NAME: Elphaba Melena Thopp.

AGE: 38

RESIDENCE: Kiamo Ko, Upper Vinkus, M2L 4F2

CONTACTS: (Home Phone) 648-223-3593

ACADEMIC PROFILE: Was enrolled in Qhyore Technical School and graduated with 92% average before being accepted to Shiz University, majoring in Life Sciences and taking a minor course in Computer Science. Dropped out after one year to be involved in a resistance movement against the Wizard's Adverse Animal Campaigns.

EXPERIENCE:

Worked in the status reports archive in filing

Typist

Junior Programmer

EXPERIENCE IN ESPIONAGE:

Assassinations

Arson

ADDITIONAL SKILLS

Self Defense

Weaponry

The Elephant Goddess stood across the small, high table, reading over Elphaba's resume, her huge, watery eye darting back and forth. Elphaba sat across from the Elephant, her hands clenched in her pockets as she anxiously waited. She found it strange that she was nervous – she thought she had forgotten how after years of solitude. But she definitely nervous, she had never written a resume and wasn't even sure she had written it correctly or was there not a standardized format? She couldn't afford to be unprofessional – she needed to land this interview.

Princess Nastoya cocked her giant head at a point and Elphaba could feel her heart beating against her chest and the back of her neck going damp as she watched and waited, leaning in. The princess straightened herself and continued reading. Elphaba suppressed the urge to bang her head against the table. Her resume wasn't even a full page! How long was this going to take? The wait was knawing away at her nerves and she rested her chin in her palm, staring at the silver, steel table and occasionally glancing up for a change in the Elephant's face.

Finally, Princess Nastoya spoke.

"There's no need to be so nervous."Elphaba froze in horror and shock of her exposure and Princess Nastoya chucked lightly. "An Animal can tell these things you know?" Elphaba wasn't sure what to say so she nodded and the Princess continued. "I like your resume. I just have a few questions is all."

"Okay."

"While you were a Junior Programmer, what software did you use?"

Elphaba could feel her face going hot. "Punch cards."

"We use Java." Her eyes glimmered with what could have been humour.

"I could learn…" She should have been more specific in her writing.

"I'm sure you could. And you were also a hit man?" There was a hint of interest in her voice now.

"Yes."

"What jobs did you have?"

"Just thugs really who developed enemies with members of the Resistance – you weren't suppose to ask questions so I never really knew why."

"How did you do it?"

"Well you familiarize with their routine first then you….I shot them – at close range usually with a silencer….." Her voice faltered. She suddenly remembered the Marks and their faces as they met their death, the shock, the fear and surprise as she pulled the trigger then finally the blankness as their eyes froze in their sockets and they fell to the floor of their apartments or on the sidewalk. She recalled the finger of blood squirt from the dime sized hole in their heads and how the liquid would pool around their dead bodies, running into the gutter or into the carpet. Then the next day the hit would appear in the newspaper and Fiyero would tease her. But she could never bring herself to tell him although she didn't mind the killing as much as she should have. It sometimes scared her that she could be so cold but it didn't surprise her. Not after the life she lived.

These questions were all on assassination.

"You were once assigned to kill Madame Morrible weren't you?"

"Yes, it was meant to be a coordinated hit but there were obstacles we –"

"Don't talk with your hand in front of your mouth."

Elphaba snapped her hand down on the table, her heart beating in her throat. She needed this job and was making herself to be a jittery mess. Not impressive. "Sorry um….yes it was meant to be a coordinated hit but there were obstacles we weren't expecting."

"Right, how long ago was this?"

"About fifteen - fourteen years ago."

"Do you think you can still manage it?"

"You mean kill Morrible?" Fitz.

"Not Morrible, it'll be all too expected."

Elphaba waited for her to go on with the specifics but the Elephant was silent. "So…."

"Go home and we'll call you."

For some reason, she felt her stomach drop. "Alright then." She got up and headed out the tent.

So she got the job. Elphaba supposed she should be glad about this; she was in desperate need of employment and knew this was a highly paid job – sometimes over 50,000 dollars a hit depending on the importance of the person. She could now get a loan and pay the hospital before they sued her and even save some money for domestic needs or perhaps even send Liir to school; the boy could definitely use it. She was going to be paid…..to kill – no. Exterminate under contract. Well she had done it before, so she could do it again couldn't she?

She was and now would be a merciful release from the corruption that comes with life, a quick shot to the head was all it would take to bring the thugs and failures from their filth, back to the equal, perfect, sameness that the dead and unborn reside in. It was a way to bring the underground druggies, fugitives to level of executives, CEOs, kings and wizards. Everyone's the same when their dead and it'll be fortunate to do it quick and painless.

The Witch sighed. She'd rather do programming.

"So what exactly does a Witch do for a living?" asked Fitz over the noise of the bar.

"I shoot people for money."

Fitz whistled. "A woman hit man. Sexy."

"Oh shut up or I'll shoot you." Or your aunt.

The others in the bar had stopped staring, the Witch noticed but that didn't stop them from talking. She could tell from the overall hushed mingle of chatter that they were gossiping, speculating her presence and the strange man seated beside her who was talking and laughing while she shook her head in annoyance. Was he a colleague? An undercover Gale Forcer? Or a lover perhaps? She had stopped caring long ago but was relieved they were no longer staring. At first it was with fear as if she was intending to bomb the place but after she proved herself to be harmless, the stares became curios like she was an alien specimen.

She turned her attention back to Fitz. They had developed a tacit agreement to meet every week after Fitz was done at the clinic, usually on Fridays. She hated to admit that she enjoyed his company, the way he'd smirk as she rolled her eyes at some goofy comment or his simple, yet reasoned, easy going way of thinking. Always managing to calm her, reassure her. She never thought she'd grow fond over a relation of Madame Morrible.

"So I have theory on those orange pills." Fitz was saying.

"Really."

"Yeah it's called blinding. Have you heard of the placebo effect?"

"No I haven't." she was interested now.

"So it's….." he had to think for a moment. "So if a person believes themselves to be ill, they might be given an inert pill and feel that their condition has improved even though the pill they took was inert."

"So…"

"So blinding is a way to test drugs without having your psychology alter the results."

"What does that have to do with the orange pills?"

"Well maybe they gave you a new sample but since you already know what morphine looks like, you weren't blinded."

The Witch suppressed the urge to bang her head on the table. "Morrible, that explains almost nothing – I mean just yesterday I thought I saw Chistery and Nanny dancing on the roof…wearing bowler hats."

Fitz blinked at the sheer randomness of it. "Well…..at least you have something entertaining."

"And then I saw my dead mother in the bathroom." And got tooth paste all up my nose.

Fitz stared at her for a moment then burst out laughing.

"Morrible, this is serious!" she lowered her voice when people around them looked up "What if this never blows over and I'm stuck with hallucinations for the rest of my life? The hospital must have –"

"Hospitals don't drug patients –"

"You're being naïve. Hospitals are known to experiment on patients."

"You think they were experimenting on you?" he leaned closer and she shifted uneasily.

"I – I'm an amateur at magick. People would be interested in that….perhaps the drugs were meant for me to appear crazy and thus create an excuse for the hospital to keep me longer for observation."

Fitz thought for a moment. What the Witch was saying made sense but it just seemed so far fetched that people would do such a thing although it was known to happen. He thought of his colleagues, the flirtatious nurses, stern supervisors and all the other doctors he went to drinks with after his shift. If they were keeping something from him, they were excellent actors. He couldn't recall anyone acting strange or anyone avoiding him. Everyone was natural and he couldn't imagine any of them deceiving him.

"Well you're here now." said Fitz after a moment and smiled reassuringly. "I'd say you're safe with Munchkinland at the other side of Oz."

"You'd be surprised." She muttered and suddenly remembered the time. It must have been close to twelve by now and what if Princess Nastoya called and she missed it? "I should be going now." Said the Witch and got up to leave.

"How bout I drive you?" said Fitz, also getting up. The Witch stared at him, astounded.

"Why?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Kiamo Ko's close to five miles from here and it's past twelve. Women shouldn't be walking around alone at night."

"Morrible, I'm the Witch. I'm not a woman - I'm not a person even."

Fitz looked at her, his brow raised. "Well….that's fine with me."

"In what way is that fine?"

"Just come."

She opened her mouth to argue but he had already turned around. She groaned and followed, unaware that the bar was watching in wonder, their eyes glued to her as she walked out the door. The Witch followed Fitz down the street and around the corner to an outdoor parking lot, dimly lit by street lanterns that cast sudden shadows in a way that was almost artistic if you chose to look at it that way. The Witch liked the night, the concealing darkness that allowed her some degree of freedom and the sudden, contrasting light that looked almost artistic.

"Are you sure you can drive?" asked the Witch.

"Yeah, I just had two drinks. Noooooooo worries."

"Great." It's always 'no worries' with you.

They got to Fitz's car; a red Buick. The Witch stepped into the car and was immediately assaulted the nauseating smell of a hot, unaired car. She had never been in a car and felt suddenly stiff, sitting in such a compact place with no room to stretch her legs or turn. She could only sit straight, breathing that awful car smell.

How may drinks did I have? Thought the Witch. Four, five? I had better not puke.

Fitz had a nagging urge to break the awkward silence eating away at his nerves. He wanted to ask her about what he saw while she was in the hospital, it was on the tip of his tongue but the words stubbornly refused to leave his mouth. He could ask it casually like small talk. 'Do you have kids?' he'd say and that would be the end of it. He probably shouldn't mention the surgical scar he found; it was too…too private. And who would have thought the Witch could have a child? And who the hell was the father? She couldn't have been raped could she? That would be terrible.

Fitz suppressed a sigh. The Witch was a mysterious woman, on guard and never giving anything away except the basic facts. She lives in Kiamo Ko, has a bunch of flying monkeys (which was already widely known), and is living with a frustrating old nanny and a teenage servant boy. That was all he knew for sure of the woman sitting right next to him. He was desperate to dig deeper, crack the hard, crusty shell surrounding her and really get to know her –

'Morrible, I'm a Witch. I'm not a woman – not a person even.'

A faint glimpse of the character within. But what could it possibly mean?

"Morrible, pull over." said the Witch, her voice low and rushed. He glanced over and saw her slouched over, her arms wrapped over her stomach and her face hidden by the brim of her hat. He pulled over at the edge of a park of some sort and followed the Witch as she staggered out of the car and onto the grass, looking around frantically for…something.

It was too dark to see any kind of expression she might have and Fitz could only stare curiously.

Finally, Fitz decided to ask for once. "Hey you alrigh –

"BLAAAAAAAAAGHHH!"

"Guess not." Being a doctor, he wasn't the type to recoil at the sight of someone vomiting but outside his profession, he found himself unsure of what to do. So he stood there, his hands helplessly at his sides while the Witch hunched over, her body lurching as her stomach twisted and the muscles in her throat worked themselves backwards, expelling everything she had consumed that night. For a moment Fitz pictured himself strolling through a park then coming across a pile of bile….nasty.

"You get carsick?" asked Fitz so he wouldn't be just standing there.

The Witch straightened. "No shit Morrible."

"Oh…right."

She rolled her eyes, managing to look intimidating even while sick and staggering as she made her way back to the car. Fit followed her, rubbing the nape of his neck, needing something to occupy his hands. He suddenly remembered his days at Shiz, how he and his buddies would be returning from a pub or club, laughing and talking – shouting like the drunkards they were then vomiting in the grass while the others just laughed some more. But now…..

He was just old.

"How much farther is it?" asked the Witch.

"Just another mile or so. And you could sit in the back."

Why? "I'll do that." She was in no mood to argue. She merely flopped uncharacteristically onto the seat, shutting the door and leaning her head against the window as her stomach churned and she could feel the engine vibrating the seat.

Fitz continued to drive, his hands tense around the wheel, looking ahead at the pool of white light produced by his headlamps and the sudden, contrasting shadows at either side. He wanted to ask the Witch that one thing that had been knawing at him the whole time they had been together. That scar, he was almost certain it was surgical birth scar, the alignment was right, the cut was clean and it was in that exact place. But he could hardly believe it! The Witch – The Wicked Witch of the West having a child! The thought was absurd…..but the Witch – she was just a Witch, not a Wicked Witch. She was still a woman.

"Sooo do you have children?" asked Fitz, trying to sound casual as if he was attempting to generate small talk but he found it sounded exaggerated.

"What?" there was a sharpness in her voice that he wasn't expecting. He decided to play innocent; it'll be chaos if he said: 'I felt a scar on your lower abdomen that I think is a surgical birth scar.' She'd shoot him…..or turn him into a Frog.

"I was just wondering."

"Well the answer is no."

"No?"

He heard her groan. She was probably carsick. "No I cannot say I have a child."

"You can have a child even if you can't say it –"

"Morrible!"

"If you're mute."

He heard her grumble something and he laughed despite his unsatisfied curiosity. He wasn't sure what to make of her reaction but she didn't consider the topic small talk it seemed. He full of speculation but couldn't formulate a way to probe the Witch further into the topic…..like his aunt. What he felt at the hospital, that moment of infatuation with the Witch, her complexity, her exoticness and the mystery of her had lingered and he was finding himself continuously drawn to her presence, sitting closer than necessary on the bar stool, buying her drinks and trying to get her to chat, say something about herself.

He guilty twitched his eyes up at the rear view mirror and saw the Witch slumped over in her seat, resting her head on the window, her eyes closed and her arms wrapped around her stomach like an inexperienced child that has yet to get used to driving. It was endearing in a way. The Witch opened her eyes suddenly and met his gaze in the mirror.

He quickly looked away, his face warm.

They were approaching Kiamo Ko and Fitz found himself filled with awe that he was getting the chance to see it up close. Kiamo Ko was sort of a provincial icon, being the castle of the royal family and all. Now it housed the Wicked Witch of the West which gave the place an aura of trepidation as well as admiration.

'How the hell does she keep things clean? Magick?' What would happen if he asked? It's a harmless question isn't it?

"You can drop me off here." muttered the Witch and he came to a stop at the gate.

"Um…..well goodnight then Miss." he said and saw her roll her eyes in the mirror.

"I have a name you know."

"You – you're name." he stuttered dumbly. Her name, the Witch's name. A whole new concept that never even occurred to him! Or anyone for that matter.

"It's Elphaba."

For a moment he was too stunned to speak but then he grinned at her jokingly through the mirror, daringly flashing the tips of his canines, giving him a youthful, mischievous look. "And my name is Fitz." he could have been mistaken but he thought he saw a sudden spark or perhaps not even a spark – a faint glow in her eye, a sign of life behind her unfeeling surface.

"Goodnight Master Fitz." she said.