fandomhigh | The Long Con, Wednesday, Period 1 [1/7]

It was a grumpy, rumpled librarian that stomped his way into class after the students had arrived, bonelessly dropping into his chair and kicking his feet up on to his desk as he fished about in his coat for some cigarettes.

God, why the fuck had he been assigned first period? This was some sort of fucking revenge by that sodding moose, wasn't it? John hadn't started drinking yet, but this was fucking inhumane, to be sober at this hour. Bloody hell.

"Right, I'm Constantine, and you're most likely here because you're gullible and thinking this is going to be an easy 'A', a delinquent, or for some strange reason thought this was an academic class with philosophical value," he said, lighting up. "More the fools you, but I can work with it."

"So, let's start with the basics. A con is a game, one where hopefully you're the one writing the rules and the people around you are the pieces you're moving. It's a scam, a grift, a hustle, all those words designed to make it sound as shady as possible, although the number of reasons you could be running a con are infinite, at least when you're justifying it to yourself. It usually just boils down to one, very simple motivation: You want something," he continued bluntly. "So give me your name - or whatever the hell you want to be called for the purposes of this class, I don't care - and tell me one time you ran a scam on someone. Give me an idea of what you already know, kids, then we'll get on to Arts and Crafts."

...did he mean for that to sound slightly ominous? Maybe. It was too fucking early for this shite.

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"Right then," he said, pulling a laptop out of his desk once everyone was through introductions. "We're starting with the first and most basic con, the fake ID."

"I want each of you to take a few moments coming up with a new name and identity, something you can remember easily in a pinch -- especially the birthday, that's the one they always ask while they're holding your ID -- then get your asses up here to place an order through the wonders of the internet."

Look, he was pretty sure half these kids didn't have any kind of ID in the first place. They might as well have something to have with them if they wanted to go do anything off-island, where people demanded ID for shite as ridiculous as a PG-13 movie.

"And yes, before you ask, I'll make you more than one, if you want one with your legal name too. Just don't let it blow back on me if you get caught, yeah?"

John Constantine, everyone. Role Model.

And just like that, Caleb was sold. He was going to need identification, wasn't he. And it was more than just living under an assumed surname.

What was more striking to him was that device the professor was using. And he added "internet" to his list of things to look up. Pretending not to be baffled at that might be considered good practice for pretending to be someone he wasn't.

He quickly considered a few names, Melvin Absher, Floyd Blevins, even Dirk Rockbone before settling on Derrick Rockson, and May 1 as the birthday.

"Uh, I think I would like an ID with my proper name on it as well, sir."

"We can do that," John said, nodding. "Now, you want just an American driver license, or also a passport for here or another country?"

Look, having multiple options was important!

On the one hand, Caleb neither knew how to drive, nor anticipated needing to leave the country in the foreseeable future (though if he was currently residing on another plane of existence...?) on the other, whether or not he could drive wasn't the point, and it couldn't hurt to have a passport just in case.

"A passport couldn't hurt. Probably stick to an American one though."

"American it is," John replied. "You got anywhere in particular you want to be from?"

Look, the kid was pinging Constantine's Spooky Sense something fierce, and between using terms like 'haint' and 'sir' (because he sure as shit was not a 'sir'), a little bit of triangulation via innocuous questions didn't seem out of line.

Hmm, where should he be from. The whole idea was to hide, so Baker's Gap Tennessee or Glamorgan Virginia would probably be a bad idea, (he didn't even know if they still existed, would that matter if the ID was fake anyway? If not maybe he could say Craw, but just the thought hurt)

"Hardbuckle Kentucky." he finally decided. It'd been nearly a century, surely that'd be safe enough.

Billie had an ID that let her do all the things already. But sure, she could roll with this assignment.

"Wilhelmina Preston," she decided, and after a beat, "Esquire."

Her uncle would be so proud.

. . . Maybe less so that she proceeded to offer her very real birth date. Seriously, she was going to fail this class.

"Right then, squire," sorry, Billie, you had a new nickname now. "Now, you want just an American driver license, or do you need a passport too?"

Billie bobbed her head thoughtfully. (She had no complaints about 'squire' as a nickname.) "Can I have . . . a Canadian passport?"

Awww, look. She's already learning! Maybe she won't fail this class after all.

. . . Unless they ended up in a class where she had to use it and not accidentally out herself as non-Canadian immediately.

"Absolutely you can," he replied, typing it in. "You got a particular place you want to be from?"

“Quebec! . . . Wait, my accent in French is extremely atrocious. British Columbia.”

Where Celine Dion and Carly Rae Jensen were from, respectively.

Jon...supposed it couldn't hurt to have ID, even if he rarely made it off the island and didn't generally drive.

He'd just get it in his legal name, though. And have it make him about ten years older. Only because if it said 35, nobody would believe it.

"Jon, mate, seriously?" John sighed, looking at the info he had been provided. "Your legal name? If I'm making you a passport -- 'cause no one's mistaking you for an American -- we might as well get creative."

"I'm more likely to remember my real name, though," Jon protested. "And I don't have a criminal record or anything."

Not in this world, anyway.

Hmmm... Name...

Lettie... close enough to Charlotte... And Wild. No, Wilde... Wild Charlotte. Even the Aunties might approve.

If they were going to approve of her getting an ID under a different name, that is. Which they wouldn't. Probably.

"So, I think I'll be Lettie Wilde," she said. "And for a birthday... Let's go with December 1st. Sagittarius all the way. 2003. So I'm not that much older than I really am."

Hey now, people's aunties ALWAYS approved of Constantine! ...initially.

"Lettie Wilde it is," John said, putting all that in. "You want a passport too, sunshine?"

John didn't ASSUME that kids these days were up to shit that required a quick exit from a country, but he also didn't put it past them.

Charlie's Aunties had a thing of believing that men of power/sorcerors/whatever were most likely evil and should probably be, um, 'taken care' of. And not in a sweet way. But they'd probably give a pass for anyone here on the island. As long as they didn't come messing around in their area.

"Huh... Sure, why not?" Charlie said. "That would be awesome!"

The Long Con, Wednesday, Period 1 [1/7]

Arts & Crafts! (Kinda)

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