That.

Damn.

Squirrel!

Usually, usually, he was almost cooperative, but today, of course, he was living up to his namesake. "Dammit, Joffrey! Give me that paper!" Her door was shut, but she had no doubt there were Firsters on the other side listening to her struggle. The faint chitters of laughter mixed with Joffrey's and confirmed her suspicions. She knew it was important, she'd seen Miss Fritton's name, and a place, but the damn squirrel had snatched it out of her hand before she could finish reading it to find out the time. Now he was perched in the rafters chittering away at her ... mocking her.

"Now is NOT the time, Joff. Keep it up and I'll give you to Veruca Salt!"

It didn't work. He just lept to the other corner and ... was he actually pretending to read the paper!? It certainly looked that way. Nikki growled at him, low, under her breath, and menacing. Suddenly, she remembered!

She slowly sauntered over to the corner where her school jacket hung on the back of the chair. "You know, with you all the way up there..." she began, setting down and fishing something out of her pocket. "I won't have anyone to share this peanut butter pretzel with... It's a shame."

She began to unwrap the treat, slowly, but she could tell his interest was peaked. It was his favorite, after all, how she'd 'befriended' him in the first place. He sat up, nose sniffing eagerly, whiskers twitching as he considered his position. Slowly, carefully, he worked his way down from the rafters until he was perched on the corner of her dresser, inches away from her.

"Trade?" she said, simply, extending the treat, but not before taking ... and savoring ... a bite with a smile. Joffrey considered the proffered treat and the not-so-tasty paper in his hand and entirely forgot why he'd had it in the first place - he was just a squirrel after all - He extended his paws, Nikki took the paper and he took the treat, and was off into the rafters like a shot, chittering happily. "Guess I need to get a supply of those, huh?"

Finally, she was able to read the paper fully ... and find out the meeting was scheduled for 5 minutes ago. "Oh, hell." she swore. She blew through her door at a dead run, knocking at least one Firster unconscious from the impact and the other scattered in screeches as she ran through and past.

---

She arrived at the appropriate door several minutes later, out of breath and disheveled. Is anyone ever just sheveled? she wondered, as she smoothed her skirt, straightened her shirt and tie, and pulled her hair into something sensible. "Please don't let me be last. Please don't let me be last. Please don't let me be last." she muttered as she pushed the door open and seeing the other girls seated already.

Damn. "Afternoon, Ladies." She said, as calmly as possible. At least there was no Fritton, that was good.

Eustacia regarded Nikki and raised a Spock-like brow. "Well, well, well. The American element is rather late to join the party. I suppose it was inevitable. There is a precedent from 1917 and 1941, so it is good to know that they are nothing if not consistent."

That was a tad cutting, even by her standards, but until Miss Fritton arrived to reveal why they had all been called together, she needed to do something to keep herself amused. Sniping at others was her usual go-to time filler in such situations.

Angharad looked up from her keyboard.

"Saucer of milk for table 3."

She went back to exploring the underlying code for a new form of crypto-currency that's generated not by mining but by recording how far you walk. As it relyed on tracking data, there were several ways in which it could be spoofed.

"A wizard is never late, Frodo." Nikki began, not needing to continue the thought to get the point across. "And, besides, late or not, we bailed your asses out both times, you know, 'cause you all can't fight for crap." She concluded with a smile before moving to take an open seat.

Dani strolled into the room, apparently unconcerned with whether or not she might be late.  She knew this room, although there were warnings against using it, what with the potential booby traps left over from some historical battle between the years, it was still useful for tinkering with some of the louder experiments she had tested.  Never summoning though, summoning circles that weren't on the ground floor (or preferably in a basement) were just asking for trouble.  Yep, that faint purple stain was still under the lightswitch, Dani wondered if it still glowed under a full moon.
"Wow, morning all.  Not interrupting something am I? Only, I got a letter..."  She patted herself down, sure she had picked up the paper before leaving her dorm room.  Oh...unless that was what she had scribbled those equations on the back of.  She glanced around the room, trying to fit names to the other faces present, they were mostly older than her, not that it was an unusual situation since she'd hit the main school.  "No Fritton yet? Guess that means I'm not late then, what's she want us for anyway? I haven't even had tea yet."

"Oh, really? Making statements about the British fighting prowess, or lack therof, in this school... that is rather asking for trouble. I shall await the results with some interest." She popped the lollipop back in her mouth, and then removed it when Dani arrived. "No clue what she wants. But this is a very odd collection. Whatever she has in mind, it must be a desperate situation to get such a motley crew together."

"Not true at all, Staci. Had St. Trinian's girls been on the front lines, both wars would've been well in hand before there was any need for we Americans to join in." Nikki said, deftly side-stepping the accusation as Danielle entered. She liked Dani, rather more than most of the others. Though she was younger, she was closer in line to Nikki's own approach to the school.

"Heya, Dani." she said with a wave.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:41, Tue 01 Dec 2015.

The door to the Staff Room opened and admitted Miss Artemis Fritton, Headmistress and administrator of the school. As she arrived, wearing a stylish twin set, killer heels and an air of a Fifties Film Noir movie star, she delivered a lopsided smile wth lips so red that a whole horde of cochineal beetles must have died to achieve that colour. Her voice was educated, velvety, and spoke of a degree of corruption that all the girls should aspire to, whatever their calling. She was young to be headmistress, and moved with the sort of walk that suggested she was only biding her time before she headed out to seduce a billionaire octagenarian.

In short, she'd got style, brains, and bags of charisma.

"Good morning, girls. I do hope you haven't been waiting long. I do hope I haven't dragged you away from anything too pressing. I do know how you girls love your studies so much. However, we have important matters to discuss."

She sat on a sofa, which creaked in protest. She then took a document from a folder she was carrying. "Girls, you're all bright enough to realise that when I call a meeting of some of the most successful of our pupils in this high turret, something must be afoot. By now, everyone must be aware that Miss Petworthy has skipped bail. You'd think that a history tutor would have better sense than to get caught for tax avoidance. She's an embarrasment to the school. After her long career of fraudulent practices, to get caught now is simply sloppy. I am sure that the police will never catch her, and we'll never recoup our losses. I've made arrangements to have her taken care of if she does surface. Let's just say that she'd be well advised not to make any long-term plans about buying that apartment in Rio she has always dreamed of."

She frowned then. "Her timing was dreadful, of course. The third years decided to do a needlework project, which consisted of bypassing the security systems on our strongroom. Normally, this would be commendable, but they broke the rules by actually removing the cash, and losing heavily on some benighted nag in the 3.30 at Epsom Downs. They passed their Needlework exams with flying colours, but those behind the gambling are all looking at resits in mathematics. Miss Steamworthy is fit to be tied, she spent three weeks on how to pick a winner, and none of them seemed to have grasped the principles. Diamond Charlie will be running an intensive course for them during the summer hols. Most inattentive girls. Still, combined with other financial problems, our dear school is in trouble. I have here a letter I would like to read to you."

She lifted the letter and commenced. "My dear Missy, I cannot begin to tell you how delightful last night was for me. The feeling of your lips on mine as we danced under the moonlight was..." She paused and cleared her throat. She then tucked the letter away and drew out a different sheet of paper. "Wrong letter, I do beg your pardon. Here we are. Miss Fritton, it is with some concern that I notice that for yet another financial quarter the payments due on certain trivial matters such as heating, lighting, food and drink, have all neglected to appear in your establishment's account. It is therefore necessary to inform you that your creditors are seeking action and that, unless you take steps forthwith, it seems likely that they will drag the name of your school through the mud once more. However, with the amount owing, it would be hard for any authorities to rule against them, and the inevitable insolvency of your school, and its closure, must certainly ensue. Blah blah, fawn fawn, Mr Rupert Creep, for the bank of... you get the general jist, girls?"

She put the letter away and remarked, calmly. "Obvously, I do not intend to let a few mere unpaid bills, no matter how large, to threaten the school. There are various ways to pay the debt with cuts. For example, what would you older girls say if I told you I wished to cut the Sixth Form trip to the Chateau de Sade in the Loire this year? I do know how you all enjoy it so much. Or perhaps I could cancel the standing order we have for repairs to the science block. It would mean that we'd have to stop production of most of the current projects..."

She regarded the girls for a moment, waiting for the reaction to these hghly controverstial suggestions.

Viridia coughs gently as a practised interuption as the Headmistress comes to an end.

"So the bank finally noticed and escalated it above "Your most beloved Marcus" did they?  And I presume this Creep is above your blandishments?  You'd think that they'd have the sense to bring in a woman by now given the size of the authorised overdraft but hey.  I don't think I've seen the last few statements so how's about a nice round figure for the digestion and then we can review our options since either of those is likely to get certain knickers twisted so far that they tear into shreds."

Angharad looked up from her laptop.

"Is a money-making scheme in order, Miss Fritton? Perhaps some mythical time-shares on apartments in Rio would be appropriate. Or diverting a day's payments from the UK to the EU to our somewhat more deserving coffers?"

Her eyes glittered as she contemplated working mischief from her keyboard.

Eustacia kept her words back, but glared at Nikki. She hated being called any variation upon a theme of Staci. It sounded so common.

And then, the Headmistress arrived...

The rather peculiar strangulated noise coming from the window area was Eustacia. At the very suggestion that the long-anticipated trip to stay in a chateau in the Loire Valley might now be cancelled, she had become agitated. And that was putting it mildly.

"Oh, Miss Fritton!" She finally gasped out. "Angharad is right, there must be something that can be done! Surely the school has dealt with a crisis like this before now? I can always tell Daddy to give more money as a donation, he'd do anything if Mummy and I told him to often enough! The school must stay open, it's just got to. And I want to go to France!"

From another girl, that last statement might have sounded like a petulant tantrum. From Eustacia, it came out more as a declaration of war. When she wanted her own way, she usually got it, not by being a spoiled brat but by going out and slapping the world about in her own unique, machavellian way until it gave her what she wanted.

Daddy was probably in for a hard time.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:13, Tue 01 Dec 2015.

Nikki listened intently, both to the problem and the few suggested solutions - including Eustacia's Veruca Salt impression - funny, it was the second time she'd used that connection today, maybe it was time for another viewing.

This was the first time she'd been included in a meeting at this level, one planning this level of larceny as well, but her thoughts coincided with Angharad's own. "Cyber-crime's the way to go, especially with the minds we've got working for us. Money goes missing all the time, no reason we can't wind up the recipient of some of it. We don't need some wacky, slapstick, shenanigans or some convoluted art theft scheme in this day and age. Virtual money floats pretty freely around the world, and I'm sure the Computer Girls can make sure the right Zeros and Ones make it into the right code to make sure our bills get paid. Just like Office Space, but, you know, successful."

Viridia smiles gently and rises smoothly to walk over and stand near the wall.  She adopts a pose of calm demureness with eyes sparking with trouble.

"Ah yes the art heist.  Wondered if someone was going to bring that up and its a useful case in point.  Our computer expertise today isn't too different from what it was then, is anyone aware of why we didn't just hive off fractions or go after the dormant accounts back then?  Alternatively what's the difficult part of proving a crime?"

Miss Fritton raised a reassuring hand. "Please, girls. Your enthusiasm is much appreciated, but I fear it will not be sufficient. We can perhaps raise twenty thousand, but we need closer to a hundred and fifty. And while we would prefer not to have to rely on donations from third parties, they do help us. Eustacia's father is only one of a number of very generous individuals who send large sums to help keep us afloat. The fact that he probably has no clue what he is doing is immaterial." She then smiled reassuringly "Fleecing the bank or counterfeiting is too common these days. If we do that too often we could devalue the currency, and that's the last thing we want. I plan to be rich when I retire. That's hard to achieve if we've caused runaway inflation. Equally, this is the modern age, where computers control the world. Unfortunately, after Miss Petworthy's antics, the long arm of the law has been united with the scrutinising eye. C.I.D. are watching. Watching very closely. Indeed, if we attempt anything that even smells somewhat suspect, they will jump on us. We might get away with a little scam here and there, but we can't raise that amount of money using such methods. It is far too risky, and I do not want this sort of scandal at this time. That would be our death knell for sure!"

She makes no comment on the art heist. That was before her time, and while she might not have done things the same way, she was aware how dangerously close they had come to being caught. This was one reason why she did not want to repeat that sort of affair.

She opened her file and started to leaf through more papers. "As it happens, I do have a plan. Last night, as I was walking the corridors in thought, I ran into Olivia Monks. She was reading a magazine. It was a shock. Five years at the school, and I had no idea she could read. She had even done the crossword. Although three down was certainly not 'well fit' and I am sure that well has more than one L. Be that as it may, I was looking for some late night reading, so I confiscated the magazine."  The fact that this was blatant abuse of power was not even on her mind. She produced the magazine. Vague: High fashion, high prices.

"Now, this magazine are running a compettion to find the next new teen model. But they want to banish the idea that models are all body and no brain. So they are running the competition through schools. Candidates have to pass a written examination, and then win a beauty contest. While we have many clever girls here, and a fair few beauties, nobody has brains and beauty in one place. Not enough to win this sort of thing, the competition from other schools will be too high." She smiled to the girls present, "No offence, ladies. You're all exceptional in your own way, but we need someone truly unique to win this, and we don't have one. But the prize includes a cash payment of one hundred grand for the school. That could definitely help ease our pain, oh yes indeed. The rest we can scrape together with a variety of low-risk and under the radar ventures. I'm tempted to make it a project for the A-level maths students. If they can pull it off without getting us all stuck in chokey, they'll all deserve top marks."

She tucked the papers away. "But how do we win? I think we can count out legitimate practice. Nobbling judges in the competition might be possible, but our first hurdle must be winning the brains aspect. I don't want to risk another school winning. We need to get the answer papers, and not to mince our words, cheat."

She rubbed her hands eagerly. "I think this is where you young ladies come in. Someone has to find, and then provide copies, of these papers."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 20:14, Wed 02 Dec 2015.

"'Sup Nikki."  Dani waved at the older girl, unconcerned that this might have been read as showing partisanship towards the colonial contingent in the budding discussion on nationalism.  She lacked time for anything more as their much beloved (by at least half of the peerage) headmistress swanned into the room.  As always, Miss Fritton paused just long enough for a plethora of imagined flash bulbs to go off, something about the woman screamed red carpet, even somewhere like the Upper Staff at St Trinian's.
Dani found herself a perch on the arm rest of a battered looking sofa, she leaned back and crossed her legs in front of her, listening to the ideas being thrown around with rather more concentration than her usual state.  "Drag our name through the mud? Insolvency? This guy's gotta be new right? Sounds like he doesn't have much of a clue what he's talking about."  She didn't pass comment on the 'threats' to withdraw treats or facilities, no way was that going to be happening, none of the staff wanted a riot on their hands.

"Could probably slap a tracking dodad on Petty if she's left a hairbrush behind or something.  And if we don't have a contestant, we could probably make one...would make an interesting project at least.  I'm thinking more cloning than Mary Shelley though."  She dug around in a pocket until she found the pen she was looking for and started scribbling her own short hand notes on her arm.  "Or try scrying for the answers I s'pose.  Who's going in for the beauty part?  If they've got to have 'inner beauty' as well or some crap like that, we're out of luck with this gang." She looked at Eustacia, probably the best candidate for a beauty contest.  "Unless you can persuade them to keep their mouth shut for the duration."  She paused, underlining something she had written and staring at it for a couple of seconds.  "Or we could dose the judges with something and persuade them to vote our way.  Thiopental's overrated but I'm pretty sure we can cook up something decently effective."

That was Dani, full of ideas, if you could only get her to focus on one of them for long enough.

Yeah, Miss Fritton's got it right. Nikki thought. These girls tended to fall heavily into Brains but Not Beauty, Beauty but Not Brains, or somewhere squarely in the middle of the field on both. While she counted herself luckily in the middle, she knew it wouldn't be enough to win the competition outright.

"Got that mag handy, Ms. F? An idea of the rules of the competition would be helpful." she asked, hoping she could read through the entry in the magazine to try to find loopholes to exploit, or further information on what they'd need to accomplish in order to cheat the system.

"Is there a web address for the contest, Miss Fritton?" asked Angharad.

A couple of years ago, she recalled, there'd been a 'Spy Master' reality contest, and she'd hacked the contestant database. Most of the photos had shown the entrants in tuxedoes, James Bond style, but one had a bright pink fluffy bunny and a few had been obscene.

This of course would require some deeper digging, to find the quiz files. But it was likely that they'd be word processed at some point and if they were on a computer, she'd find them. Answers would be good, but the questions and Google would suffice in a pinch.

With an apologetic mask and downcast eyes, Emma slipped into the meeting. She knew she had to be somewhere, but with Keats beckoning, she simply lost track of time. She loathed being late to anything and her anxiety was peaking to new heights. As one of the younger students invited into Miss Fritton's private enclave, tardiness was not the way to impress.

Spying her distressed cousin, she pushed her own unease deep within. She stealthily slid around the room to Eustacia's side, careful not to disrupt the conversation. Emma's underskirt whispered with the gentle click of her footsteps. She extended her hand in comfort and whispered, "Are you OK, Dear? What have I missed?"

[Private to GM: Does "moving stealthily" count if I use my Games to make sure I don't draw undo attention to myself? My goal is to be quiet as a church mouse and to not draw any attention to me whatsoever.]
This message was last edited by the player at 15:04, Thu 03 Dec 2015.

Emma's arrival is, thankfully, accompanied by the various outbursts and suggestions from the pupils. It gives her the chance to slip in without everyone staring and judging her lateness. The atmosphere in the room suggests serious matters afoot. Certainly, the responses from the girls would cause concern in some. Eustacia's annoyance is usually a sign of someone being on the sharp edge of her tongue. The very mixed group of girls is an odd choice - nobody would usually expect someone like Nikki to be grouped with Angharad on a project, given the difference in age and abilities. But with Viridia here, it was obvious that there was something serious going on - why include such a reliable Prefect otherwise? Most of all, the fact that Danielle was scribbling away with the rather fevered animation that came when she was inspired by some new project ... that was not something to ignore. The scribbling led to experiments. The experiments to a workable project. And Dani's projects led to... explosions. Screams. Things That Ought Not Be.

A game was definitely afoot!

OOC: I'll give you a chance to post a couple of times before unleashing the Fritton again. :)

Eustacia regained control of her temper and remarked to Emma, "The school is desperately short of money. Miss Fritton has a plan for us to enter a competition and rig it so we win, and get the prize money. It sounds feasible." She frowned and considered the situation. "I wouldn't do such a thing myself. A beauty contest? Hardly suitable for me. But we have a fair few beauties in the school. It is easier to fake brains than beauty, so maybe we should pick one and then fake brains. As for the written exam, that's not a problem. Getting the questions and answers should be a snip for Taffy!" She nodded to Angharad. Rooting about in computers for answers was literally child's play for the likes of her.

Viridia slowly stretches a leg and considers it as the conversation flows around her.

"Let's point out a couple of things here.  First beauty is in the eye of the beholder and different people have different standards of beauty, we need to know who the judges are before we select a contestant.  If needed we'll need to look at alternates to the judges and persuade some of the current judges to stand aside.  Second is the test.  I think we need to look at the test marker in that case, if we get the test answers the test might be changed so persuading the marker to find in someone's favour might be easier."

Angharad looked up from her keyboard.

"They'd only change the test if they knew someone had accessed it like!" she said, sounding a bit idignant. "I don't leave tracks like some novice."

She looked back at her screen.

"Not that knowing the people involved is not a good idea, though. Our 'Beauty' needs to sound like she can think too. Maybe you should go the Miss Congeniality route, do up an OK girl with a brain into a right show-stopper of a beauty. Do you know any pageant consultants?"

Staci and the girl with the computer's comments came hot on the heels of one another, and Nikki - rightfully so - found herself agreeing with the latter. "I agree with ... ah ..." Why didn't she know her name...? "You." she finished, hoping to cover the faux pas and knowing she'd probably failed. "It's easier to fake beauty than brains."

She looked to the Emma - Did I miss her all along?, she thought, briefly - and then to Eustacia. "As someone so well-versed in faking both, I figured you'd know that, Eustacia, dear." She said with a wicked faux-smile.

"If there's one thing Ms. Carter's and a ton of Hollywood movies has taught me is that beauty is easy to pull off, with the right efforts. Unless we're talking about inner beauty or something - then, as someone already said, we're all screwed already. We need to find someone smart, and then give her the makeover from hell custom tailored to the look the judges are looking for. If need be, getting the answers for backup is a good option, too."
This message was last edited by the player at 09:23, Sun 06 Dec 2015.

Emma stared at the ground so as not to make eye contact with Nikki. Her fingers tightened slightly around Eustacia's, to the pulse of 10 heartbeats. She hated the way Nikki goaded her cousin, and being fiercely protective of Eustacia, she wanted nothing more than to put the Yank in her proper place. Not all the time, but when Nikki drew out her claws, Emma wanted to clip them to the quick.

Composure regained, she lifted her eyes to the room once more. "Surely with the combined influence all fronts can be covered and any threat neutralized." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "Persuasion comes in many forms; bribes and other more... creative tactics," there was an ominous pleasure ringing in her tone. "I'm certain that Viridia has the resources to manage without too much difficulty," she suggested. "A more personal touch may be employed once we know more details."

She glanced to Miss Fritton and then to the computer wiz. "So, it sounds like until we discover the judges, the exam questions and the potential contestants, there's very little we can do."

She glanced to Nikki, who was scanning the rules and regulations. "Is there a geographical boundary or limit for this contest? I mean, it is limited to the UK or parts of the UK? How far reaching is this promotion? And how many people actually read this publication? Do we know? Are looking at hundreds of applicants or only a dozen? I don't know if any of this matters, but right now, it feels like we're trying to boil the ocean and we need to drill down our focus."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:16, Sun 06 Dec 2015.

"We can fake brains easily enough, too. And if you think we can find a girl here who is clever and can be trusted enough...well. Worth a shot. But there's not too many of them around these days. As for making someone beautiful, we can do that. But have to be careful. We need to make them look great without looking like we actually did so. Natural beauty is what they want these days. It is a hell of a lot of work to make it look like you didn't do any at all." Eustacia looked at Nikki, and her eyes narrowed. "I think between the two of us, we can manage that. Actually, we can do more. We can work with cosmetics, but you know, a potion or two might not go amiss. Add a little glamour. Could be worth a shot."

She squeezed Emma's fingers in silent reassurance. She wasn't going to be goaded. Not yet, anyway. "Hmm. So... got to get questions and answers from whoever is running the show. Might be an external PR firm. Find us a suitable candidate. Nobble the judges, nobble the opposition - you know, we're going to get a load of volunteers for that! Let Miss Tatham loose with some custom made facepaint..." She seemed to like the sound of everyone's suggestions. They were awash with corruption and chicainery. Her two favourite flavours of ice cream!

She looked to Viridia for a more detailed set of plans, however. If Eustacia had wanted to be a Prefect, she would be one. It was far too much hard work and responsibility for her intrinsically lazy self.