Title: Grand Pas de Deux

Author: Sybil Rowan, with generous assistance from WingedPanther73

Pairing(s)/Characters: 003/009, 002/004, but also lot of whack-a-doo pairing usually not possible in a normal story, like Cathy and Junior, for example.

Summary: Frances owns a male strip club and and the police commissioner, Van Bogart, is trying to shut her down after she hires a fresh faced, country boy named Joe. Her employees go through romances situations of various types. It's when Bogart's daughters show up for a party, that things go high drama.

Warnings: Some slash stuff in the background, just lots of comedy though. Also will have 0010 twins in here, but I named them Castor and Pollux just to make it easy. Apollo is going to seem like one giant narcissist.

Rating: M, just for subject matter.

Author's Notes: This twisted idea was born on Tumblr thanks to some of my Tumblr buddies: silvermoon602, cinerari, skyghost, & tabbywilder. See my Tumblr account for details. Yes, it is a comedy, but will have loads of romance in it, too. Also, Inertbiscuit drew a hysterical piece of artwork for this idea called "Frances in Charge." Go check out her deviant art account for a good chuckle.

Disclaimer: Cyborg 009 is owned by Shotaro Ishinomori's estate. (And he probably would be shaking his head at me over this one)

Beta Reader: WingedPanther73 :)

Date: October 28, 2012/ 5:32 am

Word Count: on going

Frances paced in front of the wood bench, her employees looking up at her expectantly. Today, she'd taken to wearing jodhpurs, a silk blouse, and glossy black riding boots. She clenched the riding crop under her arm, hand resting on the handle. She gave them a stern expression, but before she could launch into her announcement, a loud disgruntled wail filled the room.

"We're about to practice our new act!" Jet teased suddenly, towards the gloomy teenager that appeared on the steps leading to Frances' loft apartment.

"I'm not looking!"

She looked over to her teenage ward, Ivan, who was shading his eyes as if her employees were a pack of gorgons. Indeed, Ivan had done everything to try to talk her out of this business venture, but to no avail. Jean-Paul wouldn't even take his side, he gave Frances tons of encouragement.

"Oh Ivan! This is an employee's meeting. They're fully dressed!" Frances said, shaking her head at him. Indeed, her four strippers, Jet, Pyunma, Castor, and Pollux were all dressed in jeans, teeshirts, and sneakers. GB and Junior, her emcee and bouncer, were in suits, and Chang, her bartender, was in a traditional Chinese outfit.

"No we're not! We're all about to get buck naked!" Jet shouted out. Ivan screamed and clamped his hand over his eyes as he tried to dodge around the tables blindly. He bumped into a table decorated in a pink hearts table cloth. He dropped his school backpack on the ground.

"Now you got to look!" Jet gloated.

"Shut up, Jet," Ivan snarled at his least favorite of Frances' employees, waving his fist in Jet's general direction.

"Jet, if you didn't have such a nice body, I'd fire you," Frances fumed, helping Ivan with his backpack. Ivan scrambled towards the door. "Have a good day at school!"

Jet knew she wouldn't really fire him; she would have done that a long time ago for other various infraction of her rules. She turned towards the burly, American Indian bouncer. "Oh, Junior, there is a chance for a promotion. I think you could certainly make more money on the stage. Muscles like yours are absolutely wasted under clothes."

"No, Ma'am, thank you. I'm perfectly happy working the door."

Jet snickered, noticing Junior blushing. But Jet admitted he was relieved Junior wanted to stay at the door. The ladies would be all over Junior and cut into Jet's tip money.

"Well, you do get the ladies to step in and check everything out, I suppose," Frances said. She picked up her clipboard and opened her mouth, but the front door slammed open. She turned a hostile gaze on the front door, but it melted away when Jean-Paul and Natalie stepped in the door.

"Where do you want it?" Jean-Paul called out, giving the room one of his happy-go-lucky smiles.

Jet leaned over to his best friend, Pyunma, and whispered. "I have a few suggestions."

Pyunma shot Jet a withering look. Jet made no secrets about his intense crush on Jean-Paul. Jet swore the only thing keeping him apart from the French hottie was Natalie. No matter how many times Pyunma reminded him Jean-Paul was totally straight and in a relationship, Jet dismissed it.

"Oh good! My new booze. I want that in the basement and Chang can sort through it later. Join us for the announcement!"

Jean-Paul and Natalie sat down on the long bench, both smiling brightly. Frances cleared her throat and start pacing, riding crop now lofted. "As you well know, our business has grown by leaps and bounds. We've been able to expand and remodel the 'Grand Pas de Deux' and make it into the business I've always dreamed of: the top notch male strip club in the whole city! That's why I'm announcing that this week Natalie and I will be interviewing for two new strippers and one new waitress."

"But what about our tips?" Jet grumbled, crossing his arms.

"I've been booking so many groups there is no way you four can handle it any more. I promise you'll make double your money, and I'll let you and and Pyunma get first pick from the clientèle. Fair?"

Jet was mollified, but the Castor and Pollux both said, "Hey that's not fair to us."

"You two are freaks that attack the freakiest customers," Jet snapped at the identical twins with spiky blue hair.

"Jet! We cater to all of our customers' taste and whims. You will treat the ladies that comes through my doors with respect and dignity." Jean-Paul, GB, and Chang let out small snickers at that one. Frances slashed the air with her riding crop. "Now, on to other business."

The whole crew followed Frances to the bar. Chang whipped a red veil off the bar and said, "Ta-da!" On the bar was a huge punch bowl with several glasses stacked around it. "My new drink: sexy cinnamon twisters. Taste up."

"Free samples!" Jet's hand snaked towards one of the glasses, but Frances brought down her riding crop on his hand. He yanked it back and shook it in the air. "What's the big idea?"

"You're only eighteen! No booze for you," Frances said sternly, the end of the crop only centimeters from his nose.

"I'm old enough to shake my money maker in a bunch of ladies' faces, but I can't drink? It's not fair I tell you."

"No sense in complaining to me. I can't drink either. Besides, Albert's here. Go help him to my office."

Jet looked over at the front door. Indeed, Frances' taciturn accountant had slipped in the front door and was now watching them beneath the rim of his fedora. Jet sulked over to the accountant and followed the man out the door to his blue sedan.

Heinrich opened the trunk and Jet got out one of the heavy, cardboard boxes, stuffed full of papers. "So why don't you use a computer? You hate trees or something?"

The man looked mildly amused. "No, Mister Link, it's all a plot to keep you in shape."

"I can't believe I heard that right? You cracked a joke on me?"

Albert just locked his car and walked back into the strip club, Jet trailed behind. Jet glared at Pyunma, who hoisted his free drink in the air and said, "This is so awesome!"

Jet stuck his nose in the air and followed Heinrich up the stairs and down the hallway. They entered Frances' office. Jet set his box next to Heinrich's. The accountant took off his suit coat and fedora, then he loosened his tie slightly before taking a seat at Frances' desk. The man then slipped on his eye glasses. A few seconds later he shot Jet an irritated glance.

"Math is not a spectator sport."


"You're staring. Is there some you wanted?"

Jet felt his face flush red and his own irritation rose. He flopped down on a spinning office chair and draped his lanky legs over one of the arms. Heinrich went back to getting sheets from one of the boxes, so Jet's eyes drifted to the ceiling. His foot caught the edge of an end table. He pushed his foot against it and started spinning, faster and faster he went until his left, too loose sneaker flew off his foot. Jet halted and gasped as it sailed through the air, smacking Heinrich soundly on the nose.

The German accountant looked up with an icy glare, gripping a pencil in both his hands. He snapped it, slammed both halves down, and then picked up Jet's sneaker. "Yours, I presume."

Jet shuddered, grabbed the shoe, and ran out of the office before the man could make any further comment. He went to the bar and flopped down beside Pyunma. His face was blazing hot as he tugged his shoe back on.

"It's not show time yet," Pyunma teased.

"Aw... stuff it."

"Jet, you and Pyunma go get Jean-Paul's truck unloaded," France ordered, smacking her riding crop on the bar counter. They groaned but dragged themselves from the bar and wandered out back where the blond Frenchman was handing down crates to the twins.

Police Commissioner Van Bogart looked up from the paperwork on his desk to the two new police officers. "You're late, Gaia and Gaia."

"Yes, Sir," Artemis answered, repressing a glare at her twin brother. If he hadn't insisted on stopping for hair gel, they would have been on time.

"Well, don't make this a regular habit! Now, I got your first assignment." He pushed a folder at Artemis. She picked it up and opened the folder. There was a picture of a large brick building with a pink sign that read 'Grand Pas de Deux'. Under the picture were a couple of police reports, all were stamped 'unfounded'. "This Arnoul lady, I want her investigated and busted."

"But, Sir, it looks like she's running a clean establishment," she said, handing the folder over to her brother.

"Poppycock!" He slammed his hand down on the desk. "Anyway, we have a duty to keep our town free of this sort of filth and vermin. Men doing this sort of thing is just beyond the pale. Just taking women's money and for what? Some sort of cheap thrill. I won't have it, I tell you. I want Arnoul out of business by the end of this month or it's back to the beat for you two."

The phone rang and the police commissioner picked it up. "Hello? Helen, honey don't cry... I know, I know... You girls want a big party for your birthday... You tell Venus you have a strict budget... I do care what you quints want... No, you can pick out any venue you want... That's fine... Bye, Helen, tell your sister I'll be home late..." He hung up the phone and pointed at a picture on his desk with five identical girls depicted; all had short, blond spiky hair. "My quints are turning twenty-one in a couple of weeks and they want a big party. Anyway, back to business."

"So we'll conducted a stake out and find underage patrons. Easy enough," Apollo declared, waving his hand in the air.

"Not so. You two will go undercover and expose this filth for what it is." Bogart held up the help wanted ad in the newspaper. The one with a red circle around it read 'Wanted: two strapping young men to entertain women. Dinners provided along with a private gym. Charming smile a must. On the job training provided and extensive opportunity for tips. Evening hours, perfect for collage students. Contact Frances Arnoul at 555-1234.'

"Sounds like I'm the person she's looking for," Apollo said, flashing a smile. Artemis rolled her eyes and examined the ad below it, also circled. 'Wanted: one waitress. Must not be squeamish about the male anatomy. Lots of tips, night hours required. Contact Frances Arnoul at 555-1234.'

"Now, detectives, go get those jobs!"

"Yes, Sir," they answered and left the office. When they got in the car, Apollo cranked up the engine and stomped on the gas.

"We need to come up with a story. We're new to town and looking for a job?" Artemis asked.

Apollo waved his hand in the air. "That's what I have you for. Make up what you want. I'm sure I'll get the job. Girls love my body. And my perfectly spiked hair. And my smile." He suddenly sighed and turned the rear view mirror towards himself so he could admire the object of his affection.

"Apollo! Watch your driving!"

He put his eyes back on the road before he swerved them into a sidewalk. "Don't worry, we got this in the bag! Then a promotion. But you know what the best part is?"

"No, what's that?"

"The hot women drooling over me. This assignment rocks!"

"You mean sucks," Artemis mumbled, crossing her arms. No, this wasn't going to be fun, in her estimation. She was much more modest than her brother, and she really had no idea what to expect.

"I'm sorry, Joe, I wish it wasn't this way," the good Father said sorrowfully, before patting Joe on the shoulder.

"I know, Father. It'll be okay. I should get out on my own and find a job," Joe said, forcing a smile. He was about to choke up; he was going to miss the picturesque country orphanage and its kind Catholic staff that had worked hard to instill a strong morality in Joe.

He picked up his suitcase and shook the Father's hand. "Write when you get to the city and be frugal with your money until you get a job."

"Yes, Sir. Goodbye, I'll visit when I can," Joe promised and turned to walk down the dirt road to the bus stop. The bus rolled up in an hour to whisk him off to the large city an hour's drive south of the orphanage. He got off the bus and was awestruck by how huge and noisy everything was. It was all so confusing and flashier than anything he'd seen. He went and got a newspaper at a coffee shop and proceeded to to the first thing the Father told him to do: find a job.

Nothing quite seemed right, but one did catch his eye. 'Wanted: two strapping young men to entertain women. Dinners provided along with a private gym. Charming smile a must. On the job training provided and extensive opportunity for tips. Evening hours, perfect for collage students. Contact Frances Arnoul at 555-1234.'

He certainly could use free dinners, seeing how all he was allotted was 5,000 dollars to support himself for a while. Besides, several of the girls at the orphanage said he had a nice smile, and he did enjoy chatting with girls. A certain plus was that he'd need to find some sort of skilled training to help him in his future as an adult.

He stood up and walked over to a pay phone. A man answered, "Grand Pas de Deux. How can I help you?"

"I need to speak to Miss Arnoul about a job," Joe said.

"I'm her accountant. She's busy downstairs, but you can just show up. She's having open auditions right now."

"You could you tell me how to get there from the bus station?"

"You're close. It's seven block south of there, then take a right. It's the third building on the left. The only one with a pink sign on the street."

"Thank you, Sir." Joe hung up the phone and optimistically jogged down the street with suitcase in hand. Maybe city living would be better than he thought.

To be continued.