WAR: MOVIE TIME Toronto, Buckstar's on Yonge Street SUNDAY (DATE), Late Evening MONDAY (DATE), Afternoon by MERCASH (a Merc) Sunday (date), Late Evening I got an assignment Sunday night to hoof it on over to Buckstar's on Yonge Street for a possible job. A coffee joint--typical. Had to be the Perks. At least it wasn't at the "Happy Cafe Express." I hated that place. Too cheerful. There wasn't much of a crowd and I spotted my client right away. Yep, she was blonde. Not all of the Perks were, but there was a good number of them. The fact that she wasn't dressed in yellow or pink or bright blue led me to believe that she was probably a Dark Perk. That could be trouble. Then again, it could also mean a pretty hefty fee. I sidled up to the stool beside the Perk and ordered a Columbian, plain. "You needed a Merc?" Those big blue eyes narrowed and she nodded. "What's the fee?" "Won't know that until I hear the job. Payment up front." There was a pause, then she nodded. "Okay, here it is--" My eyes got a little wide when I heard the plan--at least all they wanted from me was a diversionary tactic and even that involved more cash and string-pulling than actual danger. Not that I was gonna let know that. "Can do," I said, after she'd finished. "It'll cost you 10 pounds of chocolates and 10 Slim Whitman cassettes, sealed. Free refreshments will cost you another pound of chocolate. Perugina." It was steep, but within the realm of reality and she knew it. The Dark Perk took a breath, then nodded. "Okay. Eleven pounds of Perugina I can have back here in an hour. The Slim Whitman tapes may take until tomorrow morning . . . ." "Sure. The job isn't until tomorrow afternoon." I slipped off the stool. "I'll send a messnger to pick it up." "Can I ask--Slim Whitman?" I gave her a grim smile. "You don't want to know. Contract will be ready when you hand over the chocolate." And that was that. She was getting a diversion, we were getting chocolate and the Slim Whitman tapes. She was lucky she didn't know. I wish I didn't. *** Monday (Date), Afternoon It didn't take much. A quick trip to the theater with an offer they couldn't refuse--the owner was a RatPacker, so go figure. I'd arranged to have a print flown in the night before and at 8:00 AM, Fed Ex delivered the movie to Merc Central. Now all I had to do was plant the bait. That was easy enough when the Merc forger also had more than a bit of an artist in her. The invitation to the wide-screen, restored showing of "Ben Hur" was classy, hand script on parchment with gold trim. No Cousin in his/her right mind would turn it down and even LaCroix would probably give it a second look. It was worth the half pound of chocolate. Getting into fairly nondescript gear--what can I say, I look like your average Canadian college student--I hung around near Cousin HQ until I saw their mailman approach. Luckily, they had early mail delivery. I stopped the man, asked for directions, and slipped the invitation into the stack of mail in his hand before he reached the door. He told me what I pretended to want to know, because Canadians will actually try to give you real directions unlike New Yorkers, then headed up the steps and slipped the mail through the door slot. I headed off down the street and waited a safe distance away. If the Cousins decided to take the bait, they'd be out in a half-hour and if not I still had time to try another option. While I waited, I thought about what I'd seen in the mailman's hand. Granted, a lot of places receive Victoria's Secret catalogues, but I didn't know many who had platinum membership. LaCroix was either generous to those who worked for him, or . . . . In exactly a half hour, three of the cousins left the building, talking excitedly among themselves; their leader, LTSCRUFFY, was holding the invitation in her hand. They were heading toward the theater and I shadowed them, making certain that they were escorted inside and given the royal treatment. There were only three cousins in the building, according to my info, and now they'd been diverted. Mission accomplished. Now, *shudder*, it was time to deal with the Slim Whitman matter. End of post MERCASH mercash@merc.com %%%%%%% Note that this post is written in first person. You can write your posts in whatever person you'd like--everything fits into the story. Posts have been from the POV of affiliation members and even pets. Try to keep posts from a character's POV to a minimum--that's the War Mistress' prerogative and her curse--she's gotta keep the overall story moving. Of course, when you're dealing with a reaction post, sometimes the character has just gotta have his/her say . . . . Also keep in mind the Slim Whitman reference. There's no clue as to what those cassette tapes are going to be used for, but just the way they're mentioned keeps the reader's attention. I know that I'd be keeping an eye out for future posts from MERCASH, waiting for those tapes to turn up again. Does Mercash already have a story for those tapes? Maybe . . . or maybe not. Maybe she's waiting for someone to contact her and say, "You know what you could do with those tapes--" That's how stories are born. susang@vitinc.com -- http://www.vitinc.com/~susang EVER Faithful Ravenette. "Friends help you move. Real friends help you move bodies."