Shipment

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey Bombshell, love that barely there dress," Lester leches as Steph walks past the Lester Seat of Shame in the monitoring stations "So we on for after work or what?"

Tank slaps the back of Lester's head on his way past.

"Ow, what did I do?!" Lester complains.

"Do you really want to get shipped off to some 'Stan for a crack like that?" Cal commented.

In the conference room Steph looks confused. "Shipped off?"

One of the merry men set to work the distraction with her replies "Crated up like a dog and dropped somewhere. He dropped Hal in Bosnia after you buzzed him."

"Oh no!"

"Took him 3 weeks to get back" Wiz snickered.

Tank commented "Well, 2 of those weeks he spent in the slammer for indecent exposure, the cops in Tomina frown on naked guys wandering around scaring the sheep."

Yikes. Glad Ranger isn't mad at me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Babe."

"No.

"I need you safe, Raz is not a nice sort of guy." Ranger looked stressed out. The tiny web of lines at the corners of his eyes came into prominence when he closed his eyes and leaned back in his desk chair.

"And if I can't go after skips, I can't pay my rent."

"Think about it?"

Sigh. Why me? And why am I sounding like my mother.

"No." Steph turned and walked out and took the elevator down to the basement garage.

Comparing her crappy RAV4 to the gleaming black vehicles in the garage and the almost single digit balance bank account gave her a twitch in her left eye. She got into the SUV, fobbed the gate open and headed to the RV that was replacing the bond office.

Parking behind the RV, her cell rang. "Hello?"

"Stephanie? This is your mother..."

Does she think I suddenly forgot the sound of her voice or the number popping up on

caller ID?

Bzzzzzzzzzzzt.

Fade to black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thud. Clunk. Ouch. I really hate getting my neurons rearranged.

Feeling an odd disconnectedness Steph opened her eyes slowly to see a soft greenish glow. She was tucked into a sleeping bag, with her purse as a pillow. There was a large glow-stick tacked to the wall ... of her CRATE?

"What the FUCK, Ranger," Pounding on the walls of the crate, she hears muffled voices coming in from the outside. Obviously that isn't going to work. Looking around, she sees a couple bottles of water and a box of twigs and bark disguised as granola bars.

"Goddamn it Ranger, at least I can get real food even if I fly Jet Blue," grumbles the tousle-headed brunette. There is a ziplok bag pinned up next to where her head had rested with a bottle of tylenol, a butterscotch crimpette and a note. A note?

She takes the baggie down, pops a couple tylenol and tears into the crimpette while reading "Sorry Bomber, he made us do it ... signed Hal"

"When I figure out where the hell I am and get back, your ass is SO mine!"

"No Mrs Plum, Stephanie is not here. Yes, when I speak with her again I will let her know to call you. Good bye."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With nothing to do except count the knots in the wood of the crate, Steph falls asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thud. Clunk. Ouch.

This is getting seriously annoying.

The sounds of a pair of explosive bolts make a soft bampf, and the end of the crate drops, showing lush green foliage. A gentle moist green scent fills the crate.

"Well, at least it isn't Siberia." Steph groused.

"Babe, I would never send you somewhere truely dangerous." A mocha latte hand extended into the crate, offering help out.

"Cap Est Resort? You had me crated and dropped at a freaking RESORT?"