FIC: Vengeance is Mine, Sayeth th’ Clone…

AUTHOR: Marcus

RATING: PG

SERIES: Not bloody likely.

SUMMARY: One of th’ blokes ‘as been messin’ about in my PRIVATE workshop. I get back at ‘im in my own inimitable way… with a little ‘elp from a mate.

* * * * * * * * * *

‘e covered ‘is tracks well. There wasn’t a thing ta tell me that ‘e’d been muckin’ about in my private things. Or so ‘e thought, I’m sure.

Truth is, ‘e would ‘ave been right, but ‘e forgot one thing.

I’m a clone. I’ve got a right good sniffer on me, an’ th’ bloke didn’t even bother ta TRY ‘idin’ ‘is scent.

It was all over th’ place, but most especially on th’ medium sized wooden drawers labeled ‘Sally’ an’ ‘Rose’.

Took me a few minutes ta figure out what ‘e was up ta, but then suddenly it ‘it me. ‘e wanted ta see what I’d been makin’ fer th’ chits. Probably so ‘e could outdo me fer any occasion.

So I figured ‘Fine. ‘e wants ta play?

We’re goin’ ta play.’

Too bad fer th’ git that I’m goin’ ta be th’ one ta win.

* * * * *

So I’ve been thinkin’ about ‘ow ta get ‘im back.

Been rackin’ my brain, ta be ‘onest.

Came up with all sorts of plans an’ such, but they were too complex or ‘ad too many variables. Besides, none of them was quite right.

It wasn’t until I over’eard ‘im an’ Rose talkin’ last night that I finally figured out exactly what ta do. Unfortunately fer me, it’s goin’ ta require some ‘elp from one of th’ other blokes.

Bright side is, th’ bloke in question’s probably goin’ ta be willin’ ta lend a ‘and. Or ‘e will if I put it to ‘im in th’ right way. An’ I ‘ave a feelin’ I can do that.

* * * * *

I watch ‘im from the doorway, ‘is fingers slidin’ slow an’ almost awkwardly over th’ frets in th’ neck of ‘is guitar. Bloke’s gotten better in th’ last few months, even if ‘e’s not playin’ fer th’ family much yet.

Lucky fer me, th’ song ‘e’s workin’ on is kinda slow an’ sad. Gives me th’ openin’ I need.

I wait til ‘e stops ta tune one of ‘is strings, though it sounds fine ta me. ‘is brow’s furrowed, an’ that’s when I speak.

“Ya know, yer takin’ things better than I woulda thought ya’d be doin’, mate.”

‘is brow furrows even more as ‘e looks up at me.

“What the ‘ell are ya on about, Cloney?” ‘e says, soundin’ a good bit irritated.

I just shrug an’ purse my lips, my eyes narrowin’ like I’m deep in thought.

“Guess I’m just surprised that yer not more upset about th’ Temp goin’ on ‘oliday with Rose an’ ‘er ‘usband ta be,” I finally say. “’s not like ‘e’s ‘er primary or anythin’, so… why’s ‘E allowed ta go when yer not?”

I shrug again, smirkin’ inside as ‘e frowns deeper an’ deeper.

“Must be why yer in ‘ere playin’ sad songs while ‘e’s out there on th’ couch snuggled up with yer Mate, right? B’cause she asked ya first and ya didn’t want ta go. Not that I blames ya. Wouldn’t want ta ‘ave ta watch Rose an’ ‘er new bloke rollin’ in th’ sand m’self.”

An’ I think that’s done it b’cause ‘e’s lookin’ downright furious now.

Yah… good on me. Think I’ve got my accomplice.

‘is eyes are ‘ot an’ angry when ‘e looks at me again, an’ I know fer a fact I’ve got ‘im ‘ooked when ‘e speaks once more.

“It’s not like I’s can stop them, mate. Princess wants ‘im there.”

An’ it’s almost time ta let my smirk show. Almost, but not quite.

“What if…” I pretend ta look thoughtful again. “What if th’ Temp decided that ‘e didn’t want ta go?

‘is brows rise just a little an’ a sly, devilish look dilutes th’ storm clouds on ‘is face a bit.

“What do ya ‘ave in mind, Wonder- git?” ‘e asks, an’ that’s when I DO smirk.

“Got a bit of an idea, bloke… if ya know anyone who can ‘elp with some photo manips…”

* * * * *

Knew I’d picked th’ right bloke fer th’ job. I’s a good bloody judge, ‘owever, so’s I shouldn’t be surprised.

Showed ‘im th’ piccies I’d found, told ‘im what I ‘ad in mind fer th’ Temp, an’ next thing I knew, th’ whole idea of just leavin’ some pics on th’ bloke’s bed ‘ad gone right out th’ bleedin’ window.

“Since we’s botherin’ to mix the soddin’ images, we might as well just make a website, right, Cloney?” he said, fingers dancin’ on ‘is keyboard faster an’ more graceful-like than they’d done on ‘is guitar. “We’s can send ‘im an e-mail with the link.”

Bloody brilliant, that was. Still, we ‘ad th’ site ta design an’ th’ piccies still needed ta be done.

Watched over ‘is shoulder, tryin’ ta figure out ‘ow ‘e was doin’ what ‘e was doin’. Could be a useful soddin’ skill ta ‘ave one of these days, right? Yeah.

“Wait, bloke,” I says, “Make that one bigger! I wants it ta look like it’s really bloody dangerous, mate!”

Th’ look on ‘is face is kinda dubious, like ‘e’s questionin’ th’ wisdom of what we’re doin’ all of a sudden. Can’t ‘ave that, can I?

“Course, I understands if ya can’t do it. Might be a bit beyond ya, ‘ey?”

Yeah, ‘e’s th’ right bloke fer th’ job, a’right.

‘e just frowns an’ growls a bit, then makes th’ soddin’ thing three times th’ size it was a moment ago.

“Yeah, mate,” I says, clappin’ ‘im on th’ back, “That’s bloody well perfect.”

* * * * *

I take off as ‘e’s finishin’ up th’ eighth page of th’ site b’cause I needs ta set up a new e-mail account. Would never do ta send th’ link from an address ‘e’d recognize.

“Let’s see,” I mutter ta m’self as I try out a few different addresses.

“Soddin’ ‘ell! ‘ow can they be all taken?”

I’m not th’ most patient of blokes. Think I gets it from m’Sally. By th’ time I find m’self an addy that’s still available, I’m ‘bout ready ta tear out my ‘air.

But I do find one, an’… that’s good. Th’ soddin’ Temp will never know it wasn’t th’ Fiji Tourism Board what sent ‘im th’ link.

‘e’ll decide not ta go with Rose an’ ‘er new bloke, at least fer th’ few days ‘til I tells ‘im it’s all a joke.

I’m bettin’ ‘e’ll never break inta my private things an’ try ta outdo me on prezzies by spyin’ again, an’ that’s what counts.

Now, if I just knew ‘ow ‘e got in…

Tbc…