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Michael Pierson
Reviewing the Situation Pt 2
Mon Aug 28, 2006 00:33
71.33.60.170

Grazing.

Wound.

Conrad had actually shot his father. It didn’t matter that the bullet had only sped past without leaving any lasting damage, it wouldn’t have … Michael blinked, forcing himself to think clearly. “We’ve called the police, Michael. They’ll want to talk to you about … events.” It was Ben who spoke, his voice thick with fury, a great deal of it directed straight at his lover’s son.

“Keep him safe, Ben. Please.” Apparently he had no right ask, to judge from the former operative’s thunderous expression, but Michael did anyway. He had to stay sane long enough to find Devon and make sure he was alright. The one fukking chink in his armor: an FBI agent. Ignoring Ben, and whatever the man was now demanding, Michael almost sprinted into the bistro itself, glancing around through narrowed eyes until he saw Devon propped near the cash register with an icepack being held to the back of his head by a flirty waitress.

“Devon, are you alri—“

“Michael, some punk just jumped me in the men’s room. Said you’d know why …bugger was huge.” There was pain evident in Devon’s voice, a bruise along his jaw supplied part of the cause. There were also questions in the man’s dark eyes. Michael could not give those answers. Not right now. Stalking up to Devon, he leaned forward and bestowed a vicious, propriety kiss on the man’s lips.

“There are things I must attend to. Stay at your brother’s house tonight. I’ll get in touch.”

Michael walked back out of the restaurant and past his father without a backward glance.




The first note was left in the pre-dawn hours, hidden carefully away in Ben’s morning newspaper. Security cameras picked up a slender male in his thirties, wearing a gray shirt and dark jeans. The suspect was astute enough to keep his face away from the camera lens.

Dear Dad and Ben:

I’m sorry for bringing this down on your head. It was never my intention to cause either of your pain, physical or emotional. By the time you read this, I will most likely be in need of a lawyer, but will understand if you choose not to interfere. Dad, I love you. I always have. I know Mum told you that there were secrets she could never reveal, that they would be protected at all costs by men you don’t want to hear the names of. I also know that she never told you her birth name. It was changed to protect her identity, and subsequently mine. You see, Dad, my real name is James Michael Moriarty. If you have questions, I will do my best to answer them when I am able. Ben, please protect my father. He has never known of my family history, nor has he concretely known that his only son is a criminal.

Michael.





The second note was stashed inside Devon’s slacks at the Holmes residence, sometime in the pre-dawn hour. While the silent alarm was tripped, it was jimmied in such a way that fifteen minutes passed before the electronic warning began to go off, waking up everyone in the house. By that time, the culprit had already made his escape.

Devon,

After yesterday’s events, it will be impossible for you to ever trust me again. Despite my uninvolvement with the shooting, I walked away from the scene of a crime and I know the police are out looking for me in connection with it. When you finally find this, I will be out of reach of your aid, and at the mercy of my own conscience. There is a good chance that we will never see one another again, at least in a casual situation and there are things I should have told you. Things I would have told a wife, had biology not gotten in the way of that. Here, then, is my oldest secret, a family legacy that you will recognize right away. Anything else I cannot write down in this letter, but I can direct you to your brother Caleb, he shall have more answers than I can give this. Know only that I have never lied to you, except by omission.

James Michael Moriarty





The federal building in downtown Manhattan was a maze of stories and corridors, and not open to the general public before nine in the morning. Michael didn’t let that guideline stop him from picking the lock of a seldom-used door in the underground parking garage, and gaining access to one of the freight elevators. There were cameras everywhere, a fact he no longer plotted to disable, and simply stepped off on the third floor, winding his way through a couple stairwells until he gained his objective – the seventh floor. It was here that Devon’s brother kept a small office, though it was apparently widely regarded that man was in the slow process of retiring for home and family.

Michael did not begrudge him any of it, and would have hoped for the same chance had life allowed him. Sauntering past cubicles and larger groups of desks, he smiled at each person he passed, clothing and demeanor raising not one alarm. It took a few minutes to find Caleb’s office, and the door was partially open, though empty. Perfect.

The forger slipped inside, taking in the masculine desk, book shelf and the couch propped near the doorway. There was also a chair facing the desk, a folding design meant to intimidate whoever sat in it. Michael thought the plush one behind the slab of wood looked more comfortable and was settled into it moments later. With little to do for the near future, he began peering through the folders at the top of the pile.

The second one was a real interesting read, pity that his test creations had been apprehended so quickly. Barely ten days …. Tsk, tsk. Propping booted feet on the edge of the table, Michael began to scan through the official documents, curious as to what intelligence Interpol had collected on him in the past few years.

“Michael, what are you doing here?”

He glanced up to see Caleb hovering in the doorway, looking vaguely confused and very tired. Ok, the man looked like he’d gotten maybe an hour or two of sleep in the past twenty four. Michael wanted to pity him, since this visit would result in even less of a chance to doze.

“Not too much information in there.” He tossed the folder back onto the file. “Interesting nickname, though. I always did like T. S. Eliot.”

“That’s classified.” Caleb swiped the folder and skimmed through it, obviously noting that his guest hadn’t taken anything out of it.

“So you are working … this case.” In a way, it was a relief. The one person Michael hoped would hear him out was, in fact, attempting to locate him. Wasn’t this just going to be fun. “They left out some details in there, Caleb.” Michael took a breath, and smiled placidly.

“For instance, Macavity’s real name is James Michael Moriarty, currently known as Michael Pierson.”

Reaching into his coat, he withdrew a manila envelope down onto the desk. Inside were bank notes yet to be distributed, and a cheque matching the one inside the little baggie. There was also a key, the warehouse and address clearly labeled in Michael’s handwriting.

“Agent Holmes, would you be a chum and take me into custody?”


I'm reviewing the situation.
I'm a bad 'un and a bad 'un I shall stay!
You'll be seeing no transformation,
But it's wrong to be a rogue in ev'ry way.


  • Reviewing the Situation Pt 1Michael Holmes, Mon Aug 28 00:32
    How about our place… If you want? …stay over but I can't… I can't commit like… Hugh eased his head back around the corner, grateful his son and his son’s … friend hadn’t noticed his attempts at... more
    • Reviewing the Situation Pt 2 — Michael Pierson, Mon Aug 28 00:33
      • AddendumsDevon Holmes, Tue Aug 29 01:00
        He could do this. No hyperventilating, don’t trip over the curb, and resist the urge to smack Michael on the ass when he walks in front of you like that. Hell, he wasn’t even really staring at the... more
        • EnlighteningCaleb Holmes, Tue Aug 29 13:30
          “The only prints they’re going to lift off of that stuff are mine and those tourists,” Caleb grumbled, staring down at the forged cheques that he had managed to buy off of a few southerners the... more
          • ParadoxHugh / Michael, Tue Aug 29 15:23
            “He needs a lawyer.” Hugh had entered the residence some minutes behind his furious companion, quiet demeanor a stark contrast to the tall, currently raging man. Gently easing their note away from a... more
            • NegotiationsHolmes at Large, part deux, Wed Aug 30 21:20
              “He needs a lawyer.” Caleb frowned at Hugh’s words, and especially the ensuing explanation. It was most assuredly nothing he would have ever expected to hear coming from the life-long actor. Come on, ... more
              • Plan B from Outer SpaceConrad / Michael, Sun Sep 10 00:31
                Two weeks. If the Universe was a friendly place, fourteen days would have passed by uneventfully, followed by an arraignment, a trial and a very long incarceration for Devon's almost-lover. However,... more
                • RamificationsDevon & Caleb Holmes, Mon Sep 11 00:04
                  “That’s a bad habit, you know,” Caleb chided. But he held a lit match forward, anyhow. Devon had slept for absolute shit the night before, with everything going on. He couldn’t believe it, he had... more
                  • The Whites of Their EyesSome Cast Members, Mon Sep 11 17:26
                    The Pussy-In-Boots club was located just south of the Newark airport on the Jersey turnpike, not so close to the high traffic area than the cops would become interested, but still within reaching... more
                    • On White HorsesKnights, Mon Sep 11 22:44
                      God, why was he staring ? Devon tried so hard to stop the shudders wracking his frame, bringing more pain as every bruise and cut thumped against the steel table. And his knee! Oh God, that was the... more
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