Idol Hands (Alpha and Astarte)

Mitchell didn't like having his vacations interrupted. He was one week into a three week get away, sealed away in a secluded cabin in Alaska away from constant barrage of information that people where forced to endure everyday. Celebrity gossip, talking heads ranting about pop culture from past decades and whatever other bullshit had filtered its way into the for front of the web during that week.

He had caught tidbits of the goings on with the net's hottest starlet before he had departed. Something about someone spreading information proving her to be a fraud around the web, information that the Network quickly acted to make statements discrediting the information. When his agent had called him Mitchell had tried to turn the job down, telling Carter to hand it off to someone else. But he had insisted that the Network wanted the best, and no one but Mitchell would do.

And so he found himself in a high rise office building, looking out across the shifting neon landscape of LA.

Mitchell was a man in his early thirties with short cropped sandy colored a hair and a strong face weathered by the elements over the years. His suit was tailored to fit his broad frame perfectly. From behind a pair of dark, oval shaped sunglasses he watched the shifting signs and fluttering holograms as he awaited the arrival of his newest client.

How easy it was for a new person to just come out of no where and another life to be buried.

Three years ago, Kimberly Watson had been a nobody. A completely average girl who no one would even give a specific trait to. She hadn't been nerdy enough, sporty enough, pretty enough, creative enough, smart enough, broody enough... unique enough. She had just been one of those mundane people who could blend easily into a background. She never really cared too much for reality shows, but when she heard that one was going to be filming only about six hours away from her hometown, she decided to go give it a shot in an act of desperation to make herself stand apart from the rest of the crowd. Kimberly couldn't believe it when she got a call back telling her that she had been accepted to the show but there were some strings attached. She couldn't tell anyone, and would have to move into an apartment closer to location for three months. Of course, this was an all inclusive deal so once she moved, she wouldn't have to worry about anything. It didn't seem like a bad deal at all.

It took her awhile to learn the truth. The isolation before and after the cameras started rolling was more than just some confidentiality clause. It was the Network slowly letting Kimberly Watson fade into obscurity, while makeup artists and public relations agent built Kimber up. Once they started getting more pervasive with their decisions over her life, making her cut ties to the only person who had noticed her and still stuck beside her, she began to protest. That was when they dropped the bomb. The show was scripted from the beginning. They needed someone that no one would miss, who no one would remember, to be their new star. But in order to do that, she'd have to completely cut all ties with Kimberly and hand her life over to them. Still blinded by glaring lights and relishing in the new found fame, she hesitantly agreed. After all, how long could something like this really last? An actress eventually took a last bow before leaving the stage and returning to her place backstage.

Too long.

Now she found herself dressed down from the attention grabbing wardrobe she'd grown accustomed to. Her fiery red hair was covered under a large cap; vivid green eyes hidden behind dark aviator shades. Two body guards who lingered a short distance on either side of her talked into their comm units as they made their way into the large building. A complete stranger, but a puppet man for her primary agent leading the way but far enough ahead to where it wouldn't draw attention if she was spotted.

"I promise you Kimber, this guy is the best one we've got. He'll be able to take care of anything that comes up, while we clear out all the paperwork." He said as they finally reached the conference room, opening the door for the woman to enter.

"Sorry we're a little late," The agent quickly began to apologize to the ex-military man while she was taking off her coat. "There was a little more traffic on the road that we expected and we had to take a longer route, circle a few time. I'm sure you know the drill."

Mitchell glanced over his shoulder as the suit entered along with two heavies and The Principal. Behind his shades his eyes quickly took in the three, brief bits of data on them flashing across his field of vision and identifying the weapons the two heavies had holstered under their jackets. Hand cannons that where there more for shock factor more then actual functionality.

The suit was no one of real importance, just another faceless drone in the corporate structure who thought he was more important then he really was. He was exactly the kind of person that made Mitchell hate dealing with corporations. He turned slowly from the window, approching the table and reaching for the expensive looking crystal water jug on it, pouring himself a glass before downing it slowly, watching the gathered group through the bottom of the glass. It was a test of patience from him. He already knew once the contract had been cleared he be sending the two heavies back to whichever agency paid for their expensive synthetic muscle implants, they where a deturant, there to look scary and hurt people when need be, not thinkers.

Mitchell finished his water and set the glass on the polished granite tabletop, turning his attention in full towards the suit, "There was a major traffic accident along your primary route, had anyone had the thought to check data feeds before leaving you would have known that and taken your secondary from the on set. What would have been a smarted plan would have been to take advantage of The Network's considerable resources and the fact that this building has a rooftop landing pad where one could have easily parked a hover car. Not only would that have saved time, it would have ensured the safety and privacy of the Principal Subject."

His tone was blunt, a simple, straightforward statement of fact that outlined a plan so simple that anyone with two brain cells to rub together could have figured out.

"Apparently you need my help more then my agent let on."

The agent flinched.

"You have to understand, that even though these attempted leaks have been going on for awhile, that there hasn't ever been a thread of this proportion. The landing pad would have drawn too much..."

The woman was quick to cut him off.

"Bobby isn't a threat. He's just a mere annoyance, but a persistent one. I really don't see a reason for everyone to be acting like this. Mitchell, right?" Kimber gave a cursory glance in his direction. "He's correct. I don't see a point to all of these cloak and dagger dealings. It will be fine, just like it always is."

"But..."

The agent tried to interject; the look the woman shot him was enough to let him know to keep his mouth closed.

"Also, I have a name. Not just 'Principal Subject'. It's Kimber. And you three can go now."

She sighed as she laid the jacket across a chair, sitting down at the table. The trio of others looked awkwardly around at one another before glancing at the man they were entrusting a huge chunk of the Network's profits too. The agent seemed to be a little more worried than the muscle, but nodded slowly.

"You know how to get in touch with us should you need anything."

They tried to creep out of the door, but it made a loud creak as it slowly closed behind them.

"Also, I don't think I'm really in need of any sort of help. Just them." Her neck craned to the now shut door. "It isn't anything they haven't dealt with before."

Kimberly thought about apologizing for her earlier brashness, but something told her that it wouldn't have mattered. This guy didn't seem like the type to care about things like that. He seemed like he was straight to the point himself, not giving a damn about excuses or niceties. She gazed at him from behind her glasses, fingers reaching up to press a small button on the side of the hinge.

"Your file doesn't seem to be complete, or is at that you're just that secretive?"

There was a certain amount of amusement that Mitchell took from watching the girl tear down the suit before dismissing both him and the two heavies from the room. He concluded after the goons had all departed that he liked her, she didn't take any nonsense from her handlers.

Mitchell poured himself another glass of water and settled into a chair across the table from her folding his hands carefully in front of him on the polished granite, "Privileged information." he replied in response to her question. A great deal of his military service had been classified Eyes Only for only the highest ranking military officials in the country.

"Weather you feel you need any sort of help or not is not my concern ma'am. Someone believes you're in danger and have hired me to ensure that no harm comes to you."

One gloved hand reached up, removing his sunglasses, revealing eyes like camera lens, the manufacturers information etched around the iris in a faintly glowing gold text. Military grade implants , designed for function, not fashion.

Mitchell removed a pad and pen from his coat jacket pocket, setting them down on the table in front him before turning his attention to Kimber, "I've read the file that's been provided to me in full but I get a feeling the information I've been provided isn't complete. I'd like your version of the events that been occurring."

The corner of the young woman's lip twitched slightly upwards at his response. It seemed her initial assumption had been correct; blunt and to the point. There wouldn't be much of chance to build up a camaraderie here. This was strictly business for him. That was what she seemed to be now, to everyone. Just a paycheck. For the agency, for her ex-boyfriend, and now for this man too. But that's what happens when you sell your soul for fame. Maybe she wouldn't have signed if she had read all the fine print and knew it still didn't cover all of it.

"There isn't much to tell really. To be perfectly honest, so much is kept hidden from me that I'm not sure of all the details and how deeply it goes."

Kimber sighed softly as she reached across the table, pouring her own glass of water. Her eyes were seemed focused on the tiny stream and the way it fell into the glass.

"Robert Weaver is his real name; I always called him Bobby. But we had known each other for years. It was one of those cliche stories where two people grow up together next door, going through all the stages of maturity together but thinking too much of friendship and how getting into a relationship might jeopardize it so they hide their feelings until some big change forces them to admit the truth. Our big change was the college choices on different coasts."

She brought the water to her lips to take a few sips. Rather than setting it back on the table, she held it in her hands. Thin fingers feeling along the rigid design of the brown glass. If only her publicist could see her now, looking so small and inferior. When everything was stripped away, she really was just Kimberly Watson hiding behind a fake persona. She only need to keep it up when she was in public. Maybe it was him, or the fact that there was no one else in the room besides the two of them. It could have been she just needed to get her previous life off her chest for so long, but she was quickly relaxing. Wearing a look of nostalgia, she continued on.

"After we realized we both felt the same way for each other, he decided to take his third choice for college which happened to be the only one I got accepted to. But he was so intelligent, brilliant really. I was different. It got to be too hard so I took a break for what was supposed to be a semester or two. That's when I found out about the show and signed with the Network. We broke it off when I started filming. It was just supposed to be temporary. I didn't know one show would turn into a lifetime commitment."

"The first incident was about a six months ago, just a quick story and some files that surfaced on the web. It was covered up and declared to be a publicity stunt. I barely even knew about it then. A couple of months ago, it happened again. This time it was things like photos, personal ones that were more recent and even some old embarrassing yearbook shots, report cards, letters I had written to him... things like that. They say all he is doing it to try to blackmail me for money, but that just doesn't seem like something he would do. Then again, time can do strange things to people."

The Trouble Shooter listened intently as she spoke, knowing much of what she was telling him was information that the public wasn't privy to. The light pen flash across his note pad, plucking small bits of information from her story, underlining the name Robert Weaver three times for emphasis. That was the piece he had to be sure to pass along to Styx, she'd dig up everything that existed on the guy.

Once he finished his notes he slipped the pad and the pen back into his jacket pocket, removing a flat rectangle of brushed black still which is flipped open, reveling a long white tube and a collection of smaller tubes. He ran a finger along the smaller ones before selecting one and screwing it into the end of the longer tube and placing it between his lips. A blue LED on the tip glowed brightly as he inhaled before blowing out a cloud of vapor that smelled of cherrys into the room.

Mitchell fixed the woman with a stern look, his eyes impossible to read, "From this point on, two things happen. Firstly I take any information you have given me that may be important and pass it along to a specialist who will investigate further. She guarantees confidentiality. The research will be done, the results sent to me, and any traces of it purged from her drives."

He took another long pull from the e-cigarette, exhaling through his nose before speaking again, "The second part of the job is more hands on for me. From here on out your security and well being is my responsibility. The thugs outside" he said nodding towards the door, "Are not longer taking care of you. I will be taking on that responsibility myself, entirely. Anyone else who is brought is will be done under my desecration."

Demands and expectations laid out for her. No room for questions. This was how she had gotten used to being treated over the past few years. The young woman who had showed signs of her true self just moments ago had begun to slip back into her public persona.

"And just what makes you better than any of those... what were they, thugs, as you phrased it?"

Kimberly didn't care about any of the information being leaked. In a way, she hoped that it would. More than likely, just as quickly as she climbed the social ladder, she would be shoved down from it. It may be a harsh fall, but at least it would be over.

"And as for anyone else being brought in, I wouldn't count on it. I only knew about you a few minutes before being shoved into the car. My whole life is staged, even the people I talk to. Told which topics to bring up, occasionally whole conversations scripted out for me."

The red head sighed, pushing back a strand of hair behind her ear. Her green eyes falling to the e-cigarette between his lips and the thin smoke that billowed from his exhale.

"Mind if I have one? I'm not a huge fan of cherries, but I'll take anything at this point."