Hannie Elise: Ninja, Spy and Kung Fu Master
by throwingstars

From her name to her clothes to that THING in her pocket, she has got weird written all over her and while graffiting some poor fool's locker, she gains not only a new sidekick but also a new enemy. The prank war of the century ensues.

Of Contortionists, Hermaphrodites and Eunuchs

Business wasn't doing too good.

A few clients, here and there, but if I wanted to make it to the big times, I needed to step it up. That's how this all started, really.

It isn't easy being in my line of work, you know. It takes real discretion, real dedication, real courage and the ability to fit into small spaces. All of which I had, in vast amounts... though the last one could get difficult. I'm pretty tall and 'contortionist' just wouldn't fit in my resume. Not that I'd want it to, because frankly, being able to put my head in my crotch just isn't one of my priorities.

Not to mention, it's pretty creepy.

Flexibility is one thing- one thing I have- but there are just some things that shouldn't be done. That is one of the many.

Point is, I needed to improve. It's terrible for me to admit that I've nearly failed so far. I take great pride in my work, which is why I'm determined to succeed with this.

It isn't a career, at least not for those of us who cringe at the idea of working in the government and who'd like to stay out of jail, but this job is my baby... and one of my chief sources of income, but that's beside the point, of course. I'd stick with it for as long as I could.

Funny how that works, isn't it? To be able to do this professionally I'd have to buckle down, raise my GPA, get into a good school then take some crummy desk job with a government agency, where by the time I actually did what I'm doing now, I'd be well on my way to retirement with aims to sue the agency for injuries resulting from improper ergonomics.

Either that, or resort to a life of a crime where I'd go strong for a few years then land myself in a jail cell next to a woman, with tattoos of bloody knives and broken hearts, named Big Bertha.

My friends knew all this (my business troubles, not my future back problems and Big Bertha) and it's with their help that business rapidly expanded. And I mean, rapidly. It's almost surprising how many people seek me out now.

But, I'm jumping ahead.

My friends, clever little things that they are, suggested that I needed to start networking.


Not an easy thing to do when secrecy is supposed to be your best friend. It isn't exactly smart to walk up to some person and say, "Hey, you need something? I could do it. My services cost X amount." It's just another thing that shouldn't be done.

People may get the wrong idea.

With my cluelessness to the world of marketing painfully obvious- especially when some blundering moron DID get the wrong idea. It was a simple question, by golly- my friends took over.

My self-appointed publicist, Louis, drafted up a neat little advertisement for me. After a little editing, as "hot flexible redhead" had nothing to do with it, the ad went up. Since this is a job of discretion, the ad was put up in discrete, but noticeable places. Places that those who need me would see, but those who hunted me would remain oblivious to.

Before the ad, I had relied mostly on word of mouth. Those who hired me would spread the word of my services- saying all good things, I'm sure, because I never had an unsatisfied customer- and people would be referred to me.

I've learnt that relying on word of mouth isn't a good idea, however.

We all know how Telephone works. All these people whispering to each other about the crazy woman who does brilliant jobs, and then suddenly you have some leech asking if you're the woman who gives brilliant blowjobs like crazy.

Business was suffering- mostly due to the gutter-minded youths of today- until the ad. Then I had such an influx of customers, I had to schedule appointments.

I'm happy to report that I now have a little yellow notebook in my backpack dedicated to this job. Appointments, reminders, supply lists, plans, directions, addresses. For the first time, I was in such high demand that I needed to be completely organized.

I was beyond happy, because… well, can we say "mo' money"?

I was now catering to more people, and a wider variety at that. Populars, skaters, smokers, goths. Waitresses, bag boys, cashiers and cooks. Girls, boys, those in-betweens where you just can't tell.

Hell, for all I know there's been a few eunuchs.

From freshman to seniors, they just kept rolling in, and one such customer was a Miss Samantha Longe. She was a nightmare wrapped in a pastel fake-Gucci package, but business with her led me to my valiant and loyal sidekick- nervous, twitchy and unfortunately, completely sane, but a loyal sidekick nonetheless.

It also started the biggest prank war Johnson Mills High School has ever seen. That this century has ever seen.

And so, thrived Hannie Elise, professional prankster, and revenge specialist.

I hate to start a new story when I still have Tripping Over Trevor to work on, but I just couldn't keep this one in my head anymore. I know exactly where I'm going with this one though, I already have about two other chapters written, plus another 3 or so planned out. This one's pretty short, more of a prologue but I want to know what people think, so let me know!

Oh, I don't know how popular it is around the world but Telephone is a children's game played in a circle. It starts by one person whispering a message to the person next to them, the person next to them whispers to the person next to them and so on. The last person to hear the message repeats it a loud. The point is to see how different and crazy the message ends up. People sometimes purposely change the message, so it can be really funny.

¤ throwingstars