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"Your deal Skip." Lee Stetson handed his cousin the playing cards.
Skip Carmichael began to shuffle the deck. The mischievous smile on his face broadcast to his cousins that this round was going to be anything but your typical game of poker.
"Okay. We're gonna play Junk Heap Jacks."
"What the heck is Junk Heap Jacks?" Murphy asked.
"It's really quite simple," Skip began. "We deal out all of the cards. Each person then shuffles their own deck and places it face down. This is your Junk Heap. We then play multiple rounds of five card stud with each person pullin' from his own Junk Heap. We continue playin' 'til all cards are gone." Skip smiled. "Oh yeah Jacks are wild."
"I just have one question."
"What's that, Andy?"
"The last time you went to the moon, did you remember to take any oxygen with you?"
* * *
The laughter from the bunkhouse could be heard all the way to the porch where the wives of the card sharks were relaxing with their coffee.
"Great idea Caitlin," Amanda said. "Staying at the ranch a little longer after the Reunion is just what we needed.
"Thanks," replied Caitlin, "but I'm still surprised the guys went along with it."
"I'm not," Amanda stated. "This last Reunion was uneventful, thank God, compared to all the previous ones. The boys are just hanging out a little longer hoping that something exciting will happen." She raised her cup and the others followed suit. "Here's to the boys." Their lips had barely touched the cups to finish the toast when the bunkhouse exploded in a giant fireball.
* * *
"What!?!"
"I said that we just received a report confirming the deaths of the primary members of the Michaels family."
The man and woman sat across from each other at the large table within a sparsely furnished room. Their computer terminals scrolled various pieces of data. Beside the terminal was what resembled breakfast -- orange juice, fresh fruit and toast for her and a bowl of Hershey's Chocolate Nuggets and a chocolate shake for him.
"Catherine, how could this have happened?" The man licked chocolate from his fingers. "We had them under constant surveillance!"
"I'm not sure. Let me check my notes one more time in case we missed something," Catherine began, pulling out a folder six inches thick with the label Lee Stetson Volume 798. "Let's take a look." She began skimming through the tome. "5:01 p.m. Lee leaves office 5:16 p.m. Lee pulls into driveway checks his hair in the mirror Amanda comes out of house to greet him Oh wait!" She perked up. "This might be important! Lee set his briefcase down Amanda closed the distance between them Lee brushed a stray hair from his wife's face Oooh! Oooh! He touched her elbow! Lee slowly" Catherine's voice wistfully trailed off and her eyes glazed over as she began to read to herself.
The man picked up the phone. "While you finish your research, I'll contact the secondary units."
* * *
"Hello," said Remington Steele as he picked up the ringing telephone. "Uh huh yes okay, hold on." He put his hand over the receiver and called to the other room. "Jennifer! Phone!"
"I'll be right there!" replied Katie-Laura's nanny as she rose from the floor where she played Monopoly with her young charge. "This is Jen," she announced after Remington handed her the phone.
"The kitten poops outside the litter box" said the voice on the other end of the line.
"and Dave's not here to clean it up." Jen rolled her eyes, completing the code phrase.
"There has been a successful strike on the primary clan members. Be extra alert. Any questions?"
"Just one," she replied. "Can we please change the code phrase? It's driving me crazy."
"I'll think about it." He hung up.
"I saw that," the nanny accused the cheating child as she walked back to the living room. "Put it back!"
* * *
Ring... The woman driving the Plymouth Grand Voyager picked up the cell phone and was greeted with a familiar phrase.
"The gold is easily found."
"The hell it is!" she exclaimed.
"That's not the counter phrase." The voice at the other end complained in frustration.
She sighed heavily. "Only if you know where to look," the driver continued, this time using the proper counter phrase.
"We have a problem. Increase surveillance on your target."
"Do I risk possible contact?" she asked with a little too much enthusiasm.
"Only if necessary. But don't..."
The driver turned the phone off and tossed it onto the passenger seat, cutting off any further directions that might have been given.
She slammed the gas pedal to the floor and the van accelerated to a speed seldom seen even here on the Autobahn. The small car in front, not yet achieving the same velocity, was rewarded with a jolting bump from behind. Both vehicles pulled over to assess the damage.
The woman approached the man who'd gotten out of his car.
"I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. I didn't see you," she babbled, faking a scared demeanor. "My name is Barbara."
The man looked at his damaged vehicle then towards the woman who just rear-ended him. With an impish smile he replied, "The name is Bond... James Bond."
* * *
"Seventy-eight seventy-nine"
The woman fumbled for the phone, eye still attached to the high powered telescope. "Pearce here."
"The volcano eruptsÉ"
"Quit that crap," she cut him off. "What do you want? You're interrupting my surveillance."
"The primaries have been eliminated. Possible attack on secondaries," the voice quickly explained. "Keep an eye on your subject at all times."
"Sure, no problem," she said still keeping a mental count.
"And remember to"
Pearce hung up.
"Ninety-eight ninety-nine one hundred."
Across the valley, in a secluded cabin, Harry Dalton rose from the floor and wiped away the sweat generated by his daily exercise routine.
* * *
The control center of Section Zero buzzed with frantic activity. Every available operative was called in to work the emergency. Even a deep cover agent who'd been working in the desert for years pretending to be a wife and mother had been reassigned. At the heart of Section Zero, the weapon's supply area ran at peak efficiency by Maura. Nobody really knew how long she'd been with Section, but she continuously related stories about the founders, Steed and Peel, as if they were rookie agents. Why they tolerated her behavior was a mystery.
As Maura adjusted the settings of a new high powered Tazer gun, Agent Cloward approached, presenting a request form.
"What do you want today?" Maura did not even look up as she grabbed the paper.
"I would like an automatic, phase-induced, hyperactive, technicolor, positronic, plasma reactor," replied Cloward.
"What are you going to do with it?" Maura asked, doing her part in the daily ritual.
"Same thing I do every night." She turned toward the reader, glazed eyes bulging. "Try to take over the world!"
"Sure... Fine..." Maura produced a red box from behind the counter and handed it to the crazed agent.
Cloward clutched her prize and wandered back down the hall towards Area Eight where they kept the "special" agents that they used for Catherine's twisted experiments.
Suddenly an eerie red glow, accompanied by a low-pitched hum filled the room, finally earning Maura's attention. When the light display subsided, a strange sight was revealed. In the center of the room stood a black spandex cat suit stuffed to the near breaking point with a blonde woman -- her lips far too big for her face.
"I am Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of ..." She never finished her statement due to the convulsions caused by the enhanced Tazer gun.
"Bite me Barbie," was all Maura said when she pushed the button to notify security of the intruder. Upon the arrival of the armed guards, the veteran agent just pointed towards the still twitching body, then returned to tinkering with the equipment on her workbench.
* * *
The door to the round metallic room slowly opened. Catherine strolled in, hands behind her back -- determined -- almost business-like. Strapped to the chair in the center of the room resided the mysterious silicon enhanced intruder.
"I am Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of ..." again she was stopped by a quick surge of electrical energy. This time triggered by the remote control clenched in Catherine's hand.
"I have not asked you any questions yet," Catherine began. "You will refrain from speaking until asked a question."
Seven of Nine remained quiet.
While the dark-haired woman slowly circled the prisoner, a portion of the wall opened to reveal a large monitor. "What I will be doing is showing you several variations of a Music Video. You will tell me what clips you like and do not like."
"So, you are one of those Vidders I have heard about?" Seven spoke out of turn.
The giant Barbie doll began to writhe in pain from the electrical shock.
"We are not Vidders..." Catherine ferociously explained while continuing to hold down the shock button. "These are not Vids..." Seven still convulsed. "These are Music Videos..." She slowly released the button. "We will not use that term again, will we?" She smiled sweetly.
The barely conscious captive nodded her head in agreement.
"Now let us begin," Catherine said perkily as if the previous moment had never happened. She clicked a different button and the monitor lit up. "Now this first variation is where Daniel touches..."
* * *
Three hours later, Catherine entered the sparse room where Operations busily played waste basketball, dozens of empty chocolate wrappers littered the floor.
"Did you find out anything?" operations asked, a wrapper bounced off the rim of the trash can and joined the others on the ground.
"It seems that our delusional, blonde bimbo believes she is from the future," Catherine stated with a smirk. "She thinks that she is on a mission to prevent the destruction of the Michaels Family."
"What else did you find?"
"I've determined that she is a product of early parental abandonment which developed into an over-exaggerated need to be part a group, followed by a sense of dislike from her coworkers."
"No. I meant regarding the current crisis."
"She did have on her the manifesto that describes in detail the Michaels' Massacre, as well as the plan for the destruction of the rest of the family. And believe it or not, it even has names and contact information for the masterminds."
"Recommendation?" Operations asked.
"Cancel her!" she answered all too quickly.
Operations gave her a questioning look.
"I don't like her."
"And why is that?"
Catherine contemplated for a moment before coming to her conclusion. "I'll think of reason later."
"Good enough." Operations pressed a button on the intercom system. "Call in the first team."
* * *
"That's right. You got it. Right there!" said the red-headed woman in a low, soft voice.
"I can't do it," bemoaned the dark-haired man. "It just won't go in!"
"Let me give it a try," sighed the woman. She grabbed the speaker wire from his hand. With a graceful motion she slid the bare wire into the waiting receptacle. Now that the last speaker was connected, the new surround sound system was finally ready.
"Heather, you're amazing," he conceded.
"Of course," she declared smugly. "That's why they keep me around."
The sound of a high-pitched ring preempted the expected sarcastic response. They both checked their cell phones. The man raised his phone in the air acknowledging the call was his before placing it to his ear.
"Abdul," was the only word heard over the receiver.
"I must go," he said coldly as he stood, then headed towards the door.
"Let me get my coat and I'll go with you."
"No." He opened the door. "Follow procedure." He didn't look back as he walked out and shut the door.
"Have it your way." Her eyes rolling in disgust.
Heather opened a sliding door to reveal a closet containing a multitude of leather items. Long coats, short coats, pants, skirts and several small items with straps and buckles were all displayed in an orderly fashion. She took down one of the items and held it like she was greeting an old friend. After strapping it to her arm, she carefully pulled the throwing knife from it's sheath making sure it was secure, yet providing an easy draw.
The phone rang.
She selected the longest of the black leather overcoats, slid into it then slowly tied the belt.
Ring
Satisfied the clip was full, she snapped the magazine into the 9mm Browning semi-automatic and put the weapon in her coat pocket.
Ring
Heather took one last look in the mirror and brushed a stray hair from her eyes.
Ring
Casually Heather answered the phone. "Janette," the voice said.
She opened the door and walked past Abdul who still had the cell phone to his ear. "Come on. Let's go." She headed down the hall towards the open elevator.
"I'm sorry. But you know the procedure," he blurted as he caught up to her. "They call me, then I call you. That's how it's done."
As the elevator doors closed, the leather-bound redhead slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses before her companion could notice the You're-An-Idiot look in her eyes.
* * *
Operations paced around the briefing table where Maura, Heather, Abdul and other non-descript agents not important enough to mention were sitting.
"Okay people. We have a new terrorist group out there." Operations stopped and faced his audience. "They call themselves Buffalo Leg Scrapers. And they're nothing like we've ever encountered."
"What makes them so different?" Maura asked.
"It seems that for the past eight years they have been the ultimate masterminds behind all of the terrorist activities against the Michaels Family."
"How do we know this?" Heather questioned.
"We have recently come in contact with their manifesto. They publish it in volumes under the title 'Relativity'."
"Don't you think its absurd that they would publish their activities along with contact information?" Heather asked, trying to make sense of it all.
"Yes, but doesn't it also seem absurd that we would team our top agent with him?" Operations indicated Abdul, startling him into spilling a glass of iced tea all over the briefing table.
"Point made." Heather sighed. "Please continue."
Operations pushed a button and the really cool holograph appeared above the table -- with an image of such a high quality it was obvious this effect took up the majority of the story's budget, allowing nearly nothing for plot, character development and witty dialog.
"This is Jill Hargan." Operations gestured towards the image of the female who floated above the table. "She is the original creator of this devious and diabolical terrorist organization. She concentrates on all of the schemes designed to terrorize the entire Family at once. Her plans are designated under the code name 'Reunion'."
"Where Hargan designs the overall strategy, the details are fine tuned by her cantankerous cohort, Elaine Gustainis." The image of Hargan transformed into a woman with hair that could only be described as Ethiopian.
"So what's the plan?" Maura asked.
"Kill them!" Abdul interrupted. "Kill them all!"
Heather smacked Abdul on the back of the head. "Shut up, moron!"
Operations continued, ignoring the scene he had seen many times before. "This is what we're going to do"
* * *
"You what!?!?" Elaine shouted.
"I killed them off." Jill shrugged.
"Why did you do that?" Elaine sat down trying to comprehend the situation.
"WellÉ" Jill hesitated. "With the kids and managing the apartment complex, I really didn't have time to write this year's Reunion story." An apologetic expression washed over her face. "So I thought I would start the story and let you finish it."
"And killing off the cousins was your idea of a good start?" asked Elaine, still not believing what was going on.
"Okay. So it wasn't the best idea I've ever had," Jill admitted.
Elaine's sarcastic response was interrupted by a knock. Opening the door, she was greeted with a tranquilizer dart which gave her the incredible urge to slump to the floor.
At the sight of her friend sprawled at the feet of two black-clad intruders, Jill bolted towards the bedroom.
"Get her!" Heather commanded.
With cat-like reflexes, Abdul tripped over Elaine's fallen body, rolled end over end, and slammed his shoulder into the stereo system as he leapt to his feet. A second after he stumbled into the bedroom, there was a loud crashing noise that sounded as if a multitude of bricks had fallen on exposed flesh.
In the brief moment it took Heather to casually step over Elaine, she entered the bedroom to find an unusual, yet not unexpected, sight. Across the room, collapsed on the bed, lay their second target. On the floor, a hand holding a tranquilizer gun protruded from a three foot high pile of unlabeled video tapes.
"Did I get her?"
* * *
Once again, the door to the round metallic room slowly opened. Catherine strolled in, hands behind her back. Strapped to the chair in the center of the room sat Elaine, the evil co-creator of the terrorist group Buffalo Leg Scrapers.
"Where am I?" questioned Elaine. "What have you done with Jill?"
Catherine answered, "Where you are is not important. As for your friend" She let the sentence trail off.
"If you've hurt her, I'll"
"You'll what?" Catherine interrupted. After the appropriate dramatic pause, she continued, "Don't worry. Your co-conspirator is fine. She informed us that she had to pick up her kids, so we let her go."
Elaine stopped her response when she saw the brownish-haired figure in the outside hallway. "Gina! Is that you?"
The woman in the doorway, acting as if she didn't know Elaine, hurried away.
"You know agent Todd?" Catherine inquired.
"Well yeah" Elaine hesitated. "We always suspected she was a spy, but we were never sure."
"Agent Todd is one of our top operatives." Catherine beamed with pride. "But back to business. When I am done with you, you will tell us everything we want to know."
A portion of the wall slid open, revealing the large monitor which showed Daniel moving his hand towards
* * *
"You've been gone a long time," said Operations as Catherine entered his office.
"It took longer than usual." Exhausted, she slumped into the chair in front of his desk.
"So did she break?" asked Operations.
"Well" Catherine hesitated. "Yes and no."
"What does that mean?"
"At first I thought I put her in a coma after the first two hundred variations, but she insisted she was paying attention," she began in wonder. "Somehow she was able to recount every scene in all of the videos. She even suggested a few variations I hadn't thought of."
"Somebody as obsessed as you are," Operations mumbled in disbelief.
"What did you say?" she asked suspiciously.
He tried to save himself. "Umm So what did you get out of her?"
"You're not going to believe this," she continued. "Buffalo Leg Scrapers is not really a terrorist group. It is really the production company for a fanzine."
"Huh?"
"They believe that the people they write about are fictional television characters. They didn't realize they were real."
Operations sighed. "I knew it was going to be a problem when those mission recordings went public. 'It will be fine!' they said" he began to ramble. "'Nobody will pay attention to them!' they said 'People will forget about them in a year or two' they said"
Catherine continued, ignoring Operations, "For some unknown reason, they are able to control the lives of the Michaels family through their writings."
"How is this possible?"
"What part of 'for some unknown reason' don't you understand," she snarled angrily. "If so much money hadn't been spent on that damn holographic image earlier in the story, then maybe we could have come up with a plausible explanation." Catherine emphasized her opinion by repeatedly pointing towards Operations. "So for now you will have to be satisfied with 'for some unknown reason'! Do you have a problem with that?"
"Not at all." Operations made a mental note to sell the holographic projector and increase the plot budget.
"In the meantime," Catherine related calmly, as if her outburst had never happened. "Elaine and I have come up with a way to repair all damage done by finishing the latest Reunion story."
"Correct me if I'm wrong," Operations winced in a please-don't-yell-at-me-again tone. "But aren't the cousins dead?"
"Yes" Catherine said with an evil grin. "And no"
* * *
"Colonel Mayborne! The base…" the lieutenant shouted, storming unannounced into the office.
"How many times have I told you," Mayborne screeched. He quickly tried to close the window displaying the 'Frolicking Co-eds' porn site. "Knock before entering!"
" is being attacked!" the lieutenant finished.
"What? By who?" the colonel stammered.
"According to the reports, the base is being overrun by a bunch of females. And they're headed straight for Level Eight."
"Level Eight!" Mayborne pushed his way past the lieutenant, and rushed towards the elevator.
As the doors opened to Level Eight, Mayborne was greeted by an assortment of heavily armed women pointing their weapons in his direction.
From the back of the harem, Abdul pushed his way to the front. "Welcome Colonel. I believe you have some things that do not belong to you."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Mayborne said in a smarmy tone. "And regarding the subject of the dead members of the Michael's family, who are not really dead but were actually replaced with mechanical duplicates made possible by the technology we stole from that world visited in the episode titled 'Tin Man', I have no knowledge." The colonel took a breath. "And the fact that the four you're looking for are safe and sound behind that secure door, which can only be opened by my hand print, is completely unknown to me." Defiantly Mayborne continued. "So you might as well just turn around and leave."
"Well" Abdul turned towards the ladies. "I guess that's that. Let's go home."
With utter disgust Heather pushed Abdul out of the way, confronting the colonel. "Open the door."
"No."
Like a cobra, the redhead struck at Mayborne, knocking him unconscious. She dragged his body to the door, pressing his hand to the security panel.
The door slid open revealing the four cousins sitting around a table.
"Jacks or better to open," Lee declared. "Nothing wild"