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Anony Moose
Dead Man's Party
Fri Dec 16, 2005 12:52
207.200.116.71



I'm all dressed up with nowhere to go. Walkin' with a dead man over my shoulder . . .




There was nothing like a damned good party.

Especially one hosted at your brother-in-law's house where you weren't going to be driving home after imbuing a ton of liquor while wearing a costume.


Sean almost felt sorry for his boyfriend. The gentle giant had taken to lurking directly behind the Freddie Mercury imposter for over an hour now, content to sling an arm around still tender shoulders and ply him with drinks. There were still three weeks to go until the arm cast came off and he was cleared for strenuous activities.


Poor John.


Well, there was little the actor could do about it; he wasn't stupid enough to ignore his own doctor's suggestions. Be lazy for six weeks, let people help you with heavy lifting, and we'll see you in two months for the cast removal. Sound advice, that. He nestled back against his lover, head tipping to the side to nestle against a wide shoulder.


Sigh. L'amoure.


"This is not the first time--You tried to get away .This is not a party--Where people know your name. This is not a classroom--With teacher at the board. This is not a catshow--With prizes at the door."

The music filtered over the loudspeakers, prompting Sean out of his musings. "C'mon, sexpot." Without giving John a chance to back out of it, the slimmer man led the larger into the living room, where a makeshift dance floor had been set up. Now, properly dancing with someone when one arm was held imobile was tough, but the blond managed just barely to maintain an even beat.

"Go--Don't you go . Won't you stay with me one more day . If we get through one more night . If we get through one more night ..."

Resting his cheek against John's shoulder, Sean allowed his mind to wander into fertile little pastures and daydream about the day when his cast would come off. Then, gently, he would take his lover upstairs, and peel off every bit of article from the man's magnificent body and ..

click, click, click

"Not fair! Hand it over, shortstuff!"

John sounded ... very aggrieved.




"Now, pumpkin, remember that you can use the cell phone if you run into trouble. I don't mind picking you up."

Jefferson Blue lounged in the shadows cast by a wall separating the Holmes residence from their nearest neighbors. He was just over six feet in height, classically handsome despite the smarmy grin currently plastered across his face. Light brown hair covered his head, dusted with gray at each temple. Very distinguished. One could see where his daughter had gotten her personality.

"Of course, Daddy."

Jane Louise Blue, so named after her mother, leaned up and planted an affectionate kiss against her father's cheek. The vivacious blonde was clad in rainment of the flying rodent kind, namely a skin tight Batgirl suit. Leather. Latex. Heeled boots. She could have wandered into any fetish shop in New York and become the instant darling of that set.

"See you later then, pumpkin. Your mother and I will be taking Uncle Robert out to dinner and a movie with the girls."

One hand wave later, and each parted in different directions. Whilst Jefferson meandered back to his economically efficient Honda hybrid, Janey studied the wall for a few seconds before locating a way over. Using the nearby telephone pole as leverage, she pulled herself up and over the concrete barrier and hesitated briefly to eyeball the security system.

For an ex CIA agent, it wasn't too shabby. But there had not yet been made a system that the girl couldn't get around. Breaking and Entering was her forte. Once someone stepped onto the grass, a sensor would activate inside the house; Janey could see the unit near the swimming pool. Therefore, she remained on the wall, carefully inching her way down the length until she was close enough to look for a way inside.

There were a few theatre types on the back porch, but none were observant enough to glance upward into the night's shadows. Janey took advantage of this, inching forward until all she had to do was drop down noiselessly onto a patch of grass that wasn't rigged, and casually walk through the back door.

Mission: Almost Accomplished.

It didn't take too long to ferret out her target, or the slim actor he was dancing with. For a split second, she almost felt sorry for Geno, but she had her marching orders. Photos of the agent-at-large, preferrably with clothing. Blue eyes studied her friend's outfit, thinking that this part of the assigment would be a bit tough.

Maybe she could eventually sell the pics on Ebay and raise money for the Endangered Wildlife Fund. At any rate, Janey was loathe to break up the pair and let them dance for about five minutes before sliding the small digital camera out of its place on her ... utility belt.

Click, click, click.

Janey moved forward as she snapped each frame until there was absolutely no way that John wouldn't notice her. "Hi, sunshine. Mom and Daddy wanted proof that you were still alive and kicking." There went her father's patented grin, the one that drove criminals absolutely nuts. And everyone else, too, come to think of it.

When he lunged, the blonde simply smirked and stuffed the slim item right down the front of her shirt. For one moment it looked like John would dive in after it, but he was stopped when his boyfriend placed an uninjured hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, now. You can't kill me. I have ... information."

At the giant's perplexed expression, Janey produced a slip of paper from the edge of her right sleeve and handed it over. On one side, in writing recognizable as her own, the prodigy had scribbled down three names and three addresses. Moving closer now, she gestured for him to lean over before very quietly explaining to him that her mother had been gracious enough to track down Sean's assailants. There was nothing more to say on that subject.

"She said to consider it a belated birthday gift, Geno."

With a wink, Batgirl sauntered off to the refreshment table. Mmm, chips, more chips, cheetos . . . someone had robbed the local convenience store. Idly grabbing a handful of the cheesy snacks, she turned around and almost got smacked by a bottle of Guiness.

"Evenin', ma'am." Indiana Jones tipped his fedora politely, the other hand grappling with the beer. "My apologies, I guess my drink has a thing for pretty crime fighters." His voice was actually kind of smooth, not at all like Harrison Ford, but the man did indeed look the part. Fit, attractive ..."How about I get you a drink so mine doesn't feel so lonely. Henry Hones, Junior at your service." The stranger removed his hat and actually bowed.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mister Jones. You may call me Barbra Gordon." Well, as long as he could stay in character, so could she. Indy leaned past her, faint musk deoderant drifting into suddenly sensetive nostrils, and rescued a second bottle which he handed over. "Thank you."

"My pleasure, ma'am. I hear it can be dangerous business walking through this area alone. May I escort you to a seat?"

So he did. And they talked. And talked. About movies and books and nothing of a serious nature. Janey couldn't remember when she'd had so much fun simply chatting with a perfect stranger. One she didn't have to hoodwink. It felt ... good. Eventually nature called, however, and she excused herself from Indiana's side to use the guest bathroom.

And that's when hell broke loose.

Male hands slid around her waist from behind while Janey was adjusting her cape in the hallway, sliding up to cup her leather-encased breasts. "I've been watching you all evening. So beautiful. So limber. I can tell you like men with power ..." One hand slid underneath her bodysuit.

"Pal, that was a very stupid mistake."

Seconds later, Mark Scully found himself shoved into the living room, blood spurting from his newly broken nose, the pain making him screech.




Aaaaaaaeeiiiiiiiiii!

The cry of pain tore Sonnet's attention away from chatting with Lucy and Mister Wallace in the foyer. Glancing up, the cop noticed a tall, somewhat attractive man stumble past them into the living room, followed by a pretty girl in a Batgirl costume. The man's nose twisted at an awkward place, and his chin was coated with scarlet liquid.

Oh shit!

She moved forward, seconds wasted in having to ease around Caleb Holmes, seconds that cost the male victim his left hand; audibly broken when the female stranger bent it in a direction that nature had not intended.

"Get her offa me!" Mark wailed, his dignity traded for just stopping the pain. Sonnet went for her handcuffs before remembering she wasn't on duty. But someone was already interrupting the fight; Sean's boyfriend John had taken it apon himself to pluck the blonde away from her sport before she could break the victim's other hand.

"Someone call an ambulance!" She ordered, already shifting into 'work mode'. General chaos ensued; it took over half an hour for the paramedics to arrive. By that time, she'd pieced together what appeared to have been a wanna-be sexual assault, in which case she couldn't blame the girl for defending herself.

Alas, since she wasn't on duty, another pair of officers had been called to the scene to take reports while Mister Scully found himself transported to the ER. It wasn't until she finally sat down at the kitchen table that she realized her father was nowhere to be found. A quick sweep of the house indicated that neither Ben nor Hugh had been in residence since the scuffle started.

"Gawdammit!"

Sonnet rarely swore, but she was pissed. Angry. Annoyed. Interrupted.

"What's wrong, Sarge?"

The auburn-haired woman glanced up at Captain America ... er, Devon. "I ... lost my ride. Do you know where the phone is so I can call a cab?"

"No." There was a slow smirk spreading across his mouth that she wasn't sure she liked. "I'll take you home." Devon gestured for her to stand up then moved into the hallway to say their goodbyes to the host and hostess, both of whom looked to be settling in for a long fume. Then he reappeared before she could properly sort out the odd reactions.

"Come on, Tennyson."

And that was that. The evening should have ended on the sidewalk outside her apartment building, but Devon insisted on playing the good guy and walking her up to her apartment. It was a horrible, horrible mistake. The door was ajar, sending Sonnet's body into an alarmed state. Reaching for her gun, and then remembering it was inside, she motioned Devon back -- not thinking that he was, in effect, her own superior and similarly unarmed -- before inching into her own tiny entry.

"There you are, darling." Isabel's voice drifted in from the living, where the older woman was reclining on the sofa with one of Sonnet's gun magazines. "Oh, and who is this handsome devil?" Rising to her feet, the redhead gracefully glided over and gave Devon a measuring look.

"Is this your date, darling? Quite yummy."

Sonnet found herself in something of a quandry. She loved her mother to death, but homicidal thoughts were beginning to swim around inside her brain. "Mom, this is Devon Holmes. He works with me." Oh, no. A light she recognized all too well lent her mother's face a youthful glow.

"Devon Holmes. And he works with you, mm? So lovely to meet you, young man. I'm Sonnet's mother, Isabel Marchand. You may call me Isabel." Then, with the all the literary poise she could muster, the author kissed her daughter's cheeks before strolling out of the apartment. "I'll just call you in the morning, darling. We'll have breakfast before you go to work."

Oh, god.

Without being told, Sonnet knew that her mother's most famous character, Cadence Marlowe, was going to acquire a sexy new partner. Perhaps putting in a transfer to Alaska was not entirely out of the question.

She turned to Devon, gesturing uselessly at the now empty corridor. "My mother is on lots of medication." Or should be. "Don't mind her."

Now, if he'd just stop staring so intently at her and make his own farewells, she could get some sleep before the breakfast ordeal come morning.



Waiting for an invitation to arrive. Goin' to a party where no one's still alive.


  • Politicking with BanistersWilliam Wallace, Sat Dec 10 18:31
    Slowly, ever so slowly, he had been making amends with his family. One by one Devon had approached them, caution flaring in both parties. Jane had been the easiest to win over, Benny was indifferent... more
    • Dead Man's Party — Anony Moose, Fri Dec 16 12:52
      • Alarming Fronts... And BacksCaptain America and Frozen Vegetables, Fri Dec 16 16:38
        Devon was currently watching Benny, who was insisting on giving the ladies a supposed ‘tour’, while quoting Willy Wonka lines, still nursing his first beer of the night. Hell, he had to drive home... more
        • Over the rainbowMunchkins, Wed Dec 21 01:24
          Errands. What a polite euphemism for the chore about to commence. Janey sat in the front seat of her father's car, punching in the number of a cell phone. Jeff waited patiently in the driver's seat,... more
          • Shots FiredGeno | Holmes, Wed Dec 21 10:47
            “Alright, Daddy. I'd better get out there and do this before he objects again.” John groaned, holding his head between his hands. All he had wanted to do was go take a look at the bastards that had... more
            • Black Knight's WorkRobin, Fri Dec 23 00:39
              Dark deeds and secret matters, you can fix it but it doesn't last Bright flash, the mirror shatters, who's reflected in the broken glass? "Nobody knows the trouble I've been ... nobody knows my... more
              • Comforts and NewsCastelluccio | Holmes, Fri Dec 23 15:04
                “Here, sweetheart. Why don’t you take a shower? It’ll make you feel better.” John mindlessly accepted the large towel placed in his grasp by ‘Mom’, allowing himself to be steered toward the bathroom. ... more
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