Disclaimer: In no way does this remotely reflect reality or accurately personify the TV personalities depicted. How could they when they are interacting with a fictional character I don't own and don't make any money from?
The camera tilted wildly and focused on the two men standing outside the New York Subway entrance. Both men were handsome and dressed in shades of black.
"Hi, I'm Mike Rowe, and this is Dirty Jobs. Today we're following Jason Bourne, CIA black ops assassin, AKA David Webb, the agent responsible for uncovering a filthy conspiracy within the CIA."
"I don't see how this is going to work," Jason pointed out. "This is suppose to be 'covert.' You're going to have to turn off the cameras."
"Bourne is on a really dirty job for the CIA and he's on a mission to whack someone," Mike continued. "Jason, what's the first thing you do on a dirty job like this?" Mike turned to the black ops man.
"Well, Mike if I were a CIA operative, I'd aim a kick into the boom guy's groin first…." His voice faded as the sound man backed up.
"Just a minute there, uh…Rea!" Mike motioned off camera frantically to the sound girl and his voice came back. "Why would you say your job is dirty?"
"Whacking someone isn't exactly a clean lifestyle, Mike. People are filthy when they get whacked. Brains, guts, crap and blood usually gets all over the place." Jason Bourne grimaced. "I usually wash my hands. HIV exposure being what it is the the world today, assassins should be issued rubber gloves. Personally, I prefer the syringe—more sanitary—if I was an assassin. However, I don't really do that anymore."
"Sounds like there's an element of danger to your job that most people haven't considered."
"Most people object to getting whacked, Mike. They don't exactly take it sitting down," Jason explained. "They usually put up a fight."
"Jason, how do you prepare for that?"
"Well, I try to stay in shape. Currently I'm taking an aerobics class at the YMCA. A weight lifting regime in the morning and kick boxing lessons. It pretty much takes up all my spare time. Besides the workouts, I try to use surprise as much as possible. When your target is surprised, it's just more professional."
"Some people say you're just a glorified murderer. How would you respond to that?"
"Well, as I explained, I don't do that anymore. My missions saved American lives and were government sanctioned. I was a professional and I took my job seriously. I never knowingly whacked anyone that didn't need it."
Mike looked into the camera. "Well, there you have it: America's Dirtiest Job, the CIA black ops assassin." He turned back to Jason. "Now tell me how I'm going to complete this mission for you, Jason. What kind of protective clothing do I have to wear?"
"Black nondescript clothing is best. Reversible coat, if you have it. A water-proof watch is essential. Your lucky Spiderman underwear, that's pretty much all you need."
"Why the Spiderman underwear?"
"It helps my Spidysense tingle and it protects your pants from the crap you're going to dump in your drawers."
"Wow! Sounds like my kind of job," Mike said into the camera. "Let's get started. Who are we going to whack today?" He rubbed his hands vigorously.
"That's top secret, Mike. If I told you, I'd have to kill you too." Jason smirked. "Gotcha! Like I said, I don't do that anymore." Jason rubbed the back of his skull again. "Gee, with all these cameras everywhere, we're going to have to go in undercover."
"What are you thinking, Jason?"
"Mike, if you want to do this job, you've got to be able to think on your feet and turn a liability into an asset."
"Alright, I'm on my feet and thinking—uh, what?"
"You're going to go in as Mike Rowe, Dirty Jobs, to interview the target. You can whack him then."
"How am I going to interview the target if I don't know who it is?"
"Good thinking, Mike. This guy has a really dirty job. He's a traitor to America. He's so subversive, that thousands of American's lose their dreams everyday because of him. And the best part is, he's not really American."
"Uh, if he's a traitor, doesn't it follow he has to be an American?"
"No." Jason Bourne scowled. "A traitor is a traitor. Time to move."
"Okay, we're on the move with Dirty Jobs!" Mike started walking down the street with Jason Bourne. "Now what?"
"Answer your phone, Mike." Jason dropped back ten steps behind.
Mike's pocket began to ring and he dug an unfamiliar phone out. "Hello?" He hammed a face at his camera. "Did you just drop this phone in my pocket while I wasn't looking?"
"Listen very carefully. I need you to hail a cab. There is one coming up two blocks behind us," the disembodied voice said.
"Okay, now we're getting somewhere!" Mike stepped off the curb and flagged down the taxi.
The SUV cab opened and Mike climbed in with the coordinator, sound and camera guy getting in the back. Jason Bourne climbed in the last seat and motioned the other crew off, closing the door.
A bronx voice greeted them with "Where's yous guys go'n taday?"
"Radio City Music Hall," Jason answered.
Immediately, the interior of the cab lit up with colored light panels that revolved around the passengers.
"Welcome to the Cash Cab!"