only victories make heroes

Effie smiled weakly, thinking Mac seemed nice but honestly just wishing she could continue to try to blend into the wall unnoticed. 

“Normally it would be, but I felt like I needed something to get me through all this holiday cheer.” she replied, looking down at her glass. She’d been staying away from the spirits ever since she’d been trying to get pregnant, not that it seemed to be helping much. “You work with Jason?” she asked, gesturing towards her husband who was across the room, having left her to get another drink and gotten waylaid by a coworker. 

Mac followed the motion to where Jason stood, predictably looking as dorky as ever. She tore her gaze away with a bland smile, refusing to feel any guilt for a man’s weakness. “Sometimes. Our paths tend to cross.” That was the understatement of the year, but at least she pulled it off convincingly.

“So what do you do, Miss Grinch?” Mac asked, standing a little too close and grinning a little too wide. She was much more interested in Effie anyway-- hey, maybe she could bag the whole Aker family. Wouldn’t that be a Christmas miracle.

Effie heard a few correct syllables of her name and turned her head to see a dark haired young woman. She hadn’t really paid attention to who was around her, instead looking out into the broader room for her regular stance of people watching during these things. The woman looked vaguely familiar, probably because she was one of the more unusual but attractive people that worked there.

“Effie.” she corrected, holding out her hand for a shake. 

Oh, shit. That Effie. “Hi,” Mac said, grin widening as she shook her hand. How the hell did Fivehead McNerd land a straight hottie like her? “I’m Detective MacBride. You can call me Mac,” she said warmly, closing the distance between them. Sure, Jason was cute enough, but he was nothing like his wife. Mac clearly wasn't aiming for the right Aker.

“How long have you been here? Has Charlie started his rendition of Jingle Bell Rock yet? If so, you've been here too long.” Mac raised her drink to Effie’s. “Please tell me that isn't just water.”

By the time Mac arrived, it was already past midnight, and well into the festivities. She'd only stopped by on her way to the General's, where her annual tradition of drinking until she forgot her name ended at sunup. There was a sad-looking Happy Holidays 2016 strung above the entrance to the precinct, likely from the local dollar store because Sheriff Eve never bothered to spring for anything nicer.

He had expected her to pick one of the blatantly booby-trapped doors simply because she was Mac. That she didn’t made him suspicious. Briefly, it showed in the narrowing of his eyes. Grady wondered if she had gone to any unknown lengths to make sure she got a kick out of whatever happened to whoever she dragged into the maze with her. 

And then he remembered who he was dealing with. Rigging the maze to her benefit would have required her to not only befriend multiple people within it but actually put forth effort to get such a thing done. One day Mac would blow them all out of the water by going above and beyond, but Grady sincerely doubted today was that day. 

Hooking his fingers in the drawer, Grady stepped back as he pulled on the door, wrenching it open with ease. Nothing lunged out at them, but the moaning and groaning from somewhere within the wall did increase. The drawer was empty. “Remind me not to bring you along with me for the next Mega Millions. Next?”

Mac gave a disappointed sigh when the drawer revealed no key, leaning toward to inspect another row. “The lottery is all chance. I work with evidence.” Making an exaggerated ‘ooh’ sound, she grabbed a handle overhead and pulled it open. It was one of the few with broken lines of paint, and she was rewarded with a key attached to something that looked like a femur. She threw it gleefully at Grady, only vaguely let down by the fact that he caught it rather than letting it bounce off his forehead.

“You thought I was bad at my job because I'm stupid,” Mac teased. “I'm lazy.” Although, an argument could be made that drinking on the job and sleeping with her bosses’ wives was pretty stupid. She kicked at a rattling drawer by her knee, abruptly cutting off the moaning seeping out of it. “Shut up, stay in there,” she scolded.

“Why does that not surprise me?” Grady muttered while taking in an undoubtedly creepier recreation of the town morgue. In some ways, she reminded him of his older brother. Especially when it came to the level of assholery involved. It might explain why Grady tolerated her behavior better than most of Muddy’s citizens. That, and when it felt like Mac wasn’t over-exaggerating her worst qualities… she was easy     bordering upon almost enjoyable     to be around. 

Groping, aside. 

“Where did the city even get the budget for this shit?” he asked, wandering over towards the metal drawers. Logically, he knew there were actors somewhere behind the wall, but the thought still made his skin crawl as a loud groan and banging came from around his knees. Out of curiosity, Grady checked the ‘exit’ to see if it was locked. Unsurprisingly, it was. “Pick a number one through…” He took a couple steps back to see all of the drawers. “Twelve.”

Mac paced the room as she surveyed the drawers, passing a critical eye over each of them. "Probably the Mayor's office. He's gunning for the title and I heard he's getting antsy." Understandable, considering his opposition. Victor had always been a nerdy little tryhard when they were in high school, and Mac could only assume that he’d gotten better at it. His new six pack and ability to talk to girls without turning into a puddle seemed a testament to that.

Stepping closer to the wall, she ignored the two rattling doors and pointed to one near Grady’s eye-level. “Seven.” Mac wanted to see the rest of the maze just as much as she wanted to spook the fire chief, so it was up to him to decide whether to trust her. She produced a palm-sized airplane bottle of tequila from who-knows-where, cracking it open to down its contents. “Alright, let’s go, Braveheart.”

Grady cast a sidelong glance Mac’s way as she ‘drug’ him along. “Only if you call me daddy.” She probably would, if only because he’d said that. Hell, it sounded like something she’d do even if he hadn’t. It’d be easier to win the lottery than it would be to predict what Mac had to say. 

“Couple times.” He shrugged, glancing around. Mostly when he’d been younger, and a few times with his wife when he hadn’t been busy working. Halloween was always a busy night for all first responders. “Mostly back when it was all low rent horror.” Combing a hand back through his black hair, Grady pulled his gaze from the scattered gore to look at Mac while he caught the faint sound of a chainsaw revving in the distance. “You?”

Mac beamed at the question, unexpectedly genuine as she finally released her hold on Grady. But it was only to grope his bicep in a poorly disguised pat on the arm, humming appreciatively like a PTA mom choosing peaches. “Every year. I love this shit.” As a former delinquent and current asshole, she could always appreciate an opportunity for mischief.

Their first attraction was a brick building with lights flickering in the windows, fairly impressive compared to what Muddy Waters usually pulled off. “Looks like more than low-rent this year.” Mac stepped in after Grady, glancing back with amusement when the door swung shut. She turned her attention to the rattling walls and low groaning emitting from the containers. “God, this is just like seven minutes in heaven with Calder Street,” she muttered.

Grady hummed in response to her comment about Bax’s current mood. The Rascals would behave - provided the other shitheads out and about behaved. He didn’t have high hopes for that, but if they got through the night where the biggest issue was Nicky getting himself thrown in the goddamn drunk tank, Grady would happily take it. Tonight wasn’t a night where he’d rather not have to clean up someone else’s mess. 

Caught up in his thoughts as he was, Mac’s sudden jerking at his clothes managed to tug him after her a few steps before he found his stride. “A lesbian,” he commented dryly, nudging her back towards the maze while Lucille trotted alongside them. “You the reverend’s daughter?”

Mac laughed again-- this time a full-throated, genuine laugh that surprised her more than anything else. “Cute, Chief. No, I’m your daughter, from the future.” She didn’t bother releasing her grip on Grady, enjoying what brief cooperation she could milk out of the man. “Nice guess, though. Except it kinda ruins sex for us, huh?” She winked at him over her shoulder as she directed them towards the entrance. “I won’t tell if you won’t.” 

Despite the amused smirk on his face, Grady rolled his eyes. “I’m sure your imagination can keep you satiated.” His, for instance, was trying to figure out exactly where she had been keeping dog treats in a skintight bodysuit of latex and pleather. Knowing Mac, it might actually be real leather. But an equally as large part of Grady had little desire to know where the treats had come from given the size of her costume. 

Lucille, however, had no such concerns. The pitbull had peeled herself from Grady’s side to move in closer to Mac, snuffling about in search of more treats. “That how you refer to all firemen?” Grady asked, brow raising. He had no intention of confirming his newfound leadership of the local gang to any outside of it, especially Mac, any time soon. “s’kinda weird, but not wholly wrong. Couple of ‘em are mad they got plopped on bonfire detail in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere.” His shoulders rolled in an unconcerned shrug. “Bax try to put you to work, too?”

Mac barked out a laugh at Grady’s deflection, expression amused and no less pleased. “Sure, let’s call them firemen.” It was no secret that most of Muddy’s bravest were Rascals themselves, a testament to their close-knit community and even more the pervasiveness of the gang. Rolling her eyes when Bax was brought up, she waved her hand dismissively as if she could physically brush the question aside. “He’s like a fucking chihuahua on a blender. And he’s on the prowl tonight, so your firemen better behave. I give it another week before he has a full breakdown.” 

Mac glanced up at the sound of thunderclaps and owls hooting, turning to see fog rolling out of the maze entrance. Grin widening, she grabbed Grady by a fistful of his shirt and yanked excitedly. “Looks like it’s open. You wanna check it out--” She paused, gaze dropping to his outfit. “What’re you supposed to be, anyway? Canadian?”

In the hopes of not letting the woods catch fire - because all they needed after a flood was a wildfire -,  Grady had dumped a few of his guys on detail there. The others had been left to their own devices, either helping out with the festivities or having their own fun. Grady fell more into the latter category, though his attention was still split towards making sure none of the Rascals either kicked up any trouble or got into any trouble that they couldn’t handle. Given his ability to keep his own nose clean and catching sight of Mac approaching, he felt that it might end up being put to the test. 

“You know… I can’t say the same for you,” Grady replied, repaying her once-over with one of his own. She couldn’t say her mama had never given her nothing. Still, he half-turned to reveal the suspenders dangling about his waist. He reached down with one hand to scratch Lucille’s head, the pitbull hugging his leg. “Satisfied, Macintosh?” 

Mac lowered her gaze to the indicated suspenders, and continued to linger unabashedly before lifting it again. “Not in the least,” she responded, cheeks dimpling. “But if you lose the shirt, I'm sure I could be mollified.” Noticing the dog, she crouched down and extended her hand, expression far softer than what she normally allowed for her human counterparts.

“You want some candy, gorgeous?” Producing a handful of dog treats from apparently out of thin air (her costume was conspicuously devoid of pockets), she offered them forward before returning her attention to Grady. “I saw your little Rascals running around earlier. I’m guessing you’re playing big bad babysitter all night?”

Mac wandered around the campgrounds with a skewer lined with toasted marshmallows like a cavity-inducing kabob. She was well on her way to having a good time after knocking back several shots with the Chippendale boys at the face painting booth, and downing several cups’ worth of the forbidden punch. It wasn’t long before she spotted her favorite grizzled fireman, slithering up to his side with a grin sharp enough to cut.

“I’m a little disappointed that you’re not in uniform,” Mac said, pausing to give Grady an appreciative once-over. “The suspenders would’ve sufficed, you know.”

Muddy Waters Task: Monster Mash

There were worse people who could have taken it upon themselves to keep him company. Unlike most Muddy Waters’ citizens, Grady even found himself amused by Mac’s company more often than he was annoyed. He chalked it up to the fact that he’d grown up dealing with Simeon; his older brother had had a penchant for being a shithead of the highest order, after all. But he’d also never been one of the “good guys”, which was a laughable sort of way to think of Mac. 

The only reason she hadn’t found her way onto his shitlist along with the rest of the Sheriff’s office was because of how goddamn terrible she was at her job. Didn’t mean that Grady particularly liked her, but… he could stomach her presence better than that of others. 

“Make it two, Lou,” Grady replied as he set the newspaper aside. “On account of one of Muddy’s finest being so charitable tonight.” After putting the order back on Mac, he finally spared a glance her way. “Maker’s Mark your fall perfume or some shit, Mac?”

Mac wrinkled her nose when Grady implied that she'd pay for his meal, especially because he seemed to have no qualms about dropping massive amounts of singles on her mother's girls. Not that any of that money made it into Mac's hands, whose role as the unofficial bouncer to the strip club’s living quarters remained unrewarded. She reached to swipe the other’s mug, taking a sip of the steaming coffee as she flashed him a biting smile.

“They’re called pheromones. Why, does it rev your engine?” She fluttered her lashes at him in what might’ve been a flirtatious manner if it weren’t for her mocking tone. Grady’s brusque demeanor never failed to bring out the daddy issues in her, providing her with endless fodder for entertainment. “By the way, I suppose congratulations are in order.” Mac finished the rest of his coffee and abandoned the mug on the counter. “Heard you’re the new head honcho of a rowdy bunch of misfits.” For someone so persistent about avoiding her actual duties, she possessed a disturbing amount of aptitude for rooting and confirming gossip.

Katherine let Mac observe the car in silence, waiting for her advice. It was not worth the wait. Take it to a mechanic, well no shit, Sherlock. Waving her hand she tried to clear some of the smoke or steam or whatever the hell it was but it wasn’t exactly effective. Poor Badger. The repairs would likely cost more than the car was worth – last she’d checked you could buy an ‘89 Dodge Omni for about $900 but she liked this one. Well….liked was a strong word, but she was attached. 

“He’s almost thirty,” she answered. “And a classic. Kind of. Show some respect.” 

“Sure,” Mac agreed with a doubtful look. “A classic piece of shit.” She kicked idly at a tire, half-expecting the whole thing to crumble into dust. At a distant rumble, she lifted her gaze to the sky, where blackened clouds threatened to storm. Perhaps it was why she was in such a generous mood, turning away to tap her sunglasses back down over her nose.

“You got someplace to be? I’ll give you a ride.” So long as she didn’t try some weird voodoo shit. Mac may have not believed in the supernatural, but she wasn’t about to poke the bear either. At least, not if she could help it.