When You're A Spy

The Rules Don't Apply

Michael Westen


July 28th, 2011

Spy vs. Spy [RP for [info]thislyingbitch]

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Not connected to any storylines anywhere, not even to the TV show and movie. Just for fun.

It was exactly the kind of situation that modern espionage novels and movies seemed to thrive on. Somewhere along the line, the idea of intelligence agents working for their own governments became old hat, and going rogue became the in thing to do. Even when the main characters weren't burned or disavowed or presumed dead, they had a tendency to do things off-book way more often than any real agent would ever do. But that was the scene at the downtown Miami Hilton (writers had finally figured out that real spies didn't live like they had bottomless trust funds, but didn't lean toward rat-trap motels, either) when Michael locked the suite door with the "Do Not Disturb" sign outside, threw the deadbolt and used his pistol to gesture for the room's only other occupant to have a seat.

"While I can't in all honestly say that it hasn't been really kind of enjoyable these last couple of months, with you trying to see how far you can push me and me figuring out how to keep you from leaving the city with too many corpses, I think things have just crossed the line." Michael sat opposite the woman, well out of arm's reach but not too far, his weapon still trained on her while he fished a digital audio recorder out of his jacket pocket.

"In case you hadn't heard, the nice folks who burned me have decided that I might just be a liability and have put a price on my head. A little birdie in the form of some intercepted phone calls tells me that you're one of the hitters who've gotten that contract. I just thought you'd find it interesting to know that those same folks contacted me today and made me an offer: they'd cancel the contract if I took you out first."

Michael smiled. "So what do you say, Jane? Is it OK Corral time, or strange bedfellows time?"

January 30th, 2009

[[info]inspiredmuses] 1.3 - "There's no place like home."

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1.3 - "There's no place like home."

Man, did they ever get that one right.

Some people have great memories of the towns where they grew up. Maybe they played Little League in the park three blocks away from their house, and a couple years later, they ended up having their first kiss underneath the same bleachers where Mom and Dad used to watch them scramble around the bases. Maybe they had a paper route or a lemonade stand or an arcade where they hung out with their friends.

When people like that get to be adults, they think about staying or moving back to their home towns, probably because they think it'd be a great place to raise a family.

Most spies, though, come to the business with a different kind of background. Our grades were good, but we weren't valedictorians and we liked gym class, but we didn't play varsity ball. We had friends, but nobody we'd really miss for the rest of our lives. And Mom and Dad rarely made it to our games if we had any.

It sort of explains why we like running around on the other side of the world, pretending to be other people.

So you can imagine my joy at finding out the city that the Agency decided to dump me in after I got burned was home, sweet home Miami, Florida.

Miami. I hadn't been back here since I left ten years before. It's where my father was buried two years before, and since I didn't come back for that, I sure wasn't ever coming back for anything. It's where my screw-up of a little brother lives, although I figure my taking the heat from Dad most of our lives gave him just enough room to be a decent guy. I hope.

It's where my mother lives, chain smoking and making worrying into an Olympic-level athletic event.

The absolute last place I ever wanted to end up.

And it'll take a lot more than a pair of ruby slippers for me to get out.


January 28th, 2009

[[info]inspiredmuses] Sample post for application

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<1>Sample post. Please write a response to this: What professions did you consider before choosing the one that you did?</1>

It's an interesting question, in light of the fact that I didn't choose my profession so much as it ended up choosing me. You see, all I thought I was doing in the army was being all that I could be, mostly because I was being that thing really, really far away from my family and Miami. As it turned out, all that I could be was good enough for some folks at the Central Intelligence Agency to take notice, and they approached me out of nowhere with an offer that I couldn't refuse.

Apples and trees )

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