*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

~*~Perhaps you think you're being treated unfairly~*~

"Cthhhlllhh mmmmrrr!"

There was a huff from Emmy as she bent over by the door, unscrewing the hinges. "Nonsense. I can get out of here if I damn well want to."

"Nffftt thhht klll."

A screwdriver was chucked in the general direction of the desk. "We're HOS! Does he honestly expect us to control our hormones?!"

"Eeemmmmee!! Mmmttthh mmee oouutthh!"

Stalking across the office, her attempt at prying open the door failing, Emmy straightened her tiara, grabbed a ladder and positioned it under the air duct.

"Ith ithnntthh phnnnee!"

Pausing to munch on an Oreo (tm) the Diva peered under the desk, waving at the bound and gagged individual stuck underneath the furniture. "Hi, Brenda, are you comfortable?"

The Padawan Ho's eyes widened. "Eeemmmee??"

Emmy smiled deviously and patted the other woman on the head. "I told you I had a plan."

And then she walked back to the ladder, screwdriver and swiss army knife in hand, tromped up the steps and jammed the knife under the edge of the air duct cover. Mumbling under breath about a lack of sex, computers and cars, she chewed on the end of the flashlight jammed in her mouth as she wedged the grate free with a satisfying *sproing.*

"This'll teach him to look for better 'talent!'"

Straightening her tiara a final time and grabbing the edges of the duct, Emmy launched herself up, bracing herself and resisting the urge to sneeze, the dust crawling up her nose with every breath. Wiggling up and spotting one of the wider shafts that she could easily crawl in, she wrested free an arm, grabbed the flashlight and turning it on, aimed it down the metal tube.

All clear. Score one for the Smut Supah Diva.

Bracing against the duct walls again, Emmy pressed herself up... and couldn't move. Wiggling around, she banged her hips against the edge.

"Son of a bi--oow!" Wincing as her curse echoed against the steel walls, Emmy waited for the cacophony of horrid echoes to end, and then tried to go up again.

And moved all of two centimetres.

Sucking in her breath and twisting a bit, her feet dangling from the ceiling, she tried a final time. With a triumphant yelp, she moved again... sorta...

Emmy blinked.

She tried to move up. She failed. She tried to wiggle down. She failed again.

She was stuck. In the air duct. With her feet dangling ten feet in the air. With her only help bound and gagged under a desk.

"Fuck."

~*~I am altering the deal. Pray I don't alter it any further~*~

"Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod!!"

Stunned into rigid, wide-eyed terror, Caeryn tried to think clearly, the General's message kicking in the rest of the way.

Locked in... no telephones... no computers...

"Oh SHIT!!"

Diving across the desk, scattering various objects, the Dean grabbed her mouse and clicked in the dire hope that what she though happened hadn't just happened...

"You--you-- !!! The student database!! I was three-quarters done and it's--it's--"

Staring her in the face was Bill Gates' one and only attempt at humour: system failure.

Turning around and dashing for the door, violently shaking the doorknob and finding it jammed. Pounding on the door, she let out a howl of anger.

"You arrogant, self-serving, shit for brains, mother fucking, chauvenististic asshole! That was the ENTIRE. FUCKING. STUDENT. DATABASE!!!"

~*~Don't be too proud of this technological terror you've constructed.~*~

"Hey! I was playing Tomb Raider! Your computer crashed!"

With heavily veiled eyes, Shana looked up to regard the gold Bot that had firmly reestablished himself in her office again, pausing to stare at the strange planter. It had to be a replica. "Did you hit save on the actual WORK you had to do?"

There was a pause. "Yup."

"Oh, good, I don't have to rip you head off and use it for trash receptacle."

"You would do that, too. Xena taught you well."

Within five seconds the Bot was being picked up by his gold web, flung out of the chair and falling in a heap on the floor, having to move very quickly to dodge the chair wheeling its way towards his spindly legs.

"You're not mad at me now, are you?"

Crawling under the desk and rolling the carpet up, Shana growled. "One-- I'm not a leather clad Amazon warrior buff princess chick and I do not go 'ayeyeyeyeyeyeyeye.' Two---I'm not mad at you yet, but I can be. Now grab the stack of paperwork and join me down here."

The Bot shrugged and followed, jouncing down the stairs as the auburn Ho dropped herself on the plush couch, curling up in a blanket.

"So can we watch a movie?"

"Uh, sure."

Within a few minutes, long enough for the now trapped Grrl to fetch a soda and some chocolate, her head snapped around when she heard the sound of a familiar engine purr through the surround sound speakers.

"My name is James Bond, admire my chest hair."

Shana paused, ignoring Crow's callback and her eyes narrowing as the screen showed the slick British spy zooming down the road in his car... perfect car... perfect BMW z3... without a bit of damage...

"THAT ROTTEN BASTARD SABOTAGED MY CAR!!!"

Crow would have blinked had he eyelids.

Snatching the paperwork, chocolate and her coke from the couch, the freshly infuriated faculty member stormed up the stairs, slammed the trap door with a resounding bang, rolled the carpet over the door and sat down on her desk, pausing to bang her head firmly against the wood surface a few times.

And that's when the tune started in her head. Passing it off for the alien.mpg she had on her now silent hard drive, she grabbed a pen and determined to set herself to work and ignore this new set of imprisonments.

But the tune was working its way with ill-confidence towards her vocal chords.

The comment "Bond, James, Bond. Now sleep with me." wafted up through the basement.

She started to hum, biting her lip. She must resist.

"Ah, shit."

Dropping the pen and leaping up on her desk, Shana yanked the clip out of her hair and struck a pose.

"'At first I was afraid, I was petrified, kept thinking I could never live without you by my side--'"

The sound from the movie suddenly stopped.

"'Then I spent so many nights thinkin' how you did me wrong, and I grew strong, and I learned how to carry on---'"

~*~They must never again leave this city.~*~

Diebin paced the office. There had to be something... something to get her out! She couldn't believe that she had slept through his entrance, waking up just as the fraggin' MAN had laid down his proclamation and gotten out of the office before she could launch at him.

Pacing, her catsuit suddenly feeling funny, Diebin looked around. The door was locked and the phone sitting on the desk wasn't working and of course the General had snagged the portable phone before storming out on his traitorous venture.

Aya's university! He was going to Aya's! Such ingratitude! Just because she had been caught en flagrante delicto with George on his desk.

He still didn't make her go "nnnggghh," and she was all ready to apologise until... until...

"Aaaargh!!"

Tromping to the window and trying to open it, she growled. Locked, probably with the Force. Leave it to that smug, handsome bastard to seal the windows. Giving it a good hard shake for good measure, Diebin leaned her forehead on the cool glass, waiting for something to happen.

However, the bullet that shattered the door lock was not was she was expecting.

Jumping to the side, her back now to the wall, she waited, wondering if she had just stepped into a bad western.

Kicking the door wide open, the puff of smoke curling up to the ceiling, her rescuer peered into the room, spotting the catsuit clad Ho.

"What the--?!"

Holstering his weapon, the slight mark of sweat giving the exposed V of tanned chest flesh a lovely shine, Rick O'Connell quirked his head. This was a strange damsel in distress. "Come on, we're going, now."

Caught between glee and a psychotic episode, Diebin stepped forward waiting for something else to happen. This guy, though more clothed and grungier, like he had been playing in the Egyptian sands for a few hours, looked waaay too much like the man she had gotten in trouble with. "Uh, okay."

"Now. This place is weird."

Nodding, she crossed the room, following her nefarious hero into the empty hall. "So where are we going? A convent?"

O'Connell blinked. This was getting weirder by the minute. "Uh, we can. Do you know someone who can hide you there?"

"No," Diebin smiled, suddenly feeling as if the catsuit didn't seem right for her. "But I will soon enough."

~*~He will join us or die.~*~

"And here I thought it was difficult to sneak into Caesar's palace. I must be insane."

Adjusting the suction on the grappling cup, setting the glass cutter for a circle big enough for a person to pass through, the distinctly nosed Immie sighed and set to work.

Damn that Boy Scout for instilling this heroic rubbish in him again. After all those years of cultivating a lack of honour, you'd think he'd be immune.

The circle popped free of the rest of the window and he stepped to the side, carefully balancing the glass on the ledge. Drawing a deep breath, he stepped up and through the hole, setting a foot carefully down the table below, wincing when the crunch of something shattering hit his ears.

Looking down around his boot, he shook his head, the clear and amethyst shards glinting in the sunlight. Ah well, so much for a gallant entrance.

"My crystals!" With a rush of yellow and red, Caeryn turned around and thwacked her visitor repeatedly with something soft and cat sized.

Stepping the rest of the way through, setting his feet on the floor, the man winced and tried to get through the rest of this "rescue" without hurting anyone. "My name is Adam Pierson, I'm here to get you out."

The Dean stared hard at her visitor, then turned to look at the stuffed animal she now clutched in her arms. "I don't know, Paddington, what do you think? Should we trust him? No, you're right, not until he tells us his real name."

The man paused. She was talking to a teddy bear. A teddy bear with a yellow raincoat and red Wellies. "My real name?"

"You're right, maybe we should ask about the sword, too. That's a very good idea."

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Why would he be worried about how I'm feeling, Paddington? Are we feeling okay?"

Sensing that this was a good moment to give in to the strange woman's request, he nodded and shifted his overcoat a bit. He coulda swore he adjusted the sword so it wasn't visible. "Methos. My name is Methos."

"I know, 5000! You're right, Paddington, he doesn't look a day past thirty-five."

He raised an eyebrow. Maybe he should have sent MacLeod on this one. "We should go."

Caeryn turned to the teddy bear. "Good point, we should know where we're going so we know what to pack."

Methos gritted his teeth. "Either go or don't, now is not the time to quibble. We should probably make an exit before that oversized black clad Boy Scout comes back."

"Ooh, Paddington would like to meet MacLeod, is he here?"

The normally composed Immie hissed through his teeth. "Wrong. Boy. Scout."

"Oh... Paddington says that one hasn't been a very good boy scout today."

Rolling his eyes, he wrapped a hand around the Grrl's arm, pulling her closer to the window. "Ladies first."

"Oooh," Caeryn swooned, breaking into a fit of giggles, "Paddington, he called me a lady. The General hasn't called me a lady since--since--"

At which point she got teary eyed.

"Oh, bollocks." Sweeping forward and picking up the green jumpsuit clad Ho and her Wellie clad bear, Methos took a few steps and dropped her through the hole in the window.

"You're right, Paddington, that was very rude, and it hurt, too."

Methos growled, and not in a nice way.

~*~You are unwise to lower your defenses.~*~

"'—weren't you the one who tried to break me with goodbye? Did you think I'd crumble? Did you think I'd lay down and die? Oh no, not I, I will survive! For as long as I know how to lo--'"

Her door opening with a crash, the hinges squealing with use, a man clad in solid black desert clothes stepped boldly into the office, scimitar brandished before him.

Shana paused in her desk boogying to glance down. "Uh, hi."

"We must go."

For a moment there she forgot to breathe. With dark hair and dark eyes, his olive skin flawless except for the tattoos on his forehead and cheeks, he had a rich accent that twisted musically over the english language. "Go?"

The walking hunk of Middle Eastern genetics nodded. "Yes, you are not safe here."

Standing there, a little dumbfounded, Shana waited for some swell of dramatic music or sign of the dramatic moment dissipating.

Ardeth Bey raised an eyebrow. "Shall we go my pale Beauty?"

There was a pause. That sounded suspiciously like a pet name. "Sure, anyplace is better than here."

Re-sheathing his sword, he nodded, took a few steps forward and brought his hands up to slide them around the Haute Couture-ed waist. "Hop down, I won't let you fall."

The feeling of male hands at her waist was giving her ideas. Evil ideas. Evil traitorous ideas. Shrugging, Shana smiled and slid into the strong grip, impressed by the show of strength. "Promise?"

"Absolutely, Beauty." He purred, thinking that the Ho before him was easily swayed by his exotic looks. "I'll take you to a place where I can pamper you like you deserve to be."

"Wow, McDonald's on the first date, I'm impressed."

~*~When I left you I was but the learner, now I am the Master.~*~

"'We will... we will rock you,' *thwang, thwang,* 'oh, we will... we will rock you,' *thwang, thwang.*"

The sound of a blaster and the crash of drywall caused Emmy to stop her song and rhythmic banging on the steel duct wall. "Hello?"

And that's when she felt a hand tugging on her ankles, to which, like all good Hos taught self-defense, she kicked back, striking her so-called attacker with her pumps.

"Hey now, that's not nice to do to your rescuer."

Emmy paused. The voice, which was soooo familiar, said "rescuer." Had someone finally come to extricate her from this forgettable situation?

Hopefully without a camera.

"If I stop kicking, will you get me out of here?"

"That's the general plan, sweetheart," the voice drawled.

Emmy sighed and dropped her rugby improved attack, feeling the hands once more wrap around her ankles and tug gently.

"Hold on."

With a firm yank, the Supah Diva felt herself break free of the evil air duct...

Only to fall straight into the arms of Han Solo.

"Han? What are you doing here?"

"Sorry, sweetheart, no time to discuss this in a committee."

Emmy blinked and touched her tiara. It would figure. "I'm a Diva, not a committee."

Han raised an eyebrow and freed one of his hands, climbing down the ladder. "Well, good. Let's go then, I have a bad feeling about this place."

Setting her feet down on the ground, grateful for solid matter, Emmy shrugged, noticing that her captive audience was nowhere to be seen. "Where's Brenda?"

There was a pause as the space pirate looked around, a tad confused.

"The woman bound up with duct tape."

"Oh, her. I found her first, figured you were the safer of the pair being caught up so high. We'll meet her on the Falcon... come on... let's go..."

Following gamely, finding her unadulterated view of the smuggler's ass more than enough motivation to take step behind him, Emmy looked at her new and freshly demolished office. "See? I told you all I had a plan!"