Marcus L. Rowland (ffutures) wrote,
Marcus L. Rowland
ffutures

Fanfic: Agents of the COA - Trainee

Agents of the COA is a multi-author story about the "agents" who make fanfic (and Twisting the Hellmouth's "Crossing Over Awards" in particular) happen. It's a very silly idea, so I decided to add a chapter.




All characters belong to their respective creators, production companies, etc. who aren't me. This story may not be distributed on a profit-making basis.


Trainee

By Marcus L. Rowland


"You have to remember," said Agent J, smoothing her black Armani suit and peering through the trees towards a clearing that was about to see some action "that he's everyone's favourite character for this sort of thing. We're bound to have to work with him occasionally. It's a shame that it has to be so early in your career."

"Shhh..." said the similarly dressed Agent T. "I can hear someone running out there."

J listened, and whispered "Right. Get down behind the bushes, they mustn't see us."

Warren ran into the clearing, and vines shot out to entangle him. A moment later Willow glided into view. black veigned and radiating an aura of evil. The other Agent tensed, and J put her arm over her shoulder to comfort her, whispering "This doesn't take long, then we can get to work."

On set Willow said "Bored now." Warren's skin vanished, instantly flayed from his body. He stood there shrieking for a moment, then burst into flames and vanished in a puff of smoke. Willow teleported away, the watching Scoobies turned to head back to Sunnydale.

"And cut," said J, pushing a button on the elaborate remote all Agents carried. The rising cloud of smoke halted, and the Scoobies leaving the clearing froze, their backs to the Agents.

"That was hard to watch," said T, "So much pain."

"She'll get better," said J. "She needs time to heal, and that nice Kennedy girl will help a lot. But we've got other fish to fry."

"Okay," said T, "let's get on with it. We'll need spell reversal first." She pushed one of the buttons on her own remote and the smoke swirled back down, reforming as the flayed Warren. He stood, still pinned by the vines, screaming with pain.

"Better freeze him for a moment," said J, after she'd watched for a few seconds. "It's a delicate procedure and if we get it wrong someone's going to notice."

"Oh... yeah, I guess." T pressed another button, adding "Sorry, I'll try to be more professional."

"Sometimes I forget how new you are to this game," said J. "Never mind, this really won't take long." She put on rubber gloves, opened her black briefcase, and took out a soft grey pod. about the size of a grapefruit, pressing it into Warren's chest under the ribs. It silently vanished into his body.

"Better get his skin back on," said T. "Spell reversal again?"

"Not this time," said J. "We're changing his appearance considerably, it'll have to be cloned skin. If props are doing their job properly it should be ready about..." there was a shimmering noise, not wholly unlike a Star Trek transporter, and the flaccid skin appeared on a wooden rack "...now."

"How do we get it on?" asked T.

"Slit it up the back and staple him in," said J.

"You're kidding."

"Of course I'm kidding," said J. "After all, he's not going to be in a slasher movie. Use the teleport setting and beam him into it. But we have to lay it flat first."

"Oh, right." T. They laid out the flattened skin.

"I'll do it this time," said J. "it's a little tricky with the change in position and the need to fit him in correctly." She set the controls, making sure that T saw exactly what she was doing. "Get it?"

"I think so."

"Okay, I'll reverse it and you give it a try." The skin deflated again, and Warren reappeared, still flayed.

"Like this... and this... and this," said T. Warren vanished again and reappeared inside the skin. There was something odd about the shape.

"Upside down," said J, reversing it again. "You had the skin face up and the body face down."

"Damn. Let's try that again." Warren vanished and reappeared inside the skin, this time the right way up.

"Pretty good," said J, inspecting the body. "A bit baggy in the ass, but I doubt anyone will notice."

"Okay," said J. "Freeze him for now, we've got to move him to another set." T used her remote while J worked her wrist radio and said "Beam us out of here, and prep the shuttle. We've got a mining ship to catch."

* * * * *


"Which one?" asked T, looking around the untidy mess room and the frozen crew.

"Him," said J. "Kane. We'll need to put Warren into his clothes, then keep him frozen him until we can deal with the medical problem. After that casting wants him for some Ripper slash set in the seventies."

"No problem," said T, beaming Kane out of his clothes and into their shuttle, and Warren into the clothes.

"Okay," said J, looking around the set. "Our work here is done. Time for our break."

They walked off the set, and the door closed behind them. On set everyone began moving again.

Ellen Ripley looked around at her crew; Dallas, Lambert, Brett, Ash, Parker, and Ka... Warren. Why had she thought... The errant train of thought vanished from her mind. Warren was looking a lot better now that the alien parasite was dead, and in a few hours they'd all be back in hibernation, en route to Earth.

Suddenly Warren grimaced. Ripley asked "What's wrong?", and Lambert said "What's the matter?"

In a strained voice Warren said "I don't know... I'm getting cramps," groaned, and clutched the table.

"Breathe deeply," said Ash.

Warren screamed and said "Oh God, it hurts so bad. It hurts. It hurts." He lurched to his feet.

"What is it. What hurts." asked Brett.

Warren fell back in his chair, screaming "Ohmygooaaaahh." His chest burst open, and blood sprayed out, followed by a head the size of a fist.

* * * * *


In the echoing corridors of the Nostromo, heading back to their shuttle, the Agents heard his cries.

"What happens next, Joyce?" asked Agent T.

"He takes a few minutes to die," said J, "then I think they have him pencilled in for serial killer / victim of the week in a Dexter crossover after that, but someone else will be handling it. Fancy a cappucino?"

"Wait a minute," said Agent T, abruptly stopping, "Weren't we supposed to erase his memory before the scene started? He'd going to die knowing that we put him there, and that he's fated to die in agony, again and again."

"I don't have a problem with that, considering he shot my daughter. Do you, Tara?"

"A little, maybe. But I guess I can live with it."

"Fine. Let's get that coffee."

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