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firstlightPez. Never say that I ignore all your prompts. *pokes*
700 words of conman!Niou, in the fine tradition of Catch Me If You Can. G/PG-ish. For now.
--
Niou smooths his hands down the clean lines of his shirt, neatly pressed, spotless. On some deeper level it feels a bit like trapping himself, making him feel uncomfortable and awkward, but for exactly the same reason it is also freedom. Who looks twice at a working stiff?
Good.
A plain tie adds what's missing; a length of silky material, slid neatly around his neck and tied in a windsor knot because Niou once heard someone in another country or maybe in a movie say that it was "the mark of a cad."
It's the little details he loves. The ones no-one else will understand or, generally, even notice.
"Who am I today?" he asks his reflection, smiles with his mouth while his eyes stay sharp and humourless. Straight, dark hair; dark eyes. A neat but inexpensive suit. Today he is nobody much. His passport, the one tucked inside his extremely ordinary briefcase, says Yamada Taro.
Yeah. Perfect.
The trick is a small measure of knowledge, a large measure of attention to detail, and an overwhelming amount of confidence.
You don't think of it as playing a part. It has to be innate, so deeply-rooted that you're on the edge of believing in it yourself - but never quite crossing the line to fall into your own trap. Balancing right there on the knife-edge.
Niou is good at that.
+
To begin with, he did it for the money. Just that; nothing more. That was about the time his parents cut him off for good, leaving him to sink or swim, and if Niou was going to die young he sure as hell wasn't going to die of drowning. That was the beginning. Stage one.
Forging signatures in his mother's misplaced chequebook had been easier than he'd expected, until she'd checked her balance and noticed something wasn't right.
It'd kept him alive for a while.
It'd given him ideas.
Stage two was the realisation that basically, people were careless. Not all of them, and not all of the time - but a lot of people wanted, deep down, to believe that you were everything you said you were. Stage three was the realisation that sometimes this wasn't enough for what he wanted to do. But that was alright.
It made life more of a challenge.
At some point along the way, it stopped being about the money.
+
Yamada Taro is by far the most boring person Niou has been, and Niou has been a lot of people. But he is useful, from time to time.
If Niou needs to vanish for a while, Yamada is a godsend. Not someone to be for long - just a day, a few hours even. Long enough to slip through most nets, if he has the time to change and if he feels like it. He doesn't feel like it, quite often, but today would be a really inconvenient day for running like hell, so he'll slip out the back way. Figuratively speaking.
He nods politely to the policemen, leaving the hotel as they enter it, and hurries on his way because Yamada would not want to get caught up in anything strange, does not know why they are there and does not want to know. His briefcase, held tightly in one hand, contains all the most important things, hidden behind several exceptionally dull report drafts which once belonged to another man very much like Yamada. The police won't find much in his room - enough to make them happy for a while, not enough to get them anywhere in the end.
Just before he turns the corner he has the sense that someone is watching him.
He doesn't look back, but as soon as he's out of sight he picks up his pace. Call it instinct. He hasn't gone wrong by paying attention to it so far.
+
That still doesn't mean he's actually expecting it that evening when he sees a reasonable rendition of his (Yamada's) face on the local evening news.
For all the good it will do them... but, Niou thinks, this can't be about catching him. Yamada is spectacularly unmemorable to most people; they can't seriously believe a picture of the average Japanese man will bring in a flood of leads. This is about making a point.
"Point taken," he says almost under his breath, grins at the man next to him who glances around to see who was speaking.
This? This is interesting.
700 words of conman!Niou, in the fine tradition of Catch Me If You Can. G/PG-ish. For now.
--
Niou smooths his hands down the clean lines of his shirt, neatly pressed, spotless. On some deeper level it feels a bit like trapping himself, making him feel uncomfortable and awkward, but for exactly the same reason it is also freedom. Who looks twice at a working stiff?
Good.
A plain tie adds what's missing; a length of silky material, slid neatly around his neck and tied in a windsor knot because Niou once heard someone in another country or maybe in a movie say that it was "the mark of a cad."
It's the little details he loves. The ones no-one else will understand or, generally, even notice.
"Who am I today?" he asks his reflection, smiles with his mouth while his eyes stay sharp and humourless. Straight, dark hair; dark eyes. A neat but inexpensive suit. Today he is nobody much. His passport, the one tucked inside his extremely ordinary briefcase, says Yamada Taro.
Yeah. Perfect.
The trick is a small measure of knowledge, a large measure of attention to detail, and an overwhelming amount of confidence.
You don't think of it as playing a part. It has to be innate, so deeply-rooted that you're on the edge of believing in it yourself - but never quite crossing the line to fall into your own trap. Balancing right there on the knife-edge.
Niou is good at that.
+
To begin with, he did it for the money. Just that; nothing more. That was about the time his parents cut him off for good, leaving him to sink or swim, and if Niou was going to die young he sure as hell wasn't going to die of drowning. That was the beginning. Stage one.
Forging signatures in his mother's misplaced chequebook had been easier than he'd expected, until she'd checked her balance and noticed something wasn't right.
It'd kept him alive for a while.
It'd given him ideas.
Stage two was the realisation that basically, people were careless. Not all of them, and not all of the time - but a lot of people wanted, deep down, to believe that you were everything you said you were. Stage three was the realisation that sometimes this wasn't enough for what he wanted to do. But that was alright.
It made life more of a challenge.
At some point along the way, it stopped being about the money.
+
Yamada Taro is by far the most boring person Niou has been, and Niou has been a lot of people. But he is useful, from time to time.
If Niou needs to vanish for a while, Yamada is a godsend. Not someone to be for long - just a day, a few hours even. Long enough to slip through most nets, if he has the time to change and if he feels like it. He doesn't feel like it, quite often, but today would be a really inconvenient day for running like hell, so he'll slip out the back way. Figuratively speaking.
He nods politely to the policemen, leaving the hotel as they enter it, and hurries on his way because Yamada would not want to get caught up in anything strange, does not know why they are there and does not want to know. His briefcase, held tightly in one hand, contains all the most important things, hidden behind several exceptionally dull report drafts which once belonged to another man very much like Yamada. The police won't find much in his room - enough to make them happy for a while, not enough to get them anywhere in the end.
Just before he turns the corner he has the sense that someone is watching him.
He doesn't look back, but as soon as he's out of sight he picks up his pace. Call it instinct. He hasn't gone wrong by paying attention to it so far.
+
That still doesn't mean he's actually expecting it that evening when he sees a reasonable rendition of his (Yamada's) face on the local evening news.
For all the good it will do them... but, Niou thinks, this can't be about catching him. Yamada is spectacularly unmemorable to most people; they can't seriously believe a picture of the average Japanese man will bring in a flood of leads. This is about making a point.
"Point taken," he says almost under his breath, grins at the man next to him who glances around to see who was speaking.
This? This is interesting.
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no subject
Date: 2007-05-05 09:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-05 09:35 am (UTC)It's also partly your fault. But not entirely. A whole bunch of people get blame this time.
no subject
Date: 2007-05-05 11:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-05 11:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-05 12:07 pm (UTC)Good luck. This is going to be very awesome when you finish it, I know. ^^
no subject
Date: 2007-05-05 11:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-05 11:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-05 11:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-05 11:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-05 01:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-06 09:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-05 06:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-06 09:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-05 08:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-06 09:50 am (UTC)♥
no subject
Date: 2007-05-06 09:45 pm (UTC)Love it.
no subject
Date: 2007-05-06 09:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-07 02:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-06 09:42 am (UTC)I'm always struck by how good your characterization is, even in a little WIP thing like this, but do people ever tell you how smooth your language is? I'm having difficulty finding the right words here. The words never get in the way of the story. Does that make sense? You always manage to create the right mood and tension, but it's not something I think about when I read your fics and that's how it's supposed to be. *scratches head*
(OMG YOU ARE MADE OF WIN *SPAZZ*)
no subject
Date: 2007-05-06 09:55 am (UTC)