Who's Nikita's Daddy?
"So here's the plan," said Operations. "Michael, you will drug me with a mind altering agent so I become irrational while you stage a coup to take over Section to convince our terrorist of the week to lower his guard. If I don't get the cure within 48 hours, my head will burst like an overripe watermelon, but that's a risk we'll have to take."
"Isn't this plan a little extreme? I mean, we're just after one European terrorist," Madeline said, her features slightly softened by a Winona Ryder 'do.
"This isn't just a European terrorist, he's British!" Operations snapped. "And it has to be convincing! Michael, not only will you have to drug me, but you'll also have to shoot me in the legs. Oh, and pour gasoline on me and light me on fire, for good measure."
"Yes," said Michael.
"Just make sure to put the flames out after 30 seconds, or else I might suffer permanent harm," said Operations. "You'll also have to convince them you're in charge after you relieve me of duty." His gaze turned to Madeline. "Take Madeline to the Tower, just to be sure."
"Why does taking me to the Tower always figure into your plans?" said Madeline.
"They've installed cameras, your act must be convincing in every way," said Operations.
"I've had a lot of practice in the Tower with you, Paul," said Madeline sweetly.
"Now, to fully convince them, Michael, you'll also have to shoot Nikita," said Operations. "Once she performs surgery on herself and removes the bullet, she'll go after you, take out all the terrorist guards, and help you apprehend the British terrorist. Any questions?"
"Won't Nikita need any backup?" said Madeline.
Operations waved a hand dismissively. "Nikita barely needs bullets, much less backup."
"How will Michael let Nikita know that this is all a con?" Madeline asked.
"Michael can put a message inside the bullet he shoots her with. When Nikita extracts the bullet, she'll undoubtedly examine it and read it," said Operations. "Are we all clear?"
Suddenly, Operation's cellular phone rings. It's George. Operations listens for a minute, then hangs up.
"What is it?" said Madeline.
"We'll have to put the operation on hold; George has announced that we're letting Nikita go."
Nikita sat in Madeline's office. "You're really letting me goah?"
"Yes," said Madeline. "We've found a nice museum of abstract art for you to live in, and secured a lively position in the banking industry-"
"You mean, running a cash registar in a gift shaup."
"The only proviso is that you can have no contact with Michael."
"No contact at oll?" said Nikita. "I caun't stayre at hem through benoculars, oar have hot steamy phone-"
"No," said Madeline.
Nikita settles into her life. She likes living at the art musem, though is troubled by the number of strangers coming in to tour her art gallery apartment. One day, a familiar looking man wearing a rumpled mustard stained trenchcoat comes in.
It was George. He stood under a spotlight, his warts gleaming brightly.
"Whot's it oll about?" said Nikita immediately.
George told Nikita that he wanted her to kill Operations. "And you should want to do so too."
He paused dramatically.
"He killed your father."
Nikita looked nonchalant. "Aye nevar knew him."
"He addicted your mother."
"Mumsie was already hitting the bottle fer years before she met Dad."
"And he was responsible for your accent."
"Whot accent?" said Nikita.
"Nikita, you were raised in Toronto," said George. "Have you ever wondered why you speak with a strong Australian accent? It's because Operations arranged to have you sent to a special school for Australian expatriates. Didn't you notice?"
"Well, knauw that yew mention it...."
"So go and kill Operations," said George. His expression darkened. "If you don't, it's back to a life of nothing but killing terrorists, wearing fancy outfits, and unpredictable sex with Michael."
Nikita returns to Section, where she is placed on administrative detention; they remove the torture chair from the white room and turn it into a private dormatory for her. But when a terrorist is brought in to be interrogated, Nikita, trying to get some rest, cracks open an eyelid. "Can yew hold down the screaming? Aym trying to get some sleep hear."
Later Nikita finds a gun under her bed that she is to use to kill Operations. She spends an hour or two wandering around the hallways stalking Operations and waving the gun. Madeline, seeing this, calls Nikita to her office.
"I couldn't help but notice that you were following Operations around with a gun," said Madeline.
Nikita said nothing.
"The next time you go to the armory, can you pick up a few bullets for me?" said Madeline.
Later, Nikita confronts Operations, pointing the gun at him.
"I'm going to shoot you because of what you did to my fathar!" said Nikita.
"Wait!" said Operations. "Luke, I mean Nikita, I am your father!"
"Search your feelings, you know it to be true!" said Operations.
"I don't care," said Nikita. "Even if you are my Daddy, you've treated me badly."
"Nonsense," said Operations.
"You brainwashed me to kill Michael, and split us apart at every opportunity-"
"Just the act of a concerned father trying to chaperone his daughter," said Operations.
"I don't believe you're my fathar!" said Nikita, her grip on the trigger tightening.
"All right, maybe you could shoot your father, but could you shoot your son?" said Operations.
"Son?" said Nikita, looking confused. "You're telling me-"
"I am your son, Nikita," said Operations.
"We took some of your eggs several years before you joined Section and matched them with a compatible donor, and here I am," said Operations.
"But that would make you eight years old," said Nikita.
"We speed-learned and forced-grew the clone," said Operations. "I've always been 50 years old. We couldn't have a seven year old running section, could we?"
Nikita, slowly nodding, lowered the gun and left the room.
Madeline siddled up to Operations. "So you're her son. She gets more and more gullible every year."
"Yes," said Operations. "I didn't think she could handle the real truth, of course."
Grim synthisized music played in the background
"Yes," Madeline agreed. "After all, who could tell what Nikita would do if she knew you were really her daughter?"
George walked over to where Operations was standing, by a bank of drawers. Operations opened the drawer, to show a body that looked like George.
"An imposter," said George. "From when I was out seeking treatment at the Dermatology Institute."
"Not quite," said Operations. He pulled at the imposter's face; it came off, revealing Operations' face.
"But... if he's Operations... who are you?"
Operations pulled off his own face mask, revealing himself to be... George!
The fake George immediately pulled a gun on the real George. But the gun was shot out of his hand... by the "dead" body in the drawer!
Operations sat up in the drawer with his smoking gun. "We got him, George," he said, to the person who had formally been him.
"Yes," said George. "But how do I know you're the real Operations?"
"Watch," said Operations. He peeled off his own face mask. Underneath... he was still Operations!
"Very convincing," said George, his moles twitching.
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