Iman Fanfic
"Kidnapping."
By ohfan007
Author's note and disclaimer: this story is written from multiple views, as it is necessary to bring the story completely to you. Some things may be repeated by the each side, but I shall not go back and write a whole scene over from the other character's view , unless it is unquestioning that no other solution can be done to help me paint the full portrait.The misspelling are not wrong, for the most part, since that is the spelling of the characters. The Invisible Man characters are not owned by me but scifi-channel, and what ever big wig character owns it.
Dedicatied to God, the cast, my family, and my two Iman Buddies, defohnfemme, and Jordan_radcliffe
Part 1: de ringing fohn
"I could rise neath the wings of the bluebird as she sings, the six o'clock alarm would never ring, but it rings ..."
At six, O' clock, I am woken by the loud blaring of my alarm clock, and that dreadful song. I have no offense against the monkeys, they just aren't my cuppa. Why does the public radio station have to switch to oldies so early in the morning. At Four I was lulled gently to sleep by Mozart's fifth and now I must wake to "Daydream Believer." That just seems tres fou, non?
I shouldn't worry though, today, is going to be a fun day. I am going to have a little fun with that stubborn Agency. (I haven't decided if at times like this I should thank Le Dieu for making me permanently invisible.I guess it depends on one's perspective, n'est-ce-pas? Quelquefois c'est un bien chose, mais quelquefois c'est un mal chose) I am going to capture Albert Eberts, it is not to break into their computers this time, but to make them pay me the monie, they stole from me, from my casino. I am glad they did not find the real reason, behind the casino. It was a gathering place for terrorists. I was forming new alliances, which I am truly glad I did. (Most of those terrorists were tres foux, though.They thought they could do things there way, but they was most definitely mistaken, as their is only my way.)
One of the terrorists, who was crazy, taught me how to apply this marvelous torture device to humans, (he volunteered to be my guinea pig, though I think he did forget that.) I think I shall utilizes this on Eberts, I would rather hear Darien scream, but it may be fun to break that little mousy man down, and extracte all his information from him.
I get dressed quickly, in my fake suit and skin, today I am a stock broker, with a cïtron, a beautiful blue one that someone just gave me after he died, and Albert should be out jogging. (I don't know why, he does, he only does it once a week, from my sources, but I guess when you do as much as le petit souris, you have no time for the exercise on a regular basis.)
I drive to his street, and spot him walking outside in his suit. He looks as if he just got up, he must have no time for jogging. He collects the morning paper, then goes back inside for his briefcase. I park the car, crookedly, and take off my skin. I hop out of the car in all my invisible glory, and run near his door, and wait. When he steps out I grab him. He struggles a bit. "Darien, this is not funny." he whimpers. I laugh in his ear. "Ce n'est pas Fawkes, c'est ton ami."
He pales a little, and we go to my car.
End of part 1
"Kidnapping."
By ohfan007
Author's note and disclaimer: this story is written from multiple views, as it is necessary to bring the story completely to you. Some things may be repeated by the each side, but I shall not go back and write a whole scene over from the other character's view , unless it is unquestioning that no other solution can be done to help me paint the full portrait.The misspelling are not wrong, for the most part, since that is the spelling of the characters. The Invisible Man characters are not owned by me but scifi-channel, and what ever big wig character owns it.
Dedicatied to God, the cast, my family, and my two Iman Buddies, defohnfemme, and Jordan_radcliffe
Part 1: de ringing fohn
"I could rise neath the wings of the bluebird as she sings, the six o'clock alarm would never ring, but it rings ..."
At six, O' clock, I am woken by the loud blaring of my alarm clock, and that dreadful song. I have no offense against the monkeys, they just aren't my cuppa. Why does the public radio station have to switch to oldies so early in the morning. At Four I was lulled gently to sleep by Mozart's fifth and now I must wake to "Daydream Believer." That just seems tres fou, non?
I shouldn't worry though, today, is going to be a fun day. I am going to have a little fun with that stubborn Agency. (I haven't decided if at times like this I should thank Le Dieu for making me permanently invisible.I guess it depends on one's perspective, n'est-ce-pas? Quelquefois c'est un bien chose, mais quelquefois c'est un mal chose) I am going to capture Albert Eberts, it is not to break into their computers this time, but to make them pay me the monie, they stole from me, from my casino. I am glad they did not find the real reason, behind the casino. It was a gathering place for terrorists. I was forming new alliances, which I am truly glad I did. (Most of those terrorists were tres foux, though.They thought they could do things there way, but they was most definitely mistaken, as their is only my way.)
One of the terrorists, who was crazy, taught me how to apply this marvelous torture device to humans, (he volunteered to be my guinea pig, though I think he did forget that.) I think I shall utilizes this on Eberts, I would rather hear Darien scream, but it may be fun to break that little mousy man down, and extracte all his information from him.
I get dressed quickly, in my fake suit and skin, today I am a stock broker, with a cïtron, a beautiful blue one that someone just gave me after he died, and Albert should be out jogging. (I don't know why, he does, he only does it once a week, from my sources, but I guess when you do as much as le petit souris, you have no time for the exercise on a regular basis.)
I drive to his street, and spot him walking outside in his suit. He looks as if he just got up, he must have no time for jogging. He collects the morning paper, then goes back inside for his briefcase. I park the car, crookedly, and take off my skin. I hop out of the car in all my invisible glory, and run near his door, and wait. When he steps out I grab him. He struggles a bit. "Darien, this is not funny." he whimpers. I laugh in his ear. "Ce n'est pas Fawkes, c'est ton ami."
He pales a little, and we go to my car.
End of part 1