Scorpio Rising Scriv

[kjr_nanojournal]

The view from the apartment is one of better ones— at least for the boltholes Nick had set up during the cold war— overlooking the plaza where people had gathered to hear the now deceased President Milovan Tankosic announcing Capasia’s independence only a few months back. He’s got a good view of the Parliament building and the wall behind it that circled the oldest section of Carpasia’s capital, Crnilobara though there’s not much to see. The city’s dark and it’ll probably stay that way for the rest of the week considering his idiot son, with Logan giving him a goddamn helping hand, blew up part of the nuclear power plant that supplies the energy for this part of the country. Not that the locals care that’s why they’re in the dark this time; power wasn’t all that reliable before the plant went boom anyway.
Nick had had no intention of getting involved in the civil war that had followed Tankosic’s assasination-- as far as SHIELD was concerned, it was an internal issue. SHIELD’s mandate, as set up by the UN, was to deal with metahuman and extraterrestrial threats. There was talk that the Security Council was considering humanitarian aid, and it wasn’t out of the question that SHIELD would offer help to any coalition forces the UN sent in, but as usual the Security Council was dragging their feet. Not that Nick could blame them-- the whole region was going to hell— and the situation in Sarajevo, a hundred miles to the northwest was sucking up most of their attention. As long as Carpasia’s civil war stayed nice and contained, the UN was going to ignore it as long as they reasonably could.
Unfortunately for Nick, he couldn’t ignore the shit going down after his kid stole the damn Cosmic Key from a secure SHIELD base and jumped in the fray. It had been like dumping gasoline on a forest fire; with each faction-- including Hydra, just his luck-- trying to get their hands on the kid. Nick had no choice but to come in and haul his kid’s ass back to the states.

That plan’s going as well as expected.

The sound of a key being pushed into the lock turns Nick faster than he should; instinct taking over common sense. A hiss of pain slips out as he shifts into the minimal cover the door frame provides.
“Where’s the kid?”

Nick curses Logan under his breath as he shifts his weight to look at the X-Man as he enters the apartment. The movement causes a kick of pain to bloom across his left side before he can ask where the hell Logan got a key to the place. Nick presses a hand right below his damaged ribs as he waits for the pain to ease up. Of course he’s the one who got hit with a blast from the Cosmic Key though lucky for him the Hydra goon handling the Key hadn’t compensated for the kick back. Bruised and broken ribs are a pain in the ass to deal with but it’s better than not feeling anything at all.

Of course there is a good possibility his son’ll fix that when Nick takes him and the Key back— hell; the kid lost the thing once since he swiped it; Nick wasn’t about to let him lose it a second time—but that confrontation he’ll worry about in the morning.

When did he get so damn old?

Noticing the look Logan is giving him, Nick drops his hand as he says, “Out gathering the troops to haul Pavel outta his hole last I heard.”

“Really think him going after Pavel is a good idea?” Logan asks as he drops a carryall on a couch that’s probably older than he is and joins Nick by the door to the balcony. He’s still in his bumblebee outfit though he’s shucked the mask. There are times Nick thinks Logan wears the stupid costume to get a rise out of some idiot just so he’s got an excuse to start a fight. The thing sure as hell didn’t work as camouflage.

“Hell no.” Nick’s already shucked his combat uniform to help blend in with the locals better though considering how his ribs feel, he might have been better off staying in the tighter uniform. “Kid’s got the right though.”

Nick barely manages to stop a frown from crossing his face. That wasn’t the answer he’d meant to give but before he can examine where that had come from, he’s distracted by a rattle of gunfire, the racket bouncing off the stone buildings that make up this part of the capital, making it hard to pin down where the sound is coming from or who’s causing it. Probably just some yahoos getting in a few last pot shots before the ceasefire officially shuts things down. Still, Nick finds himself listening for some sign that it’s not his kid mixing it up down there.

“Uh huh.” Logan crosses his arms and gives Nick a dubious look. “His family hasn’t been in charge here since you were born, Nick.”

“And Pavel’s hasn’t since ’45,” Nick answers irritably. Pointing a thumb at the exhausted city he adds, “’Think this lot could use a hero—might as well be the kid.”

Outside of the spotty gunfire and the occasional wail of emergency vehicles further out, the only sound is coming from the figures milling in front of the hotel on the opposite side of the plaza. It’s the one of the few buildings in the new part of Crnilobara—though new here meant the part of the city that formed around the time the Ottoman Empire conquered the area back in the fourteenth century—that’s still lit up but Nick can see a stain of black up on the third floor. Probably got hit with an RPG, going by the size of the spot, though there’s no way to tell if it was Hydra, the Carpasian Separatists, Carpasian Royalist, or just someone with a grudge to settle that put it there. At least it’s not on fire like a few of the buildings closer to the harbor are.

The Parliament building seems to be in better shape though a corner of it’s in rubble from a mortar shell that fell a little short during the first few days of fighting. Nick’s sure someone got permanently sacked for that screw up. Hydra had needed the building intact to help expedite setting Pavel up as their puppet king after Tankosic’s assasination. After they had Pavel in country, the only way the Separatists could take him out without dropping a bomb from a plane—which Hydra knew they didn’t have—was to navigate through a maze of narrow medieval streets lined with snipers Hydra made sure to plant in the buildings on the way in.

These old cities were a pain in the ass to fight in, as far as Nick was concerned, even with all the new tech that’s supposed to make it easier. Not that that had stopped the Separatists from trying to reach the building, but they’d paid heavily for it.

The rhythmic thump of rotor blades causes both men look up at the sky. A news copter, cautiously working its way toward the harbor, crosses into view; one of many that have been lurking on Carpasia’s border just waiting for a chance to cash in on the misery this country’s been dealing with since Hydra’s coup dropped the country into a civil war. When it slows and turns, Nick sees a cameraman inside swinging the camera up on his shoulder to get a good shot of the building. It seems like a good idea to head back inside before they catch sight of him and splash his face all over CNN.

“You’re up to something,” Logan states as Nick shuts the doors. Logan’s known him too long for Nick to deny it; if he does Logan will know it for the lie that it is.

“Just hedgin’ my bets. This whole region’s a fucking mess—be good to have someone in our corner with influence out here.”

“Right. Really think the kid’s in your corner?” When Nick gives the man a look, Logan shrugs. “Ain’t sure how letting him have his head so he can get in tight with the locals would be to your advantage. He spent his entire life being brainwashed by that bitch of a mom of his to hate you; a year or two of deprogramming ain’t enough to let him run around with the bit in his mouth, if ya ask me.”

“Wasn’t asking—and what; you sayin’ I should just lock the kid up and let him cool his heels for a few more years?”

“It’s what ya shoulda done when you first got your hands on him and you know it. Kid’s dangerous, Nick. Only reason you caught him the first time round was because he left you calling cards to follow. Hell, he almost fought me to a standstill without any of the toys you need to do that to me. Mikel’s faster and stronger than you ever were at that age.”

“You didn’t know me at that age.”

“You know what I mean. You just better hope he don’t get any empire building ideas. If he settles down and starts thinking with that head of his instead of his temper, my money’ll be on him even with Doom up the road to slow him down. Unless you got something in that tracker you stuck in his head that can shut him down when he gets outta hand.”

“No.” The lie’s out before Nick can stop it.

“Right. You really expect me to believe you didn’t have a plan in place when ya let him out of medical hoping to whip him into shape? Kid didn’t have any trouble breaking into a S.H.I.E.L.D. base back in Atlanta; did you really think he wasn’t gonna break outta one just cause daddy told him not to?”

Nick doesn’t bother to answer that. Of course he knew and of course he put in a failsafe if the kid proved to be a problem. Why the hell did Logan need him to admit he put a kill switch into his own son’s head?

When he remains silent, Logan narrows his eyes and tilts his head to one side. “So- self-destruct in the tracker?”

Nick glares at him.

“You know he’s gonna be pissed when he finds out about that.”

“He won’t.”

There’s a snort of disbelief from Logan as he starts pulling civvies out of the carryall.

The urge to throw a punch at Logan’s ugly mug surges up in Nick, but the knowledge of exactly how painful hitting that damn adamantium skull was limits his reaction to a surly, “What?”

Logan points a finger at Nick. “Hydra knew he was comin’ here with the Key which means you’ve got a leak. Even if we’ve kicked Hydra to the curb that doesn’t mean they’re done with this place or with fucking around with you or that idiot son of yours. They find out what that tracker can do before he does and I’ll bet ya a six-pack they’ll try and use that little nugget to turn the kid against you again. Might be better off telling him yourself though finding out your dad’s put an off switch in ya probably ain’t gonna go well.”

“Maybe I should just hand him over to you to knock some sense into him.”

“We’d kill each other before the end of the day.” Logan yanks a pair of jeans on over his X-Man getup. “I’m just saying not to let the fact he’s your kid blind ya to what he is.”

“It won’t.”

“Yeah, right. You’ve got a blind spot a mile wide where he’s concerned.’

“I don’t...”

“He massacred an entire SHIELD team and who knows how many others before Peru, Nick. You don’t take down a team like one of yours that easily unless you’ve had practice and you know it. Think you need to decide whether or not Mikel’s your son or just another asset for you to use. His
bitch of a mom already messed with his head. He doesn’t need you doing it too.”

“What; you defending him now?”

Logan shrugs a shoulder then taps the side of his head. “Hey—I know what it’s like to get things all scrambled up here.”

Before the point can be argued any further, there’s a knock at the door. Both men swing around at the sound; Logan’s hands clenching into fists though he doesn’t pop the claws while Nick’s hand goes for his gun.

The figure on the other side of the doors isn’t much of a threat. The man looks like he’s in his fifties—though the political situation in this area would put grey hairs on anyone’s head—and he’d probably die of fright before either of them ever gets near him. He clears his throat twice and manages not to put his back to the wall though it looks like it’s a close call before he gets out in heavily accented English, “The Committee requests your presence.”

“What for?” Logan asks the man in Carpasian. Well more like growls it out in Carpasian.

The man blinks and takes an uneasy step back. “International observers...” he manages to sputter.

“Never mind that,” Nick snaps, “how the hell did you know where we—” Nick stops then narrows his good eye as he turns to Logan.

“Yeah,” Logan says as he relaxes and goes back to digging into the carryall, this time digging a shirt out. “Like your kid wouldn’ta looked up your hiding spots before heading over here.”

Nick waves a hand at the flunky in the hall. “Give us a minute.” The guy high tails it down the hall before he’s even finished.

Nick scrubs his face. “Fuck. So much for keeping a low profile.”

“Like you had a chance there.” Logan finishes dressing, slipping a cowboy hat on before marching out of the room. They catch up with the messanger at the door to the emergency staircase and, keeping well out of arm’s reach, he pushes the door open and starts down. As they follow him, Logan asks in a low voice, “Any idea what they’d want observers for?”

“Not a clue. Hopefully it’s just to take Pavel into custody.”

To Nick’s surprise, when they reach the ground floor, the man heads for the service entrance and out into the alley. There’s a small car waiting for them and it takes them to the loading docks on the south side of the Parliment building. Inside, their guide turns away from the main entrance and leads them down a long hallway to a set of heavy oak doors. Beyond the doors a short set of stairs lead down to a stone lined corridor. Armed guards bracket the open doors and Nick spots an M80 Zolja, a one-shot antitank weapon, slung over one guard’s shoulder; probably for collapsing the corridor if trouble tried coming through that way. The guards are clearly professionals, and though they’re probably still smarting over the assassination of their president, they efficiently do their job. After checking their guide’s papers they give Nick and Logan the once over then step aside to let them pass. There’s a feeling of weight bearing down on their heads as they move quickly through the corridor but Nick doesn’t feel any relief when they pass another set of guards at the other end and step up onto the streets.

Nick’s hand twitches as he suppresses the urge to reach for his gun and Logan hunches down slightly at the limited sightlines surrounding them. It takes a second for Nick to get his bearings as they pass through an archway to a street heading off to the right. The north side of the Parliament building had been built right against the walls of the old Roman city Crnilobara had grown out of. Thankfully it’s not long before they’re stepping out into an open square set before a limestone cathedral though the crowd of people and the sawhorse barricades doesn’t make Nick any happier. Slipping through the barricades and the soldiers behind them, Nick takes a quick look at the front of the cathedral—the rounded rooflines marking it as being a hell of a lot older than any of the churches Mama Fury dragged Nick and his siblings to when they were kids—then focuses on the people that were also being let inside the imposing building.

When they step inside the cathedral, there are enough people milling around that it takes Nick a second to spot his kid. He’s off in a corner by the altar, talking to an older man who looks a little ragged around the edges. The kid’s still wearing his copy of the red and white Scorpio costume Nick’s brother Jake-- the man the kid grew up believing was his father-- used to wear and he’s got the Cosmic Key strapped to his back.

“And here we go,” Logan grumbles.

Even as Logan speaks, Nick realizes something’s up. The ad-hoc committee that’s been trying to run the country since Hydra assassinated the President is milling around just behind his son and they’re all staring at the man his son is speaking to with an odd mix of relief and unease.

“Who’s the kid’s talking to?” The man in question-- closer to Nick’s real age than anyone else standing there as far as he can tell-- looks familiar but Nick’s having trouble putting a name with the face.

“Dorijan Tomashevich. His family’s been crowning the kings of Carpasia for the last 300 years. Guy refused to put the thing on Pavel’s head the same way his father refused to do it to Pavel’s dad back during the war. Hydra tossed him into jail to convince him of the error of his ways.” He gives Nick a sideways look. “Looks pretty happy to be out of the dungeons.”

Nick silently swears.

Before they can move any further into the room and get lost in the growing crowd, someone taps the kid on the shoulder and points back their way. Nick’s son gives them a cool look that’s a little too close to his mother’s for Nick’s liking then says something before turning back to Tomashevich. As a flunky heads their way, Logan leans over and asks in an undertone, “What are ya gonna do?”

“Not a damn thing. Even if I wanted to, it’s too crowded here. If I hauled him out now I’d just be adding fuel to whatever fire he’s starting. Best to just let things play out for now.”

“Just gonna get messier if ya take him out after he’s got a crown sitting on that big head of his.”

“Shut up, Logan.”

The flunky turns out to be the one who brought them here. Now that he’s in his element, the guy’s more confident though he still gives Logan a wary look as he leads them to the right side of the altar and over to some folding chairs set against the wall. Neither of them bothers to sit down and, after clearly considering his options, the flunky lets it go and rejoins the group by the kid. He passes a pair of soldiers dragging an old carved chair towards the altar; a camera crew trailing behind them.

“Oh, would ya look at that,” Logan says as he leans against the wall and pulls a cigar out of his jacket. “Kid’s gonna broadcast this live to the peasants.” He flicks a light and puffs on the cigar then crosses his arms over his chest.

Nick frowns. “Ain’t enough power in the city for that.”

“Then he’s hitting the satellites to tell everyone to fuck off then, including you.”

Though Nick agrees with Logan-- it’s what he would have done in the kid’s place-- he shakes his head. “That ain’t a news crew and I didn’t see any equipment for an uplink outside.” He points a thumb towards the entrance. “And they got all the reporters corralled over there.”

Logan leans forward a bit to check where Nick’s pointing then shrugs as he goes back to leaning against the wall. “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

No, it doesn’t, Nick thinks, but my guts are telling me you are. The kid’s planning something but hell if I can figure out what it is.

A silent signal gets everyone moving to their places. The kid heads for the chair with Tomashevich trailing behind him. Following them are several men in what used to be the livery of the royal guard back when the kid’s family was running things here. Two of them have long rectangular cases in their arms and another one a square box all of which have the Carpasian coat of arms carved into them. The guard leading the bunch carries a jeweled sword, point down, in his white gloved hands.

“Huh.” Logan puffs out a cloud of smoke then uses the cigar as a pointer. “Old guy must have had those squirreled away in the palace. Surprised they didn’t manage to dig them up sooner.”

“They couldn’t cause he didn’t have ‘em,” Nick snarls as he considers the implication of those old cases. When he senses Logan giving him a look, he explains darkly, “Those things haven’t been out in the open since the kid’s grandfather was crowned. Pavel’s family never had access to them; they were taken out of the country when Mussolini moved in. The kid must have brought them along with the Key, damn it.”

It takes a few minutes to get everything set up. A pair of tables are hauled up next to the chair and covered with a white sheet before the contents of the cases are put on top of it. The Crown Jewels didn’t look any worse for wear after more than a half century of being packed away. The sword of King Petar Carpasius-- the founder of Carpasia and the kid’s ancestor-- is the first to be set down. Next is the crown; a gold five pointed affair with a mother of pearl cross embedded in the front. After that, from one of the larger boxes, came the orb and scepter while a white robe is pulled out of the second long case and passed over to Tomashevich to put on.

“I’m an idiot,” Nick mutters under his breath.

“Yep. I’ll refrain from saying I told ya so till after the party’s done.”

While everything is being arranged, a woman climbs up the steps to the altar as a few spotlights are maneuvered to focus on the empty chair. When she makes a move towards the kid and Tomashevich though, Nick’s son gives her a confident smile and waves her off. She glances down at the head of the ad hoc committee, Josip Marasović, then packs it up when the guy shrugs his shoulders.

“You sure that’s actually your kid over there?” Logan asks. “The same idiot who let Hydra plant a bug on him by throwing a few pretty faces his way?”

“I’m sure his mother drilled every step of this little farce into his head to the point he’s running on autopilot right now. He knows the script though he ain’t making any friends following it.”

“So; you noticed the muttering in the peanut gallery too, huh?”

“That started when those cases showed up? Yeah, little hard to miss. Guessing it’s focused around the guy S.H.I.E.L.D.’s identified as the head of the Carpasian Separatists, Girolamo Lapenna. That’s him over by the flags.” Nick watches Lapenna bend towards the men standing to his left. There’s a quick conversation and two men quickly leave the room just as someone starts testing the mic on the altar. Girolamo is frowning as he looks back up at the altar.

“Welp,” Logan says around the cigar, “guess you ain’t gonna have to worry about taking the kid out yourself.”

Nick glares at him even as he starts marking all the exit points and whether or not someone’s closing them off. The effort would be a waste of time; there are so many weapons in the room already that the target would be down before anyone starts moving towards one.

Once the kid’s in front of the carved chair, Tomashevich faces the room and starts to speak. His voice is scratchy but clear enough to carry; or at least strong enough for the room’s acoustics to give it a boost. After a quick abbreviated speech about Carpasia’s past, with a focus on the victories of the kid’s ancestors, Tomashevich turns and gestures the kid to his knees.

As the crown is brought over by a blank faced guard, the murmuring from the back of the crowd closes to the main entrance gets a little louder and Nick moves a few steps away from the wall to get more room to maneuver. On his left he’s aware of Logan casually putting out his cigar and shifting to cover his blind spot as Tomashevich and the kid start the formal questioning part of the ceremony.

The questions are the same as the ones the kid’s great-grandfather Krsto got just before the Great War broke out; protect the faith, protect the people, protect the kingdom. The kid’s answers are just as short and to the point as Krsto’s and all too soon Tomashevich is taking the crown from the guard to place it on the kid’s head.

As the kid rises to his feet, Tomashevich takes a step towards the table while the head of the ad hoc committee climbs the stairs to join the pair for the next part of the coronation. The shift gives anyone in the room a clear shot at their new King though it’ll need to be a headshot to do any good. Nick knows from hard earned experience the body armor in the kid’s costume is strong enough to stop anything below a high explosive round from getting through.

The thought brings Nick breathing to a halt. Nick shakes his head and looks away-- the last time Nick had seen his brother wearing the Scorpio get up, he’d just committed suicide.

“You all right, Nick?” Logan hisses.

“What?” Blinking, Nick looks at Logan then quickly up at his son. For a second he’d been back in the Defender’s headquarters, staring at what remained of his brother’s face after he’d shot himself in the head. Forcing his attention back to the now, Nick sees not his brother but his son, alive and, for the moment, unharmed.

Out of the corner of his eye Nick can see Logan is scowling at him.

“Nick,” the X-Man says, a little louder.

“I’m fine,” Nick snaps back.

“Uh huh. Well, that’s great ‘cause apparently things ain’t fine over there.”

Up on the altar, the script seems to have broken down. The next thing up should have been Mikel taking a seat to receive the orb and scepter; instead the head of the ad-hoc committee is frowning at Tomashevich as the man motions for the guard holding the orb to put it back in its case.

“Sire?” the man says to Mikel. The title brings a verbal upsurge of emotion that suddenly cuts off when Mikel steps forward and acknowledges the crowd with a glance. He raises a hand.

Turning to Marasović, Mikel asks, “Does the committee accept this coronation as legal and binding?”

After glancing back at the rest of the committee, Marasović nods his head though he looks like he’d rather not do so. “Yes, Sire. We the committee recognize you as the legitimate King of Carpasia.”

Mikel nods his head, then reaches up and removes the crown from his head. Holding it out to Tomashevich, he says, “I, Mikel Fury, as King of Carpasia, renounce the throne in accordance of the people’s will as declared in the referendum vote and the election of a democratic government. On behalf of the people of Carpasia, do you accept my declaration of intent?”

Smiling, Tomashevich gently takes the crown, then bows. “On behalf of your people, I accept this declaration.”

As Tomashevich turns away to return the crown to its case, Mikel faces Marasović to say, “In the hope of a peaceful transition of power, I offer, as a citizen of Carpasia, to fill out the rest of President term of office, or until a new election can be held. Is this offer acceptable to the committee?”

Startled, it takes Marasović a moment to process what he’s heard before offering an enthusiastic, “Yes! Yes; we accept!” The crowd cheers and Nick sees several reporters rushing out to spread the news.

After letting the cheers go on for a minute, Mikel raises his hand again to quiet the crowd. They comply, allowing Mikel to call out, “Girolamo! Have we found Pavel yet?”

The head of the Separatists nods his head and smiles. “Yes, Mr. President. We just found him holed up at the airport.”

“Good. I want him and anyone with him brought to the Parliament building. I’ll join you there soon. And Girolamo? No one is to be harmed, is that clear?”

“Understood.”

“Well, how bout that,” Logan says. “Guess the kid actually was listening to you.”

Nick’s not sure what to say to that. When Mikel steps into the shadows where they stand, Nick’s first word to his son is, “Why?”

“Yeah,” Logan butts in before Mikel can give Nick an answer. “Seriously doubt your mom would approve.”

“Well she isn’t here, is she?” Mikel snarls. Visibly reigning himself in, Mikel sucks in a breath and slowly lets it out between clenched teeth. Once he’s under control, he explains, “And taking the throne would have just finished off what Hydra started. The people voted and the matter is closed.”

“Yeah; didn’t anyone tell ya when your king you can do whatever the hell ya want, kid.”

“Logan,” Nick says before Mikel goes for the X-Man’s throat. When Logan shrugs and crosses his arms, Nick turns his attention back to his son. “Fine. Then answer this for me-- why the hell are we here?”

“To certify that the change in government was handled legally so no one from the outside can stir things back up; and so I could find out what you’re going to do next.”

“What I’m gonna do?”

“You’re not here out of the goodness of your heart, dad.”

Nick sighs. If he hadn’t seen the DNA report, he’d be convinced Mikel really was Jacob’s son just by the tone of his voice. “Right now I ain’t gonna do a thing. You step outta line though…”

“Yeah; figured that one out already. Oh, by the way,” Mikel taps the side of his head, “you’ve got an hour to try and lock me out before I can change the codes on this thing.”

“You knew?” Logan asks.

Mikel looks at the X-Man as if he were an idiot. “It’s what I would have done in his place.”

As his son walks away, Nick says, “Mikel.” When his son pauses, Nick adds, “Good work.”

“Didn’t do it for you.” He looks up at the heavily decorated ceiling then back at Nick. “Do you know what the name of this place is?” Before Nick can ask, Mikel turns and walks away.

Logan laughs. “Oh yeah, definitely your kid, Nick.”

“What’d I miss?” Nick asks, scowling down at the shorter man.

Logan digs another cigar out of his jacket and waves it at the church. “Katedrala sv. Jakova.”

“Cathedral of St. James?” Nick guesses after a moment’s thought. He’d expected a Carpasian name, not a Croatian one. “Still don’t get it.”

“It’s also known as the Cathedral of St. Jacob depending on what map you’re looking at. Place has been around since before the kid’s family took over here.” After lighting the cigar, Logan blows out a stream of smoke and starts down the central aisle. Walking backwards a moment, Logan says, “Kid forgot something though-- one of the guys who built this place was named Nicholas.”

“When’d you become an expert on churches?”

“Saved a nun and some kids. It’s amazing what people will tell ya when you do shit like that.”

Shaking his head, Nick lets his gaze drift up. The ceiling is covered with what he assumes are painting of saints but there is one figure holding the sword that’s sitting on the table up on the altar. He can’t read the writing beneath the image from where he’s standing but he’s pretty sure that’s King Petar staring down at him.

“Well, let’s hope you’re a better influence on the kid than me,” Nick says, “cause he’s gonna need all the help he can get.”

He give the figure a quick salute then follows the camera crew out into the celebrating crowds to see what surprises his son has for him next.