Story [Multi fandom] Drokk, that was brutal [UDC VIII drabbles - completed]

Nice sets with mistaken identities in Dr Who and more and in the last one the various shows from Batman to Criminal minds

 

Thank you for reading, and identifying the subjects of my drabbles.

 

A great series of drabbles!
I really liked Thirsty, I love Alexa's bad jokes so that made me laugh really hard.

I absolutely adored week 6! Malcolm Merlyn and Jack Harkness are such different characters, it was fun to see one confused for another and then to add in River/Dinah, that was perfect!

In the most recent set, Bland was so sweet, but also made me laugh with the meta-ness of it.

 

WEEK VIII


REBELLION

Mitzy finished zipping her wheeled suitcase when the honking outside her bedroom window, heralded the arrival of the Sunshine Cab to take her to the airport.

Prophesies be damned, the Watchers Council could go drokk themselves.

Vampire Slayer or no, she was not hanging around for the Undead hordes to descend on Cleveland.

There was another Hellmouth in California, but she was not going there.

The teenager cast a forlorn gaze over her netball trophies, too heavy to take along; grabbed her favourite plush bear off the bed, and bumped her valise down the stairs to go meet her ride.


REVOLUTION

Space Training.

Stirling Archer, World's deadliest spy, hauled the protesting Ray Gillette from the single person pod within the circular centrifugal force assembly, locking himself in as the other agent scrambled up to the control booth.

Through the window up on the wall, Stirling could see his annoyed colleague.

"This is what you get for pushing in front of me." Ray warned over the intercom.

"Push in?" Stirling laughed, "What're you, six?"

The pod started forward, pressure pressing on Archer's chest as it accelerated. He tried calling Ray off as he blurred past him.

"Ray?" Voom

"Ray!" Voom

"RAY!!!" Voom


FREEDOM

Stirling wouldn't have thought he'd get sick doing this, but he felt it coming up, whilst getting his face massaged by the G's.

"RAY!!! Ohg-" He gagged: Vooooomit!

Liquefied carrots and allsorts (not the licquorice) blew back into his face and painted the canopy, streaming to the back.

Archer struggled to lift his right hand from the armrest, exposing part of his Omicron Spymaster wristwatch.

Phut! An explosive dart punctured the control panel, filling the pod with smoke, but blessedly slowing it enough for him to see Ray's disappointed face.

Archer shakily undid the latch and kicked open the canopy.


MARTYR

Leading his eye-shadowed Goth house-mate through the gathered officers to the front doors of the police station, Lieutenant Backstrom scowled at a sombre-faced young man setting himself up some metres away, placing two coffee flasks at his feet.

"Valentine, you still pick-pocket?" Backstrom enquired. "Of course you do. Get that kid's lighter."

"Shh! Why would you ask me that?" Valentine admonished.

"That kid, idiot looks the martyr type. Twenty dollars says he's gonna douse himself in whatever's in those flasks."

Valentine slapping at his back, Backstrom pushed the revolving door, expecting to see an orange glow reflected in the glass.


VETERAN

Baby Abbiejean in his arms, Archer led her mother, and his girlfriend, Lana Kane, down the airplane aisle to his seats. moaning about another passenger.

"Did you see that guy, using his charm to get bumped up to Business Class?"

"It wasn't just his charm," Lana observed as she walked between the blue seat armrests, looking over the heads of passengers. "he was a veteran as well."

"Yeah, well. That doesn't cut any ice with me; the one we used was not able to save Mother's dog."

Lana rolled her eyes behind him. "That's a veterinarian, you idiot."

"I know!"

 

Love those about Archer, Backstrom and Mitzy

 

earlybird-obi-wan - Thank you for reading. Glad you liked them.

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WEEK NINE

Theme: I wanted to base this week on Alien: Covenant, but it is so recent, that I thought it would count as spoilers; so these are basically Xenomorph-related.



BRIGHT

"So what are we looking for?" I quip tiredly. "Some poo you did earlier?"

"Just watch." The haggard-looking android, Bishop, bades, gesturing out of the thick window into the night.

A bright flash illuminates a geyser of vapour, as well as the mountain-like atmospheric processor beneath it.

"Oh, that's great. Just great." The filthy Colonial Marine, Hudson, turns from the window, his mood immediately dark, like he knows the significance of the light show.

I look at Bishop blankly. "And?"

"Emergency venting."

"So?"

"How long?" Corporal Hicks chimes in.

"How long till what?" My voice breaks. "How long till what?"


STAR

Indiana Jones stepped carefully down the torch-lit corridor, fingers running along the Aramaic script carved into the stone walls as he translated them aloud: "The Star of Nifesta is accessible beyond the field of Alien eggs....what?"

His fingers depressed a piece of stone, and part of the wall rumbled up into the ceiling, revealing a dark chamber filled with about a dozen oval-shaped...things, standing waist height with closed-petal tops.

Beyond them, illuminated by a vertical shaft of light, the largest uncut diamond ever discovered.

Indy shone the light of his flashlight over the apparent eggs' translucent sides.

Inside, something moved.


MAMA

What the hell was that? Indy wondered. He unfurled his bullwhip, the rough, layered leather rasping over his palms and inside his fingers.

Whaap! Harder, clear damage appeared.

Whaap! Now the egg was breached, something apparently wrapped in a slick, placenta-like tissue fell onto the paving stones, something with thin limbs or fingers alternatively contracting into a tighter fist, or expanding to push against the envelope.

Indiana lashed it, yellow ichor spraying the paving as the crab-like creature inside rolled about frantically, the floor steaming in spots. The facehugger abruptly calmed, and scrambled towards its attacker.

"Mama!" Indy blurted, fleeing.


PLEASE

Indy tore into the corridor, thinking how to lose his pursuer.

Shrugging out of his battered leather jacket, he headed towards the Wall of Darts, diamond-shaped holes in the walls that pneumatically fired poison darts.

The archaeologist paused on the threshold, turning to see the creature actually launch itself at him!

He caught it in his jacket, hurriedly balling it up as much as he could, then twisted and flung it down the corridor. Projectiles thudded harmlessly into the airborne bundle before it even landed.

The facehugger crawled free, re-orienting itself to face him.

"Oh, please." Indy grimaced.

He ran.


SHINE

With the self-destruct warning alarms echoing deafeningly, Parker did not immediately realise that Lambert was in trouble.

He carefully laid the shiny silvery oxygen bottle on the cart with its fellows, and reached down to collect the next one, but the slatted floor was bare.

The engineer glanced up, and froze, matching his petrified shipmate.

Lambert was shivering, looking up into the shadows, but already he could see a segmented, reptilian tail coming between the legs of her ragged grey slacks, and curving up behind her.

"Get out of the way, Lambert!" He implored, grabbing up the makeshift flame unit.

 

exciting chase for Indy. Will he survive this?
And the last one with a cliffie too

 

WEEK TEN

Theme: With Roger Moore's passing, this week's theme is around James Bond. And, dedicated to Sir Moore.


RAISE

The Stromberg Lines' cigarette boat with its two passengers, bounced on the waves as they left the Sardinian coast, heading out into the what looked like an empty blue expanse of sea.

Before them like a mirage, the ocean formed a dome, and continued to raise, water streaming down a mixture of opaque black infrastructure, and transparent domes, and then very thick legs became visible as the world famous Stromberg Marine Laboratory rose out of the brine, awaiting James Bond and his Russian counterpart.

The speed boat glided smoothly between the legs, to a still wet dock, sliding alongside it.


JUVENILE

"Oh, grow up, 007." Major Boothroyd, 'Q', chided as he tried to show off his mission-specific wares to the Double-O agent, while Bond manhandled the test weapons, made quips, and made to attack Q's lunch.

The man-child was incorrigible, Q thought with a long-suffering sigh, pulling his plastic-wrapped bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich out of Bond's hands. "That's my lunch, 007! Go raid a fridge!"

"You mean it's real, Q? Doesn't fire a micro-rocket?"

"I'll fire you in a minute. Now pay attention." Boothroyd picked up a chunky metal wristwatch. "Fancy micro-rockets, do you? May I present the Omicron Spymaster!"


MATURE

The lunch car lurched gently from side to side as the Orient Express chugged westwards across Europe towards the French coast.

Mariana Formalovitch sat opposite James Bond, who had liberated her from the Russian Consulate in exchange for the Lector decoder.

The British agent cupped the wine glass between the fingers of his upturned palm, swirling the maroon liquid. He raised the glass to his face and inhaled.

"This is a mature wine, Mrs Somerset." He used her cover name.

"What does that even mean?" She frowned. Aping the way he held his glass, she took a sip of hers.


GROWTH

Grabbing coffees, James and Chief of Staff, Bill Tanner, sat in the break room with several manila files.

Following the attack on their headquarters, where several of their colleagues had been slain, it was a time for growth, to recruit some more agents.

They had a new M, and Moneypenny, one of the field agents who had been with Bond before he had been shot, was now M's secretary and personal assistant.

Tanner ran a finger over the name on his first file. "Lana Kane? Formerly with the International Secret Intelligence Service."

"Well, she's a good field agent." Bond noted.


ELDER

James's guests at the re-union dinner for retired agents, listened as the elder Bond regaled them with his exploits aboard the Stromberg marine laboratory in Sardinia.

Ilya Kuryakin, now even retired from the fashion designing career that he had taken up after leaving UNCLE, asked his ex-partner if they had ever had any sea bases.

"Nope." Napoleon Solo shook his head.

Lana Kane leaned forwards, "We once had to infiltrate an undersea base, disguised as a news crew."

Archer chimed in, "I was-"

"Randy?" Ilya suggested with raised eyebrows.

"Award winning cameraman?" Napoleon followed.

Archer sat back, sulking. "Shut up."

 

Very good range of moods, with the last, of course, floating my boat with Napoleon and Illya. Fun use of Lana and Archer!

 

love how you paid tribute to Roger Moore. His Bond was funny

 

pronker , Mira_Jade , earlybird-obi-wan - thank you for looking in. Much appreciated.

---

WEEK ELEVEN

Theme: Cryptid (creature not accepted by science) and caressing.


GO

"Yowie?" Echoed Mary Formal, E-Branch agent and hunter of vampires. "What the blazes is a yowie?"

"Aussie version of the American Bigfoot." Warrant Officer Bygraves of the Australian Special Air Service, advised as he stirred the stew bubbling over their campfire, while the glowing flames illuminated the front of their nearby cub tent.

"Bigfoot. Bigfoot." The Arcan female tried out the word, eyes narrowed as she hunted through her memory for the word.

It was not one that she commonly used, but she also could not say that it sounded unfamiliar.

She sprang up, face pale. "We have to go!"


WAIT

"Wait!" Bygraves - she would have to ask him his first name - put up a hand, not having left his twin of her folding canvas and metal camping stool.

"Wait?" She echoed into the night. "Wait what?"

He was silent, gazing at her lower half, around knee level.

Mary bent over and brushed self-consciously at her khaki shorts and thighs. "Have I got something on me?"

"Me in a minute." He murmured, then glanced up, smiling. "I was thinking how lovely you looked in that skimpy clobber."

"Thanks. But don't change the subject." She pouted, glancing into the scary wood line.


RISE

He wondered if he had told her about the Yowie, just to get a rise out of her. Well, from her urgency to leave, however impractical at this time of night, he reckoned that had worked.

She stepped to him, and tried to bodily lift him, but the SAS man locked his knees and hips, refusing to rise.

"I don't get paid enough for this." The blonde sniped. "I need to ask for a rise."

"A raise." He corrected. "A rise is what you want a soufflé to do."

"Just be vaguely edible, is all I would want from those."


FOR

"Look, we cannot hike out now." The soldier explained, reaching for her and pulling the standing woman in. "Its pitch black, rough terrain through forest, and at least two miles back to the truck. Besides, Yowies need too much protein for one area to sustain them. They will have ranges of a couple hundred square klicks, so we would have to be incredibly unlucky for one to be around here with us. Lastly, I have me bush knife, and you," his calloused right palm fondly stroked down her leg, eliciting a purr from his woman, "wrestle vampires for a living."


AGAINST

Mary acquiesced to pressing against him, feeling her friend pulling her vest from her waistband, and burrowing his face into the taut flesh of her abdomen, while she absently ran her hands over the red bristles of his recently shorn head, like she was that actress in Ghost, nowhere close to creating a vase with that wet clay spinning between her knees.

"Well, don't drag me out here, and then tell me about monsters. Give me the facts, before we hike in."

"Blimey, you Poms are picky." He mouthed into her belly.

"But alive." She pointed out, alert for trouble.

 

love your continuing story. Mary is funny and quite attractive

 

earlybird-obi-wan , Mira_Jade

Thank you both for reading.

Nice to get such a compliment for Mary, without me needing the skills to describe her visually. Thank you.

 

WEEK TWELVE

Theme: Attempt to stay with Mary and Bygraves.



BREAK

After a while of nothing happening, Bygraves had her calmed, and of course the caressing had helped.

The stew had bubbled noisily, breaking the mood and switching the soldier's attention from her; he ladled out the food into bowls, and getting her to sit first, handed over hers.

She dug in without enthusiasm, used to her centuries-held belief that nothing apart from a living human heart could sustain her. But something happened, unexpected flavour exciting her taste buds. She noticed him watching her intently.

Drool leaking from her mouth, she jabbed at the stew with her spoon. "This is great!"


QUIET

"Best food in two centuries!" She admitted around a gravy-soaked potato that melted in her mouth.

"I've told you a million times not to exaggerate." Bygraves retorted, obviously not suspecting that she was not kidding.

Mary paused eating, a second after he did, seeing his lower jaw come down, but not come back up. "Mwhat?" She mumbled.

Bygraves dug into a pack at his feet, and came up with a handheld disc-player with earphones. "Here, listen to some music."

"Whyyy?"

"Do as you're told."

Watching her push the buds into her ears, Bygraves listened, for he had noticed the quiet.


LIVES

Upon seeing on the display, that the first selection was What's Luv?, she smiled, all prepared to sing along with "What is love? Baby don't hurt me. No more-" when some American-sounding rap artist started swearing about his microphone.

She was grateful for the opportunity to take her earbuds out, when she spotted Bygraves ominously unsheathing his machete and laying it across his lap.

"No." He insisted, glaring intently at her.

Shrugging at him, she obediently put them back in. Whatever was going on, he had gotten them into this, he could handle it. Their lives were in his hands.


DIES

Eight songs later, on what the disc label said was the Now 1 collection, Bygraves' hand tapped her thigh.

She glanced at him, to see him motioning her to take the buds out again.

"It's a bleedin' rollercoaster with you, tonight, isn't it?" She muttered as she held them a couple of inches out from her ears. "What's up?"

"Something close by." He confessed, glancing around. "Place has gone quiet. Too quiet."

"Ger-reat. I've gone camping with one of the Animaniacs."

He shot a look at her. "Are you taking this seriously?"

"As a heart attack. Anything attacks, it dies."


STORY

"If this beastie of yours," She continued, "even dreams of causing trouble, it better wake up and apologise, otherwise I will beat it so bad, it will look like someone pushed it off a three story building."

"Well, not if it's a Yowie!"

"Particularly if it's your Yowie." Mary started scanning over his shoulders, for the parts of the wood line that he could not see. "I'll turn this horror story into vet rescue."

The sound of chirping broke the silence, followed by frogs croaking, then the other outdoor sounds returned, and both campers felt that the threat had receded.

 

Fun story with Mary listening to the music and advice

 

Thank you for reading.

 

WEEK XIII

Theme: Carry On Camping, with Mary and Bygraves, for a third week.


DREAM

"These Yowies of yours." Mary mused, running her finger round the inside of her bowl to sweep up any tasty goodness. "Do they have any natural predators?"

"Have you seen them?" Bygraves retorted.

"Hello, night time!"

"No, they don't. And no-one is trying to keep their numbers down."

"Watch you don't have an uprising." She warned. "Some future version that can speak English, travels back in time from a Yowie-ruled Earth. Planet of the Yowies."

"Yowies have been recorded yelling things." He revealed. "But we reckon they are just imitating what they have heard."

"Oh, like Myna birds." She nodded.


NEGOTIATION

The soldier nodded. "If that should come to pass, we'll get you back over to help negotiate a peace between them and Humankind."

"Oh, sure thing. That old adage about everything in Oz trying to kill you, seems to be a bit of an exaggeration." She licked her finger clean of any of the greasy remains. She nodded towards the tent. "Ready for bed?"

"You have just eaten; don't you have to digest?"

She slapped her forehead. "Oh right, yes. Digesting." A heart a month was the very epitome of light eating. She had never had to bother with digestion.


CONVINCE

Bygraves tensed, his gaze snapping to a point close behind her. "Don't move, Mary."

She froze, leaning over her lap. "You convinced me at 'Don't Move'."

Very slowly, Bygraves pulled the machete across his lap with his left hand, lifting the weapon. "Good girl. You are doing great."

Despite the tension, she felt a shiver of pleasure at his approval.

She felt the breeze as the bladed blurred behind her, chunking into the leaves. She watched him peripherally as he prodded with the weapon, then swept something into the fire.

A snake head, yellow scales reflecting the flames around it.


OVERTHROW

Leaning back, his machete lifted the still-writhing serpent into view.

Mary leaned away from the somehow not yet dead, creature.

"This is a Taipan. Deadliest inland-"

"Nobody cares!" She whined, pointing at the flames. "Throw it on the fire."

"I can show you how to prepare and eat this." Bygraves volunteered with a grin. "Tastes like chicken."

The Arcan shuddered, exaggerating her disgust. "Not even if you managed to overthrow the World, and made eating snakes compulsory." While he appreciated that she could look after herself, she didn't want to overdo that.

"I bought spices. I can make it tasty."


UNITE

"I don't care if you brought Kessel!" She snapped back. "I'm not touching that!"

"We're in the middle of the Outback, Mary. We have to unite to survive."

"It's only two miles to the car, we'll hardly starve. You brought plenty of food, and I've got several packs of noodles in my backpack."

"What if the car doesn't start?"

She jabbed a finger at him, scowling. "Look, don't even joke about that."

"Knowing how to live of the land is a useful skill."

"Alright!" She threw up her hands. "Show me."

Bygraves grinned. "First, get rid of the head."

"Noted."

 

Nice story with Mary having to eat a snake and the discussion with Bygraves

 

"It's only two miles to the car, we'll hardly starve. You brought plenty of food, and I've got several packs of noodles in my backpack."

Why does common sense never prevail in stories? Could it be that *whispers* then we'd have no stories???

 

WEEK XIV

Theme: Criminal Minds. The episode where Spencer Reid did babysitting. And I don't know the name of JJ's kid.

Beginning to end, these were the quickest set of drabbles I have ever done.


TALK

It had been listening to the talk aboard the FBI plane that had undone him, Spencer realised as he kicked the yellow ball across the living room, for JJ's toddler son to chase after, almost fall over in his attempt to stop beside it, then kick it back, at almost any angle except towards the lanky profiler.

"Yay, good shot." Reid encouraged, waving both hands above his head, then striding left past the armchair to retrieve the ball.

"Yay!" Cried the boy.

I'm sure the little drokker has a name; I just don't know it. Nor how old he is.


SILENCE

Reid listened out for the phone.

The parents, his fellow team member, JJ; or her police detective husband, William LeFontaine Jr., were supposed to call before returning to their house, or even just to check in on their child.

JJ had looked at him so dubiously on the plane, when he had suggested he could take care off...nope, drawing a blank here.

LeFontaine was on duty, keeping the city safe. But the girls? All they were doing was drinking and partying; surely JJ could tear herself away to check in.

Spencer glanced at his phone on the coffee table.

Silence.


SMILE

The yellow ball bounced off the toe of his left shoe, but Spence' was too distracted by the phone to notice how accurate...Thingy's aim had been.

He absently booted the ball gently back across the carpet, staring at the silent cell phone.

"The Silence." He paraphrased the Eleventh Doctor's comment to the alien species of that name. "You guys take that seriously, don't you?"

"Run!"

Spencer shot a startled glance at the toddler. "What?"

"I mean us," Whatsit continued in his cute tones, "run!"

"Aww!" Smiling, Reid crossed the room and hugged the boy. "You can imitate the Doctor too!"


LAUGH

The boy laughed in Spencer's arms, and giggled when the FBI profiler ticked his tummy.

Reid settled into the armchair, the kid eventually quieting. "Where's Mommy?"

"Mommy's getting ****-faced!"

"****-faced!"

Reid froze, belatedly remembering his audience. "Um, no. You cannot actually say that. You can say, uh, doodoo-faced."

"Har-har-har!" Little whatever-his-name-is, laughed like a drain at that, almost to the point of hyperventilation.

Spencer was almost at the point of carrying..... whatever, into the kitchen to find a paper bag, when the kid took a breath. "Doodoo-faced!"

"You liked that, huh?"

"You are funny!"

"Yeah, I should be on stage."


CRY

Securing JJ's son to his torso with one forearm, Reid leaned forwards and snatched up the phone, his thumb dialling up Morgan. He cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder whilst cupping Thingy's ears.

"Yeah, what's up Kid?" Derek's voice enquired into his ear.

"Hey Morgan. You have younger siblings, right? You ever used a bad word whilst babysitting?"

"Of course. Occupational hazard."

"How do you get the child to never repeat the word?"

"Wait, you're babysitting JJ's kid. Reid, what did you say?"

"I told him his mommy was getting ****-faced."

Derek could be heard crying with laughter.

 

Criminal minds is one of my favorite shows. Love how Reid does his baby-sitting