FIC: Prepping by Maidenjedi (XF, 1/1

[maidenjedi]

TITLE: Prepping
AUTHOR: Maidenjedi
RATING: PG
ARCHIVE: Token can have it, otherwise it stays here.
SPOILERS: Dreamland, Dreamland II
KEYWORDS: BAD WRONG TOKEN
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, thank you very much.
SUMMARY: Morris Fletcher and John Gillnitz prepare for an interview.

NOTES: Ok, before you click the cut tag, just know that this is ALL christhetoken's and jood's fault.

Refer to this post. This snippet isn't EXACTLY what Token is looking for, but it was inspired by the comments his post spawned.





*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*

"Morrie, I can't do this."

Gillnitz was sweating buckets, Morris noticed. It wasn't totally unlike him; the first time they'd brought him to Area 51, his clothes had been soaked through.

Morris wasn't entirely sure that had been sweat.

"John, we've been over this. Brokaw thinks he's talking to Saddam Hussein. And you remember what that means."

"Yeah, yeah." He chugged half of his Schlitz and wiped his brow with a towel. "I'm a big bastard at heart, but for television I'm a wronged leader
of a poor, helpless nation. I got it, I got it. But Morrie, I..."

He trailed off, and Morris Fletcher wondered for the first time if his creation, his star, would really be able to handle this.

It wasn't easy, duping the American people. Creating vitriolic hate and still inciting peace protesters.

Morris closed his eyes and imagined the riots. They'd be able to slip anything into the country with peace protesters and a war distracting
people.

Anything, like that new Reticulan stealth cruiser.

"What if we just do a satelitte interview?"

"Do you really think anyone is fooled by that these days? Brokaw wants face-to-face."

"He'll see through me."

"Sean Penn didn't!"

"That was..."

"What, different? Nonsense. You are all they've ever seen, you and a bunch of lookalikes we employ in the off season."

Gillnitz sighed and downed the rest of his beer. He belched while Morris picked up the wig.

Morris looked in the mirror over Gillnitz' head. "This will be a breeze. You go in there, you tell them you have no weapons of mass destruction, and that you want a debate."

Gillnitz had taken the wig and fixed it on his bald pate. He starting pinning on his insignia. "A debate?"

"A debate. You want to sit down with President Bush and talk it out on live television."

Gillnitz laughed. "He'll never go for that!"

"Exactly." Morris' face twisted into something that might have been a grin.

"What do I do if the U.N. resolution passes?"

"Same thing as before. We do some tapes of interviews, my people start the rumors that you're dead, and you spend the war on a beach in the South Pacific."

"No movie deals this time. That Hot Shots gig was bad for my sex life."

Morris bit his tongue, looking at the overweight "Iraqi dictator." Somehow, he didn't think it was a Charlie Sheen movie that caused *that* to happen.

xxx

END

Comments

[jood.livejournal.com]

BWAHAHahahaha! Brilliant!

[christhetoken.livejournal.com]

Rock on!