It is late at night in the Mojave, dark save for the light from a phone coming out of the cab of a small cargo truck with a large bird as its logo. And the headlights of the cars fast approaching said truck parked behind an old billboard. The man on the phone, Jose, was sweating profusely as he was trying to get that crazy Italian woman to help him out of this jam. "What do you mean it will be fine?!"

Circe was very calm on the other end, "Because it will be fine. Do you know what yer hauling?"

Jose eyed what he was sure were ATF agents just waiting to jump out of their cars to bust him as he growls, "Yes."

Rather then taking is seriously the annoying woman's tone was teasing, "So they ain't gonna bust ya fer foam and rubber."

"Quê?!"
He is very confused and that horrible woman on the other end is laughing at him.

"Sorry ta break it ta ya but yer hauling props, cheap props no less."


"Quê?"


"It is called Red Herring. Congratulations, yer it. And thank ya fer being on the line this long, yer dangerous contacts on yer phone are ab b b b b,"
and the connection dropped as the virus Circe put on the cheap smart phone did its work. There was a reason she give him the phone. Jose was cut off and all the illicit contacts on his telephone were over written. In some cases with pornographic telephone numbers instead.

Circe was sitting at a park bench in Sacramento, packing up the mobile hotspot she'd used to help send the virus to the decoy. She dialed her sort of mundy boss, "Hey man, it went great!" Circe pauses as she listens, "Yes yes, ya foiled yer sitcom nemesis," there is angry words from the phone, "It IS a good description. Aaaand I told ya me givin' ya props was a good thing."

Silence. Then something was said to Circe, "Oh ho ho ho ho, I am so very proud of you right now! But where would we get that much smoked herring?"

The reply was a muffled groan as her boss had stumbled into a pun.