LFR #17: Peace

La Femme Rayonlune: Peace
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: Section learns of a devious plot by Captain Kurt to ruin their reputation and take over Section…you know, same ole, same ole.

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.

Section One: Ready Room

Moonbeam rolled over on the black foam and tried to focus her tired eyes on the clock on the wall. As soon as the number processed, she scrambled to get her shoes on.


Section One: Comm

Birkoff remodeled the Goth family home on The Sims while sipping on a cool slushy from a local juice place. Moonbeam started her sentence as soon as she walked into the commons area. “Hey, Birkoff, I thought you were going to wake me up for the briefing.”

She looked over his shoulder as he wallpapered Wednesday’s room with bleeding skulls. “Got cancelled. Looked at your panel and you didn’t have anything else so I thought I’d let you sleep.”

“Oh.” The tone of her voice warmed up. “Okay. Cool.” She watched him line the walls with medieval torches. “So why’d it get cancelled?”

“Mission got cancelled.” Birkoff looked at her skeptically. “Get this- someone else took care of the Red-headed Palestines.”

Moonbeam narrowed her eyebrows. “Who?”

Birkoff shrugged and turned back to find a matching carpet. “We don’t know. Nikita and Greg are running through intel right now.”

Moonbeam nodded and patted Birkoff’s shoulder. Just as she turned to leave, Ms. Jones, no relation, stepped into Comm and they gently bumped into each other. Ms. Jones, no relation, smiled brightly. “Oh, hey Moonbeam.”

Moonbeam instantly set her face to a classic Michael blank stare (learned from the master himself) and walked off. Ms. Jones’, no relation, smile instantly faded. Birkoff glanced up. “She still ignoring you?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” she sighed, looking longingly at the speck of purple until it disappeared into a hallway.


Section One: Madeline’s Office where Madeline is getting rid of all her Hello Kitty crap

Moonbeam walked through the beaded curtain and found Madeline at her computer, right where she’d left her. She sat in the chair in front of her desk and took a few chocolate candies from the Droopy candy dish. “You still doing that?”

“It’s all on eBay, right where I got it,” she replied without looking away from the screen. She shook her head and squirmed in her seat. “3,492 auctions. Addiction is a terrible thing.”

Moonbeam smirked and let an awkward moment pass before commenting, “You know, you picked one hell of a week to promote me to Wardrobe. There aren’t any missions to clothe people for.”

“Don’t worry.” She smiled warmly at Moonbeam. “There’s no such thing as world peace. It’s only a matter of time before someone gets greedy or angry and decides to act on it. We’re taking this large window to do a bit of housekeeping.”

Moonbeam cringed. “Housekeeping?”

Madeline chuckled. “Not that housekeeping. There won’t be any bodies to be cleaned up. We’re taking advantage of the time to take care of some internal issues.”

“Such as?”

“Well, you know about Michael.”

“Ah, yes. How old did he get again?”

“We approximated 73. I still can’t believe how quickly sexual activity aged him. Seeing as he’s mostly useless to us now, we’re not being as careful to preserve him. The Gelman Process has been trashed; there were too many flaws. We’re experimenting with a new procedure, so new that it doesn’t even have a name yet. It’s administered through the back of the neck so we’re muddling with the idea of calling it the Dana Scully Process.”

Moonbeam nodded and took another candy. “How’s that going?”

“He’s still unconscious after the first injection. We may need to consider on lessening the amount of Mountain Dew and increasing the miniscule amount of Sheer Ultra Dry.”

Moonbeam nodded again and watched Madeline fidget in her seat as she finished her eBay projects.

“There’s also the important issue of Birkoff and Jason. We need to get them to at least a point of toleration. Not because they’re brothers, because they weren’t that close to start with, but because they work so closely together. They’re our top two communications operatives. This incident with the Doubtless girl-”

“No Doubt,” Moonbeam corrected her.

“Whatever. The incident has gotten in the way and it must be resolved.” Madeline eyed her. “I may assign you to that project seeing as you and Birkoff are so close.” Moonbeam rolled her eyes. “Are things still going well between him and Ericah?”

“Oh, definitely. She’s off at this convention for the company that she’s signed with and then she’s on a small tour, but with Birkoff’s technology they chat away until the sun rises.”

Madeline smiled. “Good. Is there any possibility of Jason getting his hands on her?”

Moonbeam smirked and let out a single laugh. “I don’t think so.”

“And why is that?”

“She’s not his type.”

“What’s his type?”

“Size ten and below.”

Madeline nodded knowingly. She suddenly frowned, squirming in her seat, and reached into the cushion. She pulled out a Hello Kitty pen. “Dear god, will I ever get rid of these?”

Moonbeam smiled. “Send it to Quinn as a gift of encouragement.”

Madeline smirked. “The Ottawa Girls’ Convent for British Superstar Wannabes is just the thing she needs right now.”

Moonbeam danced in her seat, “If you wanna be my lover-”


Moonbeam froze in place, still smiling.

Madeline wagged a finger at her. “You’re on the list too, young lady.”

Moonbeam frowned. “For the convent?”

“No, my list. You and Ms. Jones.”

“What for? There’s no problem.”

“You two aren’t together anymore, and it didn’t end well.”

“She’s the one who slept with a gaggle of frat boys.”

“The situation needs to be taken care of.”

“Madeline, I don’t let personal matters get in the way of Section business. I’m not Nikita, remember?”

Madeline smiled. “We’re still taking care of it.”

Moonbeam got up to leave. “Okay, but worry about all the sex maniacs first. That should keep you busy for a long time.”


Section One: The Perch

As Operations walked into his office, he noticed a stack of envelopes on the ledge. “Fan mail!” he said gleefully, like a child on Christmas morning. Pulling out the Ginsu letter opener that came with his knife set, he sliced open the first envelope with care and removed a crisp, off-white sheet of paper. The letterhead indicated it was from the president of Nigeria. With a grin, he read the message:

To Whom It May Concern,

I am appalled to learn that the leader of the world’s most covert anti-terrorist organization does not know the words to ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb.’ I’m not even American, and I know them. Furthermore, the fact that your operatives need a night light is simply disgusting. Therefore, we are no longer in need of your protection.

Operations frowned. What did that mean? He knew ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’ by heart; his mother used to sing it to him when he was sick. He shrugged and opened the next letter:

Dear Operations,

What are you, a complete moron? “Its fleece was white as snow,” not “its feet.” And finger-painting? ¡Dios mío! If you’re such a nice, non-ruthless hombre, then I’ll find someone else to protect mi country.

El presidente de la República de México

Suddenly infuriated (Operations prided himself on being a mean, ruthless hombre), he tore open the next envelope with his hands, nearly ripping the letter in half. It read:

Hey, that Madeline chick was pretty hot! I’d like to frost her cupcakes!

Bill Clinton

His eyes darkened. Two and two were finally beginning to equal four. Something had happened last night, involving ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb,’ finger-painting, and–dear God–cupcakes, that turned the world against Section One. He slapped the comm link. “Birkoff!”

There was a distracted “Huh?” as a reply.

Operations looked out the window and noticed the technician’s eyes glued to his computer, his hand on the mouse. Curious, he turned to his monitor and tapped into Birkoff’s computer. His frown deepened. What was Birkoff doing? Staring at a screen with a house and small simulated people swimming in a pool? Operations closed whatever program Birkoff was running.

“What the hell?” came Birkoff’s voice. “Greg, what did you do to my game?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Hillinger protested, looking over at him. “Hey, why is that red light blinking on your comm device? Are you in conference with Operations?”

Birkoff spun his chair toward the Perch so fast that he nearly flew out of it. “Yes, sir?”

Finally! “Do you think we could spend more time working and less time playing?”

“But, sir, there’s nothing to do. Nobody’s called with an emergency, and all of the terrorist problems are being taken care of by an outside source.”

“Did it ever occur to you to find out who’s doing it?”


Operations sighed. “Hillinger, get to it, and have Nikita help you.”

Nikita, who had been walking by on her way to Systems, stopped dead in her tracks. “Huh?”

“Why me?” Hillinger whined. “Birkoff was the one playing The Sims!”

“Because I don’t like you. Now get to work!”


Section One: Wardrobe

The large wooden door swung open and Moonbeam stepped into her new office. Everything remained the way Madeline had left it, except for the absence of small plants and the aftereffects of Operations’ lethal cologne.

Moonbeam never got tired of walking row after row of clothes. She was actually thinking about moving into the small apartment connected to it that Madeline had once inhabited. The idea of having the largest closet in the world, second only to Mariah Carey, thrilled her. For the time being, however, she would stay where she was since she didn’t want to abandon Birkoff.

The sound of the door opening and closing grabbed her attention, and she walked over to the railing that overlooked the main room. Ms. Jones, no relation, peered up at her. Moonbeam frowned. “Can I help you with something?”

“Madeline sent me.”


“We’re supposed to resolve this.”

“Resolve what? I like girls and you like hoards of frat boys. We were never meant for each other.”

“Moonbeam, it just happened.” She held out her hands empathetically. “They came out of nowhere, literally.”

“But you liked it. And you were all excited about it.”

“That was right after it happened! I know better now!”

“Good. Don’t let it happen again in future relationships.”

Ms. Jones, no relation, frowned and gave to failure. “Ops also called us in for a briefing. Nikita and Greg channeled their sexual frustration into their work and got the intel really fast.”



“Okay. I’ll be right there.”

Ms. Jones, no relation, didn’t wait for her.


Section One: Briefing Table / Paul’s Beauty and Spa

Moonbeam was the last to arrive. She walked up to Operations, who was still giving a massage to Nameless Operative #218 lying face down on the table. She peered up at him. “Your hair looks different.”

He smiled. “Yes, that Magic Eagle Grey didn’t suit me very well so this is Regal Grey.”

“Did you do it yourself?”

“Yes, I did! You were right; it isn’t that hard to do at all.”

Moonbeam took her seat in between Nikita and Birkoff. Operations took a moment to lather his hands with more lotion and say, “As you all have noticed, there has been a large lull in activity. However, we’ve discovered that there isn’t any less terrorist activity. Everything has been taken care of by someone else before we even hear about it. Nikita?”

Nikita straightened up in her chair. “A new group has formed called The Only Section One. They’ve confused all our informants and contacts to a point where they’ve either been calling them or calling no one at all. The group is led by Bill Shagger.”

She pressed a button and a picture appeared on the holograph screen. Birkoff squinted at it. “Captain Kurt?”

“Yes, actually. Bill Shagger is the same man who has been trying to convince the world of his super powers over the last thirty years. He says he can do things like reverse the rotation of the earth and breed plant and human together, those sort of things. He got his name Captain Kurt when he was in the Inner Prize Asylum in Belgium in 1973. He actually prefers to be called that instead of his given name. He’s grouped together the remaining stray members of Glass Curtain. We’ve received a message recently that if we don’t free Sparks, they will start to do harm instead of good, giving us a bad name.”

Operations kneaded a shoulder. “Have our informants been called and given correct intel?”

“All I got were answering machines.”

“Did you leave a message?”

Nikita glanced at the table. “Um, no…”

Operations sighed impatiently. Madeline shook her head and said, “Tsk tsk tsk.”

Operations continued, “If you hadn’t guessed, we have no intention of freeing Sparks. He’s too entertaining at company parties, and if we did let him go he’d probably try to fly away. And that would be too easy for them. If things weren’t difficult, we wouldn’t have an episode.” He started the chopping motion. “In the meantime, keep checking your panels. If you aren’t assigned to something with this mission, Madeline will be giving you things to do.” Everyone groaned. “You heard me.”

As everyone got up to leave, Nikita stopped Moonbeam, edging closer to her. “Listen, what are you doing later?”

Moonbeam gave her a look. “Whatever my panel tells me I’m doing. Why?”

“Oh, I just thought that if you weren’t busy, you and I could…you know…get together…do something…”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Oh please, Moonbeam!” She instantly lowered her voice so the others wouldn’t hear her begging. “It’s been so long since they took Michael away, and even toward the end he couldn’t do anything but nag about what he did at my age. And when we did do it, assuming he could get it up, it was over in sixty seconds.”

Moonbeam rolled her eyes.

“Please! I remember I did enjoy it with you. I’m not saying I’m gay…”



Moonbeam took a dramatic pause. “You couldn’t pay me enough.” She got up and threw out another line, “Stick with your own kind and find yourself a penis. You know, since you’re not gay or anything…”

Nikita sat alone pouting, unable to give her defiant look since she lost all copyright once she sold it to Montgomery Ward, and watched Operations move to the lower back.


Section One: Comm

Jason surfed the Internet, bored out of his mind. Madeline hadn’t uploaded his panel yet, so he had nothing to do except scan his favorite porn sites. He was just about to download an mpeg when he noticed Ms. Jones, no relation, walking toward him. “Hola, señorita. Wanna get laid?”

She mumbled something in Spanish and went to her own computer, ignoring him. He shrugged. Women…

“Hey, Seymour!” he hissed, trying to get his brother’s attention. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Building a downtown lot; my Sims need a movie theater. What do you want?”

“Wanna see some naked chicks?”


“Are you sure? They’re real blondes…”


“You’re no fun, man.” Turning back to his monitor, Jason typed in a different website address. He might be able to get his brother to join him if he downloaded something funny first; Seymour was always a sucker for comedy. Scanning the site’s latest mpeg clips, he came across one entitled ‘The world’s crappiest spy agency.’ “Heh, no one can be as crappy as us right now,” he muttered, downloading the file. With Section’s extremely speedy ethernet connection, he had it in a matter of seconds.

Within the first few minutes of the video, he knew something was wrong. Mentions of Madeline, Operations, and Section abound, and there was even a set of identical twins who looked awfully familiar…

“Uh oh…”

Seymour shouted, “Oh crap!”

Jason looked at his screen and narrowed his eyebrows. “You’re not even looking at the same thing I am…”

Birkoff ignored him. “That stupid test group in the east quadrant were testing that new device I made and let themselves be controlled by it! While they danced away like morons, Siobhan escaped!”

Jason pointed to his own screen. “Um, that’s not our only problem…”

Birkoff wheeled over to peer over his shoulder and Jason replayed the clip.


Section One: Briefing Table

Everyone gathered around the blue screen to watch Jason’s video clip. By the end, jaws had dropped and eyes had widened.

“The Barney song?” Operations raged. “We sang the Barney song?”

Moonbeam sighed. “No wonder they don’t take us seriously. We’ve got a pansy for a leader and a second-in-command with a knack for baking cupcakes.”

“I happen to make wonderful cupcakes,” Madeline defended, looking up from her laptop where she was still auctioning off her Hello Kitty crap. “I just don’t make any for you.”

Nikita glared at the screen. “And I never make messes when I finger paint…”

“Their attempts to make us look stupid worked,” Moonbeam continued. “Bill Shagger and the remains of Glass Curtain must be behind it. Now they’re getting all our business. I should take a team to their headquarters and–”

“Now wait a minute,” Operations countered. “Despite their warped version of me, I am not a pansy. I’m still in charge around here, and I give the orders.” He paused. “Moonbeam, take a team to their headquarters. Bring back Shagger. Maybe wear some pointed ears or something to convince him to come back with you to the mothership.”

She rolled her eyes. “Mads, you got any pointed ears in Wardrobe?”

Madeline had every intention of answering but at that precise moment she noticed three high bidders had withdrawn their bids on a fluffy Hello Kitty rug. “NOOOOO! YOU RAT BASTARDS! If you worked here, I’d have you cancelled for this!”

Moonbeam backed away slowly until she could safely leave the room.


“The Only Section One” Headquarters, suburbs of St. Louis, Missouri

Bill Shagger slowly swiveled in his chair to look over his domain. He had his operation set up exactly like a certain 1960s television show, tacky uniforms and all. Two men surveyed a various array of security cameras, three others concentrated on animating another ridiculous Section One show using state-of-the-art computer software, and Siobhan continued to try to hack into Section One databases, a job she had been doing for years. Bill stopped turning at her and frowned. She fidgeted, uncomfortable in the orange polyester dress with an insanely short skirt and mile-high beehive. And she could never forgive her new leader for not letting her re-pierce her lip. She flinched at the sudden yell, “Siobhan!”


“That isn’t the correct response.”

She looked down at her keyboard and remained silent.

“Say it.”

She sighed and said sweetly, “Yes, Captain my captain?”

Shagger grinned. “Much better! How are you progressing at your task?”

“Every time we hack into their system, they triple their security. It took us five years to get into it last time. I’ve only been at this for three hours.”

“Very good! Continue, Officer Sweetcheeks.”

Siobhan glared at him. “That isn’t my name.”

“It is now. I don’t like your real name. It isn’t pronounced the way it’s spelled and it sounds funny anyway. Now get back to work and I might let you sit on Daddy’s lap later.”

Siobhan concentrated her glare at the screen in front of her while Shagger tried to hide his new erection. Another officer got his attention after a sharp beep, “Sir?”

“Yes, Officer Dillhole?”

Officer Dillhole flinched at his new name. “Um, there’s someone at the door.”

“Center screen!”

After a few keystrokes, Shagger viewed a normal front step. Standing on the new Hello Kitty welcome mat was none other than Moonbeam, dressed in a straight purple dress with short skirt. Her hair was curled out at the ends and held back by a thick white headband. Her white go-go boots went up to the very bottom of her knees and made her three inches taller. In one hand was a small white handbag and the other a white suitcase.

Shagger shifted in his seat. “Ooo, yeah, show that foxy lady inside so we can see what she wants.” Shortly, two officers escorted her to Shagger’s perch in the middle of the room. Moonbeam grooved into the room, walking as if she were listening to some unknown music in her head. They stopped in front of Shagger. “Well well. What I can help you with?”

Moonbeam looked around at all the lights and buttons, initiating Operation Inhaled Too Much Aerosol Hairspray. She spoke in a high voice and exhibited the intelligence of the average stereotypical high school cheerleader. “Wow, this room is swell! What do you do with all this, mister?”

He shrugged. “Oh, it’s just decoration.”


“So what brings you here?”

“The monkey!”

“Excuse me?”

Moonbeam set down her suitcase and handbag. She opened the suitcase to reveal that it was actually a turntable case. She switched it on and started the record already inside. She then stood up and started dancing the Monkey.

Everyone, including Shagger, slowly stood up and started dancing with her. Little did they realize that Moonbeam’s turntable had been made by the Birkoff Corporation, emitting a frequency that took over the minds of everyone in its path except for people wearing a certain headband with a hidden computer chip. Just as Shagger was breaking a sweat, Section operatives burst in, successfully invading since the security officers were too busy busting a rug to see what that red light flashing meant.

As soon as most of the new prisoners were carted away or in restrains, Moonbeam turned off the record and looked through her handbag for a tissue to wipe her forehead. “Whew! I think I can skip my regular workout tomorrow. Never underestimate Richard Simmons!”

Siobhan fought against the two thugs holding her as they walked past Moonbeam. Siobhan pleaded, “Please Moonbeam! I want to work for you guys! I want to work for the winning team for once! And you guys don’t call your operatives Sweetcheeks!”

Moonbeam glanced at the threesome existing the room and called out, “Mention it to Madeline when you get there! She might go easier on you then!” She snapped her compact shut and looked blankly at the wall. “Although, there’s no guarantees against that Sweetcheeks thing once Operations has had a few.”


Section One: Commons

Once Moonbeam walked into the room, following the prisoner caravan and still in costume, Madeline approached her and walked with her. “Congratulations, Moonbeam. Not only did you help stop Captain Kurt from doing anything to greatly compromise us, you did it without mussing up your hair.”

Moonbeam smiled in thanks. “Oh, did you get that message I sent from the van?”

“Yes, and instructions on how to do the Mashed Potato have been loaded onto your panel.”

“Groovy!” Moonbeam squealed and skipped away.


Comments are love - post yours here:

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: