Disclaimer: The characters of the Stephanie Plum series belong to Janet Evanovich and are used here without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Takes place in the future
Pairing: None
Rating: Suitable for all ages
Feedback: Email TT at ttsmiscellany@yahoo.com
Creative Takedowns 101
By TT
Stephanie stood before the full length mirror and slowly let out a breath. She looked good, professional. The Channel suit gave her an air of sophistication and made her look more than competent.
“You can do this,” she encouraged herself, wishing she believed it.
Of course, Ranger, Joe and a bunch of others believed it or she wouldn’t be here.
A quick glance at the clock told her she was out of time.
Leaving the dressing area, she stepped into the living area of the suite that would be her home for the next three months.
Twelve years ago this day she was sitting down at a small diner meeting Ranger for the first time.
In the years that passed, she had gone from being a marginally incompetent Bounty Hunter who had a problem with exploding cars, stalkers and weird skips, to being a well-known, well respected, competent Bounty Hunter who had a problem with exploding cars, stalkers and weird skips.
Glancing over the syllabus once more, she was unsurprised when there was a knock at the door. Pulling her stun gun out, she checked the peep hole and saw it was her escorts for the day.
She unlocked the door and smiled. “Morning Lester, Ram,” she greeted.
“Morning Bombshell,” Ram greeted.
“Ready to go, Beautiful?” Lester asked.
“Just a minute,” Stephanie instructed, moving back to the counter where she had left the syllabus. Slipping the paper into her briefcase, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and mentally told herself she could do this. Releasing the breath, she turned once more toward the Rangemen.
“You’re going to be an awesome teacher, Steph,” Ram assured.
Lester’s eyes roamed from the top of her head to the tips of her shoes and back. “If I had more teachers like you, I might have stayed in school,” he said a suggestive smile on his face.
Stephanie smacked him on the chest. “I’d hate for your wife to hear about that comment,” she threatened.
Eyes going wide, Lester pleaded, “You won’t tell her, will you, Bombshell? You know how she gets when she’d this pregnant.”
“Oh, calm down, Les,” Stephanie soothed with just the barest hint of laughter in her voice. “I won’t tell her. “
Lester released a sigh of relief.
“Any word on my stalker?” Stephanie asked, as the trio made their way to the elevator.
“No, still looking for a name,” Ram informed. “Right now we’re just calling him Stalker 998.”
“Yeah, only two more to 1000,” Lester teased.
Stephanie rolled her eyes as they stepped out of the elevator. The trio scanned the area, alert for anything that might be out of place. Once they were settled in the safety of the SUV, Stephanie grumbled, “I can’t believe you guys are actually counting.” Letting out a huff of indignation, she admonished, “I still think the cult counts as one, not one for each member.”
“Aw, but Bombshell,” Lester mock-whined, “where’s the fun in that. If that were the case, we’d have to count that Arab soccer team as one as well.”
“Fine. Whatever,” Stephanie grumbled, watching the countryside go by. "Besides, the soccer team only wanted me to dress in traditional garb. It's not like they wanted to hurt me," she muttered to herself.
Twenty minutes later, she was walking down a hallway, shaking her head at the fact that schools everywhere seemed to all smell and feel the same.
Finally reaching the lecture hall, she walked in and moved to the podium.
Her eyes scanned the seats, arranged in an arena style. The butterflies that had been fluttering in her stomach had become bats.
The first day of school had always been a bittersweet time for her, the end of the freedom of summer, but a chance to spend time with her friends.
It was different being the teacher – professor – she corrected.
Opening her briefcase, she extracted the notes she had prepared for her class today and set them on the podium. Setting her briefcase on the desk off to the side, she then walked to the chalkboard to write a few notes on it.
The first stroke of chalk on the board released a high-pitched squeal into the room and immediately put her teeth on edge.
“Geeze, Bombshell,” Ram grumbled, stepping forward from his position just inside the door. “Try holding the chalk like this. My third grade teacher told us it wouldn’t squeak that way.”
“Thanks, Ram,” Stephanie replied, her cheeks slightly pink. She took another deep breath and wondered if she was really up for this as she continued to writer her notes on the board – this time without the squeals.
By the time she was writing the last note on the board, the first students were filtering into the classroom.
She smiled a greeting at them and moved to the desk, resting on the edge of it until it was time to start.
As person after person filed into the room and filled the seats, the bats in her stomach once more transformed themselves and she was fairly certain they had become dancing elephants.
As soon as the minute hand on the clock showed the hour, Stephanie took a deep breath, prayed she wouldn’t be sick and stepped up to the podium.
“Good morning, class,” she greeted. “My name is Stephanie Plum and I’ll be your teacher this year for Creative Takedowns 101. We’re going to be spending the next ten weeks veering away from the standard takedown techniques you’ve been taught. Why, you may ask? Because real life isn’t always as neat and tidy as the classroom.” This earned her a slight chuckle. “Instead of calling roll, why don’t you each take a moment to introduce yourself and tell us something about you?”
The class seemed to respond to this and things were going well.
They were about two thirds of the way through the class when the voice of the student speaking caught her attention. After about ten words, Stephanie was positive that the young man was her stalker. Not only was his voice familiar, but he hadn’t taken his eyes off her since he entered the room.
A shiver ran down Stephanie’s spine as the class continued. Making her way toward Ram, Stephanie whispered her suspicions to him.
Ram opened the door and motioned Lester in as Stephanie returned to her spot by the podium.
As the two Rangemen headed toward the suspect, he seemed to twig what was going on. Rising from his seat, he launched himself over his desk, knocked over three other students and headed for the door.
Stephanie immediately headed after him.
The stalker burst through the door and raced down the hall.
Stephanie followed.
The janitor had just started washing the floors and quickly dodged to the side of the hall, leaving the mop and pail in the middle of the floor.
The stalker slipped a little, but continued on his way.
In heels, Stephanie had no traction at all. She hit the floor and immediately started to slide. As she began to fall, she grabbed whatever she could to break her fall. The nearest item happened to be the mop, resting in the pail.
Naturally, the mop gave way, flipping out of the water-filled pail.
The pail, propelled by the force of the mop, shot forward and clipped the stalker on the back of the foot, causing him to trip and slide head-first into the bottom of the up-staircase, knocking himself temporarily senseless.
Stephanie hit the floor with a thud, but quickly scrambled to her feet and made her way to the stalker. She reached down and pulled one of his arms behind his back.
Lester showed up a moment later with handcuffs at the ready.
While Lester cuffed the stalker, Stephanie glared down at the helpless man and then kicked him in the side.
“This is a Channel suite, you slime,” she shouted. “And Jimmy Choo shoes!” she added with another kick.
Before she could continue her ranting (and kicking), Lester lifted the stalker to his feet and a cheer erupted in the hallway.
Startled, Stephanie turned to see who was making the noise. She spotted her entire class standing in the hallway, cheering.
“That was amazing!”
“Can you show us how to do that?”
“When do we get to do the practical?”
“That looked like fun!”
The comments from her students were beginning to blend into one. Stephanie let out a shrill whistle. “Everyone back to class and I’ll answer your questions in an orderly manner,” Stephanie instructed. As she saw the student turn, she mumbled to herself, “I’m beginning to sound like my mother.”
Once in the classroom, she settled on top of the desk and waited for the students to settle.
“All right,” she began. “Let’s get the questioning out of the way. Since we started on that side for the introductions, let’s start over here with the questions.”
“When will we get to the practical application part?” the student asked.
“Sometime around week 5,” Stephanie replied. She motioned to the next student.
“Are all your takedowns that cool?”
“No,” was Stephanie’s simple reply.
“How did you know he was your stalker?”
“The words he used, the way he looked at me, instinct and his voice,” Stephanie summarized.
“Will we be learning how to identify stalkers?”
Stephanie sighed and almost wished she was out trying to catch a skip. “Not in this class,” she informed. “That’s taught next quarter in Profiling 102: Know Your Stalker.” She pointed to the next student and the questions continued.
End