Episode 12-2: New Fur Coat

"Stop pouting, you look cute!" I tease while slightly adjusting the waistline of Clyde's miniskirt. His face had been the same shade of red ever since I pulled out the outfit he needed from the closet.

"Please don't say cute. I don't think I've ever heard my voice say cute."

"That's depressing. So, what do you think?" I ask while pointing at the mirror.

He looks at his reflection, his arms down by his side tightly and his head tilted upward in a dignified manner. "I... look like a girl. Good-good job, Troy."

I can't help but snicker as he stutters his words out clumsily. "Well, what are you waiting for? Give me some poses!"

He darts his eyes quickly at mine without moving his head. "That's not necessary, is it?"

I cross my arms. "It helps to inspect all properties of the outfit," His gaze goes back to the mirror, and he slowly lifts up one arm and places it behind his head. "Good, now pop your hips out to the side," He shuffles awkwardly in place, but surprisingly he nails it in one try.

"Is that good enough?" he asks shyly.

"Very convincing, now blow a kiss."

"I don't think I'll be needing to flirt on this mission," he says, standing up straight again.

"Never hurts to be prepared. So bend your knees, push your butt out a little, one arm on the kneecap, and make sure to wink as you do it," Each movement he makes is slow and robotic, but once he put it all together, it's not half bad. The execution is passable in my book, but it's the process that's killing him. "Kawaii!" I belt out.

His arms lock at his sides again in embarrassment. "Shut up!"

I continue to coach. "But try to be more flexible in your movements. Act like you've done this before."

"I haven't done this before, and you know that!"

"I don't know, I've only known you for three years," I joke.

"And what about you? You know how to fight if things get nasty?" he asks, placing his hands on his hips. He's already letting the poise become second nature.

"Of course I know how to fight, you were with me during that self-defense class remember?"

"You better have my back out there. I'm not counting on these toothpick arms to do much damage," he says while flinging his arms around like noodles. With Clyde dressed up all pretty, and with the preparation of reconnaissance equipment in a black van, the plan for baiting out the kidnappers is finally ready to launch. A classic plan, I'm aware of, but you can't beat the classics. Especially if they work.

*** *** ***

McAllen, Texas: Western Quadrant

Clyde's P.O.V.

I've always known that somewhere in the future, hanging out with Troy would land me in a skirt; I just didn't think that I would look like him too.

Mission Summary...

After receiving the proper training of... female etiquette, we had sent in the general area of our investigation to Ispio's resource lab and asked for help in picking the place that would most likely be a scene of a kidnapping. Moments later, they had come back with a specific time and date: 19:30 hours, Mickey's Pub. I have been outfitted with a concealed earpiece to receive transmissions from Troy as he watches me closely from the company van. A single button on my shirt has a camera installed inside, letting a live video feed be streamed straight to the monitors.

Mission Objective...Flush out Kidnappers

The pub isn't as empty as I hoped it would be. More people means more suspects, but these are the exact circumstances a daunting criminal would want. A jukebox sits in the corner playing some low-toned grunge music, making the atmosphere feel less innocent, even more so than it already was.

"Don't just stand at the door," says Troy through the earpiece, "get into the crowd and blend in more. Order a drink or something."

I try my best to casually stroll up to the counter. I believe I can recall Troy's instructions on how to change my voice to fit the profile of a woman. Tighten the back of the throat, don't push too much air out, and never speak from the diaphragm. The bald-headed bartender stares at me closely as I make my way towards him.

"What will it be, sweetie?" he asks, his rough voice accenting with the music.

I do the preparation-throat-clear Troy had taught me. "Coke and Jack on the rocks, please," His smile tells me that I've done a convincing voice, and he goes to work with the bottles behind him.

Troy chimes in again. "Hard liquor on a mission? Seriously, Clyde?" A glass of blended soda and whiskey is set on the counter, and I take a seat on one of the bar stools as I stir the ice around with the straw. "Okay, cross your legs over each other as you sit. It's the perfect way to show off your legs through moderate body gesticulars."

I do as he says and take a sip through the straw; not enough Jack, too much Coke. As the bartender moves away from me, I leap at the chance to speak back. "How are these small gestures suppose to attract a kidnapper? There's plenty of girls mingling around this place."

"Do not doubt my knowledge about attraction. I hold the key to these secrets, but it takes the right physical form for it to work. That means knowing what shape to make when you're looking for a certain action or reaction."

I still don't understand how his way of thinking works, but it seems that he does know some sort of secret. I find an anthro panther hopping onto the chair next to me, his black blazer folding under him as he sits.

"Well hello there," his smooth voice whispers through his white fangs.

"Clyde, let him smooth talk you," Troy instructs.

Personality mode..."Gullible" Engage

"Hey there," I coo softly. I try to remember everything Troy said about being charming, but my mind is pulling a blank.

"Remember," says Troy, "you have to act like you're genuinely interested in him while sharing little pieces about yourself too. That'll break the ice quickly."

There is still something I don't understand. How is being charming to strangers suppose to reveal kidnappers? Aren't they suppose to just take you without social introductions first? Troy wasn't lying when he said his plan had a lot of holes in it.

"Are you here by yourself?" the panther asks.

"Mhmm, just looking for an interesting person. You here to fill my order?" Ouch, I'm not scoring any points with that line.

"Oh, nice one!" says Troy.

The panther laughs, "Charming, my dear. What did you say your name was?"

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

A twinkle sparks in the panther's eye. "James. And you are?"

"Cleo. Now that formalities are out of the way, tell me a little about yourself."

His smile widens, he is definitely interested. "I could tell you, but how about I show you instead."

Interesting choice of words. "Ooh, we going somewhere? Do I have to bring anything?"

He laughs again. "Just that brilliant smile of yours," He gets up and extends his hand towards me. "Shall we?"

"Firmly grasp it," says Troy, snickering to himself for his unimpressive sexual innuendo. I take his hand gently, and he returns the grasp tightly as he leads me through the bar's front door and into the parking lot. From there, he opens the passenger door of a black sports car sitting in the corner of the lot on its own. I hop in, glancing at the company van that Troy is sitting in at the opposite corner.

"Don't worry, Clyde. I got your point on the monitors. He can't take you anywhere that I can't find you."

"For my sake, I hope you're right," I bark before James slumps into the driver's seat and turns the key, causing the engine to roar to life in a powerful battle-cry of superior hardware. I'm not familiar with my surroundings yet, so I need to rely on Troy heavily to guide me out of this place if things go south on my end.

He takes a few turns here and there before arriving in a rather posh neighborhood. The houses have security gates installed on their front property, but the demographic records Ispio hoards tell me that there isn't much crime reported from this street. James pulls up slowly to one of the houses and fishes out a remote from his center console. The press of a button slides the gates open, and he continues up through the driveway, parking on the stone pavement just outside of the house.

"Home sweet home," he says with a smile. I glance at the side mirror to see the van pass by the gate slowly, parking a few feet away on the other side of the street. At least I know that backup isn't too far from me.

He hops out of the car, and I follow his lead, trailing behind him as I'm escorted to the front door. His key turns the tumblers to the lock, and as he smiles his white fangs at me, he gently pushes the door open and steps aside to let me in first. I see what I had expected to see; the interior decorated and sculptured into the style of high society.

"Wow," Troy comments, "get a load of this guy's wallet. I think you were right, it IS an illegal rack of some sort. It makes me wonder what they're doing with the girls."

"Would you care for a drink?" James offers.

"That would be lovely," I reply, batting my eyelashes for effect. As he departs the main room into the kitchen, I begin a quick search around the place for anything that could give us a clue. The main room itself is already a huge area to be covered, so I start scanning the area in a grid fashion, beginning with the wall I'm closest to. A wide plasma TV is hooked on the wall, but the wires aren't visible to me. I continue my route, reaching a large bookcase filled with sophisticated literature and history textbooks. I pull each one, wondering if I'd run into one of those old-school levers that activate a hidden wall, but no such luck.

"Nice try there, Scooby-Doo," Troy jokes.

"If you don't have anything helpful to add, then shut it," I disregard the bookcase and move on to a desk that is pushed up against another wall.

"Easy there, just trying to lighten the mood."

"I'm stuck in a tiny body and wearing a skirt and high heels, you're not going to cheer me up anytime soon," I open the drawers, only finding scattered blank papers and unsharpened pencils. "Meanwhile, I'm more than sure the guy in the kitchen is slipping drugs into my drink."

"So don't drink it."

"I hope you enjoy Chardonnay," the panther's deep voice booms behind me. I quickly close the drawer, relieved to see that he is too busy looking down at the glass as he swirls it around to notice me.

"Y-yes, of course!" I hurriedly shuffle towards him to avoid his asking of what I'm doing near the desk and gingerly take the glass from his hand. He has his own wine in the other, and he extends it towards me in a gesture that I can only interpret as a toast.

"Cheers," he says.

"Uh-oh," says Troy, "he's going to want you to take a drink with him after you clang the glasses! Just leave it in your mouth, and when you act like you're taking another drink, backwash your first sip."

I raise my glass next to his. "To meeting new, interesting people."

Clang!