Biker Mice From Mars - Somewhere I Belong

Politics Is An Evil Game

"What do you mean, we have a serious problem?", Throttle asked with a furrowed brow, not liking the look on O'Neill's face since it bordered dangerously close to one of fear.
In the short time that they worked together, the detective hadn't shown a shred of fear, telling the tan-furred Martian that the man wasn't easily fazed.
But he was now, and it worried him to the core, unlike Pux, who already seemed to be annoyed again.
"And here I was, thinking that Charley being kidnapped by a serial killer is already a very serious problem on its own", the blond-headed girl sighed, indeed, irritated as she ran a quivering hand through her curls.
Throttle took a deep breath to keep his calm, something he seemed to be doing a lot today.
Seriously, that girl's mood swings gave him a whiplash.
Once he was convinced that he was at least calm enough to stop himself from ripping her head off, he turned his head to look at the teenager standing next to him.
"Some people might like your sassy attitude, I am, however, not one of them. I'd appreciate it if you keep your mouth shut from now on so I can do my job. You think you can do that?"

Although he didn't even sound that unfriendly, there was a certain undertone audible, one that not even Pux was able to ignore, but that didn't mean she appreciated him telling her that she was out because that's what he basically did.
Still.
Perhaps the time had come to listen to him, and thus, she gave him a quick nod to let him know that the message was received before she sat down with her arms folded and a face like thunder.
The paragon of a child being reprimanded, but at least she stopped talking.
Happy that the girl finally backed down, Throttle gave her a nod back before looking back at O'Neill.
"Well?"

O'Neill glanced at him with a somewhat pained expression on his face, and he opened his mouth.
But then, his frown grew even deeper, and he snatched the bottle of vodka off the table again.
After taking an even bigger gulp than the previous one, he lowered the bottle as he caught Throttle's gaze.
"The man from the store ain't just some man. He's a big shot. A muckety-muck..."
His voice faltered dangerously, and he slightly shook his head before putting the bottle to his mouth again.
In all fairness, Throttle had never seen their befriended detective this uncomfortable, this... upset, and his stomach slowly tied into a knot, as he knew all too well that whoever the man in the store might be, it was indeed going to cause some serious problems.
"Who is he?", Modo asked seemingly calm, yet his visible eye was mildly narrowed.
That, and the twitching tail gave away that he wasn't as relaxed as he tried to come across, which meant that he was sharing Throttle's concerns here.

This, in turn, made Throttle even more unsettled, and he shifted his weight to his heels and back while his gaze landed back on O'Neill, waiting for him to answer the question in both dread and anticipation.
The usually unflappable detective swallowed the alcohol with a grimace and slightly shrugged one shoulder.
"Only the Secretary of Justice."
Throttle's stomach went from being knotted to turned upside down, and a nasty ache crawled from his stiff neck into his head, only to settle between his temples.
"The Secretary of Justice", he repeated tonelessly, or more like defeated as he now fully understood O'Neill's response, and he closed his eyes as he massaged his temples in the hope it would ease this very nasty headache.
O'Neill nodded, still having that same pained expression on his face that made him look twenty years older.
"Yeah. So, judging by your reaction, you know just as well as I do that this just became a very dangerous game to play. Too dangerous, if you ask me."

Instead of responding, Throttle merely continued his in reality feeble attempt to control the headache as he already racked his brain on how to solve this rather difficult matter.
Modo, however, didn't catch on just yet, and he rubbed his chin as he peered at O'Neill with a thoughtful frown.
"What makes you say that? That it's too dangerous?", he added the last part when he saw the confused look on the detective's face, but the addition didn't have the desired effect as it didn't make the bald man any less confounded.
"Ain't that obvious? Technically, he's the boss of my boss of my boss of my boss and the list goes on, which makes him my boss as well, I guess...", he mused out loud while scratching his head, for a moment distracted by this brain teaser, but he then snapped out of it and aimed his blazing brown eyes back at Modo.
"We can't just go after the Secretary of Justice. The guy matters. If he's found in a dumpster with a broken neck it's gonna have consequences, ya know?"
Now it was Modo who was confused.
"Who says we're gonna break his neck?"