Weather Games, ch 1 [X-over]
I pulled out my notebook with the firm intention of finishing Diversions last night, but everything I wrote was a disaster. So I gave in to the story that my brain was demanding I write instead. It's a crossover, and I don't think I've ever seriously tried writing one of those before. It's... interesting writing a crossover. I have to step back and describe characters that I never bothered worrying about describing before, because I already assumed everyone knew them.
And those who have me on their f-list will not be shocked at the second fandom, I'm sure. How can I resist?
Eroica/Glassy Landscape
(K/D)
Weather Games - Ch. 1
Italy, 1970s
It was the last person he expected to see, in the last place he expected to see him.
Police inspector Franco Mira stood in the drizzling rain that had been wearing at his temper all day and cursed in Italian. Giovanni, a respectful shadow by his shoulder, caught sight of the man as well and let out a long breath. "Sir?"
"What in God's name is he doing in Rome?"
"Turning over a new leaf?"
Franco shot his officer a dark look, but Giovanni only smiled apologetically. Across the square the man in question sat inside a café, raindrops glistening in his slowly drying dark hair. He wore a neat, slightly damp cream suit, with a silk scarf wrapped around his throat. Well off, with an American attitude only partially hidden under his international air. He said something to the waitress, and she laughed.
Joey Baxter was always charming.
Franco checked his watch and then looked up at the gray sky, debating. "Keep an eye on him," he said at last. "I'll go on to our appointment and we'll deal with our friend Joey Baxter later."
"Yes, sir."
Giovanni walked away―a casual tourist in a big city―and blended into the thin crowd. His superior waited a moment more, then started off as well. He walked briskly, and with his shoulders hunched the upturned collar of his overcoat blended with the rim of his gray fedora.
Franco loathed Rome, and he suspected the feeling was mutual. He had worked here long ago when he was a young rookie, and it had nearly chewed him up and spit him out again. He wanted to be in Milan― he should be in Milan. Local police forces were never invited to take part in an investigation like this, and when they were it was because they were first on the scene.
So why was he being pulled out of his district and loaned to NATO? It stank of bureaucratic maneuvering.
The agent he had been sent to meet didn't look any more pleased about the situation than Franco felt. He was German, with a suit that screamed "spy" and ramrod straight military posture. He was wagging his finger under the nose of some unfortunate boy in a nearly identical suit.
Maybe they buy them in bulk.
"Major Eberbach?" That earned him a green-eyed glare, but if the NATO man was expecting an apology for the interruption it would be a long time coming. "I'm Franco Mira."
"Klaus von dem Eberbach. Weren't there supposed to be two of you?" Klaus demanded.
Franco added "rude" to his list of marks against. He had too many possible answers to a question like that, so he chose the simplest. "He was delayed."
Klaus gave an incredulous snort, then waved a hand at his subordinate. "This is Agent Zett. Shall we get on with things?"
"By all means." Franco ignored the subtle hint and removed his overcoat, handing it off to a server before sitting at the table the two Germans had just abandoned. "Let's." He leaned back and pinned the major with a stare of his own. "Starting with a full definition of 'things'."
Klaus looked taken aback. "Didn't they brief you?"
"No."
The agent paused for an indecisive moment, looking faintly uncomfortable, and then sat back down. Zett scrambled to join them. Klaus leaned forward and lowered his voice. "We're looking for... something, and we have a fairly good idea of who has it."
Franco raised an eyebrow, his thin face sardonic. "Who has it?"
"The damned idiot probably doesn't even realize he has it― he never does." Klaus seemed to know this rant rather well; he fell into it as smoothly as a needle on a well-worn record. "I've been trying to track him down for a week and a half, and he's not even trying to avoid me. Flighty, aristocratic-"
Zett gave a careful cough, and Klaus broke off. "Anyway, he should be here in Rome, but if he moves on before we find him, his next stop is likely to be up north."
Franco had a sudden sinking feeling. "The Simmons Hotel." It was all coming back to the hotel today.
Klaus nodded, then reached into his jacket and spun a photo across the table. Franco stared down at the smiling man with the riot of golden curls. It was a stranger, and he was more relieved than he should have been.
"His name is Gloria― Dorian Red Gloria, and he's an earl in the British peerage. Not dangerous, except that he's a walking disaster." The NATO agent rubbed at his forehead. "Just tell him I want to talk to him."
Franco could feel his other eyebrow climbing up.
"And watch where he puts his hands!"
-------
PS - I'm looking for a beta for this one, if anyone has spare time on their hands. XD
And those who have me on their f-list will not be shocked at the second fandom, I'm sure. How can I resist?
Eroica/Glassy Landscape
(K/D)
Weather Games - Ch. 1
Italy, 1970s
It was the last person he expected to see, in the last place he expected to see him.
Police inspector Franco Mira stood in the drizzling rain that had been wearing at his temper all day and cursed in Italian. Giovanni, a respectful shadow by his shoulder, caught sight of the man as well and let out a long breath. "Sir?"
"What in God's name is he doing in Rome?"
"Turning over a new leaf?"
Franco shot his officer a dark look, but Giovanni only smiled apologetically. Across the square the man in question sat inside a café, raindrops glistening in his slowly drying dark hair. He wore a neat, slightly damp cream suit, with a silk scarf wrapped around his throat. Well off, with an American attitude only partially hidden under his international air. He said something to the waitress, and she laughed.
Joey Baxter was always charming.
Franco checked his watch and then looked up at the gray sky, debating. "Keep an eye on him," he said at last. "I'll go on to our appointment and we'll deal with our friend Joey Baxter later."
"Yes, sir."
Giovanni walked away―a casual tourist in a big city―and blended into the thin crowd. His superior waited a moment more, then started off as well. He walked briskly, and with his shoulders hunched the upturned collar of his overcoat blended with the rim of his gray fedora.
Franco loathed Rome, and he suspected the feeling was mutual. He had worked here long ago when he was a young rookie, and it had nearly chewed him up and spit him out again. He wanted to be in Milan― he should be in Milan. Local police forces were never invited to take part in an investigation like this, and when they were it was because they were first on the scene.
So why was he being pulled out of his district and loaned to NATO? It stank of bureaucratic maneuvering.
The agent he had been sent to meet didn't look any more pleased about the situation than Franco felt. He was German, with a suit that screamed "spy" and ramrod straight military posture. He was wagging his finger under the nose of some unfortunate boy in a nearly identical suit.
Maybe they buy them in bulk.
"Major Eberbach?" That earned him a green-eyed glare, but if the NATO man was expecting an apology for the interruption it would be a long time coming. "I'm Franco Mira."
"Klaus von dem Eberbach. Weren't there supposed to be two of you?" Klaus demanded.
Franco added "rude" to his list of marks against. He had too many possible answers to a question like that, so he chose the simplest. "He was delayed."
Klaus gave an incredulous snort, then waved a hand at his subordinate. "This is Agent Zett. Shall we get on with things?"
"By all means." Franco ignored the subtle hint and removed his overcoat, handing it off to a server before sitting at the table the two Germans had just abandoned. "Let's." He leaned back and pinned the major with a stare of his own. "Starting with a full definition of 'things'."
Klaus looked taken aback. "Didn't they brief you?"
"No."
The agent paused for an indecisive moment, looking faintly uncomfortable, and then sat back down. Zett scrambled to join them. Klaus leaned forward and lowered his voice. "We're looking for... something, and we have a fairly good idea of who has it."
Franco raised an eyebrow, his thin face sardonic. "Who has it?"
"The damned idiot probably doesn't even realize he has it― he never does." Klaus seemed to know this rant rather well; he fell into it as smoothly as a needle on a well-worn record. "I've been trying to track him down for a week and a half, and he's not even trying to avoid me. Flighty, aristocratic-"
Zett gave a careful cough, and Klaus broke off. "Anyway, he should be here in Rome, but if he moves on before we find him, his next stop is likely to be up north."
Franco had a sudden sinking feeling. "The Simmons Hotel." It was all coming back to the hotel today.
Klaus nodded, then reached into his jacket and spun a photo across the table. Franco stared down at the smiling man with the riot of golden curls. It was a stranger, and he was more relieved than he should have been.
"His name is Gloria― Dorian Red Gloria, and he's an earl in the British peerage. Not dangerous, except that he's a walking disaster." The NATO agent rubbed at his forehead. "Just tell him I want to talk to him."
Franco could feel his other eyebrow climbing up.
"And watch where he puts his hands!"
-------
PS - I'm looking for a beta for this one, if anyone has spare time on their hands. XD