Subject:  It's Absurd: Chapters 1-3 (note: ratings are posted on individual chapters for R and NC-17 chapters) |
Author:
Sanlin
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Date Posted: 11:34:08 03/28/01 Wed
In reply to:
Sanlin
's message, "It's Absurd (crosspost from Leigh's AU/HR Board)" on 11:24:57 03/28/01 Wed
It’s Absurd: Chapter 1 – Phone ‘Conversation’ (Rated ‘R’ for suggestive dialogue and adult themes)
Nikita arrived back at her apartment. She was exhausted and frustrated after yet another day of kicking-Terrorist-butt and being up close, but not personal, with Michael.
It was late at night, but Nikita was still too anxious and wound up to sleep.
She didn’t feel like listening to music, taking a shower, or working out. Instead, she turned on the television. It was running all the usual suspects: infomercials, bad movies, phony psychic networks, and those annoying ads for phone dating services.
Suddenly, one particular ad caught Nikita’s attention. She couldn’t believe her eyes or her ears. She thought, ‘That’s so… bad!’
She’d never been the kind of person to phone one of those kinds of numbers before. But…
Nikita fought the temptation as long as she could, then broke down and dialed: 1-900-OPEN-SESAME on her cell phone.
"Hi!" a childish-sounding, high-pitched voice giggled on the other end of the line. "My name is Elmo. Would you like to play with me? Hee…hee…hee It only costs $ 5.00 a minute."
Nikita knew it was degrading. Unconscionable. How could they do such things? How could she do such things? But, she gritted her teeth and continued, anyway.
"Sure. What-ever," Nikita responded, uncertainly.
"You’re my best friend! What’s my best friend wearing, right now? Hee…hee"
Nikita, who was dressed down after a hard day at work, told him, "Oh, not much, really."
A temporary silence on the other end of the line was broken by the sound of Elmo clearing his throat. "Giggle Gee…That’s nice. Can you name all the parts of the body? Say them with me."
Nikita did, finding the experience to be darkly and disturbingly erotic. Elmo was so much easier to talk to than Michael.
By the time they got to the parts of the body that would never make it onto cable TV, Nikita was breathing, irregularly, and becoming rather…excited.
She went over to her CD player and put on some mood music: the song “Absurd” by Fluke.
King Kong, in Cannes, on a date with Spiderman,
Dan Dare’s sitting there, scared by the killer teddy bears,
Down town, Mini Mouse, is slipping micky’s in the famous grouse,
While Big Bird spreads the word,
Anybody with a heart votes love…
Over the phone, Elmo told Nikita, "My friend, Big Bird, would like to come play with us. Tee-hee-hee Would you like to play with Big Bird?"
Nikita was hooked. She begged, "Go for it, Elmo!"
As the conversation progressed, Nikita suddenly gasped, "Oh! Do it! Tickle me, Elmo! Oh, yes! Yes! Talk to me, Big Bird!"
***
Michael stood, transfixed, with his ear tightly pressed against the outer door of Nikita’s apartment. He’d arrived considerably earlier, intending to invite her to go out for coffee.
Then he’d heard her talking on the phone to Elmo, and it was like he was hypnotized. He knew it was wrong; voyeuristic, invasive. But he just couldn’t pull himself away. Nikita’s conversation was difficult to follow, but her excitement was obvious.
Wait a minute. Recognition dawned in Michael’s jade-green eyes. Elmo? Big Bird? Forget going for a cup of coffee.
He let Nikita continue her conversation inside the apartment. There must be a costume shop somewhere that was open.
Michael started to leave, hurrying off into the darkness. He was feverishly determined to obtain appropriate materials and return to the apartment while Nikita still felt like…conversing.
As Michael moved away from the apartment, he faintly heard Nikita’s voice, through the closed door, saying, "Oh, Elmo!! Do it! Count to me… in French!"
Michael hastened his footsteps. If he couldn’t find the requisite materials, he mused, he’d settle for a "Tickle this, Elmo!" T-shirt. He was sure he’d seen Walter or Birkoff wearing one of those, the other day.
************
Chapter 2: Mikey Wants A Cookie
Michael, dressed in his black Gaultier suit, strode purposefully through Section.
He met no one in the deserted corridors. Intensely relieved, but still wary of surveillance, he kept his face frozen into an expressionless mask. The late hour saved him from some potentially embarrassing questions.
Michael moved as if possessed towards his singular objective.
***
A black-gloved hand reached out from behind and covered Birkoff’s mouth. Birkoff, sitting in Systems and monitoring Section’s graveyard-shift traffic, nearly fainted in his chair.
"Birkoff." The flat, deadly tone marked by an unmistakable French accent confirmed his assailant’s identity.
"Michael! What are—"
"Be quiet." Under the familiar aura of master-assassin, machine-man control, Birkoff detected that Michael’s voice sounded strange. Strained. “I need Intel and the location of the materials listed on my PDA. Plus access to a van and a “Tickle this, Elmo” T-shirt.”
"Whaa—" Birkoff cut his question short when he looked at Michael.
The Level 5 Op was a mess. His patently perfect hair was wild and disheveled. He was perspiring and breathing heavily. His cheeks were flushed with anger or excitement.
"Now, Birkoff." Michael’s tone didn’t invite further conversation.
Birkoff swallowed nervously. He took the PDA off Michael and uploaded its contents onto his computer before handing the device back to its owner.
As he read the supply list, Birkoff raised his eyebrows, slightly. "A what costume? Three cases of … Um… Michael? How soon do you need this stuff?"
"Now." The way he said it made Birkoff realize he meant right now! There was something predatory, almost aroused, in Michael’s thick, French-accented voice.
"But…" Birkoff sighed. Time for another miracle. Better that than rise to the top of Michael’s to do list. "I can provide the Intel and work-up the supply list, but Walter has the keys for the van and it’s his Elmo T-shirt. You’ll have to see him about those."
Michael sighed. By the time he finished with this mission, he thought, half of Section would be aware of it.
Glancing at the unopened bag of Oreo cookies near Birkoff’s console, Michael’s face took on a thoughtful expression. "I’ll need these, too," he said, grabbing the cookies.
"Hey! That’s the limit!" Birkoff protested. "The other stuff’s on me, but you’re going to owe me, big time, for those Oreos!"
“Agreed.” Michael leveled his bone-chilling blank stare at Birkoff until the young man’s face paled noticeably. “I was never here tonight.”
“I’ll download the Intel to your panel. While that’s cycling through, I’ll fix the surveillance tapes and erase the computer records.” Birkoff hid his grin, but secretly he was thrilled. He loved spy stuff and playing games against Section, provided no one, especially himself, got hurt. That and Michael was an enigma to him: big brother, super spy, friend, and intimidator. It wouldn’t be the first or last time Birkoff helped Michael with a mission not officially sanctioned by Section. Michael took care of his allies and his enemies.
Birkoff glanced down at his terminal and quickly typed in a series of commands. By the time he looked up again Michael had disappeared.
As he worked on his computer Birkoff thought, ‘Michael’s the man I long to be in real life. I can match his skills when I’m playing my favorite video games. If I use a reset button.’ Birkoff sighed and muttered to himself, "I’m going to have to put a bell on him, though, before he gives me a heart attack."
************
Chapter 3: Tiger Briefs
Walter looked memorable standing by his bed, dressed only in a tiger-striped pair of bikini briefs.
Still, Michael thought, the older man kept himself in excellent condition. The hippie-style T-shirts and buckskin jackets Walter wore at Section concealed a muscular, well-defined chest.
Fortunately, Walter had been sleeping alone tonight.
"Michael! How did you…?" Walter paused mid-thought. Apparently, it wasn’t just an empty saying that one of Michael’s nicknames was the Shadow. "What do you want?" Walter grumbled, slipping into the sensual growl of his whiskey-rough voice. "You’ve never been the type to hop into bed and cuddle up. And I’ve never been the kind to let you!" He paused again, grinning wickedly. "Unless, of course, Nikita was involved. It takes trois to menage, after all.”
Michael responded with a blank stare. "Walter. I need the van. I have some material to acquire."
Walter’s eyebrows quirked upwards, in puzzlement. "Hey, what’s up? Nothing’s scheduled in Munitions. There aren’t any missions involving you on the pad for tonight or tomorrow morning. What material?"
"I…" Michael paused, sounding to Walter’s incredulous ears, embarrassed, but steadfastly determined. "I have a date planned."
"A date!" Walter’s eyebrows hit his hairline, and the sound of his startled laughter was like a well-tuned motorcycle rumbling and roaring to life. "I never thought I’d see the day. It’s not a Valentine Op, is it?" Walter squinted suspiciously. "For this kind of trouble, it’d better be with Nikita. And you’d better treat her right," Walter warned, staring into Michael’s gray-green eyes seriously. Walter saw desperation, there, but not deceit. Curiouser and curiouser.
"Yes.” Michael looked decidedly uncomfortable. “Don’t ask any questions. Please. Can I borrow your Elmo T-shirt? Or, tell me where you bought yours?"
"Well, let me slip into something less comfortable," Walter laughed, "and we’ll discuss it on the way. This sounds like some mission! You’ll need a driver and someone to help acquire the material," Walter chuckled. "Plus, it’s my van. If I loaned it to you, I’d get it back full of holes... or worse."
***
Michael stood, once again, in front of Nikita’s locked apartment door.
Walter had helped him acquire the necessary materials. Legally, whenever possible, but a rash of bizarre, ‘unrelated’ robberies were sure to be reported, on the morrow.
The older man had then taken the van back to Section, after dropping off Michael and his supplies. Not before commenting, "Three cases of… Man! To be a fly on the wall! Sure you don’t want… company?"
Michael had politely declined Walter’s ‘generous’ offer, but promised Walter a future favor, similar to the oath he’d made to Birkoff. This was going to be an expensive date, but he’d worry about that later. All that mattered, now, was getting back to Nikita.
Michael had made certain preparations in the van on his way over to Nikita’s apartment. He sprayed the video camera outside Nikita’s door with a substance provided by Walter, to temporarily disable it.
Taking a deep breath, Michael adjusted his ‘get up,’ and knocked on the door.
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