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fandomhigh2014-12-12 01:08 pm
notmysupervisor.livejournal.com) wrote in fandomhigh2014-12-12 01:08 pm
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How to be a Spy, For Real, We Mean it [Friday period1]
“You guys are the worst spies ever,” Pam announced, at the start of class. She was just getting that out of the way now.
Hey, weren’t you all glad that Pam wasn’t possessed by strange beeping ghosts any more? More importantly, had Cheryl figured out yet that Pam was possessed, orrrr did she just think she’d hallucinated that whole mess?
Cheryl hadn't totally ruled out that Pam had gotten into her own stash of hallucinogens, honestly. So forgive her for still side-eyeing her co-teacher a little, here.
"Completely the worst," she agreed. "I can't believe that after a whole semester of this, you guys are still so bad at it. I mean, you could have taken my advice and stopped showing up and you'd still be better off."
...please note that they had no evidence that anyone here was a bad spy. No one had been asked to demonstrate any spy skills in weeks.
Please note, additionally, that Pam and Cheryl could in no way whatsoever judge who was or wasn’t a good spy to begin with. All they knew was that Archer hung around being a manslut and getting paid lots of money and having mommy issues and then Lana usually saved the mission, since was the competent one. It was possible that they considered “having man hands” and “fabulous tits” to be criteria for being a great spy.
“Plus then we wouldn’t have to teach you little shits,” Pam sighed. (Yeah, Pam. What you did totally counted as teaching.) “So this is apparently the last week or something? So you’re like legally obligated to stop showing up and bothering us. Take that.”
FREE AT LAST. No more of this rolling out of bed before noon on Friday. Teaching was, like, strenuous and shit.
"Merry Christmas." Cheryl threw a handful of confetti at them, watching it fall to the ground and then frowning when no one seemed impressed by that. Including her. "So I guess we should give you guys a final, right? Pam, did you like, write a test?"
Because guess who didn't?
Oh, hey, make that two of them. “... Are we s’posed to give a test?” Pam asked. “How d’we test them on spying? Oh! Let’s give ‘em a mission and then laugh when they all get themselves killed being stupid!”
It took a second before Pam added, “But not, like, for real, ‘cause I think if any of ‘em die we’ll get sued.”
She had to clarify that, because no one expected Cheryl to think of it, okay?
Cheryl rummaged around in a desk for a minute, producing a map of some kind of compound. (Don't ask why Cheryl had a map of a compound. It was probably sex-related.) "Um, okay," she declared, grabbing a pen and vaguely marking a star somewhere on the map. (...it could have also been some sort of dirty drawing. Hard to tell, considering that the map was crumpled up, had multiple stains on it, and had been printed poorly in the first place. "Okay, design yourself a mission!"
That was spy-ish, right? Lana always seemed to be doing shit like this.
"There are diamonds here," she said, pointing to the spot she'd scribbled. "How're you gonna get in? Assume there's a ton of security, so how are you gonna get around that? What're you gonna wear? What's your plan? Are you gonna seduce the guards, or go in through the air ducts?"
Cheryl knew which one she'd choose, anyway. The more interesting one. (And she'd kind of already done that before, too! See, she was an expert at spying.)
“So, tell us, so we can evaluate your performance,” Pam nodded. That sounded very proper and HR-y, and a lot nicer than “mock how quickly you would die,” the more accurate response. “Make it nice and entertaining, all right?”
Hey, weren’t you all glad that Pam wasn’t possessed by strange beeping ghosts any more? More importantly, had Cheryl figured out yet that Pam was possessed, orrrr did she just think she’d hallucinated that whole mess?
Cheryl hadn't totally ruled out that Pam had gotten into her own stash of hallucinogens, honestly. So forgive her for still side-eyeing her co-teacher a little, here.
"Completely the worst," she agreed. "I can't believe that after a whole semester of this, you guys are still so bad at it. I mean, you could have taken my advice and stopped showing up and you'd still be better off."
...please note that they had no evidence that anyone here was a bad spy. No one had been asked to demonstrate any spy skills in weeks.
Please note, additionally, that Pam and Cheryl could in no way whatsoever judge who was or wasn’t a good spy to begin with. All they knew was that Archer hung around being a manslut and getting paid lots of money and having mommy issues and then Lana usually saved the mission, since was the competent one. It was possible that they considered “having man hands” and “fabulous tits” to be criteria for being a great spy.
“Plus then we wouldn’t have to teach you little shits,” Pam sighed. (Yeah, Pam. What you did totally counted as teaching.) “So this is apparently the last week or something? So you’re like legally obligated to stop showing up and bothering us. Take that.”
FREE AT LAST. No more of this rolling out of bed before noon on Friday. Teaching was, like, strenuous and shit.
"Merry Christmas." Cheryl threw a handful of confetti at them, watching it fall to the ground and then frowning when no one seemed impressed by that. Including her. "So I guess we should give you guys a final, right? Pam, did you like, write a test?"
Because guess who didn't?
Oh, hey, make that two of them. “... Are we s’posed to give a test?” Pam asked. “How d’we test them on spying? Oh! Let’s give ‘em a mission and then laugh when they all get themselves killed being stupid!”
It took a second before Pam added, “But not, like, for real, ‘cause I think if any of ‘em die we’ll get sued.”
She had to clarify that, because no one expected Cheryl to think of it, okay?
Cheryl rummaged around in a desk for a minute, producing a map of some kind of compound. (Don't ask why Cheryl had a map of a compound. It was probably sex-related.) "Um, okay," she declared, grabbing a pen and vaguely marking a star somewhere on the map. (...it could have also been some sort of dirty drawing. Hard to tell, considering that the map was crumpled up, had multiple stains on it, and had been printed poorly in the first place. "Okay, design yourself a mission!"
That was spy-ish, right? Lana always seemed to be doing shit like this.
"There are diamonds here," she said, pointing to the spot she'd scribbled. "How're you gonna get in? Assume there's a ton of security, so how are you gonna get around that? What're you gonna wear? What's your plan? Are you gonna seduce the guards, or go in through the air ducts?"
Cheryl knew which one she'd choose, anyway. The more interesting one. (And she'd kind of already done that before, too! See, she was an expert at spying.)
“So, tell us, so we can evaluate your performance,” Pam nodded. That sounded very proper and HR-y, and a lot nicer than “mock how quickly you would die,” the more accurate response. “Make it nice and entertaining, all right?”
Sign in [12/12]
Re: Sign in [12/12]
Re: Sign in [12/12]
Re: Sign in [12/12]
Listen to whatever you want to call it this week [12/12]
Outline your mission! [12/12]
totally moddablestained, messed up map, and explain your plan of attack to get to those diamonds. Are you going to crawl through the air ducts? Try to drug the guards? Try to seduce the guards?And bonus points if you explain what you'll do about what Cheryl insists is a pit of lava in the middle of the compound, despite how much it looks like a barbecue sauce stain.
And, of course, what are you going to wear? Tacticle black turtlenecks are an obvious choice.
Talk to Cheryl and Pam [12/12]
OOC [12/12]
THANKS FOR ROLLING WITH THE CRAZY, GUYS. WE'RE GONNA MISS YOU.