watches as the Doctor walks into her room, she's met him hundreds of times for all her on duty injuries, he knew very well who she was.
"Hey, David," she laughs when she hears his annoyed sigh.
"Since when do you intentionally try to kill yourself?"
"Something about the FBI brings it out in me."
"Well, your little boys are in the waiting room, what do you want to do?" he asks her, walking over to her bed and checking out her injuries...probably for knew one's.
"Do you think they will go for some homeless chick?" she states, looking at his surprised expression, "A hopeless woman, with horrible injuries, who ask them to take her back to the shelter so she can forget about everything."
David tenses, his face set in a hard expression, he clearly did not like the idea, but he could do nothing but agree, because he knew she had already made up her mind on the topic. Besides, she is apart of FBI secret services and he could not interfere with an investigation.
"Okay, lay down and look pathetic," he whispers, starting to head out the door.
"I am pathetic," she mutters, crawling into the hard bed, trying to look sleepy and in pain at the same time. She hoped she didn't look constipated.