LFR #8: Arrest

La Femme Rayonlune: Arrest
Co-authored with Moonbeam
Written May 2001

Rated R
Synopsis: A parody fic … the story of level five operative Moonbeam and the way we wish LFN had been.
In this chapter: It’s one crazy day for Moonbeam as she solves a crisis between Ops and Maddy, rescues Michael from prison, and goes clubbing with Birkoff.

Disclaimer: The characters you recognize are property of LFN Productions, Warner Bros., and USA Network. The characters you don’t recognize were created by the authors. No infringement is intended.


B&J Motel

Moonlight streamed through the window of the motel, illuminating the thin layer of sweat on Michael’s body. Simon climbed out of bed, accidentally crunching several discarded Twinkie wrappers. He gazed at Michael, making sure he was still asleep, before sneaking into the bathroom. He reached into the toilet tank and pulled out a cell phone that was sealed inside a plastic bag.

He turned the phone on and dialed a number. The voice on the other end answered. “Yes, I’m here; Michael is with me… Tomorrow? That can be arranged… Right. Goodbye.” He put the phone back in the tank and returned to the bedroom. Michael was snoring lightly, unaware of tomorrow’s plans.

Simon grinned wickedly.

***

Section One: corridor

Moonbeam stumbled toward the Perch, a dazed look in her eye. It was too early to be coming into work. She had worked out an arrangement with Madeline that, unless there was a dire emergency, she was not to be in before noon. Operations blatantly disregarded this rule and had called her in at 8 a.m. Grumpy from lack of sleep and pissed as hell, she wished she hadn’t forgotten her gun.

“Yes! Oh, God, yes! Oh yeah…. Uhhhhhh…..”

She paused and looked around suspiciously. Not again… She followed the sounds and came across Hillinger and Quinn, humping like rabbits against the wall, on the floor, and upside down. Moonbeam tilted her head, frowned at the difficult positions, and stood up again. “Ahem.”

Quinn’s head snapped up. “Uh, hi, Moonbeam.” Hillinger continued his wild bucking, oblivious to anything else.

“There’s got to be something in the Section rulebooks about this kind of thing. Weren’t you here last night when I went home?”

“Well, Greg, he’s quite…” She moaned in response to something her lover was doing. “Energetic.”

“Dear goddess…” She rolled her eyes. “You two are disgusting.” She pivoted on her heel, combat boots squeaking on the floor, and continued on her way to the Perch. She heard some spanking and more moaning. Gritting her teeth, she made a solemn vow never to forget her gun again.

***

Section One: The Perch

“You’re fifteen minutes late,” Operations pointed out.

Moonbeam put her hands on her hips. “Didn’t Madeline tell you about the decree? Paragraph eighty-four, sentence five: ‘Unless there is an extreme emergency requiring her expertise, the operative known as Moonbeam shall not be called into Section One before noon.'”

“Actually, that’s why I called you in.” He sighed heavily. “Madeline won’t speak to me. She still thinks I was cheating on her.”

Her jaw dropped, and her eyes grew dark. “You called me in because Madeline is pissed at you?”

“A pissed off Madeline is not something that should be taken lightly! I still have scars from the last time she got mad at me.”

“Well, what do you want me to do about it?”

“Take her to breakfast, engage in girl talk, find out what’s really bothering her.”

“Paragraph eighty-nine, sentence two: ‘The operative known as Moonbeam does not engage in girl talk.'”

Operations glared at her. “Paragraph one, sentence one: ‘The head of Section One, known as Operations, can cancel anyone at any time for any reason.'”

She smiled weakly, backing up. “Breakfast is great, and I love girl talk.”

“Good. Report back to me immediately.”

***

Section One: Comm

Ms. Jones, no relation, sat down at her workstation. “Hola, Birkoff.”

He smiled at her. “Hola, Señorita. How was your downtime?”

“Not bad. Did I miss anything since episode one?”

“Quite a bit, actually. And for those of you who are wondering if there has been any continuity in this roller coaster ride, let’s recap. Nikita and Michael were at it like rabbits, and Moonbeam was called in to intervene. Michael found out something about his past that turned him away from Nikita, and SpyGirl became Moonbeam’s love slave, thanks to the Gelman Process. When she’s not parading around as a dominatrix, Madeline has been beating the hell out of everyone, particularly Quinn, who faked a pregnancy to get to Operations. As usual, she failed. Now she’s doing the horizontal, vertical, and diagonal mambo with Greg Hillinger. In terms of missions, we succeeded in destroying udrive and stopping Red Cell from taking over the world with smart quotes. Also, we brought in a prisoner named Gill Bates, leader of Megahard, but Michael helped him escape containment because Gill was actually Simone, Michael’s wife. The two of them are currently AWOL, leaving behind them a trail of used condoms and Twinkie wrappers.” He smiled. “See? There’s some continuity.”

“Thanks for the recap,” Ms. Jones, no relation, said. “Now let’s get on with the show.”

***

Too Expensive for You Restaurant

Moonbeam looked around the fancy restaurant, feeling somewhat underdressed in her sports bra and cut-offs. “This is a nice place. Do you come here often?”

Madeline nodded. “Christopher, the chef at Section, studied under Chef George, who runs this restaurant. The food is exquisite, the atmosphere divine.”

“Where’s the jukebox?”

“They have a live orchestra during dinner. Unfortunately, it’s too early to hear them. They are second only to the Philharmonic.”

The waiter arrived and handed them menus. Moonbeam shrugged, feeling somewhat hungry despite the early hour, and glanced over the selections. She frowned. Half of the stuff she couldn’t pronounce, and the other half looked positively disgusting. An escargot muffin? Calamari-topped pancakes made with all-natural ingredients? She peeked at Madeline over the menu and shuddered.

“What are you going to order?” Madeline asked casually, sipping her orange juice from a long flask.

“I can’t seem to find Berry Berry Kix on this menu.”

Madeline folded her arms across her chest. “Okay, Moonbeam, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” she asked innocently. “I thought we could have breakfast together. After all, I want your job; I should kiss your ass every now and then.”

“Paragraph eighty-four, sentence five? You should still be in bed, not having breakfast with me.”

“Well, I was threatened with paragraph one, sentence one.”

Madeline sighed. “You must mean sentence two. Sentence one says, ‘The real person in charge at Section One is Madeline.'” She smiled. “I changed it.” Her gaze turned serious. “Why did Paul send you?”

“He wants to know why you’re mad at him.”

“I’m not mad at him.”

Moonbeam frowned. “Then what’s going on?”

Madeline sighed, leaning back in her chair and becoming unnaturally open. “Paul and I have been together a long time and, frankly, I’m not sure if my heart is still in it.”

“Why would you think that? The guy is obviously nuts for you. I mean, he remembers your birthday. How many guys can you say that about?”

“True.”

“And you have an avid sex life, that’s got to count for something.”

“Sex isn’t everything. And besides, our sex life is boring.”

Moonbeam sighed. She was about to open a new can of worms, but she didn’t really have a choice under the circumstances. “We all saw your performance in the Perch a few weeks ago. Your sex life is not boring.”

“Well…”

“Okay, let me guess. His technique is lacking.”

Madeline nodded solemnly. “I’ve tried introducing a new array of props to the bedroom, but it all boils down to his inability to please me. I’ve been faking it for the last three years.”

“Three years?” Moonbeam raised her eyebrows. She’d been in Section for three years, and it had been the longest three years of her life.

“Maybe it’s me. Maybe he doesn’t want me anymore.”

Moonbeam continued to frown; Madeline was almost pouting! Must be residual effects from that soap opera crap, she thought. “It’s not you,” she comforted. “Would he have sent me here if he didn’t care?”

“No, I guess not.” She looked at Moonbeam. “What should I do?”

Moonbeam put her chin in her hands. More like what should I do. Dammit, I’m never leaving home without my gun again.

***

an open stretch of road

Simon held on to Michael’s waist as they sped down the road on his motorcycle. Silently, he checked the exit signs, waiting for the right one… There. Two miles. Slowly, he slid his hands lower, feeling Michael harden beneath his touch. “Pull off at this next exit. I just realized I have another Twinkie in my bag.”

Michael did as he was told, parking the motorcycle outside of a nearly empty gas station. He followed Simon to the men’s restroom and proceeded to unbuckle his pants.

Simon handed him the Twinkie and a condom. “One for you…” He reached into his bag. “Oh, I only have the one. I’m going to run into the convenience store and buy another box. You go ahead and get started, my little chaud-lapin. I want you good and ready by the time I get back.” He walked out of the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar. He heard some squishing and smiled in satisfaction.

A car pulled into the gas station parking lot with the license plate GLS CRTN. Simon climbed in. “Right on time. Are the police on their way?”

“More or less,” Siobhan answered, putting the car back into gear and leaving the station. “Sparks is waiting for us at the new compound. Did you bring the intel that you stole from Michael?”

“Yes.” Simon grinned broadly. “We now have enough information to bring down Section One for good.”

***

Section One: Comm

“Birkoff, did the team on Michael report back yet?”

“I’m Jason,” the twin replied, turning to face Operations.

“You’re a Birkoff; you should answer accordingly.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, they reported back. The intel was faulty; it was a seedy little joint that Michael went to with Nikita last January.”

“Dammit! Fine, bring them back in. And let me know when Moonbeam returns.”

“She’s already back.”

“Where is she?”

“On level seven, by the vending machines.”

Operations headed for the elevator.

***

Section One: Vending Area

Moonbeam chugged her Dr Pepper mercilessly (for some reason, the vending machine didn’t have any Dr Slice), stopping only to buy another one.

“Moonbeam!”

She lowered the can to see Operations storming toward her. “Yes?”

“I told you to report to me when you got back!”

“Sorry, I needed some caffeine.”

He stared at her. She stared right back. Finally, he sighed in frustration, making gestures with his hands. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Madeline, girl talk…”

“Oh.” She shrugged. “She’s not mad at you.”

“Really?” He looked relieved but immediately turned suspicious. “Then what’s going on?”

“Respectfully, sir…”

“Yes?”

“She thinks you’re a lousy lay.”

“WHAT?!”

“Hey, don’t kill the messenger!”

“What do you mean when you say ‘lousy lay?’ I’m not good in bed, is that it?”

“You really have no clue, do you?” She sighed, pulling out a chair for him and lowering him into it. “Apparently, she’s been faking her orgasms.”

“Oh.” He didn’t seem too upset by that. “Women do that occasionally. Why should Madeline be any different?”

“Because she’s been doing it for the last three years.” He started to rise from his chair in anger, but she pushed him back down. “Now before you go into cardiac arrest, consider this. She hasn’t been cheating on you, and she hasn’t left you, so you must still hold some value to her. So this is what I propose. In exchange for an addendum to the decree, I will help you out.”

“What kind of addendum?”

“Thou shalt not put Moonbeam in abeyance.”

“Ever?”

“Ever.”

He debated it. She was a good operative, and promoting her to level five hadn’t given her a complex, and Madeline liked her… “Deal.”

“Good.” She put some money into the food vending machine, and a package of Oreos dropped into the slot. She pulled them out, broke open the package, and handed him a cookie. “I only like the frosting, which is actually kind of perfect considering that’s all we need for this little exercise.”

He looked at the cookie curiously. “What kind of exercise?”

“Tongue aerobics.” She twisted the two pieces apart. “Shall we?”

***

that seedy gas station where Michael and his Twinkie are *ahem* bonding

Officer Dick brushed the doughnut crumbs off his uniform and stepped out of his cruiser. He waddled to the bathroom, his morning cup of coffee on its way out. He heard some strange noises from inside and pushed open the door.

“OH, MY GOD!” Dick pulled out his gun and handcuffs. “Hands against the wall! You’re under arrest for indecent exposure and disorderly conduct and–and abuse of a cream-filled sponge cake!”

Michael looked at him with a blank stare that can only be interpreted as, “Shit.”

***

Section One: Vending Area

Two packages later…

“No, a bit more rhythmically…” Moonbeam watched Operations’ technique. “Well, that’s better, but try flicking the tongue more…”

***

Tringlomane Prison

Michael looked at the other prisoners blankly as they eyed him with great longing. He heard one of them say, “Fresh meat!” If he hadn’t been such an emotionless person, he might have shuddered.

The warden threw him into a cell with a tall, chunky guy named Butchie. He locked him inside and chuckled evilly.

“Don’t I get a phone call?” Michael asked.

“In a minute. You need to meet your new cell mate first, you know…feel him out.”

Michael watched the warden walk off and turned to look at Butchie. “Hello.”

“Hey, lover.”

***

Section One: Vending Area

Four packages later…

“What now?”

Moonbeam tilted her head to one side. “Well, you’ve pretty much mastered that. Something else that might work… Write out the alphabet. That always gets great results.”

Shrugging, Operations split apart another cookie and tested out the new theory.

***

Tringlomane Prison

“…and then I found out that Simone was really Simon, a man. I have no idea how he hid it from me for those years we were married. But I helped him escape, and we went back to my apartment. I should have known what he wanted…”

Butchie whimpered. He couldn’t take anymore of Michael’s incessant babbling of his life story. He banged on the cell bars. “Hey, Warden! Give this guy his phone call!”

***

Section One: Vending Area

Six packages later…

“I think you’ve mastered it.” Moonbeam sat down, her stomach aching from all of the frosting she had consumed. “Madeline will be screaming when you test this out on her.”

“Madeline doesn’t scream,” Operations said matter-of-factly as he started to eat the discarded cookie portions. “She actually makes this little–”

“I don’t want to know.”

“Right.”

There was a beep, and the voice of Ms. Jones, no relation, came over the intercom. “Sir, you have a phone call.”

“Okay, put it through to my cell.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Yes?”

“This is Michael.”

Operations chuckled. “Michael. Where have you been and what did you do with Gill Bates?”

“There’s no time to explain. I’m in Tringlomane Prison. I was arrested, and I need you to bail me out.”

This time, he laughed, long and loud. Moonbeam raised her eyebrows, curious as to what was happening on the other end. “What did you do?”

“I’d prefer not to discuss that on an insecure line.” Michael glanced over his shoulder at the next person in line, a heftier guy than Butchie–and he looked interested. “Please.”

“Oh, come on, Michael, what kind of an idiot do you take me for? First, it’s Nikita. Did you listen to me then? Noooo. Now you’ve run off with Gill Bates because he was your wife. We went to your apartment and found a bunch of used condoms and Twinkies, so I can only imagine what the two of you were doing. And now you’re in jail. After all that you’ve put this organization through, give me one good reason why I should come and bail you out.”

He lowered his voice. “Because the man behind me wishes to have sex with me.”

Operations sighed heavily. “Well, I can’t come and get you. I have to go find Madeline. I’ll see if anyone gives a rat’s ass about you and wants to bail you out. But you owe me, mister. No more of this running off or trying to take command or anything like that. You will become Section’s slave, and you will enjoy every minute of it.”

“Yes, sir.” He hung up the phone.

Moonbeam took another drink of Dr Pepper. The day was already bizarre; she might as well continue on a theme. “I’ll go rescue SpyBoy from prison. You go find Madeline.”

He nodded. “Thank you for your help, Moonbeam.”

“Sure. Good luck.”

***

Tringlomane Prison

Moonbeam pulled up to the brick building and glanced at the sign. ‘Tringlomane Prison: Where You Go If You’ve Been Really Bad.’ She shook her head and headed inside. “Hi, I’m here to pick up Michael Samuelle. He was brought in this morning.”

The man at the desk glanced over his roster. “Ah, yes, Twinkie Man.”

She raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like Michael.”

“Sign here, please.” She signed the release form. “Follow me.”

Michael sat in a cell, sweating profusely. Moonbeam gazed at him. “Michael?”

He lifted his head wearily. He looked like he’d just had a session with the Torture Twins. “Moonbeam?”

“Come on; we’re getting you out of here.” She hoisted him up and dragged him to her car.

***

Section One: Madeline’s Office

From eBay’s website, Madeline completed the sale on the country of Vanuatu, the second purchase in her up-and-coming global empire. She heard the door to her office slide open, and she looked up. “Paul.”

“Madeline.”

He was grinning from ear to ear, and she studied him suspiciously. “What can I do for you?”

“I think the question at hand is really ‘What can I do for you.'”

“I don’t know. What can you do for me?”

“Lay down on your desk, and I’ll show you.”

***

Section One: Elevator

The ride back to Section had been silent; Michael was still too weak to talk. By the time they got there and rode the elevator down the five-hundred feet to headquarters, he was confessing his love for Simon and telling Moonbeam about the past few days with him.

“Well then, where is he?” Moonbeam asked, thankful that Michael hadn’t told her exactly what he had been doing with the Twinkies.

“He went to buy Twinkies, and the next thing I knew, I was in jail.” The elevator doors slid open, and they walked through van access. He followed Moonbeam to Comm, pausing when he heard moaning and panting from a cross corridor. “What is that?”

“That’s just Hillinger and Quinn. Ignore them.”

“Hillinger’s back? I thought he was dead, and I thought Quinn was after Operations.”

“A lot of stuff has happened since you were demoted to the mail room.”

A loud scream echoed throughout all of Section. Michael stopped walking and looked around in shock. “What was that?”

“That would be Madeline,” Moonbeam smirked.

“Why is Madeline screaming?”

She continued smiling but said nothing. They rounded the corner and walked into the common area. She glanced at Comm and gasped. “Ms. Jones?”

Ms. Jones, no relation, swiveled around in her chair. “Hola, Moonbeam.”

“What are you doing here? You disappeared after episode one.”

“I was on vacation. You look well.”

She glanced over her disheveled appearance, patting her sloppily tied-back hair, and smiled. “Thank you. So do you.”

Ms. Jones, no relation, gave her one final interested stare and returned her attention to her computer. Michael approached Birkoff. “Birkoff, can you do a satellite scan for Gill Bates?”

“We’ve been trying,” he answered, “but he seems to have disappeared.”

He looked disappointed. “Well, I’d better get cleaned up.” He started on his way, bumping into a panting Operations.

“Moonbeam!”

She turned. “Hello, sir.” She grinned broadly. “I see you’ve been busy.”

“Moonbeam.” He leaned into her, trying to catch his breath. “Anything you want, anything at all.”

“We already agreed on the amendment to the decree.”

“Yes, I know…but this is from Madeline.”

“Ohh…” She chuckled. “Okay… I want Dr Slice back in the vending machines.”

He shook his head. “We can’t do that. Pepsi, the company that manufactured it, stopped making it. If you visit their website, they say they still make it, but it’s nearly impossible to find.”

Her eyes darkened. “They stopped making it?”

“Yes.”

Moonbeam’s eyes started to water. Her hand flew to her mouth, covering her quivering chin. “No…”

Operations didn’t reply, only looking at her questioningly.

Moonbeam dropped to her knees, throwing her arms upward. “OH, THE HUMANITY!!!”

Operations whimpered. “I’m sorry…”

She stood back up, her face angry, and took a few moments to compose herself. She glared at Operations and growled, “Then I know what I want. I want complete control of the Pepsi company. Those bastards won’t get away with this.”

“Done.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I’ve got to get back to see if Madeline’s regained consciousness yet.” He grinned. “Thank you, Moonbeam.” He started on his way but turned. “Uh, take the rest of the day off. All of you! I’m on a mission of the highest priority here.”

Operatives cheered and scattered. The only two that remained were Moonbeam and Birkoff. She looked at the computer genius. “Come on, Birky, let’s get out of here.”

***

The Big Boum

After being ID’d at the door, Birkoff and Moonbeam finally settled in at a table close to the bar. Birkoff ordered an atomic margarita; Moonbeam had another Dr Pepper (although she was still pissed about the Dr Slice thing). They sat quietly for a while, looking around and listening to the music.

“Would you like to dance?” Birkoff asked nervously.

“Sure.” Moonbeam followed him out on the dance floor and began to move her body to the techno music. Birkoff started doing the Macarena. “Hey, Birkoff, stop that.”

He continued to dance, swinging his hips. “What?”

“That! No one does the Macarena anymore.”

He stopped, frowning. “They don’t?”

“Of course not,” she replied. “When’s the last time you had a date?”

Birkoff nearly laughed at the question. “I don’t have time for dates.”

“But you did have a girlfriend, didn’t you?” Moonbeam asked curiously, still dancing. “Gail or something?”

“Yeah, Gail. She was the lead singer of a rock band or something. Anyway, she dumped me for this lame guy. I think he was the drummer.” He started walking back to their table, and Moonbeam hurried after him.

“She was stupid,” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder after he had sat down. “You’re a great person; you deserve to be happy.” She sat and sipped her drink with a slight smile.

“How about us?” he asked quietly.

“How about us what?”

“You know, you, me, the two of us…”

She knew where this was headed and looked away, blushing slightly.

“Why not? You’re the best looking girl in Section now that Nikita’s a slut.”

“Gee, thanks,” she muttered.

“Well, okay, I used to have a thing for Nikita, but now that I see her for who she truly is, she’s not that great anymore. And you care about me, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“So what’s the problem?” He paused, remembering a conversation like this with Nikita once. “I’m little brother, right?”

“It’s not that, Birkoff.”

“It’s not?” He seemed surprised. “Well, what is it then?”

“I’m a dyke.”

He paused. “I’m sorry?”

“A dyke, Birkoff. I’m a lesbian. I like other women.”

Birkoff stared at her for a long moment. “But–but you do those Valentine assignments, where you seduce men…”

“I’m a Section operative, Birkoff, it’s not like I really have a choice. I want to be the next chief strategist, like Madeline, so I’ll do whatever it takes.” She smiled. “It has nothing to do with you being ‘little brother.’ I’m sure that if I was straight, I’d be all over you.”

He tried smiling. “Well, there we go again. Another refusal.”

Moonbeam felt sorry for him. Well, she thought, I fixed Operations and Madeline, and I rescued Michael from Tringlomane. I might as well help out Birkoff. “Hey, I’ll find you a girlfriend. I know a lot of people in Section and out. Actually…” Her eyes lit up. “I think I have the perfect candidate.”

***

Glass Curtain’s Headquarters

“Simon!” Errol Sparks, the leader of Glass Curtain, sat on the swing that hung from the ceiling, Disney’s “Who’s Afraid Of The Big Bad Wolf?” playing in the background. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you, sir.” He held out a disc. “Here is the information on Section One that you requested.”

“Good. I’ll have Siobhan run the data.” He smiled. “I appreciate all you’ve done for us, Simon, but I’m afraid you’re no longer needed. You are the weakest link.” He pulled out a gun and aimed it him. “Goodbye.”

Simon looked at the gun barrel nervously as sweat started rolling down his face…

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