"Do you think Count Manzeppi knows we're coming?" Artemus Gordon murmured to his partner James West as the two slipped quietly along the back alleys leading to a certain old unused warehouse.

"Of course he does. He's Manzeppi," Jim replied.

"Ah. Good point."

They reached a corner and peered round it to see a narrow alley much like the one they had just traversed, empty of anything except for a number of large wooden crates. Artie stepped forward to enter the alley…

Only to find Jim's hand was now splayed across his chest, blocking him from going in. "Uh, Jim?"

"Don't go in there, Artie. You don't want to go that way."

Artie took a fresh glance at the alley, then turned a puzzled look Jim's way. "I don't?"

"No, you don't. Haven't you ever noticed, Artie? Every time there's a bunch of big empty crates like that - and I guarantee you they're all empty - suddenly a bunch of henchmen show up out of nowhere, and by the time the fight's over, every single one of those crates has been demolished by a flying body or two. So you don't want to go in there." And with that Jim breezed past Artie and started down the alley.

"But… But, Jim!" Artie sputtered, flabbergasted. "You just said…"

"I said you don't want to go down here. For me, this is destiny." Jim shot Artie a grin just as the first of seven minions popped into view.

With a sigh Artie leaned against the corner and consulted his pocket watch.

…

A minute thirty-six seconds - as well as seven floored minions and an alleyful of splintered crates - later, Jim was back at Artie's side brushing off the dust from his little dust-up.

"Happy now?" asked Artie.

"Mm-hmm. Destiny is fulfilled, and Manzeppi now has seven less minions to throw at us once we arrive. Let's go."

Down the alley they went, carefully stepping over unconscious bodies all along the way. Soon they reached the next corner and peeked around it.

And Artie nearly swore out loud. "Of course! Oh, it just had to be! First the inevitable boxes, and now the inevitable pretty young thing!" For midway down the next alley, standing right in front of an unobtrusive unmarked back door, stood a lovely young blonde: wide-eyed, luscious-lipped, ingenuous. "She might as well have a little tag hanging from around her neck that reads, 'Kiss me'!" Artie grumbled to Jim.

"And I might as well go oblige," Jim return as he started to breeze past his partner once more.

Only to find that this time it was Artie's hand suddenly splayed across Jim's chest to hold him back. Jim glanced down at the hand, then turned a puzzled look at Artie.

"Ah… James my boy," said Artie, "has it never occurred to you that one of these days one of those ravishing young lovelies our enemies throw into your path for you to kiss just might be, ah… wearing poisoned lipstick?"

"Not really," said Jim, "unless they can come up with a way the lipstick doesn't poison her first."

"It can be done, Jim," said Artie sternly. "All she needs is a protective base coat under the poisoned lipstick, believe me!"

"Well in that case," Jim rejoined with a sparkle in his eye, "what a way to go!" And off he went.

Again Artie leaned up against a corner with a sigh. "Oh sure, Jim, sure," he muttered to himself, "I know your life would be boring if you didn't take a risk now and again. But don't you suppose that once in a while I'd like to be the one who's risking the poisoned lipstick, hmm?"

FIN