fandomtownies | JGoB, Saturday Morning

Entry tags:

JGoB, Saturday Morning

Peter had been gone from the island for a very... unfortunate while. After his brother's defection, he'd retreated to Bavaria to lick his wounds. But he'd always known it wouldn't be forever: that he would return, reclaim his position on the island - tsh, on all the Starks, and the Skywalkers, and whoever else - and have some damn good pastries.

"I vill have the espresso," he told the wench at the counter, and tapped his cane on the floor.

His minions... they would know. Oh, they'd know he was here. He'd given the signal, and now they would come. They had to come.

After all, there were microchips involved. Or brainwashing. Or bribes. Or just plain evil. Look, even Peter forgot what plot twist was held responsible for his minions from day to day.

[[ for Peter's minions, but also open to anyone else, with a note that I am currently stuck at a filming location and will be on heavy SP for a few more hours... ]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"The bakery," drawled Natalie's voice as she came in, heels clicking against the floor. "Really, Peter?"

She might have been a minion, but she also had a sense of style and class (or at least, was very vain) and this... Was not it.

"You hav to appreciate zhe small pastries, before you move on to zhe bigger ones," Peter proclaimed, tapping his cane again. "Natalie. It iz good to zee you again."

At least he had a classy suit?

Natalie nodded as she came closer, then stopped. "You too," she said, giving him a onceover, though whether that was to check him out for any notable changes or just to check him out, the world might never know. It probably depended on her motive-of-the-week. "What made you come back?"

"Opportunity," Peter said, extending his arms dramatically. "The known quantities are trembling and ready to be toppled. I could not stay away."

"So is there already a plan of action?" she wondered, tilting her head. "The Skywalkers and the Starks are still strong on the island."

Edited 2011-09-10 18:48 (UTC)

"They are," Peter agreed, "But they vill not be vor very long-- not vhen ve blow up zhe diamond mine!"

Dum dum dum duuuum.

Now that, that was enough to get the usually oh-so-stoic Natalie's eyes to widen. "We're going to what?" she asked, but there was admiration in her tone already then.

"Zhe diamond mine," Peter said. "First we zhall undermine zheir stabilitees of the mental variety-- but even now I have zhe explosives zavely in hand for zhe final act of our zhow."

Sometimes he sounded distinctly more Balkan than Bavarian.

Well, it was the mark of a good little minion to overlook those kinds of inconsistencies, wasn't it?

Natalie smirked, just a tad. "Well, I do like the sound of that," she said. "How do you propose we go about this undermining?"

(no subject)

lockestheway - 2011-09-10 21:26 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

whenshewasnice - 2011-09-10 22:00 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

lockestheway - 2011-09-11 08:13 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

whenshewasnice - 2011-09-11 10:18 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

lockestheway - 2011-09-11 10:57 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

whenshewasnice - 2011-09-11 11:08 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

lockestheway - 2011-09-11 11:43 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

whenshewasnice - 2011-09-11 12:20 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

lockestheway - 2011-09-11 12:59 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

whenshewasnice - 2011-09-11 13:23 (UTC) - Expand

Quinn Fabray Hudson Evans Wayne always liked a man who would impress her. A shepherd, who would see her as the lost lamb she was and take her under his wing to guide her. She'd sought it and sought it, almost found it with Bruce and let it slip through her fingers.

Now she'd found Peter Wiggin, and she was determined to add a fifth last name to her collection. He didn't see it yet, but someday soon he would.

"You called," she said, keeping the note of eagerness out of her voice. "I ... wasn't sure you'd be here."

"Of course, my dear," Peter said. He knew of her... affections. He would not let her... widow him. But he could make use of her need to please, yes. "I always come vhen I say I vill." He tilted his head. "Time has been kind."

"More to you than to me," Quinn said, with a maidenly blush. "But ... you didn't come just to flatter me, did you?"

Not that she'd mind if he had.

"Ah, you read my mind," Peter said, with a blatantly over-the-top sort of gesture. It was a miracle he hadn't worn a top hat that day, really. "I come... to finally establishhhh my mastery of thiz island."

"Just one little push," Quinn said with relish, "and the Starks and the Skywalkers will fall. They're weak. I know it. How are you going to do it?"

"The wedding!" Peter declared. Too loudly. "Both weddingz! They are to happen thiz very Zunday! We zhall disrupt and inzinuate ourzelfs... and then we zhall blow up zhe diamond mine!"

Quinn smiled. Not so much because she wanted the diamond mine to be blown up -- all those poor lovely diamonds that could be hers! -- but because, well ...

"... your eyes look so intense in this light."

She was the Minion who Failed Evil.

"Naturally," Peter said, "I don't wear contacts."

He played with her emotions! It was how he worked! "So, can I count on you, lovely Quinn, to do my bidding?"

(no subject)

chief-cheerio.livejournal.com - 2011-09-11 12:37 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

lockestheway - 2011-09-11 13:00 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

chief-cheerio.livejournal.com - 2011-09-11 13:03 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

lockestheway - 2011-09-11 14:00 (UTC) - Expand

"Peter, dahlink, you look magniiiiiificent," Kenzi said as she blew into the cafe in a whirl of Chanel No. 5 and randomly Latvian accent. She air-kissed both cheeks and sat down to study her reflection in her compact. "And ze cane, it is very impressive, very you, very, how-you-say, phallic?"

"I zo try," Peter said, flagrantly tossing all laws about dialects to the wind. "It is a very effective weapon in zo many ways. But you would know zuch zings, Kenzi."

"But of course," Kenzi said with a Gallic shrug. French perfume, French gesture for the moment. "Zo. I vas checking on Topherrrr, and trying to find out ze politics, and suddenly, WHAM! I am summoned!" She beamed at him. "The time, she is now?"

"Zhe is," Peter agreed, waving his cane magnanimously. "Soon we zhall handle zhe diamond mine! But first, we zhall have zo undermine zhe mental health of zhe families!"

Nobody wanted to know why he suddenly sounded more French than Bavarian.

"There is a wedding. Two weddings."

Dramatic music.

"I Looooooove Weddings!" Kenzi exclaimed, making an Italian over-the-top gesture of her hands to her heart. "The music! The food! The clothes! The idiots pledging their eternal love to each other even though they just banged the groomsmen! It is -- how you say-- abbondanza!" She stopped gesturing and grinned like a shark. "Vhat am I to be doing? The killing? The lying? The kidnapping! I love the kidnapping!"

She bounced in place and for a second, looked like normal Kenzi. But just for a second.

"My brother iz zo marry that unsubtle ruffian of a Stark tomorrow," said Peter, because he was clearly so much more subtle. Because he had an accent. "I don't wish him harmed... but ah, some liez about his reputation, prompting Stark zo react stupidly and embarrass himself... in front of the whole crowd! And Skywalker!"

"Some industrial sabotage, that is hawt this year, yes? We like that?" Kenzi cocked her head, accent randomly moving to East Germany. "Ahah! We zay the clinic say he is impotent! And can not have man-babiez with this Stark! I will find Clinic form, make ziss up?" Who didn't want man-babies?

"We always like that, dear Kenzi," Peter said, jabbing his cane up into the air. "Impotence! Zhat is a ztart, but not zhe end. Cheating! There's good influence in cheating!"