It was laughable, really, that none of them had figured it out yet.
The ruse was nearly transparent to anyone who looked closely enough, the very idea enough to make him laugh aloud in disbelief when it was first proposed to him in documents far more official than the absurdity contained within deserved. Who would ever believe such a thing? A fine actor he may be, skilled beyond compare in the arts of deception and subterfuge and the long con that had become as natural to him as breathing, but surely this was a step too far. Surely no one would fall for a story straight out of a cheap melodrama, no one would believe a history so patently engineered to earn sympathy and trust and condescending pity. But they had. One by one, they all bought into the carefully constructed identity that he assumed like a second skin, assessing and dismissing him as harmless and hopeless in an instant. Just as he intended.
For who would ever dream of suspecting that Martin Crieff, the nervous, bumbling, useless pilot was nothing more than a cover for Martin Holmes, undercover agent for the British government?
So, my primary job is to be a Consulting Enabler.
Mostly, I do this with a handful of people over gchat, usually late at night.
Just the day before yesterday, I had the BEST IDEA IN THE WORLD. Naturally, I gave it to someone who actually knows how to write properly.
Here is the result.
**grins**
A repository for my art: mostly drawings and sketches, and the occasional fic. Also random acts of graphics and photography.
