Title: ATF: Mission - Impossible! 1/1

Author: Birgit "Lee" Kohls

Feedback: Serious comments appreciated. Send to [email protected]

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and there is no profit.

Magnificent Seven belong to Mirsch, CBS, MGM and Trilogy.

Rating: PG

Warnings: none... well, not really.

Spoilers: none

Archive: Yes, please! It also can be found at my webpage: http://www.geocities.com/lee_lhs/

Notes: I'm not a native English speaker, so humour me. This story sprung to mind in one of those situations described below.

Thanks to Christina for the grammar beta!

Genre: Gen

Main character: Ezra

Ezra aimed carefully. He couldn't afford to miss, not here and now. The consequences of him failing would be unspeakable. Not to mention embarrassing. Ezra Standish, ATF undercover agent par excellence just could not miss.

He muttered a curse as he was savagely slammed from one wall of the tiny room to the other. This, Ezra realized with consternation, wouldn't work, at least not this way. He changed position, sat down on the small, uncomfortable seat, desperately searching for a hold as the room tilted rapidly from left to right - or was it forward and backward, he couldn't say. The motion almost swept him to the floor.

The Southerner pondered if he just should give up for now and wait for the next opportunity, but he knew that he never would make it that long. The pain had become unbearable, he had to do something. Curse Larabee and his asinine ideas! They couldn't just do this job the normal way, no, they had to 'join the crowd'. Idiot.

He should never have accepted this mission, not in a million years. The rattling and shaking seemed to lessen and Ezra closed his eyes for a moment, trying to relax his tensed muscles.

"Now or never!" He mumbled with the air of desperation. The violent motion that bolted him out of his concentration made an earthquake pale in comparison, Standish decided.

"One last try," he rallied himself. "You can do this... Close your eyes... relax... let it go... Yes, that's it!"

With a sigh of relief, Ezra got up from the seat he had involuntarily occupied, readied himself to face the world again, opened the door of his confinement and made his way back into the light. The rest of his team mates sat at the far end of the narrow aisle, playing cards, chattering and drinking soda. None of them seemed to have noticed his perils, the length of his absence. Excellent.

"Hey Ez," Buck grinned. "What kept you so long?"

Standish glared at his friend and wanted to give a sniping reply, then saw the can in Wilmington's hand.

This was a long trip. Let Buck find out about the dangers of using the facilities in a driving Greyhound bus all by himself.

"Nothing, Bucklin," he said with a malicious smile.

The End