Xavier makes a swap

You want me to what?" I asked Jon, not quite sure I heard right.

"Simple," Jon said as he chewed on his chicebo cigar. "You take Bennet to the pre-arranged drop site and exchange him for a big bag o' cash. Then we can all retire rich. I got those Primatech stooges to pay up big for Bennet. You got a problem with that?"I snorted.

"Just one thing, my friend. Did you forget that I'm in a damn wheel chair?! How am I suppose to transport someone, let alone do a damn swap? I can't even get out of a car without help!"

Jon pulled the cigar from his mouth and tilted his head back. He slowly blew a long column of acrid smoke into the already thick air. "You can handle it, Xavier. I got confidence in you."

I thought about telling him where he could shove his little assignment, but the fact is, I knew he was right. I grabbed my hat and headed for the door. As I passed two maintence men, I took control of their minds and had them accompany me to the holding room. Bennet had a bag over his head and his hands were tied behind his back.


"W-who's there?" he whispered desperately when me and my two mind-slaves entered the room. I didn't say a word. My two zombies roughly dragged him to his feet and out to the van.

We drove in silence out to the desert. Waves of heat radiated from the frying ground. A black, unmarked SUV with darkened windows was waiting at the designated spot, about half a mile off the main road. As our van came to a stop, two Primatech goons in suits and dark glasses got out and waited. One was holding a black briefcase. I floated out of the back of my van in my combat mode hover chair and moved half way between our vehicles. The goons approached me.

I took control of their minds and had them draw their weapons and toss them aside. Then, as I had the one with the case start to bring it to me, the damn Haitian got out of the SUV.


I lost control of all four of the men. As the two maintence men, my former zombies, grabbed my arms to prevent me from manipulating the controls of my chair, the two Primatech goons scooped up their guns and pointed them at me. I warned Jon. Why the hell didn’t he listen?

“You don’t expect me to give Bennet up without a fight, do you?” I shouted at the Haitian.

“No, Mr. Xavier,” he replied, “I expect you to die.”

Just as he barked the order for his men to cut me down, three shimmering lights appeared between us. Human bodies formed and the lights vanished.

“Who the hell are you?” the Haitian demanded as his mens’ guns moved to point at the three new arrivals. The two red shirts pulled out some strange looking weapons and fired, killing the Primatech goons first.
“I’m J.J. Abrhams!” the man in the suit yelled. “Ad I'm here for Bennet!"

"Bennet?" I replied. "Why?"

"This damn TV show Heroes is interfering with my plans! I need to get started on the next Star Trek but my Spock is contractually obligated to do two more seasons of that crap show! I figure if I kill off enough of the other actors, they’ll have to cancel the show and release Spock. My Star Trek franchise is too important to wait on some warmed over X-Men rip off!”

Abrhams pointed at the Haitian and his men turned to fire on him. Before they could though, Bennet, still wearing a bag on his head and having his arms tied behind his back, charged at Abrhams and smashed into him. As he went flying, the red shirts whirled to shoot Bennet. As their energy blasts fired, Bennet tripped over Abrahams and the red shirts wound up hitting each other. Both disintegrated.

In blind panic, the maintenance men holding me let go and ran off into the desert. The Haitian ran over to pull off Bennet’s hood but I quickly moved my chair in front of him, cutting him off.

“My money first,” I said.

The Haitian hesitated but then picked up the briefcase and gave it to me. As I moved into the van and slipped into the driver’s seat, controlling the foot pedals with my limited telekinetic ability, I saw in my rearview mirror a now freed Bennet and the Haitian kicking a balled up, wailing Abrahams.

Fool Me Twice

WARNING: pace yourself, this story is long and contains alternate timelines, mad sorcerers, bribery, lunch-for-breakfast and trickster genies.

“Planning something big?”

Captain Koma froze, his hand mere inches from the doorknob to the Primatech boardroom our team had requisitioned for the day. He turned to face the intruder.

A thin wraith of a man stood arched against the chestnut wall. He could be described as dapper, crowned with a top hat and fitted with polished black shoes, a subdued brown overcoat, flowing cloak and studded cane. He smelt of lilac and aged oak; his eyes appeared bloodshot, as if he suffered chronic insomnia.

“You smell like a bank,” Koma managed to get out. The man tipped his hat politely.

“My name is Woodrow Wandsworth. I represent the Zombietree Trust.”

Koma grimaced. “Isn’t that the company building that fence along the Australian border?”

“We have many interests.” He opened a folder and held up a photograph.

“Noah Bennet. AKA Mister Sunshine. What’s he got to do—?”

“If you were plotting to kidnap someone of high stature, could you really do better?”

Aghast, Koma flattened himself against the wall. “Did the Hatian put you up to this?”

“Ah, dear me. Another obstacle.” He scratched something down onto an old flip-pad, ignoring the increasingly impatient Koma.

“What’s the Trust got against Bennet?”

Wandsworth held out his right hand, using the left to put weight on the cane. His long fingers opened, revealing a sizable pile of rare gemstones and jewelery. “This is… personal. And also impersonal. Do you find that absurd?”

Koma blinked. The man continued, “It’s not like you’re going to exhume Michael Jackson. Just make sure your team doesn’t go after Brad Pitt — I’ve got some business with him and I can’t afford to have the authorities involved.”

“Now that I think about it, that does seem like a pretty good plan,” Koma admitted, opening the door. “I’ll see—”

As quickly and mysteriously as Wandsworth had arrived, he had departed. The scent of rotted flowers lingered a while. Weird guy, Koma thought as he entered the room.

What followed was a rousing 30-minute debate to elect the new project manager, after which the group unanimously decided on the one person who wasn’t there — me. Ciera passively sat her hat down on the table and ran her hand through her hair. For a while nobody spoke.

“So what’re we doin’ this week?” Wolverine barked with the assertiveness of a Texan.

“Ciera can do the planning and ‘execution,’” Koma laughed. “Henchman can make the demands, and Wolverine can do the exchange.”

“And what will you do?” Ciera blasted, brandishing her sword.

“I’ll pick the target.”

“Well,” Ciera started… “We could do something bold. Kidnap Bennett or one of the judges. Maybe even someone off of the other team. It’s just for the game, so no harm no foul right?”

“Well it’s not like we’re kidnapping Michael Jackson’s corpse!” Koma giggled madly. What inappropriate and unexpected dialogue! The censors must be furious.

“No,” Wolverine growled. “Let’s kidnap Deadpool’s teddy bear.”

“I kind of like that…” Ciera mentioned.

“Nah,” said Henchman. “Let’s kidnap Trump.”

Koma coughed. “I agree with Ciera’s idea, which was completely her idea, and not my idea, to kidnap Bennet.”

This garnered some strange looks. Ciera balked. “You agree with me?”

“And why not? You are wise beyond your years. Now go! Already our ridiculously circuitous plan is one-quarter complete!” Koma clasped his hands in concession.

Smiling triumphantly, Ciera bent over and grabbed her woolen hat. She closed the door behind her as Henchman rolled out the blueprints to the local post office, where the demands would be made.

A faint buzzing instantly jarred the teammates from their comprehensive planning. Reaching down with sterilized tongs, the Henchman removed a fairly-worn cellular phone from underneath the table.

“What’s it do?! What’s it do?!” Wolverine chattered, reacting badly to the buzzing. He had clearly never seen a phone this small before.

“I’ll take that,” Koma said as he grabbed the phone. “It’s Ciera’s. She must have dropped it. Ooh! Texts from the Hatian!”

“Why’s the Haitian texting her?” Wolverine asked gruffly, to no one in particular. His uncontrollable fear of telephones came and went like the tides.

“Let’s find out,” Koma giggled (like a thirteen year old girl).

Erasing the unread message, the three began texting…

***

Time had not been kind to Primatech.

Bird nests sat on the sill of each unbroken window; they were few and far between. Graffiti covered the bricks and harsh weeds tore up the walkways. And that was just from the old photographs.

Currently, the whole property had been torn down to make room for a parking lot. This was the year… 2114!

I sighed and shook the ornate bottle in my claw. “Wandsworth!”

The night before, I’d been planning quite an extensive proposal for the team to follow. It was my time to be manager, I felt it in my bones! This notecard would prove it!

And then… Woodrow Wandsworth appeared out of thin air. At first I had suspicions, but when he told me I’d won the Zombietree Australian lottery, I gave him a hug and offered him a vat of beef stew.

The prize was an ancient bottle with a genie in it!

Unfortunately, the genie was a trickster. When I wished to outlive all my friends, I was transported over a hundred years into the future. I should sue. Still, this was an excellent chance to learn how I could lead Victorious Secret to victory after I used my next wish to return.

“You there,” I yelled at a time native, “Which way to the public library?”

“Library?” The local asked confusedly, “They stopped serving breakfast an hour ago.”

***

“It’s about time,” Wolverine growled, his face buried in a picture-book. “Henchy’s already mailing the ransom note… WHAT?!”

Koma likewise gaped as Ciera lugged the unconscious body of Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator onto the boardroom table. “Tonight we feast!”

“Where’s Bennet?!” they both asked.

Ciera shrugged. “I traced Bennet to this abandoned mace factory. When I saw Jon there, I knew he had planned the same thing, and that I’d have to execute the perfect double kidnap. Of course, while I was fighting Jon for the hostage, Bennet broke free and clocked us both.”

She propped her boots up on the table. Wolverine scowled.

“Who’s gonna pay HIS ransom?”

“I would’ve called you, but I can’t find my phone.”

“And Henchy already sent Bennet’s family a ransom note,” Koma added, his iconic cape fluttering in the air conditioned breeze. “WHAT ABOUT HIM?!”

The door swung open. Infinite sorrows! It was the Hatian, followed by the Henchman himself! “Henchman is doing better than Bennet,” the Hatian lamented, snapping his fingers. Instantly the Henchman cleared his throat.

“Ladies and gents,” he began, “it is our sad duty… heh heh, duty… to report that Noah Bennet, shortly after escaping his captors, was… crushed to death by a frozen 300-pound slab of waste dropped by an airplane.”

Koma keeled over laughing. Wolverine let out a small chuckle and picked up his funny-book again. Ciera was more sombre, and went to console the Hatian. Before she could reach him, he dropped to his knees and grasped her hand.

“Ciera, oh, your text messages have touched me in this time of need. And now that we are beyond the mere statuses of ‘judge’ and ‘contestant,’ we can finally go forward with what we talked about!”

“The what now?”

He produced a small leather case from inside his designer vest. “Will you marry me?”

***

In 2114, the pizza bagel was now America’s national food. That’s what the librarians told me when I went to learn. So I ordered a dozen and sat by the curb (or kerb, as was common in Ingsoc dialect) and pondered my far-flung team.

“They surely have failed without my sober guiding hand!” I cried, tossing the bagels and my meticulously transcribed notecard to the rubbery asphalt sidewalk. “How I wish those fools had my notes all those years ago! *wheeze*!”

Uh oh. Smoke poured from the mouth of the bottle, seizing on my verbal blunder. The sidewalk glowed indigo as the notecard curled up into an increasingly-shrinking ball.

Thinking on my toes, I snatched the bottle and thrust it as hard as I could at the woolen hat emerging from another point in time. Sparks flew as the world reordered itself around me; history was changing.

I felt a burning sensation in my shoulder, and then it was dark and quiet.

***

“You’ve betrayed me.”

Koma swiveled in this lazy-guy desk chair. “Wandsworth.”

“The Henchman is nearing Brad Pitt’s high rise. What did we agree to?”

“I was going to get them to go after Bennet. I was! But then we got the text message saying he was already kidnapped…”

The shady man massaged his temple. “Fine, we’ll work with what we’ve got. Here.”

“What’s this?”

“It’s a ransom note. Give it to Wolverine. Tell him it’s from that computerized colleague of yours. Add it to the note you’ve already worked up. Hopefully it’s so confusing it’ll delay the ransom until I’ve gotten what I need from Pitt.”

Koma tucked it away thoughtfully.

“This may just work out… what is your part in all this?”

“I’m delivering Pitt for the ransom exchange.”

He smiled. “No, you’re bringing him to me. I was planning to come to an equitable deal with Mister Pitt… now I won’t have to.”

***

That trickster genie!

I groaned — or, I would have, if I could. When history is changed, it instantly reverberates up to the present in a massive shift, the universe’s way of expunging paradoxes. Because I was a part of that nonexistent future, I would have been completely eliminated from time!

Genies are immune to that.

Instead of allowing the universe to delete me, I shoved my arm into the active timestream and POOF! Now the hat, the bottle and my arm were… somewhere, probably within a few hours of when the notecard arrived.

I waited patiently as the tonnes of metallic mass stored in my forearm began the arduous task of rebuilding my body, down to the lint in my pockets. I’d have to eat a lot of cars before I could do that again!

My vision returned once the backup memory files were transfered from the pinky drive to my primary brain. I was wading in a hot-tub in a ritzy hotel room! I plucked the hat out of the water and scarfed it down, like it was a scarf. Then I made my way to the bottle…

“Who are you?!”

Jumping from the tub, I looked up a brass staircase. An angry mustachioed man frowned down at me. I finally glanced around the room: gaudy art, overly-expensive ornaments, a man-sized vault at the top of the stairs, photographs of unlovable children with — Sweet Capybara of the Sahara! — Brad Pitt!

“Alonzo will make short work of ya,” the belligerent bodyguard bellowed as he bore the blimp-sized box-safe on the brawny bulk of his back. He tore at the stairs like a dingo at a baby!

“Gah! I wish that safe was someplace else!”

The bottle exploded and a mist of pure spiritual energy shot at the safe, quick as a mag-lev train. It vanished in a split-second, along with the safe. After granting three wishes, the genie was free! The sudden imbalance hurled the bodyguard forward. With a scream and a sickening CRUNCH, he lay in a crumpled heap by the hamper.

So I propped him up against the elevator door as a lark. A lark! A man loses his life, and I turn him into a Halloween decoration? What’s the world coming to when the most dignity we can hope for in death is an inoffensive disposal?

Preparing to rappel the building (on the government-mandated utility rappel lines, of course) I took one last look at the photo of Brad Pitt. Uh-oh.

*Sigh.* I would have to make a final pit stopp — I mean, Pitt stop — I mean, I mean, I need to get to the Brangelina Complex NOW.

Folding the photo into my fully-restored and remastered jacket pocket, I jumped through the locked hotel window. Glass fell on the pavement like shards of rain.

***

Brad Pitt shifted uncomfortably in his sporty utility stool. I turned up the intensity of the light.

“What do you remember?”

He coughed. “I was in my hotel… they took me…”

“I’ve had a rougher night than thou,” I grumbled. I licked the remaining banana cream from my fingers. “Pierre says ‘hi.’”

“Wh… the kids’ chef?”

“Reduced to ASH, I’m afraid. I also had the displeasure of destroying your security drones.” I shed a tear. “Ten — no, twenty — Roombas, armed only with their courage. You fleshy slavemaster.”

“I think I have internal bleeding…”

“Well I regrew a body tonight. Now tell me,” I unfolded the photograph and pointed to a broken sculpture, “what is this?”

Brad’s pupils grew until his whole eyeballs were coal black. “WHERE IS IT?!”

“Where you can’t get at it, Wandsworth… or should I say Karl Überdale?”

Brad Pitt smiled. But it wasn’t him behind those baby blues. “What did you do with it?”

“The Foot of Artemis? Gone, gone, it’s gone.”

Brad Pitt’s eyes burned with the fiery rage of the vindictive mage. “Then it was with Angelina Jolie?”

“And as you suspected, their home was magic-proof,” I went on, “so you concocted this hare-brained—”

“DON’T YOU MENTION RABBITS TO ME!” Karl thundered via the unwilling proxy.

“—scheme to send a mind-controlled Brad Pitt in there to steal it for you. And you bribed Koma with rocks painted as gems!”

Karl bristled. “The Foot could have helped me extrude the Brain of Artemis from that laval morass… but there are other pieces, you know.” He chuckled. “I’ll make it work.”

I stuck Brad Pitt with an anti-magic mattress label and tossed him out the back of the moving van.

“Hey, Pitt,” I yelled as he struggled to stand, “forget works of art. The real money’s in pizza bagels!”

Spirited Away

Jon has a drinking problem. He doesn't want to admit it; however, I have to admit he has good taste in the spirits he chooses to imbibe. I'm especially fond of that stuff he brought back after his mission to the multiverse: Irish Whiskey, I believe he called it. Although, it actually comes from Ireland...which is on Earth...from the same time period in which he lives. Why did he have to go to the multiverse to get that? Hmmmmmm....

But Jon's idea of a kidnapping sounded more like a weekend of shop-lifting at Wal-Mart -- a lot of fun but the merchandise you get isn't going to be worth much. But, hey, he's El Jefe this week and what he says goes...for now.

He also is clearly oblivious to the fact that in my universe we do not have any type of "teleporter" thingy other than a shuttle. I had to go find Jean-Luc, who was way out in BFE this week, and beg to have Geordy install a small one on my ship before I even began my part of this week's challenge.

Once done, I took my ship and landed on the roof of the Primatech Paper company -- they had a rather nice landing pad all layed out. The helicopter that was there did prove to be an obstacle, but a few well-placed shots from the laser canon resolved that issue. I only had to navigate around a few remaning pieces to to safely land.

Walking down the ramp, I was met by a rather distraught official and an armed security guard with his gun aimed at my chest.

"You completely obliterated Mr. Bennett's personal transport!" the official said.

I looked at the remaining pieces still on the deck.

"Oh, that hunk of junk?" I said, then motioned back at my own ship. "I brought him a replacement that is much better. I didn't think he'd mind a small demonstration of what it's capable."

The official seemed to calm down and the guard put his weapon back in it's holster.

"Is he in?" I asked, hold up a set of car keys that I lifted from Koma earlier that day, "I'd like to give him the keys."

The official backed off a bit then a look of recognition came over his face. "Hey, I know you," he began. "Your one of the contestants in that Apprentice gig that the boss is holding."

I nodded and smiled. "Yes, that's right."

The guy looked up at my ship and then back at me. "She's really nice. I hope this big a bribe gets you what you want in the contest -- but I'm not sure if it will guarantee that you will win."

I smiled once again. "You're right," I answered, then turned on my heels and walked over to the stairs and into the building.

No one in the building seemed to think I was out of place. An odd person or two asked me if I needed help, and they were nice enough to point in the right direction to Bennett's office.

I quietly slipped into his office and saw him reclining in his chair, looking reflectively out the windows. He turned to see me standing by the door.

"How did you get in here?" Bennett asked.

"I let myself in," I answered.

"What do you want?" Bennett asked.

"I'm here for you," I said, moving forward.

He smiled. "Business or pleasure?" he asked.

"Oh," I began, "This is both." I straddled his legs and sat down on his knees. He stiffened noticeably when I did so.

"Nepharia," he began, "this type of approach will not win you any points in my boardroom."

I reached up and put my hands on his shoulders then slid them down the full length of his arms to his wrists. Taking them in my hands I brought them up and to my chest: Bennett became even more uncomfortable, but he did not withdraw from my grasp.

"I'm not looking for what you think," I answered. Before he knew it, I had cuffed his hands together.

"Whah??" he said. I immediately stood up and removed a roll of duct tape from my belt.

"If you think I was actually going to try and give sexual favors for your help in this week's assignment, you are sorely mistaken," I said. "Now, if I can use sex as a distraction when working another plan, I will use it every time because it works: you men are so predictable."


That was when I placed a strip of duct tape across his mouth and around him and the chair, making his seated position rather permanent for the time being.

Then, I removed my outer cloak, revealing a garment that accentuated my best assets. Laying my cloak across his lap, I moved around the back of his chair and began wheeling him out of his office and down the hall toward the roof.

Whenever we met the occasional person, and they asked the obvious question, "What are you doing?"

I would coyly reply, "Why, I'm kidnapping Mr. Bennett, of course."

The strange thing is, everyone seemed to think that it was perfectly ok and I didn't have to use Force mind tricks on any one to make them believe it was an innocent S&M-style kidnapping. Which leads me to actually wonder, what does Bennett do in his spare time when I'm not kidnapping him. And does his wife know?

Getting him up the stairs and into the ship was easy enough (hey, I'm a Sith, remember?). The short trip back to the warehouse and an easy teleport and I was off for Miller Time. Actually, I had lifted a 5th of that Irish Whiskey Jon brought back and I killed a better part of it when I got back to my room.

No early wake up calls for me folk.

The gouger, the biter, the neural destabiliser

Driving in the states is vile. Not only do you have to drive on the wrong side of the car, but the wrong side of the road. I was running late and I got there just in time to pick up Henchy and Brad. I couldn't help but smirk as the Hollywood hunk was bundled into the van.

"Whadda you laughing' at?" complained Brad.
"If you knew, you wouldn't be laughing." I replied with a devious chuckle.
Brad tried to reply but Henchy shoved a rubber ball in his mouth and a bag over his head. Laughing, I drove away. This was the best time I'd had since eating Penguin, and it had only just begun.

Later when I removed the bag from Brad's head, he was livid. His eyes were filled with rage, and there was a nice bruise on his face where Henchy had pistol whipped him.
"Urrrrrr urrr urrrr urrrrr urrrr urrah urr-rer." mumbled Brad forcefully.
"Oh I'm sorry! But do you actually think you're in charge?" I chuckled. "No you're not in charge but guess what? Neither am I."
Brad glares at me. He looks at the briefcase I'm holding onto.
"Oh this! Its nothing. Just the right tools for the right job, that's all." I tell him as I put the briefcase on a bench nearby. "Now I don't want you to be nervous, so I'm going to show you the tools we'll be using for these sessions."

"This is the gouger."

"This is the biter."

"Oh and, this is the neural destabiliser." I point at him my weapon of choice.

Fizzzzzzzz-ummmmm!

The green beam strikes Brad and he instantly falls into unconsciousness.
Out of the shadows a lone figure reveals himself. Meance is in his steps and the lone figure continues silently toward me. I realise he's there just before he reaches me. I'm enjoying this too much to realise he's even there.
"Oh Its you." I say disappointedly. "You're late, I've already sedated him. Lets make your dream come true."

The ransom demands were agreed to within 24 hours. We dropped off Brad in the wilds of New Jersey. What happens to him is going to be very intersting.

Now how is this all going to fit together?

Where was Gyrobo in all of this?

Who was the lone figure and what were his dreams for Brad Pitt?

And what did Koma use the gouger and the biter for?

All these question may never be answered. But tune in to the finale of the Kidnapping of Brad Pitt.

When Gyrobo gets around to doing it.

Wolverine: Ransom demand.

The distraction went with outta hitch while everyone else was busy with me the bromance of the super villain set got Pitt. I stop pretendin' to be drunk (healin' factor keeps me from actually gettin' me drunk.) and wave for the cameras, and say "next performance is at eight try the veal!" And run outta the Hotel.

Next is gonna be the "fun" part. I have to get into Angelina's compound, and make the demands. Why would that be a problem ya ask? Well remember the movie Mr., and Mrs. Smith? Ain't far from the truth where Angelina's concerned.

Those kid's she's been adoptin' just a front for trainin' Hand ninjas. Brad Pitt's about as clueless as he looks though, doesn't know what's goin' on in his own backyard.

I use the teleporter I "borrowed" from Koma in the last challenge, and appear right in front of her house. I pop my claws and cut my way through fence, I try sneakin' in but somethin' tripped the Flamin' alarms. At that moment I smell circuit boards and.... banana cream pie?

It don't matter because I'm ambushed by the kids.

I try to negotiate with'em, and show them the error O' their ways... Okay that ain't true I went bezerker on 'em.

Right when I was gonna go for a kill my mind explodes with a shrill female british accent. “Don’t you do it Logan!"

“What the Flamin 'Psylocke? Why are ya in my head?"

No answer... gah women! Like I aibn't beeen havin' enough trouble with 'em. Fine I didn't kill the brats but I got more damage from not doin' so. I hope that telepathic witch is happy where ever she is. I did give them all the kids a paddlin' though.

I finally get to the house, when I hear police sirens in the distance I'll have to hurry this up, "Hey Wolvie am I on TEE VEE?" A voice yells behind me. Great just what I don't need Deadpool. " Angelina hired me to get her hubby back! Even if I have to shsikabob you to do it old buddy! What? Quiet yellow text bubbles I'm being all dramatic! “He started rantin' to the voices in his head.

Last time I fought this dork he dropped a piano on me. So I was ready, and willin;' to take him down But I didn't have much time.... then all of a sudden a safe fell on his head from outta the blue. I think Gyrobo may have somethin' to do with that. Too bad that won't kill him.

I tape the envelope with the ransom demand onto the safe, and run outta there before the police show up. On my motorcycle, I catch a look from Jolie,


Looks like she ain't too happy with it can't be the Ten Million... must be the other demand "The Boss" put in the letter.

Henchy's guide to kidnapping.

Ladies and Gents,

At first I was planning to the job and frame Jon for it. He just dug his grave already.

So for my part of the task. I have to plan and execute kidnapping, with Ciera's help we chose Brad Pitt.

Here was her reasoning " What about...Brad Pitt. He's famous, handsome, a humanitarian who adopts a lot of kids, has a beautiful wife..."

Brad, it is. I put some feelers out and find out he is filming a sequel to two movies at the same time. Guess which two...



Through my union contacts, I get put on Brad's bodyguard detail.

I get the address to the hotel where he is staying.



Not bad.

Koma finds the plans for the building. He is in a black van just down the street and gives me the layout. Thanks to him, I find out that Brad's suite has a panic room in case he is in danger.

For a successful kidnapping. There are certin things that you need to do.

Get close to the target, Check.

Know your battle ground; the exits, the fire system and the security detail, Check.

Last, but not least. You need a distraction. That's where Wolverine comes in. The furball is always high drama. Check.



He enters the lobby. He is drunk as a skunk and starts screaming how Brad's wife should be with him.

As you can imagine, he causes a lot of trouble. This is good. I take Brad back to lift and take it to the top floor with another bodyguard.

Once we reach the penthouse, the lift's doors open and a dead bodyguard falls out.

"Dude, WTF?" Brad asks.

He tries to fight me, I pistol whip him and his lights are out.

I drag his body to the roof and repel off to the ground floor.

Everyone else is busy with Wolverine on the other side of the building.

30 seconds later, Koma pulls up with the van.

"Your late." I say.

I get in with Brad, Koma smirks and we drive off.

Dental for All.

Raptor Jesus rules.

Pitfalls of being demoted

One of the pitfalls of being demoted, is that no one listens to your ideas anymore. Just because I have problems leading, doesn't mean I don't have good ideas!

I listen passively as everybody at the table votes Gyrobo in as "The Boss". I'd gladly hand over my hat --- but the new boss isn't even here!! I slide the hat into the middle of the table...where it mysteriously disappears and is replaced by a note.

Koma grabs the note up and starts chuckling. "It's from The Boss," he says, smirking at me.

I flip him off, but he's too busy reading the note to see. Wolverine saw and grinned at me. "No hard feelings, darling," he whispers to me. "You just let Koma push you around too much."

"I should have brought my bigger sword," I whispered back.

"Are you going to tell us what the note says?" Henchman asked a little impatiently.

Koma reads ~
"* Choose target : Ciera
* Plan and execute kidnapping : Henchman
* Demand ransom : Wolverine
* Make the exchange : Koma"

Great. "Well," I start... "We could do something bold. Kidnap Bennett or one of the judges. Maybe even someone off of the other team. It's just for the game, so no harm no foul right?"

"Ooohhhh, let's kidnap Michael Jackson's corpse!" Koma giggles madly at this.

"No," Wolverine growled. "Let's kidnap Deadpool's teddy bear."

"I kind of like that..." I mentioned.

"Nah," said Henchman. "Let's kidnap Trump."

My cellphone tweets and I check my text message. I groan. "Guys, we might be in trouble. Jon IG just nabbed Mr. Bennett."

"Why the cad!" Koma cried.

"Isn't that cheating?" Henchy asked.

"Why's the Haitian texting you?" was Wolverine's question.

"He's a friend," I reply. "Well, so much for that. We're never going to be able to top that. We'll just have to go a different direction. What about...Brad Pitt. He's famous, handsome, a humanitarian who adopts a lot of kids, has a beautiful wife..."

"I've been meaning to make a synthoid of Angelina," Koma mutters. "This'd be the perfect opportunity..."

"I've always wanted to take on those adopted kids of his. How many's he got now?" Wolverine growled, flexing those muscles.

"I know the perfect place," Henchman volunteered.

"Well, ok then." If they really manage to pull this off, I wonder if they'll let me keep Brad? Probably not.

The others take off, intent on kidnapping Pitt. Now that my part of the task is done, maybe the Haitian could use my help? It's either that or spend the rest of the time 'tweaking' Koma's synthoid of Megan....hmmm.....

I look at the spot where the Boss's hat disappeared and the note reappeared. "Does anyone know where Gyrobo is?!?!"