|
Disclaimer:
This challenge comes to us courtesy of a suggestion by Ghost Cat. Your challenge, should you decide to participate:
The Watchers are a large organization, presumably working world-wide. The question is, where do they get all their money? Surveillance equipment does not come cheap, and the travel expenses alone must be a fortune. Write a short story or scene that shows a major fund-raiser/income for the Watchers group.
by lynnannCDC
"Joe, I've been wonderin'," Richie said as he began to snarf down the burger and fries he had brought into the bar, "where do you get all the money to run your operation? I mean, hell, doing the books at the dojo drives me around the bend sometimes. You have overhead, and properties to maintain, and payroll for who knows how many people, and travel expenses. That right there has to cost some big bucks. Even with frequent flyer miles."
"It does, Richie, it does," the guitar player/bar owner leaned back in his chair, cradling a mug of hot coffee in his hands, enjoying the warmth, and the aroma. "I'll let you in on a little secret. Some of the Watchers have full time jobs to support themselves and their families, and they mostly are just backups. We use them mainly for when an Immortal blows into town, and the primary and secondary Watchers need some help, or need a break. So not all Watchers are fulltime." He leaned forward and tapped the tabletop decisively. "That cuts a few dollars off the budget."
"But the money, Dawson , what about the money?" Richie mumbled, his mouth full of fries. He swallowed hastily. "Investments from a few centuries ago finally paying off? Computer investments in the last twenty years? What? Fund raisers and auctions? E-bay?"
"We do what we can," Dawson shrugged. "We have our investment division, and everything is well-diversified...but if you ever feel the need to help out..."
"Yeah, that's likely. I like you a lot, Dawson, you've been a pal, but me help out a bunch of Peeping Toms? Don't think so, not this boy."
"Well, if you do, then you might try eating at McDonald's instead."
Richie looked up from his Biggie fries and Wendy's triple. "Huh?" He raised an eyebrow at the blues man.
Joe held up his wrist, his Watcher tattoo in clear evidence. "Where do you think they got the idea for the Arches?"
***k'lynn insisted I write this after she had a strange dream the other night. I resisted until the car alarm went off under my window at 1:30 this morning (MST). I'm gonna get that spectre one of these days. Thanks for reading! 28 March 2001 ***
Because of the acceleration of the Forum in advance of the Movie, and because everyone's attention is pretty much elsewhere, I will be suspending the MWC until after things appear to settle down again (whenever that may be).
In the meantime, here is the challenge for those of you who care to participate!
1) You must involve one or more of our favorite Immortals or Kimmies.
It can be as long or short as you like. *DING!* There's the bell...good luck!
The Match of the Millennium
The room was stifling. The noise was the usual for the place. Sometimes you could hardly hear yourself think. But Methos could, this time. He always did when he shouted at himself. **You damn fool! You would think you would know better than to get sucked into something like this. For pity's sake, you're five thousand years old! At least with something sharp, you might have stood a chance, but NO! You had to open your big, dumb, stupid mouth, and now you're gonna pay, and it's gonna be big time. Best two out of three, and you're already down one.** He called himself a fool in a dozen languages, half of them dead ones, and glared at his opponent, silently calling him various names as well.
Both participants took hold in preparation for what might be the deciding match. They both nodded toward the referee, signaling their readiness.
"Get set! GO!"
The ancient Immortal's struggle was brief, futile actually. He twisted and turned as best he could, but it was soon over.
Duncan MacLeod sat back in his chair and grinned at the referee. "The next two rounds are on the loser here, Joe. Make sure he pays."
Joe Dawson signaled the bartender for another round at the small table.
Methos growled at MacLeod. "That's the last time I let you talk me into thumb wrestling, MacLeod."
"You were the one that challenged me to a contest, I only chose the format."
"You usually choose darts!"
"Didn't feel like it tonight, Pierson."
"It's... it's like cheating, with those hands of yours."
"Yeah," MacLeod's grin spread even broader as he spread his hands out on the table before him. "Next time, be careful who you challenge for drinks."
"Cash," Dawson said when the drinks were placed on the table, his grin as wide as MacLeod's, "on the barrel head. But if you're strapped, we still take plastic."
"Oh, all right," Methos grumbled, reaching for his wallet.
10 August 2000
Back to lynnannCDC's Story Page
|