Untitled Short
by 
Shayne Dark (Ottawa, Canada)
Copyright (C) 2004, by Shayne Dark


Tuesday, 1755 IST Headquarters


"Is letting me be very clear about this."  Thibor growled into 
the receiver of the phone. "Is making sure that order is filled 
and supplies are here Friday.  Not day after, not week after. 
You bid for contract, so is knowing what is having to deliver, 
and when is having to deliver it.  Can't do it?  Will not be done 
in time?  Two weeks?  Fine, fine, is fine.  No problem, is 
completely understanding.  Contract is withdrawn.  Have nice day, 
oh and by the way, fuck you, and is welcoming to IST contractor 
blacklist."  Thibor slammed the phone receiver into the cradle 
and rubbed at his temples.  With the events of recent days, the 
need for additional supplies had grown; stakes, silver, armored 
neck guards, and a variety of automated crossbows and similar 
devices.  He was the expert, so the job had naturally fallen to 
him.  He would call his step-brother Costi tomorrow.  As much as 
he hated nepotism, or even the appearance of nepotism, he also 
needed an arse-load of precision milled silver weapons.  Costi 
could, and would deliver, even in the abbreviated timeline 
required.

A glance at his wall clock told Thibor that work was officially 
on hold.  He had five minutes to get from his office, in the west 
wing of the castle, to Cammy's in the east wing.  He had 
deliberately chosen an office as far away from his commanding 
officer as possible, it eliminated distractions.  With a full 
five minutes to spare, he could afford to be stopped three times 
en route, and still make it there on time.


Tuesday 1757 IST Headquarters


"Look Sawchyk!"  O'Neil blustered, "Colonel Byrd told me to tell 
you that he expects the first shipments of ammunition to be in 
the armory no later than Tuesday, or it's your ass."  The beefy, 
red-face Captain pointed an accusing finger.

There were so many possibly responses to that,  Thibor had a hard 
time settling for just one.  Delivering a Romanian love tap, 
known locally as a Liverpool kiss, to the center of O'Neil's face 
was appealing, but would ultimately take more time than he was 
willing to waste.  Likewise, a prolonged verbal assault linking 
O'Neil's lineage to everything from sea cucumbers to the entire 
starting lineup of Manchester United would take far longer than 
he could spend.

"Tell the Colonel that there may be some delays."  Thibor brushed 
by O'Neil. He had taken delivery of the ammunition less than an 
hour ago, but it was unlikely that O'Neil knew that, or would 
care to check.  He would dutifully report to Byrd that Major 
Sawchyk was unable to fulfill the tasks set to him.  The poor, 
dumb, boob.


Wednesday 1759 IST Headquarters


"You wouldn't believe what happened today."  Halo gushed.  "The 
Crimson Crusader just found out that Nightmistress was once the 
super villainess Black Fox, but he can't tell her that he knows 
or he will be breaking his word to Mister Morpheus, who has been 
like a father to him since his own father, the first Crimson 
Crusader, disappeared while investigating the hidden base of arch 
criminal Aleister of Thelema."

Thibor merely nodded, he had asked Halo how her day had been. 
Foolish.

"Sorry," He cut her off.  "Is having meeting to get to, will get 
rest of story tomorrow."  Had he been so busy that he hadn't met 
these new recruits Halo was talking about?  Even with the 
increased workload of the last week, it wasn't something he was 
likely to miss.


Wednesday 18:00 IST Headquarters.


"Right on time Major."  Simon looked up as Thibor entered the 
office. "Cammy's just finishing up a report to the French 
Minister of the Interior, and should be out shortly."

"Thanks."  Thibor collapsed into the only other chair in the 
operations area.  "Is new recruits coming in this week?"

"Not that I am aware of."  Simon tapped a few keys on his 
computer.  "No, there aren't any trainees currently stationed 
here, not new ones at any rate.  Why?"

"Was talking to Halo."  Thibor admitted.  "And was mentioning IST 
operatives that is not knowing.  Crimson Crusader, Nightmistress. 
Now, is getting older, but brain is not quite soft and mushy 
yet."  Thibor glanced over at Naoko, who was trying 
unsuccessfully not to laugh.

"What?"

"They aren't IST operatives.  They're characters from a soap 
opera."

"A soap opera?"

"Yes.  The Capes of Wrath, it's a long running TV show dealing 
with the lives of the Champion City Crusaders, a super hero 
team."

"Is kidding."  Thibor winced as Naoko shook her head  "Is not 
kidding." It was bound to happen sooner or later.  He was 
officially a dinosaur.  It could be worse.  Dinosaurs were 
authentic bad asses who ruled the earth for millennia, and it 
took a meteorite to do them in.  He still had plenty of time.  In 
a way it was nice, Halo was putting aside the useless pap of 
childhood television and taking up with the useless pap of adult 
television. He wasn't sure if it was an improvement or not.  

"So where are you going tonight?"  Naoko asked.

"Chez Henri."  Thibor answered.  "Duck a l'Orange with all the 
trimmings. Is only getting special ducks from China once a year, 
is having to make arrangements weeks in advance.  After dinner, 
is going over to tutor little rabbit Foo Foo on Latin."  Thibor 
had been spending some of his increasingly limited free time 
assisting Yugo's werebunny girlfriend in learning Latin roots. 
She was starting medical training with IST and a solid foundation 
in Latin would allow her to breeze through the worst parts of the 
gross anatomy courses.  Yugo was pleased that Uncle Thibor seemed 
to be more accepting of Alice, and was seeking to build bridges 
with her.

The thought brought a characteristic, wolfish grin to Thibor's 
features. Yugo was a good boy, but he wasn't a terribly 
experienced one.  By linking Yugo's ditsy, passively domineering 
girlfriend to IST, it would eventually draw the younger Sawchyk 
in like a moth to the flame.  Yugo had thus far avoided any sort 
of service with the organization, but with that would be changing 
in the next year or so.  A momentarily pang of guilt struck 
Thibor. Shadowlaw had used a similar technique, manipulating the 
Russian Cyclone's appalling girlfriend to draw him in.  Was 
Thibor any better?  Did it matter? He could always bullshit 
himself that Alice was indeed a fine nurse and would benefit from 
further medical training from IST.  He could, but that would be 
lying to himself.  He was playing Yugo like a gypsy violin. 
Deliberately.  Yugo was the strongest of the Sawchyk wolves in 
his generation, and had to be properly groomed to eventually look 
after the pack.  It still bothered him though, and he felt like 
inviting Byrd out for a beer, if only to act as a reminder of 
what he could eventually become if the guilt ever disappeared.


Wednesday 18:30 IST Headquarters


"She's still on the line Thibor."  Simon said, glancing down at 
the phone console.

Thibor looked up from the medical journal he was reading through. 
He marked his place and pulled out his cellular phone.

"Yes, Henri.  Thibor.  Am terribly sorry, will not be able to 
make it in for dinner reservation.  Yes, cancel the duck, just 
put charge on my tab, will drop by and settle with you for..." 
Thibor glanced at Naoko, who was perched on the end of her chair, 
looking at him with wide eyes that would not look out of place in 
a Walter Keane painting.  "Wait, no am sending someone else. Yes, 
is still on my tab, and Henri, is not letting little Miss Yoshida 
order anything from first two pages of wine list.  Merci.  Au 
Revoir."

"You have ten minutes."  Thibor growled.  "Go.  Now.  Will take 
care of things at this end."

"Thanks Thibor."  Simon had the good graces to look guilty. 
Naoko was already out of the room and sprinting down towards the 
parking lot.

"Have a nice time."  Thibor said.  He moved over to Simon's desk 
and seated himself at the computer console.  He quickly pulled up 
the file on the French Minister of the Interior and scanned it. 
He noted several details on a pad and then switched over to an 
internet search engine.  Three minutes later he had his answer. 
Everyone had secrets on the internet, but few were particularly 
good at hiding them.  The Minister was very active in a number of 
internet groups dedicated to superheroes.  He was a fan, an 
enthusiast, and would leap at the chance to speak to one of Great 
Britain's foremost IST operatives, at great lengths.  What was 
supposed to be a five minute operations briefing was turning into 
a marathon of Gallic enthusiasm.  Cammy wouldn't be able to just 
hang up on him, and would weather the barrage of questions with 
grace and dignity.

****************************