TITLE: A Plot was Hatched
E-MAIL: eli @ popullus.net
RATNG: PG
POSTED: July 22, 2004
SUMMARY: Plans are afoot.
NOTES: This is a mishmash of fandoms, pulled together for Celli's birthday. Sports Night, Alias, PotC, and Stargate (sort of, the Mooshee is the product of Salieri's mind and has now invaded mine).
DISCLAIMER: Read
Once upon a day named Thursday, there was a woman. (Okay, yes, she existed on other days, too, but we're not talking about those days now, are we?)
This was a special day for this woman, and she knew it was special. She had been planning and wishing and hoping (and a doing a little plotting, if we're going to be truthful about everything, which we are, of course) in order to make it the most special day that ever was.
What she didn't know for sure was that there were others out there in the great blue (and smoggy yellow-green) yonder who were also plotting. Not so much with the planning, these folks, but plotting? That, they were good at.
To start things off, one called up the other in New York.
"Hey."
"What are you doing?"
"Huh?"
"Why are you calling me?"
"Because it's a form of communication that works well for many people around the world."
"It's a form of communication that doesn't make much sense when you're in the same room."
"It makes sense no matter what room you're in. The fact that I'm in the same room, yes, that makes it make less sense."
"I'm putting the phone down now."
"I'm surprised it took this long."
Things actually got done when they weren't on the phone.
One of those things was the determination that the phone was required to bring in another conspirator. This was mostly because cross-country plane tickets were prohibitively expensive unless you wanted to end up running through the orange carpeted corridors (yes, orange, and not that '70s orange, which has usually turned more of a burnt sienna after decades of tromping and dragging, but a shiny-happy orange that's only one notch below Barney purple on the "list of things that will get you off with a wink" when you're facing a homicide indictment) of a certain airport in the middle of the country while cursing out every single lollygagging tourist that had decided to stand right there where you were desperately... Ahem. Sorry, double tangent.
Getting back to the story gets us to a cell phone in Los Angeles.
"You want me to do what?"
"I want you to do whatever it is you guys do and go get him."
"We don't do that kind of thing."
"Uh-huh. Try that line on someone else. Or, better yet, have someone else try it. James Earl Jones can pull it off when he's facing down a blind David Strathairn asking for world peace. I'm asking for something much smaller and you need to go back for remedial training."
"You're asking for a favor. One that's going to require a lot of work on my part and almost none on yours."
"...Yeah."
"You really want someone else for this..."
"If we wanted her we'd send--"
"Fine. You might want to try being a bit nicer about it next time. Just a suggestion."
Its job done, that phone call ended. And the other job was done as well, although it did take considerable effort (and almost several trips to the hospital) on the part of the co-conspirator. It wasn't every day that someone was plucked out of time and plopped down on a very comfortable sofa.
"Hmm."
"You-you're not going to...use that sword. Are you?"
"Perhaps. Otherwise, why have it against your throat? On the other hand, perhaps not. It'd be a pity to get bits of you all over these shiny things. And so you know, the latter's more likely if you're quick with an answer as to how I came to be...here."
"O-okay."
There wasn't any bloodshed, don't worry. (That would be the sort of thing that would require a woobie warning up top and cause sadness across the land. In other words, all bad.)
Anyway, while our woman with the special day continued to go about being special, the latest member of the conspiracy was brought up to speed. He extracted several promises out of the group (which necessitated yet another phone call, as well as several sizable drinks) before they shipped him off to Colorado.
"You're not much in favor of chit-chat."
::a long-suffering look::
"Right. Good of you to come out here as I'm not much in favor of soldiers."
::an understanding nod::
"...Other than serving as a wonderful place to hang your hat, don't those get heavy?"
No one was harmed in this meeting, either, although it was a closer call.
Others were contacted, but all had made plans of their own due to the late start by the instigators of this particular plot (and that of the writer, but it's hard to keep track of calendar days!) and so there were only the five of them to be waiting at the door of our special woman for her to come home.
"It is Thursday, right?"
"It's been Thursday all day."
"So it's Thursday now."
"I'm pretty sure that's what he's saying."
"I b'lieve it's Friday in the Orient."
::an abrupt hoof stomp::
"...I think that means 'shhh.'"
"Yes, we got that."
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