This week's is rated TV-14. Hope you all enjoy!


You present your engraved invitation at the door and enter. You slip through
the crowd, surveying, watching. You're dressed as a gypsy, wearing your hair
down, a floor-length burgundy broomstick skirt with a long slit up one side,
a low cut, off the shoulders white gauze peasant blouse and lots of jewelry.
You ease your way towards the back of the room, keeping your eyes open for
Oliver and the contact you are there to find. An agent named Michaels, a
real piece of scum who unfortunately has information your organization
needs.

You enter the darkened coatroom in the back. "Hello?" You get no reply. You
move in a little more and find the lightswitch. You flick it on and gasp at
the sight before you. Michaels sits in a chair, dead and horribly mutilated.

You turn to leave only to have your wrists grabbed by black gloved hands and
find yourself shoved against the wall.

"Oliver, thank goodness." He is a pirate (a suggestion you made because of
his earring on one of his crankier days), high leather boots, black pants
hugging him so tight it's a wonder he can breathe, a white silk pirate shirt
plunging open to his navel, and a red satin scarf tied at his waist.

"Oli..." he kisses you almost desperately, a sure sign he's been worried.

He pulls back, his eyes searching yours. "We've got to get you out of here."

"Why?"

"For once don't argue, just come with me." He begins to pull you from the
room.

"What's going on?!"

Oliver turns to you with barely controlled temper flashing behind his green
eyes. You find yourself backing up a step. "That idiot Michaels brought your
contact dossier with him! The charming gentlemen who did that," he points at
the corpse, "now have your picture and are looking to make it a matching
set." His expression softens and he strokes your hair. "We have got to go."
He leads you out by the hand once more.

You exit carefully into the hall. Oliver draws his sig sauer and slips it
into his shirt front to conceal it from any stray guests.

"HELP!!!" A female voice calls from behind a door farther down the hall.

"Great," Oliver mutters, rolling his eyes. He turns to you. "Stay right here
and keep your eyes open." He starts toward the door.

"I was wrong you know." He turns to you questioningly. "About the costume I
mean, you're not a pirate, you're a knight. Mind you, I prefer these pants."

He grins and moves to the door, rapping on it lightly and pulling out his
gun. "Are you all right in there?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you," the woman's voice answers.

"You're sure?"

"Yes, sorry to have worried you."

Oliver turns to you again just as little holes began to burst into the wall
in a line towards you.

"GET DOWN," he screams. You drop to the floor against the wall. He dives
into a roll across the open entryway, firing a couple shots as he goes.
Oliver puts his hand to your hair, "Are you hurt?!"

You shake your head 'no' and he grasps your hand, "Come on!" You get your
feet back under yourself as he pulls you along behind him, escaping the
bullet spray.

You yelp in pain as a spark jumps off of your silver bracelets where a
bullet has deflected. Oliver pulls you back into the room where Michaels'
corpse sits. He opens the window and slips out. You sit on the ledge and put
your legs outside. Oliver grabs you around the waist preparing to lift you
down when the curtain rod above your head comes alive with the pings of
bullets. He pulls you down quickly, then grabs your hand, half-dragging you
behind him as the window shatters. He takes a sharp turn near the edge of
the parking lot and you reach out and grab the hood of a parked Citroen to
retain your balance.

Oliver heads into the bushes, taking you along, then up a steep incline to
the road. A long back limo waits there, the driver holding the door open.
You back away. "It's all right love, he's with us." Oliver helps you into
the back.

"Will Mr. Michaels be joining us Sir?" you hear the driver ask.

"Mr. Michaels is past all his worries now," Oliver answers as he climbs in.
The driver closes the door, goes to the front, and the car takes off into
the night.

You grasp your wrist and wince. "Let me see that." Oliver turns on the
light, takes your hand and examines the wrist. The bangle that the bullet
struck is indented. He glances up at you.

You smile half-heartedly, "Wonder-Woman! Ow!"

"Sorry," he works the bracelet off your wrist and reveals a deep
purplish-yellow bruise. Now even Oliver winces, not exactly comforting
knowing he's been shot before and *he* thinks it looks bad.

"So am I gonna make it, Doc?" You grin up at him.

"Oh, I think you just might," he moves closer to you, stoking your hair,
kissing your cheek, "with a little tender loving care. Fortunately, that
happens to be one of my fields of expertise."

You roll your eyes, "So you say." He looks at you questioningly. "I haven't
seen any degrees on your wall for it. You're going to have to prove it to
me."

He smiles, a sparkle coming to his eyes as he kisses you on the lips...


Have a Wonderful Monday!

GylzGirl :-)

"I can mend limbs but I can also break them. It's one of the perks of the
job." ~ Dr. Robert Helm

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