Inside Out

Celebs:

Keira Knightley.

Codes:

MF, oral, violence.

Standard disclaimer- This story is a satirical fantasy. This story is fictional, even though its plot and characters are based on real events and people. All characters based on real people are idealized. Any celebrities in the story are impersonated- poorly. I the author have no actual connection to any celebrity mentioned in this story other than being their fan, and I acknowledge that they do not act in real life the way my characters based on them do. This story was not written for financial profit and I expect none from it. This story contains controversial adult themes and situations, so it should not be read by those who are close-minded or under age 18.

Intro:

Welcome, readers. This story is a somewhat overdue part of my ongoing celebrity fanfiction saga. It tells the origin of a setting I have used several times, and that of the character that is my avatar in the series. The sex in this story takes a while to happen, as there is much background, but it does occur. All readers are encouraged to send feedback. I would appreciate it. Votes are great too (one per person please).

I want to thank all who have helped and influenced me in the writing of this story. In particular, those who created and have written fanfiction for the animated series 'Gargoyles'. I wrote fanfiction for that series a long time ago, and even though I have since abandoned it I still treasure many of the things I learned. 'Gargoyles' was one of the most awesome and underrated creations Disney ever put out, and I incorporate it into my writing once again with this tale. All of its concepts and characters belong to Disney, and to the series creator Greg Weisman. They do not belong to me. If you too are a fan of these characters, or if you remember me from the 'Gargoyles' fanfiction days, feel free to say so in feedback. I hope all will enjoy.

***

Inside Out

London, England. July 2003.

"...and then Britney Spears dropped her pants!" the fop in the tan suit declared. "Can you believe it? I actually saw her in public, and she dropped her pants!"

"Excuse me, Mr. Shaw," the man walking next to him said with a growl as they exited Heathrow Airport's main terminal. "Please shut your mouth."

"Mr. Shaw? Doug, we've known each other for almost a day now. I was hoping you'd call me Dave."

"Okay. Dave." Doug Ramsay frowned and adjusted his glasses with his left hand's knuckles. He was a stocky pale-skinned man with thick light brown hair and rugged good looks. He wore dark blue jeans, a black button down shirt, and a tan hunting jacket. A navy blue rucksack was on his back, a green duffel bag was tucked over his left shoulder, and a large red suitcase was in his right hand. The blond fop, Dave Shaw, was also carrying several pieces of luggage. They both had just stepped off a flight to London from the United States.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, Dave..." Doug coughed to secure his companion's attention. "You have not shut up about celebrities and celebrity gossip since we met standing in line to get our boarding passes. I cringed when I found out we were sitting together on the same plane. Almost seven waking hours in the air, and you have barely paused to take a breath! I get it. You like celebrities. I need you to please stop thrusting their foibles in my face!"

"Hey, I let you read your book, didn't I?"

Doug glanced at the novel he held in his left hand. "Yes, but it wasn't the most effective distraction."

"I'm sorry, okay? I thought you liked celebrities too. You were telling that tall beautiful girl who was with you at the ticket counter that you think they're 'legendary figures in the modern world'."

"I do think that, but there are limits. You jumped in on Cat's and my conversation all through security, and you've been rambling on about celebrities ever since. I've never met anyone so psychotic about them. Now that we're on the ground and outside this airport, I think it's time you and I went our separate ways."

"Okay," Dave said after a pause, "if you think that's the way it has to be. But you've told me almost nothing of yourself! For instance, what are you doing in my native London?"

Doug frowned, wondering how to reply. He disliked Dave, but he could not ignore any opportunity to secure a customer.

"Come on," Dave urged him. "You must have some reason for leaving that girl behind."

"Cat and I are just friends, Dave. It's not what you're thinking. We live very different lives." He wasn't about to add that Cat was a recently qualified Olympic athlete and he felt what little they had between them could never compete with that. If Dave found out Doug knew a celebrity, the fop would really go bananas.

"Why did you move here then?"

"In my life I have traveled the world and seen many cities. London is one of my favorites. I like the sense of camaraderie there is here, especially in the wake of a victory." It was the best response he could think up.

Dave grinned. "Oh. Are you a Manchester fan too?"

"Yeah, I love soccer. Football, I mean football." Doug saw Dave's open mouth and quickly corrected himself. "I also love the music and the theater. Whether it's the arts, sports, or more mundane victories like combat or business success, there's always some reason for celebrating here in London. I want to be a part of that by moving to the city and opening my own club."

"Oh? A gentlemen's club?"

"Only in that I expect all men who visit to act like gentlemen."

"A normal club, then. Will it be a disco?"

"No, a dance club. The disco era is over. I also plan for it to include a bar, restaurant, game area, and meeting rooms for the open-minded."

"Does that last part mean what I think it means?"

"Maybe," Doug said, shrugging. "You'll have to visit and find out."

"I believe I shall." Dave stuck a business card between the pages of Doug's novel. "There's my number. Call me when your club opens and I'll stop by."

"I'll do that," Doug replied, keeping his tone civil. "Bring your friends. You probably know more people in London than I do."

"Aye, I do. You sure you don't need my help opening your club? This town can be a tough environment for newcomers."

"Thanks but no thanks. I have some connections I'm meeting that should be of aid."

"Like that man over there?"

Doug looked and saw a black Rolls Royce idling at the curb among several taxis. A beefy pug-nosed man in khaki pants, a black sweatshirt, and a tan duster stood beside it holding a sign that bore Doug's name. He had a black Houston Astros cap tucked over his face. The man was being ignored by almost everyone around him, including airport security officers who had asked other people waiting in the area to move on.

"That's Elizabeth Swann sitting inside his car, if I'm not mistaken," Dave said. He leaned close over Doug's shoulder as Doug stared at the Rolls. "Do you know her?"

Doug turned his attention to the woman in the car's backseat. He could see her clearly through the lightly tinted windows. She was thin yet shapely in her white blouse and black felt coat. Small breasts sat high on her chest amid well-defined muscles. Long curly brown hair framed her angelic features and cool brown orbs stared back at him as her mouth twitched into a smile. Doug blinked his own blue eyes in recognition and found that all his frustration with talk about celebrities was suddenly gone. He turned and glared at Dave.

"Her name is Keira Knightley," he said. "I would use celebrities' real names when talking about them. Not the names of the characters they've made famous. Unless you want to piss people off."

Dave put his free hand on his chest. "Sorry. To repeat my question, do you know her?"

"Not yet," Doug answered, grinning. "I think I'm about to get to."

"Oh? Well, you're welcome to her. She's a bit too boyish in figure for my taste."

"You are blind if you cannot see that she's a beautiful woman. Farewell, Dave."

Dave gaped as Doug stepped away from him. "Fine, farewell!" He huffed a tantrum and walked toward another cab.

Thank goodness, Doug thought, glancing back at him. I thought I would never get rid of that guy! He struggled with his heavy luggage as he strode to the Rolls.

"Mr. Ramsay?" the cabbie asked in a Texas twang, noticing his approach. Doug nodded, and the man in the black cap stepped forward and took his suitcase. "Let me get those." Doug gave him a grateful expression and set his other bags down.

"Have you been waiting long?" he asked the cabbie, glancing again at the passenger who was still eyeing him.

"Not very long." The cabbie walked to the vehicle's trunk and opened it. He stowed Doug's bags as he continued to speak. "How was your flight? Did you have any trouble getting through customs?"

"No. The flight was great, except for my annoying seatmate. If you don't mind me asking, what's your name?"

"Frank Martin." He punctuated the name with an odd hand gesture. "I'm to be your transporter."

Doug smiled and made a return gesture of his own. With these movements, both he and the cabbie told each other they were members of one of the world's most powerful and least known secret societies. It had been formed near the dawn of history, when a group that observed the human race's growing dominance over the planet decided they were in need of a guiding hand. The society sought to acquire and spread knowledge for mankind's benefit, and to promote and secure freedom and charity all over the globe. It did not have an official name, though when they had to call it something its members said 'the Friendship'.

"My transporter?" Doug asked Frank, smiling. "Are you the guy who inspired that action film I saw last year?"

"No," Frank said with a frown. "It's coincidence that I and that film's lead character share the same name and job." He offered his hand to Doug, who shook it. "I'm a transplant from Texas to London like you. I've lived here a number of years."

"Oh? Are you also a reverse Neil Gaiman?"

"If you mean a fantasy writer from America who now lives in England, then no, I'm not. I don't write, and even if I did I probably would not write fantasy. Thrillers are more my style."

"Mine too. I recently published my first."

"Yes, 'Faraway Reality'. I thought it a good first effort for a novelist. I hear you're working on the sequel."

"Yes." Among other things, Doug was an author who had recently caused a stir on international bestselling charts. His first novel had been hailed by critics for its detailed mix of the military thriller and science fiction genres. It was also praised by fans of Neil Gaiman, the popular fantasy author of such stories as 'Neverwhere' and 'American Gods'. This had pleased Doug, who counted Gaiman among the ranks of master writers he could admire but never join.

"I look forward to it." Frank released Doug's hand and gestured at the Rolls. "You'll have to sign my copy of your first book later. For now, your carriage awaits."

"Thank you," Doug said. He let Frank open the car's right rear door for him and then bowed to the woman seated inside. "Ma'am? I'm sorry, but I don't believe we've been personally introduced."

"We haven't," she said, her smile widening at his politeness. Doug could now see that she had very long firm legs clad in red denim. Her British accent was evident. "Keira Knightley."

Doug took her offered hand and kissed it. "I know. I've seen your films. 'Dr. Zhivago', 'Bend it like Beckham', and most recently 'Pirates of the Caribbean'. I think you're a very talented actress, even though you're only eighteen."

"I still have far to go," Keira agreed. "And you are Douglas El—"

"Ramsay, please," Doug cut in. "I'm using my Scottish clan name for professional purposes. I'm sure you can understand. May I sit beside you?"

"Of course." Keira scooted over to accommodate him. As Doug got in and buckled his safety belt, Frank closed the car door and took his place behind the wheel.

"Now as I was saying," Keira addressed Doug, "you are Douglas Ramsay. Twenty-four years old, adopted child of diplomats. You have lived in the United States, Taiwan, and Italy. Your stepfather was among the first official Italian trade representatives to the Republic of China on Taiwan and taught you much about international business. You graduated three years ago from the University of Texas at Austin with a bachelor's in history. Until recently, you were with the Travis County Sheriff's Department in Austin. Medal of Valor, top of your academy class."

"Your father must have given you quite the briefing on me." Keira's father, Will Knightley, was a prominent London actor and local leader of the Friendship.

"Yes. I'm your native guide. Father tells me you're to be a viceroy, like he is."

"That's correct," Doug said. 'Viceroy' was the title the Friendship used for the majority of its high-ranking members. "Are we going to meet your father?"

"Not yet," Keira replied with a sly grin. "He wants to see how you handle yourself on your own first. Frank and I will help you, but we're mainly advisers and observers."

"I see. Is that common with this program?" Doug was referring to a task the Friendship usually undertook on behalf of its up and coming leaders. Members of the society would seek out men and women of ability and help ensure that they rose to positions of influence around the world. These positions were usually in accordance with the individuals' talents and dreams. Neil Gaiman and other artists had benefitted from the program, and so had many politicians, businesspeople, and celebrities. A member offered the program to anyone they noticed displaying talent and devotion to the Friendship's ideals. Doug had accepted such an offer from his stepfather after a few years in the society's ranks.

"It's very common. We like to test our viceroys and make sure the qualities they have are what they seem. Your initiators noted you for intelligence, attention to detail, and imagination. They also said you were a man of honor. Did you develop that during your time as a cop?"

"I like to see myself as a modern knight," Doug replied. He looked at Frank, who was pulling out into traffic, and then turned back to Keira. "Don Quixote and windmills, the whole nine yards. All my life I've tried to live with honor. Sometimes I've strayed from the path, but I always come back. I became a law enforcement officer to secure myself on honor's road, in a life that gave benefit to others. I also developed much skill at physical and verbal combat. I regret I could only take the constant stress of the job for two years. I have great respect for those who continue to work as police officers today."

"As do I." Keira gave him another smile. "Now you're going to be an entertainment mogul?"

"Yes. It's always been my dream to open my own nightclub. I thought of a Las Vegas casino at first, but that seemed too far from the gentleman's path. A dance club in Soho should do me better."

"I hear you also plan to include a pub and game area in the business. Rooms for private meetings too, and a swingers' haven. I would be very interested in that."

"Oh, you would?" Doug raised his eyebrows at Keira's suggestive look.

"Yes," Keira confirmed, grinning. "My family has long been active in the lifestyle. A lot of theater people are."

"That's interesting," Doug replied. His own family members were not swingers. Some of his peers at the Taipei School for International Children had introduced him to that sexually active lifestyle. These friends were from Holland, Japan, Australia, and other nations where the lifestyle had a firm existence on society's fringe.

I'm not as involved in swinging as they were, Doug reflected. I probably never will be. Still, I do enjoy it. "What about you, Frank? Will you visit my club?"

"Yes," the cabbie replied, "but not for the purposes you're discussing. I am faithful to my wife."

"I respect the sanctity of marriage too," Doug said, chuckling. "As much as its participants do, anyway." He looked at Keira. "I must confess that I'm surprised you're the one showing me around London. You must have a very full schedule as the rising young actress that you are."

"Not so much that I can't take time off now and then." Keira crossed her legs and leaned against the door on her side of the backseat. "Father tells me that you dream of celebrities frequenting your club. I thought you should get to know one."

"I'm pleased. In particular that the celebrity is you."

She batted her eyes. "Are you flirting with me?"

Doug put a hand on his heart. "Is it obvious? Forgive me if it's unwelcome. I'm always captivated by your presence on screen."

Keira laughed and put her hand on his. "Be at ease. Your flirting is very welcome. I think you are a nice man whom I might enjoy getting to know." She released his hand. "However, I also believe we should keep our relationship a business one in the beginning."

"Business," Doug repeated. "Very well."

Keira looked at the novel he held. "I notice we share similar tastes in literature. Are you enjoying reading about Duchess Georgiana of Devonshire?"

"Very much," Doug said. He looked at his book, a biography of the historical noblewoman by Amanda Foreman, and then back at Keira. "You know, she reminds me of you. I can see you playing her on screen one of these days."

"Really?" Keira's eyes lit up. "I would love to play her, on stage or in a movie. Georgiana has been one of my primary life influences. She was a very bold intelligent woman."

"Indeed. She was also a beneficiary of the program of which I'm taking advantage."

"Many historical figures have been," Keira agreed. "Da Vinci and other visionaries, your nation's forefathers, and several of my nation's kings and queens."

"Not all of them have been good people, though. There was that Austrian painter."

"Yes." Keira frowned. "Also a certain short Frenchman, a few deplorable Roman emperors, and a cowboy president who as we speak is continuing to plunge your nation into an unpopular war."

"George Bush Jr. isn't as bad as the other examples you gave," Doug defended his fellow Texan. "I believe history may be quicker to undo his damage."

"We'll see. You make a valid point, though. Our society has made its share of mistakes."

"There have also been those who achieved greatness without any direct knowing benefit of our influence," Frank added. "Most of history's religion founders, if I'm not mistaken. Also both President Roosevelts, Stalin, Churchill, Genghis Khan, and entertainers whose ranks include Walt Disney, P.T. Barnum, and the Beatles."

"Well, I'm not any of those people," Doug replied. "I take advantage of opportunities as I see fit, if I believe they can help me. I'm not a mistake either, as I will soon prove."

"I hope so," Keira said. "As your advisers, both Frank and I will be looked upon poorly should you turn out to be a problem."

"You'll be a small one if you do," Frank chimed in when Doug looked his way. "One easy to eliminate, unlike the examples you and Keira quoted. I hope you know that."

"I'm well aware. I assure you both that it is not my goal to cause trouble for the Friendship. I wish to benefit our aims by creating and maintaining a place of refuge and freedom, a sanctuary for culture and art." Doug held up his book. "Georgiana of Devonshire enjoyed such a place in the city of Bath quite often during her lifetime. I wish to create a similar place in London. I know my business will not be alone in its aims, but it will be unique."

"There can never be enough places like that in the world," Keira proclaimed, beaming. "It will be my pleasure to help you establish another."

"Mine as well," Frank agreed.

"Good," Doug thanked them. He looked out the car window at London. They were atop a freeway overpass that exited the airport with a panoramic view of the city spread out beneath. "I believe first I will need some money."