That five things thing...
So, I know that the 5 things about fandoms meme was supposed to be lists of five things in response to the various prompts, but I knew that I'd wind up wanting to write little mini fics. That's why I wanted to limit the responses to five...I'll be posting these as I get inspired/have time :-)
5 Things Rusty keeps in a safe deposit box in Berlin (Ocean's Eleven/Twelve)
One of the first things Joe taught Rusty was to always keep a backdoor open. A backdoor and a window. Okay, a backdoor, a window and possibly a secret back staircase. Whatever was possible. The bottom line was that life as a con man could get a little unpredictable, and it was good to keep contingencies. This first lesson stuck with Rusty much longer than Joe did. To be fair, Joe probably couldn't have predicted that "Rita" would in fact turn out to be an undercover vice squad agent. Although Rusty always thought the sensible pumps should have been a dead give away. He also wondered why Joe had failed to bolt down one of his usual escape routes. But, human nature - while predictable - sometimes fails in the face of gorgeous legs in sensible pumps.
Rusty had bolted down his rabbit hole and gone to ground for several months. He'd had enough of a cushion to avoid having to do anything like legitimate work, and really, there is never enough time to sit on the beach at the French Rivera and watch all the beautiful bodies going by.
Besides, it was on his way back from that "vacation" when he'd first met Danny, and that could never be considered a bad thing. Scheming with Danny had changed all kinds of things. But some things didn't change. Some habits were too ingrained. Backdoors. Escape plans. And caches of important items left in strategic locations all over the world.
But the world had changed and some locations were no longer as strategic as they used to be. Berlin had been key back in the days of the Cold War, and when Rusty had vague notions of using his con techniques for some nobler purpose of spying or smuggling refugees out of the East (at a handsome profit, of course). He had, in point of fact, helped a few people over, under and on one memorable occasion through the Wall, but then the Wall had come down, and well...
He shrugged to himself, as he walked up the stairs to the bank. After dumping...er...leaving Isable at her father's (and how in the name of everything heistable had he ever thought that was really going to work again? God, he could hear Danny's laughter in the back of his mind), he'd made his way over to Berlin to take care of this old business.
"Herr Schmidt?"
"Ja." He'd almost forgotten what name he used here. Damn he was getting old. Nah - not old, just a somewhat complicated life.
"This way, please."
The safety deposit room echoed in that sterile grey German way. "Your key please."
Through some miracle, he'd brought the right key.
The box slid out on a whisper. And the man's footsteps as he moved over to one of the little privacy rooms were barely louder. "Please take your time, Herr Schmidt. When you're ready, just press that buzzer there."
"Of course." For a brief moment, Rusty toyed with the notion of tipping the man, just because he knew how off balance it would throw the little Teutonic banker.
The door clicked shut.
The first item in the safe deposit box was a passport. Jim Jameson - he grimaced. His document "supplier" had had a strange sense of humor. It was the old non-machine readable format and no good anymore. He'd have to destroy it. Without looking at the horrible picture or forged visas, he slid it into his jacket pocket.
There was the usual pile of currency, of out-dated Deutsch Marks. He sighed; the world had moved on in strange ways, and clearly he hadn't been to Berlin in far too long.
Oh - that was where he had left that Frankenstein Pez dispenser. He made a mental note to apologize, or send a fruit basket or something to Karl for tormenting him for six months straight about taking it. And, in retrospect, the whole thing with the llamas, the over-ripe bananas and the deep heat rub had probably been a bit over the top.
He tried desperately to remember why he had left a map of downtown Reykjavik in this safe deposit box. There must have been a reason. There were no "x marks the spot" markings on the map. What the hell had he been planning to do in Reykjavik? He hoped he hadn't missed it. He threw the map into the trash can. It was just too damn cold in Reykjavik.
Then all thoughts of Iceland were cast aside as he threw back his head and laughed as he found the final item that he'd never left there in the first place.
Staring up from the bottom of the box was an Incan matrimonial headmask.
He walked out into the bright Spring sunshine to find Danny lounging against a Linden tree.
5 Things Rusty keeps in a safe deposit box in Berlin (Ocean's Eleven/Twelve)
One of the first things Joe taught Rusty was to always keep a backdoor open. A backdoor and a window. Okay, a backdoor, a window and possibly a secret back staircase. Whatever was possible. The bottom line was that life as a con man could get a little unpredictable, and it was good to keep contingencies. This first lesson stuck with Rusty much longer than Joe did. To be fair, Joe probably couldn't have predicted that "Rita" would in fact turn out to be an undercover vice squad agent. Although Rusty always thought the sensible pumps should have been a dead give away. He also wondered why Joe had failed to bolt down one of his usual escape routes. But, human nature - while predictable - sometimes fails in the face of gorgeous legs in sensible pumps.
Rusty had bolted down his rabbit hole and gone to ground for several months. He'd had enough of a cushion to avoid having to do anything like legitimate work, and really, there is never enough time to sit on the beach at the French Rivera and watch all the beautiful bodies going by.
Besides, it was on his way back from that "vacation" when he'd first met Danny, and that could never be considered a bad thing. Scheming with Danny had changed all kinds of things. But some things didn't change. Some habits were too ingrained. Backdoors. Escape plans. And caches of important items left in strategic locations all over the world.
But the world had changed and some locations were no longer as strategic as they used to be. Berlin had been key back in the days of the Cold War, and when Rusty had vague notions of using his con techniques for some nobler purpose of spying or smuggling refugees out of the East (at a handsome profit, of course). He had, in point of fact, helped a few people over, under and on one memorable occasion through the Wall, but then the Wall had come down, and well...
He shrugged to himself, as he walked up the stairs to the bank. After dumping...er...leaving Isable at her father's (and how in the name of everything heistable had he ever thought that was really going to work again? God, he could hear Danny's laughter in the back of his mind), he'd made his way over to Berlin to take care of this old business.
"Herr Schmidt?"
"Ja." He'd almost forgotten what name he used here. Damn he was getting old. Nah - not old, just a somewhat complicated life.
"This way, please."
The safety deposit room echoed in that sterile grey German way. "Your key please."
Through some miracle, he'd brought the right key.
The box slid out on a whisper. And the man's footsteps as he moved over to one of the little privacy rooms were barely louder. "Please take your time, Herr Schmidt. When you're ready, just press that buzzer there."
"Of course." For a brief moment, Rusty toyed with the notion of tipping the man, just because he knew how off balance it would throw the little Teutonic banker.
The door clicked shut.
The first item in the safe deposit box was a passport. Jim Jameson - he grimaced. His document "supplier" had had a strange sense of humor. It was the old non-machine readable format and no good anymore. He'd have to destroy it. Without looking at the horrible picture or forged visas, he slid it into his jacket pocket.
There was the usual pile of currency, of out-dated Deutsch Marks. He sighed; the world had moved on in strange ways, and clearly he hadn't been to Berlin in far too long.
Oh - that was where he had left that Frankenstein Pez dispenser. He made a mental note to apologize, or send a fruit basket or something to Karl for tormenting him for six months straight about taking it. And, in retrospect, the whole thing with the llamas, the over-ripe bananas and the deep heat rub had probably been a bit over the top.
He tried desperately to remember why he had left a map of downtown Reykjavik in this safe deposit box. There must have been a reason. There were no "x marks the spot" markings on the map. What the hell had he been planning to do in Reykjavik? He hoped he hadn't missed it. He threw the map into the trash can. It was just too damn cold in Reykjavik.
Then all thoughts of Iceland were cast aside as he threw back his head and laughed as he found the final item that he'd never left there in the first place.
Staring up from the bottom of the box was an Incan matrimonial headmask.
He walked out into the bright Spring sunshine to find Danny lounging against a Linden tree.