Moonlighting by Karen Tuplin
For the Gatchamania Holiday Gift Exchange 2016
Moonlighting
A Gatchaman Fanfic
For the Holiday Gift Exchange 2016
By Karen Tuplin
My prompts are
Someone on the Science Ninja Team/G-force needs some money, FAST. Who, why, and how they try to get it is up to you.
Someone on the Science Ninja Team/G-Force drinks more booze than they should have one night -why, and what happens as a result?
Requested by lborgia88
Joe watched as the wind howled and the rain battered the windows of Ken's tiny shack, the few trees visible from his position were almost bent double under the intense pressure of the ferocious weather.
"Here you go." Ken handed him a steaming mug of coffee, in a feeble attempt to distract the Condor from the violent weather conditions outside. "Look, there's not a lot you can do about it except wait until the storm passes, and then I'll come with you to count the cost."
"That's easy for you to say." Joe grumbled, but took the hot beverage gratefully. "I know the trailer won't withstand a force of this magnitude…"
"You know you can stay here until you get it fixed up."
"Thanks." Joe smiled at Ken appreciatively. "I'm gonna need it for the race next weekend though. Even if I had the cash for a room, at this late stage I'll be lucky to find anywhere with rooms still available."
"Look, you're assuming that the trailer is going to be uninhabitable already. Just wait and see what the actual damage is, and then we can see what we can do about it."
"Assuming?" Joe spluttered. "There's no assumption. I know it's going to be uninhabitable, it's just to what extent I'm worried about."
"Well, try to get some sleep," Ken told him, throwing some blankets in his direction, "And we'll see what tomorrow brings."
=x= =x= =x= =x= =x=
The following morning dawned bright and sunny, but Joe wasn't paying any attention to that. He couldn't help staring at the wreckage that used to be his trailer. The chassis was still in place, anchored securely in position, but the sides and roof had been blown across a good twenty feet of the surrounding land, with the interior going even further afield. Cautiously, he stepped through the rubble, picking up the odd bit of cutlery, or occasional mug that looked as if it had survived the carnage, only for the handle to fall off as he held it. In a fit of rage, he threw the offending item as hard as he could, but gained little satisfaction at the resulting crash when it hit the nearest tree.
What the hell was he supposed to do now?
Taking out his phone, he snapped a few photos of the wreckage, emailing them immediately to Ken. Less than a minute later, he received a call.
"You are insured, aren't you?" his commander asked as soon as he'd pressed the answer button.
"Yeah, but I don't think I'm covered for this." Joe sat back in his car as he spoke. "Even if they do pay up, it'll take months."
"You know you can stay here until you get yourself sorted."
"Thanks, I'll be taking you up on it too."
"No worries, you wanna call Nambu too, see if he can sort something out for your race at the weekend."
"Yeah, I'll get onto it now. Catch you in the J later." Ending the call, he leant back in his seat and took several deep breaths. He wasn't looking forward to telling the doctor what had happened.
=x= =x= =x= =x= =x=
"So, how did you get on?" Ken asked an hour later, as Joe walked into the J.
"Not bad," The Condor responded, taking a seat at the bar. "He's gonna sort out the insurance for me, but it's up to me to find a solution for the race next weekend, since it's not ISO business."
"Can't you fix it up then?" Jun asked, putting a hot coffee in front of him.
"No, even if I managed to cobble the sides and roof back together, there's no glass for the windows, so it wouldn't offer a lot of protection."
"There must be something we can do to help raise the funds." Jun gave the idea some thought. "What about if we did some fundraising?"
"Got anything in mind?" Joe glanced across at Ken, who could only shrug.
"I don't know, a raffle or something maybe?"
"We would need to raise at least a couple of grand in less than four days just to get a cheap used trailer, what the hell could we raffle off that would raise that much?"
"Well onechan's cakes wouldn't," Jinpei sniggered, "she would be giving the customers food poisoning."
"Jinpei!" Jun flicked the dishcloth in the Swallow's direction. "A cake sale wouldn't raise enough, and besides, it would require outlay which we don't have."
"No, we would need something pretty spectacular, something everyone would want…" Joe surmised for everyone's benefit. "Something that they would be prepared to pay much more for a ticket than the average raffle prize draws."
"Like a ride on the Godphoenix?" Ryu offered.
"Maybe," Jun pondered, "But why stop there? Why not offer a tour of the Crescent Coral Base too?"
"Because Nambu would never authorize it." Ken told them in no uncertain terms.
"Why not though? It's a good idea." Jinpei protested. "You would only need to charge about twenty per ticket and sell…" He added it up in his mind, "a hundred tickets to get the money you need, Joe."
"It's a huge security risk, that's why." Ken elaborated further, "So we put the word about that the Science Ninja Team are going to let one lucky ticket holder exclusive access to their secret base, how long do you think it will take Katse to hear about it and send his goon squad in civilian clothing to buy out all the tickets?"
"Oh, I'm sure we'll be suspicious if someone came in and bought all the tickets at once." The Swallow asserted.
"Ken's right though." Joe agreed. "He wouldn't send just one goon to buy them all, he'd stagger his men, and women to buy maybe one or two at a time, then pass them back to him. It would be just petty cash to him with the resources they have at hand."
They fell silent as the truth of the matter dawned on them all, and they considered other solutions to Joe's predicament.
"So, what about a meet and greet then?" Jun suggested eventually.
"A what what?" Jinpei was confused.
"Give the public the opportunity to come and meet us, get our autographs and take selfies, for a small fee of course." Jun started to get excited with the idea, "if we do it here, the extra footfall will do wonders for the business too."
"Then Galactor discover we're all in the same place at the same time and drop a bomb right on the building, killing us and all the civilians who come to meet us…" Ken added, "That's assuming they don't take advantage of our indisposition and attack somewhere on the other side of the Earth."
Silence descended once again.
"I suppose we'd better face it then." Joe spoke finally. "Anything we would try to do as the Science Ninja Team would attract Galactor's attention."
"Pretty much, yeah."
They all conceded the point. "I'm sorry, Joe, we would need more time to come up with something." Jun told him in all sincerity. "I wish there was something more…"
"It's ok, I understand." Joe got up from his seat. "I'm gonna drive around a bit, see if I can't think of something myself."
=x= =x= =x= =x= =x=
Joe was feeling only a little more optimistic as he drove back to Ken's shack a couple of hours later. He had found a dealership that was willing to loan him a traded-in trailer for the weekend for a fraction of the price of a new one, but the trader was a racing fan and as such recognized both Joe and his car and was well aware of Joe's rep for pulling out of races at short notice, so was insisting on being paid up front. Joe couldn't blame him, but it still meant he had to find cash he didn't have.
He considered asking Hakase if there was some chance he could be advanced what he needed from the insurance. Then there was the matter of furnishings, and utensils and so on. Well, he knew there'd be no problem borrowing some mugs and plates from the J, Jun could write them off as breakages, and maybe some basic foodstuff could be 'spoilage'.
He pondered whether he should ask Ken or Ryu for blankets as he waited at the lights, his fingers drumming a sharp tattoo on the steering wheel. He pulled off as the lights changed, only to pull up sharply as he felt a shunt from the rear.
"What the hell!" He emerged from the vehicle to see what had happened, to find a mangled motorcycle on its side in the centre of the junction, a dent in his rear wing where it had impacted into his car. He frantically searched for the driver, certain that they would be injured.
He saw the guy lying motionless on the opposite side of the street, clearly in a bad way, judging from his position. Joe rushed over, his phone in hand, already calling for an ambulance.
"Ok, don't try to move," he instructed as he leant over, lifting the helmet's visor and giving the young man a quick once over. "Help is on its way."
"Couldn't … stop," the man rasped, his breathing labored.
"Can you tell me your name?" Joe had to put his ear close to the guy's face to hear anything, but he knew it was important to keep him conscious if he was to have any chance. "So where were you heading?"
"Work… tonight…" Joe strained to hear him. "Collect… uniform."
"Yeah? So where are you working then?" In Joe's mind he was simply making conversation, but the notion of an imminent vacancy wasn't far from his thoughts.
"Casa….ca … daughter….21st…."
Joe wasn't going to get any more from him, as the paramedics rushed across and took over. He stood back to give the professionals room to do their job, instead he wandered back to his car to examine the damage from the collision. At first glance, it didn't look too disastrous, the wing panel was dented, and the bumper was bent, but the I.S.O had seen much worse after a mission. He could probably fix it himself, if the transmutation process couldn't sort it out, but at least he could still drive it.
He was kneeling down to check underneath when he spotted something unfamiliar against the rear, driver's side tire.
"Is this your car sir?" an authoritative voice stopped him from exploring any further and he got back to his feet.
"It's officially I.S.O. property, but I'm the registered driver," he told the officer, pulling his I.D and license from his pocket and handing it over. The cop looked his credentials over briefly and handed them straight back again.
"Can you tell me what happened here?" Joe recapped the events from his point of view, the officer taking notes as Joe spoke.
"So, will he make it?" Joe indicated the motorcyclist as they watched him being loaded into the back of the ambulance.
"Hard to say, I don't have medical training past the basic first aid, I'd say it is touch and go though."
Joe nodded, as a second officer approached. "Unfortunately, I have some more bad news. I've run checks on his plates and it appears that the casualty was neither licensed nor insured."
Joe leaned against the hood and scratched his head. First his trailer and now this? Hakase was gonna have a coronary when he finds out. He sighed audibly. "I can do most of the work myself, and spare parts should be available at the I.S.O., but they would need to be accounted for."
"Well if your boss needs to, they can request a copy of the police report once our investigations are complete. In the meantime we will be requiring a full statement from you within the next day or two."
He nodded in response, accepting the sheet of notepaper the officer presented. A glance at it showed the officer's name and details of the precinct he needed to attend. Folding it carefully, he slipped it into his pocket. At least he could prove that he hadn't been reckless this time.
He made a show of examining his vehicle while the police went about their business, at one point crawling under the rear to move the mysterious package closer to the pavement. It was a hold-all, about average size, a common make, nothing remarkable about it at all.
Crawling back out, he picked it up and put it on the passenger seat, before standing up straight and looking around. It seemed his actions had gone unobserved, as the police officers present were still interviewing other witnesses, and the ambulance was pulling off to take their casualty to the nearest E.R.
Picking the bag up, he sat down and began to explore the contents. Checking out a side pocket first, he found a business card, again nothing really fancy, just a name of the business in a large, bold font, with the location details in smaller print below. "Casablanca," he read. He had never been to the casino-slash- nightclub, but he'd heard a lot about it, and not all complimentary. Flipping the card over, he saw that day's date and an appointment for 8 to 10pm handwritten in regular biro. Delving into the main compartment, he discovered a suit bag; similar to the ones his tux was returned from the dry-cleaner's in, a brand new pair of men's dress shoes, a largish towel and wash bag. That guy was hoping to get lucky tonight, he thought as he uncovered a box of condoms and a pack of half a dozen diamond shaped blue pills.
Joe had two choices. Hand the bag over to the cops, and let them return it to it's rightful owner, or…
"Need towing somewhere, buddy?"
Joe turned to see a heavy set guy in hi-vis clothing peering in through the car window. "No thanks, I'll get the boss to pick her up, but you could give me a lift to this place." He showed the guy the business card.
"I wouldn't want to go there, but…" He shrugged. "Jump in."
=x= =x= =x= =x= =x=
The venue room was vast. If it was not for a couple of doors leading off to the left, Joe was quite willing to believe it covered the whole of the second floor of the building. There were two bars situated against the walls to the left and right of the entrance, and a large stage filled the wall at the far end. He spotted a small DJ booth situated to the right of the stage, with a spacious dance floor in front. Teams of servers were bustling about, setting large round tables with places for about ten people each, and he had to strain to spot 'Connie', the woman he'd been told to look for by the disinterested girl in the ticket booth downstairs.
He eventually spotted a middle-aged woman carrying a folder, who seemed to be barking orders at everyone, so he made his way over to her.
"Hi," He tried to keep his demeanor friendly.
"And you are?" she asked, paying more attention to her cell phone than to him.
"Oh, I'm Joe but…"
"Joe?" she scanned her eyes down her checklist. "You're not down here; this is a private function so please leave now."
"No, I know, one of the guys you've hired for tonight has been involved in an accident and won't be able to attend…"
"And who would that be?" Now she was interested.
"Umm, Gary, I think, or Gerry, something like that."
She scanned her list again. "And you're here to replace him?" She gave him a critical once over.
"Well, I was returning his kit, but if you need someone, I can work the bar or the doors…"
"But can you dance?"
"Dance?"
"Yes, dance." She repeated irritably. "Gary was the main attraction for tonight. My daughter's friends all clubbed together to hire him for her birthday present."
"I'm not a trained dancer, no."
Connie sighed exasperatedly. "Ok then, can you take your clothes off to music?"
"You what?"
"I assume you get undressed every night, do you think you could take it slowly in time to music?"
"I'm not a stripper, no."
"Shame, you look the part." She was suddenly distracted by her phone, and she rushed to answer. Joe dumped the holdall onto the nearest table and prepared to walk out. "It's two hundred, plus tips," she called after him.
"Not interested, sorry."
"Three hundred then, I need someone; I can't get anyone else at this short notice." He stopped in his tracks. "I have two hundred guests arriving in just over an hour, and they're all expecting a good show, believe me, they'll certainly tip well." That wouldn't cover the price of the rental for the trailer, but if he could boost it in tips, he may be able to raise enough, although if she was desperate enough, he might just get the full amount…
"Five hundred" Joe heard himself saying.
"Okay, five hundred." She barely batted an eyelid at the increase, giving Joe the impression she was just relieved to cross another task off the 'to-do' list, and collared a male server. "Take him backstage, and let him prepare for the performance."
Shit! He hadn't expected her to agree so readily. Collecting the bag once more, he meekly followed the employee to the back of the stage, and to a tiny dressing room, containing little more than a dressing table, a chair and a shower room. There were hooks on the wall for him to hang his costume. Joe assumed it would be adequate for what he needed.
"So, have you done this sort of thing before?" The man asked, by way of conversation.
"No," Joe admitted. "I don't really know what I'm doing here."
"Here's a few tips for you then, Keep it erect, and wear a condom at all times, we don't want to be cleaning up your ejaculate, pull the birthday girl on stage and involve her in the act somehow, and after your routine go among the crowd and perform for some individuals, that's where the biggest tips are. If you want to do private performances afterwards, you can name your own price."
"I don't think that'll be necessary." Joe's mind boggled, although it explained the Viagra and condoms he'd found earlier.
"Up to you," the guy shrugged. "Someone will knock on the door five minutes before show time, which will be your cue to go backstage. Make sure you're ready." With that, he went back to work, leaving Joe to wonder what the hell he was supposed to do.
In desperation he called Jun. "I need your help," he said the instant she answered.
"Sure, what's up?"
"You're a woman, have you seen any male strip shows?"
"No, I can't say I have, why?"
"What do you mean no?" Joe was sure Jun would have seen something that may help him.
"Well, for one I'm underage, and two, when I'm not on missions, on patrol or in training, I'm usually trying to prevent the J from going into bankruptcy, which I'm only succeeding by the skin of my teeth I might add, so when would I have the time?"
"Fuck!"
"What's all this about anyway?" It was a reasonable question, and Joe knew she wouldn't tell the others and cause him a lifetime of embarrassment, so he gave her a hurried explanation. Jun listened without interrupting.
"Sorry I can't be any help to you; all I can suggest is that you search for some videos on the internet, and copy what you see on them, but good luck anyway, I'm sure you'll go down a storm."
"Thanks, I'm gonna need it."
"No, you'll be great. I'll take Ken to collect your car, and give us a bell when you're ready to go, I'll come and collect you."
"You are fantastic, Jun, you know?" he told her gratefully, "I just hope we don't get called out…"
"You know I'll cover for you if we do."
"Yeah, I know…" A knock at the door distracted him momentarily. "Gotta go, talk to you later." He ended the call quickly, as the door opened.
"It's Joe right?" a bald, heavily tattooed guy put his face around the door. "They call me Skid around here, I'm the DJ and I thought you could use a few pointers since I hear you're new to this game."
"Cheers." Joe held out his hand and shook Skid's warmly. "I must admit I really don't know what I'm supposed to be doing."
"And that's why I'm here. I'll give you a crash course in male stripping."
=x= =x= =x= =x= =x=
He was standing backstage dressed in an ill fitting security guard uniform which had been adapted for quick and simple removal. He could hear the audience laughing and joking among themselves as the lights in the venue dimmed. His fists clenched and he gulped nervously before taking several deep breaths. Skid's voice boomed over the loudspeaker, whipping the crowd up into an excited frenzy as he gave Joe a huge introduction…
"Go go!" a voice said behind him, shoving him towards the stage and suddenly he was under the spotlight. He froze momentarily as the opening bars to 'I've got a feeling' played over the system. He could only see the front row of tables, but the mostly female audience were clapping and whooping along, waiting to see an outstanding performance.
He didn't know why, but the urge to move came over him, and for the next half hour he bumped and grinded in time to the music, emulating the moves he'd seen in various videos on the internet. The crowd lapped it up, their enthusiasm spurring him on to do more and more outrageous movements. When he removed his jacket and swung it around the top of his head, they went wild.
He made a bigger show of removing the shirt, unbuttoning it slowly and dancing some more as it flapped about his torso. This time when he removed it, he rubbed it between his legs, grinding his groin suggestively before it was finally discarded, to the whooping and shrieking of the excited crowd.
Now he felt pumped, all his earlier nervousness had vanished and adrenalin coursed through his veins. As the current track came to an end, it came to the time he had been dreading most… putting himself at the mercy of the crowd.
He performed a flawless handspring, going into a tumble and finishing with a summersault to land in a crouch just off center of the dance floor. He clearly heard all the gasps and he grinned. No one expected anything like that from a novice. Now all the lights around the stage had dimmed, and Skid had reduced the volume of the music. In the half darkness someone placed a chair next to him with a bottle he knew was massage oil. As he got to his feet, he got a microphone thrust into his hands and a pair of searchlights swept the whole room. He positioned the chair with the back to the audience and stepped onto it, resting his right foot on the seat back.
"Helloooo ladies!" He spoke into the mic while shielding his eyes, pretending to scan the crowd. "Are we having a good time?" he waited until the resulting roar died down. "Now, I'm looking for a particular lady, goes by the name Lexi. Has anyone seen her?" He already knew she was sitting at the front center table, but, predictably, her friends pointed her out anyway. "Are you Lexi?" he asked, unbuckling his belt with his free hand and pulling it smoothly from the loops on his pants, "'cause a little birdie tells me it's your birthday, and it's time to deliver your present."
Turning the mic off, he stuck it in the back of his pants while pushing the back of the chair forward and striding purposefully towards Lexi, wrapping both ends of his belt around his fists. Once he was close enough, he looped the belt over her head and hooped it across her shoulders, leading her away from the table and to the chair, which he repositioned to face the DJ booth. Guiding her to sit down, he picked up the bottle of oil and proceeded to pour a generous amount onto his chest, encouraging her to rub it over him as he swayed in time to the slow music Skid was now playing.
She was hesitant at first, but obliged, running her hands over firm pecs and solid abs as Joe recovered the mic, switched it back on and made pleasurable groans down it for the benefit of the rest of the group. When he was satisfied his chest was well oiled, he poured some more into the palm of Lexi's hands then got onto his knees and turned around, indicating that she was to rub his back. She obliged, running a gentle hand over his shoulder and around his neck before immaculately manicured fingernails ran down the length of his spine. This time his moans of approval were not faked.
"Oh boy, this is good," he gasped into the mic. He could have stayed there the rest of the night, but that wasn't what he was being paid for. Reluctantly he got back onto his feet, kicking his shoes off and turned to face the spectators. "Just one more thing..." he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants, teasing the viewers by hitching them down slightly at the hip, and pulling them up again almost immediately. He tried it a couple more times, before the crowd started to get restless, so finally he went for it. Leaning forward towards the audience he took a firm grip and pulled. The velcroed outer seams coming apart easily as he straightened up to reveal…
Oversized purple boxer shorts, covered with colored dinosaurs.
The crowd fell silent, then slowly started to snicker. "What?" Joe said with mock disappointment. "Don't you like them?"
"GET 'EM OFF" an anonymous voice yelled from the middle of the room.
"But they're my favorite…" he mock protested.
"OFF, OFF, OFF" the chant rose quickly.
"What do you think?" he asked Lexi, still sat in the chair. She was covering her face with her hands, not knowing where to look. "Should I take them off?" Lifting his arms above his head he gyrated his pelvis in her direction. She took the hint and grabbed the shorts, yanking them away from him in one clean motion.
Underneath he was wearing a small, tight G-string that barely served its intended purpose, the head of his erect manhood just sticking out from the top of the waist, its sheath barely perceptible in the low light. "Is that better?" He yelled to the crowd, who responded with an almighty cheer. "Okay Skid, hit it!"
The music resumed and Joe once again turned his attention to Lexi, standing astride her legs while he swayed and thrust his body in time to the track, emulating the videos he saw prior to the performance, only now with simulated sexual motions. The lap dance lasted for two songs, after which, he led the birthday girl back to her table, taking the opportunity to give her a birthday kiss. Lexi fanned herself with her hands as she went back to her seat, as her friends crowded around to hear her opinion of events.
Now everyone else wanted their turn. Where did he start?
The other occupants at Lexi's table were first, and then he moved around the room in a clockwise direction, anyone who slipped a tip into his thong got some personal attention. Some were satisfied with a kiss, others took selfies with him, but the big spenders got a minute worth of dancing, or similar. And there were a lot of those. By the time he got back to the front of the stage, his briefs bulging with bills, he was exhausted. He had been grabbed, squeezed and groped so many times he'd lost count, and not all in ways he found particularly arousing either, but it wasn't over yet.
He vaulted back onto the stage, determined to see it through to the end, he went into the final number by dropping to his knees once more and simulated masturbating in time to the beat, before flipping into a push-up stance and mock-humped the floor. The crowd screamed as he let the cash fall around his feet by removing the final scrap of material left on his person and revealed himself in all his naked glory.
The crowd's applause resonated through his brain as the curtain came down, and he gathered up some of the clothing and cash before making his way back to the dressing room, to find Connie was waiting for him.
"That was quite a show," she told him, smiling. "I believe they like you."
"Thanks." Joe didn't know what else to say. "I did my best," he finished eventually.
"Would you consider becoming a regular? You wouldn't get this much in tips again, but…"
"No, sorry, it was strictly a onetime thing."
"Pity." She held out a bundle of banknotes. "I believe this is yours." He took the bundle, looking confused. "All the tips you got which fell out your briefs as you worked the crowd. If ever there is a next time, you might want to work them while you still have pants on."
"I thought it was my fee," he joked.
"You wouldn't complain if it was," Connie told him in no uncertain terms. "There's almost three grand there, and you still have more in your hand. I told you they would tip well." Joe stared at her, not really believing his luck. "Here's your fee by the way." Now she handed him a much slimmer envelope. "And you've earned every penny."
As she took her leave, he slumped down in the seat, just staring at the wads of cash in his hands. He had enough for at least the down payment for a brand new trailer, and the insurance for his old one should cover the rest. He'd done it.
He'd only gone and fucking done it.