ACME Inc.

Phil the death eater wasn't an idiot, that made him very unique. Another thing that made Phil unique was the fact that he was muggle born. Taking a quick look around, Phil quietly made his way out of the dark lord's hide out and to the point where he could report to his superiors in the British government . . .three seconds after they figured out how to bypa.s.s the wards, there would be a gas explosion in the old Riddle house. Phil would have been both surprised and pleased to learn that his dozen or so friends in the ranks of the dark lord's army were also working under deep cover and they all would have been shocked to learn that the only reason that there was no one on guard was because they were all reporting to their superiors. Later, when the various agencies got together to compare notes the truth would come out. All would agree that such a thing could not be chance and credit would once again be given to Mr. Black. After all, who else had the power and the cunning to manipulate the Dark Lord's guard rotation to insure that all the moles had their duty at the same time?

IIIIIIIIII

"Hey Professor," Harry walked up to the company booth with a smile. "How are things going?"

"Quite well," the Professor smiled. "We've already sold everything we brought down with us . . . and everything we had stored in the zeppelin . . . and given away every brochure and catalog. Henchgirl is out duplicating more brochures and catalogs as we speak."

"Cool," Harry nodded.

"On the plus side," the Professor grinned. "It has given me the opportunity to play with your new motorcycle while you were gone."

"Cool," Harry nodded. "What did you do?"

"It isn't so much what I did as what we did," the Professor smiled. "Several of my colleagues asked for the opportunity to a.s.sist in our exploration of possibility."

"Huh?" Harry blinked.

"He means that lots of other inventors and developers helped us," Henchgirl staggered in under a ma.s.sive load of doc.u.ments. "Could you help me with this?"

"Of course," Harry grabbed the boxes out of Henchgirl's arms and set them on the table. "Why didn't you shrink these?"

"I did," Henchgirl ma.s.saged her sore arms. "Demand is that high."

"Oh," Harry gave a sympathetic nod. "Do you need me to stick around?"

"Not at all," the Professor shook his head. "Henchgirl and I were hoping that you'd test out your new motorcycle."

"Ok," Harry nodded. "What did you do to it?"

"The usual things," Henchgirl shrugged. "It can fly, shoot spells, drop oil, revolving licence plates."

"And that's not all," the Professor grinned. "It got to be a compet.i.tion to see who could put the most features in the most parts . . . here's the manual." The Professor dumped a ma.s.sive book on the table, "charmed to such a small and convenient size."

"Wow," Harry's eyes widened. "Where is it?"

"In my pocket," the man in the neighboring booth spoke up. "Frank N. Stein, nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," Harry nodded. "Shrinking charm?"

"Automatic shrinking charm," Frank smiled. "Based on will put in my the team over at Scaled Com Post."

"Cool," Harry nodded.

"We put in a Pooka," Frank pulled a small figure of a horse out of his pocket.

"A what?" Harry blinked.

"A Pooka," Frank repeated himself. "A ghost horse, used to be that they'd escape after seeing water so people didn't bother much with them."

"So you've solved that problem?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Years ago," Frank nodded. "The solution was to bind them to something solid."

"Like what?" Harry was getting into the conversation.

"In the old days, we'd use stone or bronze statues." Frank laughed, "I'll bet that the muggles would be shocked if they knew how many statues would jump up and run off if given the right command word."

"So there are Pooka trapped around the world in statues" Harry nodded.

"No," Frank shook his head. "Think of the statue as a . . . leash? Something to call the animal to one location, they aren't trapped in it so much as tied to it."

"Ah," Harry nodded. "What do they use now?

"Now they aren't used so much anymore," he shrugged. "What with brooms becoming cheaper and more popular and the horse no longer being used as a means of transportation."

"So why are you using it here?" Harry asked with a frown.

"Well," The Smith frowned. "For one thing, coupling your motorcycle with a ghost horse will ensure that you never need to fill the tank, and for another . . . well a Motorcycle is nice, but it can't think for itself."

"I guess that makes sense," Harry nodded.

"Glad you approve," Frank handed harry the tiny horse figurine. "Just take it outside and will it to turn into a motorcycle."

"Thanks," Harry pocketed the tiny statue.

"And if you're back in a few hours," Frank's grin widened. "I've been asked to inform you that you're all invited to a party that one of the companies is having in the penthouse . . . it's a formal thing but it'll have free food."

"I'll be there," Harry nodded. "Thanks."

"Have a good day then," Frank grabbed a copy of every brochure on the Black Ink table and returned to his booth.

"I'm gonna go test this thing out," Harry smiled. "I'll be back in a few."

"Have fun," Henchgirl waved.

Harry began making his way out of the convention hall until a booth near one of the exits caught his attention. "No way?" Harry froze in shock, "I never thought that was real." In a flash, Harry was stumbling towards the booth with a giant grin on his face.

"Welcome to Acme Inc," the woman in the booth smiled. "How may I help you?"

"I didn't think you guys really existed," Harry's eyes s.h.i.+ned.

"We didn't until recently," the woman smiled. "A group of muggle born students decided that the world needed a company named Acme and set to work building it."

"Wow," Harry rubbed his hands together. "What do you sell?"

"Not much," the woman drooped. "We've managed to create a couple charms but we just don't have the resources to complete any of our larger projects."

"Why not?" Harry blinked.

"We're mostly still students," the woman sighed. "In fact, you might say that we're all still students . . . I'm supposed to be in detention right now."

"Oh," Harry scratched his chin. "What charm did you design?"

"The acme charm by Acme Inc." The girl grinned, "watch . . . acme."

Just as the incantation was spoken, a whistling sound pierced the air and a large shadow appeared to Harry's right. Glancing up, Harry's eyes bulged as he watched a large anvil plummet to the ground. Landing with a horrific crash.

"What did I tell you about doing that?" One of the convention organizers stormed over.

"It's ok," Harry waved it off. "I asked her to do it."

"You asked her?" The organizer growled, "and just who are you?"

"Mr. Black," Harry grinned. "I'm here with Black Ink."

"Oh," the organizer nodded. "Have a good day then Mr. Black, I'll just be going . . . somewhere else then."

"You do that," Harry agreed.

"Mr. Black," the girl squeaked.

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "That's not a problem is it?"

"No," the girl shook her head. "No problem."

"You said you had a problem with resources?" Harry continued.

"Yes," the girl began to sweat. Bad enough she got caught ducking out of detention, but by Mr. Black.

"Here," Harry pulled out a business card and wrote a quick note on the back. "Talk to my friend the Professor over at the Black Ink booth, we might be able to work something out."

"Thank you sir," the girl almost pa.s.sed out. "And be sure he buys a copy of all your spells, I've got to know that acme spell and I'm sure that you've got a few others that'll be good too."

"Yes sir," the girl nodded.

"What's your name anyway?" Harry paused.

"Why?" The girl seemed to shrink.

"Because I'm curious," Harry smiled. "And I'm hoping to do some business with your company."

"Judith P. Brooke," the girl shuddered. "Thank you sir."

"Then have a good day Judith," Harry smiled. "And be sure to stop by my booth to talk to the Professor and Henchgirl, I like what I've seen of your company and I hope to see more in the future."

"Yessir," Judith was just glad he hadn't told her to go back to school.

Harry walked out of the casino with a grin on his face and with a thought he had his new motorcycle out and ready to ride . . . one problem, Harry had never ridden a motorcycle before.

"How hard could it be," Harry shrugged as he straddled the bike.

It took Harry a while, but after a few minutes he started to get a feel for his new toy and in no time he was blasting down the streets like he'd been riding all his life.

Turning down a side street, Harry noticed a parking lot filled with other motorcycle and decided to pull in to investigate.

"How come you smell like a wolf?" One of the larger bikers walked up to Harry, "you're not one of us but you still smell like one of us?"

"What?" Harry took a few experimental sniffs, "you're all werewolves aren't you?"

"Yeah," the biker nodded.

"I'm part wolf," Harry shrugged. "And part a few other things."

"How's that possible?" The biker narrowed his eyes.

"Don't ask me," Harry shrugged. "I got no clue how everything works."

"Oh," the biker seemed to think about it. "You in a club?"

"What kinda club?" Harry looked around.

"Bike club," the biker smiled. "Us wolves are with the Lunatics and over there is a contingent from h.e.l.l's Accountants."

"Oh," Harry shook his head. "No club, it's just me."

"What's your name?" The Lunatic held out a hand, "I'm Barry."

"Mr. Black," Harry shook the man's hand. "And if you'll excuse me, I've got some things I'm supposed to be doing soon. It was nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," the shocked biker replied automatically.

The bikers watched as Harry took one last look around before pulling out of the parking lot. And they froze in shock as the form of Harry's Motorcycle seemed to twist into that of a translucent stallion.

"I don't believe it." The biker looked down at the bottle in his hand, then returned his his gaze to the retreating Mr. Black. "On a pale horse he rides, on a pale steel horse he rides . . . they say that every time you get on your bike you ride with death and we . . . and this time, we actually did."

IIIIIIIIII

After talking to the Professor and Henchgirl, Judith made her way back to school and looked through the window in the door of the room where she was supposed to be serving detention.

"Um sir," one of the girls noticed Judith in the window and raised her hand.

"What is it Brandy?" The aged professor looked up over his book.

"I need to take Judith to the girl's room," Brandy bit her lower lip.

"And just why do you need to take her?" The old teacher raised an eyebrow.

"Feminine problems sir," Brandy reddened.

"Oh," the man nodded. "Move along then . . . I noticed that she hadn't been acting herself today."

"Thank you sir," Brandy grabbed her friend's hand and dragged her into the hall.

"What is it?" Brandy released Judith's hand and glared at the other Judith. "We've still got fifteen minutes before the Polyjuice wears off."

"Yes well I'm sure my cat will be happy to get out of detention early," Judith smirked. "I've got great news."

"Someone is willing to invest?" Brandy perked up.

"Better," Judith grinned. "Mr. Black is investing in us, he was really impressed by the acme charm."

"Mr. Black?" Brandy paled, "Mr. I've KILLED MORE PEOPLE IN THE LAST WEEK THEN GO TO OUR SCHOOL BLACK?"

"You don't have to yell," Judith frowned. "And yes, that Mr. Black . . . he wasn't nearly as frightening as we've been led to believe."

"You cut school to talk to Mr. Black?" Brandy couldn't wrap her mind around the concept, "it was fine when you were doing it for the company but to do it for this?"

"We shouldn't even be at school," Judith frowned. "Stupid parents."

"If we weren't here then we'd have never learned enough non magical things to be able to make things work," Brandy scowled. "I like the idea of starting school early so that we can get a 'complete education' as much as you do Judith."

"But we agreed to do anything to make the company work," Judith nodded. "Where are the others?"

"Work detail," Brandy smirked. "We're supposed to be cleaning up the school, I managed to get us out of it."

"How'd you do that?" Judith smirked.

"I told the teacher that you were having feminine problems again," Brandy smiled. "Works every time."

"Why do I always have to be the one that's having problems?" Judith frowned.

"Forget that," Brandy watched at the other Judith shrunk back into a cat. "Tell me about Mr. Black."

IIIIIIIIII

"How'd the motorcycle work out?" Henchgirl asked as Harry walked up to the booth.

"Good," Harry nodded. "Really good."

"I'm glad," Henchgirl smiled.

"So . . . wanna go up to that party?" Harry glanced around, it looked like the convention was winding down.

"Nah," Henchgirl shook her head. "You go ahead."

"Ok," Harry gave a slow nod. "Are you sure?"

"Yup," Henchgirl nodded. "The Professor and I are going to a better party, with other engineers."

"Ok then," Harry shrugged. "See you in a few."

"You too," Henchgirl nodded.

Harry walked over to a bank of elevators and made his way to the party. Walking up to the entrance, he was stopped by two large men.

"Name?" One of the men raised an eyebrow.

"Black," Harry sighed. Why couldn't he go to the engineer party?

"First name?" The man froze.

"Mister," Harry glanced up. "Can I go in?"

"Yes sir," the man nodded quickly. "Go right in."

Harry walked into the party and straight to the bar.

"What can I get for you?" The bartender looked up.

"Martini," Harry had been meaning to try that drink.

"Right away," the bartender placed a gla.s.s on the bar. "Enjoy."

"Thanks," Harry nodded.

"Good evening," a fat man with a jaw like a bulldog greeted Harry. "And welcome to my party."

"Thanks for inviting me," Harry took a sip of his drink.

"Thank you for coming Mr. Black," the man nodded. "To be quite frank, I'm surprised that you came."

"Why's that?" Harry took another sip of his drink.

"Because some people have been telling tales that I'm a major figure in organized crime," the man smiled.

"Oh," Harry shrugged. "I hadn't heard that rumor."

"Yes . . . well," the man seemed a bit confused by Harry's reply. "How are you liking the party so far?"

"It's ok," Harry wished he was with his friends. "It's good to get a chance to relax after the day I've had."

"Difficult?" The man was eager to get any information about the mysterious Mr. Black.

"Just long," Harry took a gulp from his drink. "And interesting."

"What are you drinking?" The man frowned.

"Martini," Harry downed the rest of his drink and gagged on the olive. "d.a.m.n, almost choked on that thing . . . I'll have to be more careful in the future."

"I'll take a martini myself," the man turned serious. "You know Mr. Black . . . there are a lot of dangers in this room."

"Oh?" Harry was starting to tire of this conversation

"Take the balcony," the man grinned. "It would be a shame if some one were to . . . fall of it."

"I guess," Harry motioned for another drink.

"And that's just the most obvious danger," the man's grin looked sinister. "There are hundreds of other dangers."

"Like the olive in your martini," Harry supplied helpfully. "I was drinking one of those earlier this evening and as you saw, I almost choked on it. Man could choke to death if they weren't careful."

"I'll keep that in mind," the man nodded coldly.

"If you'll excuse me," Harry grinned. "I'm going to go mingle."

"Goodbye Mr. Black," the man's jaw clenched.

Harry wandered away from the man and began wandering around the room.

"h.e.l.lo," a woman walked up to Harry.

"Hi," Harry sighed . . . here was another person that wanted to bother him

"And who might you be," the woman gave a sultry smile.

"Black," Harry replied deftly grabbing an appetizer off of one of the serving trays.

"What's your first name," the woman asked with growing dread.

Harry turned to regard her, "Mister."

"I see," the woman smiled. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must go greet some of the other guests."

"Good bye," Harry nodded.

Though outwardly calm, the woman was terrified. "Abort, abort now and get everyone out of the area."

"Why?" The voice of her controller asked, "everything is ready and everyone is in position."

"Including Mr. Black," the woman hissed.

"Explain"

"I just ran into him, he told me to leave."

"He said that?"

"No," the woman forced herself to calm down. "His exact words were 'good bye'"

"I see," the voice paused. "Get out of there as soon as you can, we don't want to annoy someone like him and this operation has obviously been blown."

"See if you can find out how he found out about our operation," the woman resisted the urge to look back. "And find out why he decided to but in."

"I will," the voice promised. "Now get out of there."

IIIIIIIIII

Across the strip, in another penthouse. Another man that looked like the twin of the bulldog faced man turned to one of his underlings.

"How's the party going?" The twin of the bulldog faced man smirked, "our friends the feds finding things to their liking?"

"I've just got word that they left the party," the underling frowned.

"Did they find the deception?" The bulldog faced man frowned.

"No sir," the underling shook his head. "Mr. Black told them to leave."

"What?" The bulldog faced man frowned, "why?"

"It looks like they were annoying him sir," the underling frowned. "And he gave your double a message for you."

"What was that?" The man leaned forward.

"Olives are dangerous," the underling began shaking. "If you're not careful then you could choke to death on one."

"Leave me," the bulldog faced man watched his underlings leave. As the door closed, the man rose and walked to the bar to mix himself a drink.

IIIIIIIIII

"You wanted to speak with me sir?" The woman from the party asked nervously.

"I a.s.sume that you had a good reason to call off the operation agent Simms?" The man raised an eyebrow.

"Yes Director," Simms nodded. "Mr. Black warned us off."

"Black?" The Director's eyes widened, "why would he do that?"

"I don't know sir," Agent Simms shook her head. "The target doesn't follow Black's rules . . . it doesn't make any sense."

"I . . ." the Director reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone, "one second . . . yes . . . I see, thank you."

"What is it sir?" Simms blinked.

"You can end your investigation," the Director smiled. "And tell your team that they can have the next few days off."

"Why sir?" Simms blinked.

"Your target was just found with an olive lodged in his throat . . . died in an accident," the Director smiled.

"How?" Simms shook her head, "I've still got men watching that party . . . the other guests wouldn't have just let him choke to death in front of them."

"They didn't," the Director shook his head. "Looks like the guy at the party is a body double . . . looks like you were being played."

"What?" Simms's eyes widened.

"The actual target was in another hotel across the strip," the Director smiled. "Made himself a martini and choked on the olive."

"How do we know that Black was behind this?" Simms smirked, "couldn't it have been an accident?"

"Our man on the inside says that Black warned the double to be careful when he drinks martinis," the Director smirked. "Warned him that he might choke to death on the olive if he didn't watch out."

"Oh," Simms nodded. "There's no way that could be a coincidence."