"I've been looking for the perfect Marc Antony all night…and you look perfect to me."
I winced as the vodka-tinged words drifted past my ear. I silently planned my revenge on Smithson for tonight's costume. The plastic breastplate was tacky, the flimsy sword was useless, and I definitely didn't appreciate the chilly breeze drifting up under my man-skirt.
I spun around to confront my Cleopatra admirer.
"Sorry, I have my own Cleopatra here someplace," I lied.
Her artificially plumped lips smiled. "I don't mind sharing…"
"Oh, there she is. Gotta run." I evaded her groping hands and was soon lost in the crowd of partiers.
Smithson's laughter crackled in my ear.
"The great Chase Jackson, scared of an aging Cleopatra. Wait 'til the guys hear."
"I know 27 ways to extract information from an enemy without leaving a mark. Breathe a word of this and I'll happily practice a few of them on you." I smiled brightly as a Marie Antoinette drifted by.
Gratifying silence filled my ear bud.
I scanned the room, looking for my target. "Do you have any more details on the package?" I demanded.
Quick taps on a keyboard whispered in my ear. "Sources say there are four vials of toxin."
I eyed Marie's wig. Easily enough room.
"But it needs to be kept cool to stay effective," Smithson continued. "So you're looking for something large enough to hold an ice pack or small cooler."
Drifting through the room, I eyed the costumes and accessories. The butt of Rambo's machine gun was an option, as was the impressive cleavage of the male Dolly Parton impersonator. I could imagine what I'd hear from the guys at the Agency if I had to take down Dolly for her assets.
I realized that my eyes kept coming back to the nerdy scientist. A plain, white lab coat covered Wal-Mart-quality khaki's and a cheap polo shirt. Colored pens and yellow pencils stuck out from the coat pockets. A $30 briefcase completed the look.
Something wasn't quite right.
A waiter drifted by and I grabbed a fizzy orange drink concoction in a plastic skull. I glimpsed Cleopatra standing near the scientist, raised my glass to her and worked my way across the room.
"Smithson, how much do you know about shoes?" I asked.
"Not as much as my wife. Why?"
"Last time I checked, John Lobb loafers cost around $1,300."
"Sounds about right," he replied.
"What are the chances you'd pair John Lobbs with value store pants?"
Cleopatra chose that moment to close the gap and throw herself into my arms.
"Darling, I knew you'd come to your senses!" she slurred.
I pushed her aside, struggling to watch the scientist. Unfortunately, Cleopatra's leap of love had drawn his attention.
He moved quickly, sliding through the crowd with a grace that belied his nerdy look. I took off after him.
"Come back! Rule with me!" Cleopatra cried.
She grabbed at my cape as I struggled through the crowd.
"Don't be afraid, my dear. I'll be gentle," she promised.
Gentleness was the last thing on my mind as I pushed through the costumed crowd. I had to reach the scientist before he could hand off his package. If not…well, Cleopatra and the rest of us would soon join the original Marc Antony.
A flash of white slipped through the French doors at the far end of the room. I put on a burst of speed, cutting and weaving around a hobo, two vampires and a paunchy Captain America before reaching the exit.
I dashed through the doors and found myself in a Halloween garden. Hanging skulls and jack-o-lantern garden lights cast an eerie glow on sculpted bushes and trees. The chill air and a light mist had kept the party goers inside.
I glided off the veranda and into the shadow of the nearest bush.
Mentally, I made a note to thank Smithson for his choice of costume. The muted reds and tans blended into the moonless night.
Unlike a bright white lab coat.
On silent, sandal-clad feet I closed the distance between us. At the last minute, a twig snapped under my foot, alerting him to my presence.
He spun towards me and I caught a flash of yellow as lethal pencils flew through the night. I flicked my cape around, deflecting the deadly darts.
Slow clapping broke the silence.
"Nicely done, Jackson. I should have realized that your ridiculous outfit was more than mere show. Tell me, do you have any real weapons tucked inside that cute little skirt?"
"Have we met? I'm afraid I don't remember meeting a skilled pencil assassin."
"Such arrogance! I wish I could say that you'd remember me the next time we meet. Unfortunately, you won't have a next time."
I barely had time to react as he sent a barrage of steel-tipped pens at me. The cape shredded beneath their sharp teeth and fell in tatters.
I lunged at him before he could pull out any more deadly office supplies. He gave a satisfying grunt as we fell to the ground together. Before he could recover, I grabbed for the briefcase.
But the nerdy scientist was quick. The briefcase swung around and I was forced to jump back, giving him some precious room. He scrambled to his feet and charged me, using the briefcase as both a shield and a weapon.
I looked around for something, anything, that I could use against him. In desperation, I pulled the plastic sword from my sheath.
Laughter filled the air.
"Now I've seen it all," he gasped. "The legendary Chase Jackson, dressed like a dead Roman soldier, valiantly wielding a fake sword."
I didn’t dignify his statement with a response. Instead, I gave a blood-curdling battle cry and charged him, sword outstretched.
He stood firm under my onslaught, supremely confident that his briefcase could withstand the test of my sword. At the last instant, I lowered my blade.
The cheap plastic slid easily between his ankles. My momentum carried me past him and the sword, tangled in his legs, acted as lever. He took a step forward in an effort to maintain his balance. Instead, he toppled to the ground with all of the grace of a dead tree.
The briefcase skittered from his hands. I snatched it up before the scientist could recover.
"You're right," I said. "Looks like we won't meet again." Using the tattered remains of my cape, I started to tie him up for the authorities.
"There you are! I knew I'd find you! True soul mates can never be separated."
I turned to see Cleopatra stumbling across the yard towards me. Her gold spandex dress reflected the orange garden lights, turning her into an overly-curvaceous, life-sized candle.
I heard a whisper of movement behind me. I spun around, but was too late. Only a white lab coat remained on the wet grass.
I clutched the briefcase as Cleopatra wrapped her arms around me. The scientist may have escaped, but at least the world was safe for another day.
But I knew we would meet again…