Fic: All the Myths are True 1/? [G] Abney Park/Torchwood crossover
Title: All the Myths are True
Author: A Lanart
Fandom: Abney Park/Torchwood
Pairing: None as yet
Characters: This part; Abney Park circa 2006/7 - Robert, Kristina, Magdalene, Nathaniel, Jean-Paul - ofc, omc and mention of Jack Harkness
Rating: G
Warnings/Spoilers: crack!fic with DW S1 references.
Summary: Abney Park are a steampunk band with alter-egos as Airship Pirates. It just so happens that all the myths are true; this is the story of Captain Robert, and his merry band.
Disclaimer: None of this is mine except for the freaky plot bunny. I even nicked the title from Abney Park - it kind of seemed appropriate.
A/N: This all stemmed from an image, this one to be exact, which has been cropped to make my icon. I saw it and I thought steampunk Time Agent - well, he is known as Captain Robert. I'm not sure if this piece of crack!fic counts as either bandom or RPF but there are certainly elements of both in it. What it most definately *is*, is pure fantasy.
This is the Abney Park of the first part of the story (it's not the current line up).
And this is the Ophelia (cropped from a picture I downloaded from the Abney Park website)
~*~
All the Myths are True
Seattle 2006
The image on the screen was no less impressive for having been stilled; Big Ben, one of the most famous landmarks in London, shattered by an alien space ship. Robert stared thoughtfully at the screen and wondered whether the time was right for him to become Captain Robert once more, rather than just plain old Robert Brown. They’d even discussed the way to do it after Magdalene’s offhand comment about steampunk, laughing over their beer at his outrageous stories of the Airship Ophelia and its crew of drunken pirates. Robert smiled to himself; what none of them realised was that the Airship Ophelia actually existed, and he really *was* Captain Robert, even if it had been some time ago and a fairly empty title even then. As for the crew of drunken pirates? Well, that remained to be seen, but he was sure that some of them at least would stay with him for the Great Adventure. There was just one thing he needed to accomplish to enable him to take that first bold step on the road that would both resurrect his past and let him live in the future. Now the time had come to do it, he was strangely nervous; he’d lived this life for a long time. He stood up, took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders; nerves had never stopped Captain Robert before and they wouldn’t now. He left the room without another glance at the image on the screen.
*
The box lay on his knees, unearthed from the underground safe in his basement. It wasn’t particularly big, about 12 inches on a side, and looked to all intents and purposes like an everyday version of a safe deposit box. It *was* a safe deposit box, but it certainly wasn’t an everyday version. Robert fitted his fingers into the slight depressions on the side, and waited, unblinking. The box warmed under his touch while a light flashed briefly into his eyes, then it shimmered brightly, growing hotter all the time. He didn’t remove his hands, but he did close his eyes against the light. When he opened them again the box was still on his knee, but it no longer looked the same; it gleamed with an oily sheen that attracted and repelled in equal measure. He ran a hand over the surface and iridescent colours reminiscent of a magpie’s wing rippled in the wake of his fingers’ passage. There was no obvious lock, no seams in the smooth surface; this box was coded to him alone, and would not open for anyone else. It was a long time since he *had* opened it, and he’d only done that once since he’d made a home on earth, when he explained to Kristina that he was, both spatially and temporally, not a local boy... He smiled at the memory; she’d been so delightfully sceptical even while trying to remain open minded. Digging around in his pocket, he finally found his pocket knife and flicked it open. There was only one thing that would open this box, and that was his blood, fresh and warm from his body. A small nick to his thumb gave all he needed, and then the box was almost *humming* where it sat on his knee. The humming stopped as the box suddenly flipped open with a faint click, exposing the contents to any who had the eyes to see. Robert laid the box, now looking like a lump of dead metal once more, down on the floor and leant over to retrieve his prize almost reverently.
Oh, how he’d missed the touch of the leather around his arm, it almost felt like a lover’s caress as he tightened the straps and fastened the buckles. Some of the older agents had laughed at him when they’d first seen his modded wrist device, calling him a throwback and primitive but when they’d realised how much other people admired the workmanship they’d soon changed their tune. It was one of the reasons he’d hidden it; his wrist device was unique, and far too easily traceable. He had not wanted to be traced when he decided to relocate to late 20th century earth, but now he was ready to live a little more dangerously. His fingers flew over the keypad with unforgotten skill as he tried to discover if anyone had been searching for him or if there were any other refugees like him hiding in the temporal and galactic backwater that was early 21st century earth. The results puzzled him a little, and he resolved to investigate further, but first he had a ship to steal. With a smile on his face he began to call up all the information he’d saved about HMS Ophelia. Time passed.
His concentration was finally broken by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Kristina. He raised his head as she opened the door.
“Robert, what are you doing down... oh.” She glanced at his arm, and then back at his face. Robert grinned as he met her eyes.
“Are you ready to be an Airship Pirate?”
~*~
London, sometime in the 1920s
*
As the youngest, newest and most expendable member of Torchwood London, Peter Nichols had been given the thankless task of informing their boss, Evelyn Townley-Welles, of the disappearance of HMS Ophelia. So far the best thing to come out of the ‘meeting’ was that Peter was still standing and in one piece, even if he was quaking in his boots. Evelyn’s temper - and marksmanship - was almost legendary.
“What do you mean, the Ophelia’s gone? How can she be gone? More importantly, how can she be gone from a supposedly top secret location?”
“I don’t know, ma’am,” Peter answered helplessly. No-one had told him exactly how it had happened, beyond half hysterical accounts of a group of strangely dressed people appearing in a flash of light and making off with the ship - in broad daylight no less. He glanced up from his feet far enough to notice that she was tapping her fountain pen on her blotter. This was not a good sign, but as long as she was tapping, she wasn’t shooting, so he counted himself lucky.
“Then I suggest you find out, boy!” She barked at him. “Contact Cardiff and try to speak to that man, Harkness. This is just the sort of thing that lunatic finds interesting. You never know, he could be useful for a change.”
Peter answered the way he was supposed to - without hesitation - even though he had no idea what would happen by following the order. “Very well, ma’am,” he said. Then he mentally kicked himself for being a fool, took a deep breath, and continued. “Erm, ma’am?” He dared a glance up at the woman behind the desk, to find her grey eyes snapping with irritation. He ducked his head again.
“What now?” She growled.
Peter shook just a little bit more - he’d *really* had it now - but he had to say *something* or he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.
“It’s just that Captain Harkness has an..um..reputation.” He was sure she should be able to hear his knees knocking, and tried to will a bit more life into legs that felt more like blancmange than flesh and bone. She didn’t appear to notice, or more likely didn’t care.
“I know. Why do you think I asked *you* to contact him?” Somewhat shocked, Peter’s head jerked upwards to meet his boss’s eyes properly for the first time. The feral grin on her face was not reassuring in the slightest. “Pretty young thing like you - Harkness will never be able to resist and we might actually learn something.”
Peter swallowed, terrified out of his mind, and unable to help the spread of warmth up his face that her words instilled him. Since when had Evelyn Townley-Welles thought that he was a pretty young thing?
“If you say so, ma’am,” he agreed. It was far safer to agree than to risk another bombshell if he dared query anything else.
The smile stretched across her face unpleasantly.
“I do say so. Well get on with it then, it’s not like just *talking* to the man is going to kill you.”
“Yes ma’am. Right away, ma’am.” God help him, he nearly clicked his heels and bowed before he left. He managed to cling to the last vestiges of his composure and nodded instead before making good his escape.
As he leaned back against the door breathing heavily in relief he became aware of a rather odd sound from inside the office. With some bemusement, he realised it was laughter.
*
Aboard the former HMS Ophelia, there was a celebration in progress.
“I can’t believe we did it!” Kristina grabbed Robert and danced him round the main deck once more for posterity while Nathaniel and Magdalene joined in. The music of Ophelia’s engines thrummed beneath their feet.
Robert - now Captain Robert in truth rather than an empty rank - crowed with laughter.
“Believe it! Just take a look around you,” he said.
“I’m looking, I’m looking!”
Robert watched Nathaniel spinning Magdalene round and round happily, her delighted laughter echoing round the room. He glanced down at Kristina to find the same happiness shining in her eyes and squeezed her hand.
A taciturn sounding cough interrupted the moment. Robert swivelled round to see Jean-Paul leaning against the bulkhead, arms folded, and certainly *not* looking happy.
“Sorry to put a damper on all of this, but shouldn’t we be going? I’m sure those people in London are going to be looking very carefully for the Ophelia.”
“Don’t worry so much, Jean-Paul. We can hide any place, any time on the whole damn planet - there’s no *way* they’re going to find us!”
“But we haven’t gone anywhere yet. We’re still above bloody England with far too many nervous people with guns down there for my liking. It’s not that long since 1918, you know,” Jean-Paul grumbled.
“We won’t be here for much longer...” Robert tapped busily on his wrist device. “Here goes - I’d hold onto something if I was you seeing as it’s our first trip...” There was a flash, and the ship rocked around them. Robert grinned as a chorus of complaints about the driving hit his ears; they’d soon learn that when he said hold on, he meant it.
Magdalene was the first to the window, and gasped at the sight that met her eyes. Robert joined her and had to agree that the view was kind of impressive - the forest stretched as far as the eye could see.
“Where are we?” Magdalene asked.
“Still above England, though it isn’t called that at the moment. The right question would have been ‘when are we?’” Robert said with a grin.
“So - when are we?”
“According to my calculations, we should be bang in the middle of the Iron Age. We can relax a little, learn more about this lovely ship and decide just what we want to do with our lives. Anyone remembered the champagne?” There was the sound of frantic rummaging before Robert got an affirmative answer from Nathaniel. Magdalene passed around a selection of mismatched pewter tankards and leather goblets but when Robert raised an eyebrow in silent question she shrugged, and grinned.
“Couldn’t exactly bring glasses, could I? They would have gotten smashed.” He had to agree with the logic of that, and merely held out his hand for his own tankard.
Robert stepped into the middle of the room - the Bridge, he amended to himself - once his cup was filled and raised it in a toast; he was beginning to think he’d made the best decision of his life.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, the world is our oyster and imagination is our only limit. To Ophelia, and our travels aboard her!”
“Ophelia!”
“Ophelia!”
“Ophelia!”
“Ophelia!”
As they drank the happy thrum of engines and propellers reverberated beneath their feet as if the ship herself was happy to be part of this new life. Robert hoped with all his heart that would continue to be true.
Author: A Lanart
Fandom: Abney Park/Torchwood
Pairing: None as yet
Characters: This part; Abney Park circa 2006/7 - Robert, Kristina, Magdalene, Nathaniel, Jean-Paul - ofc, omc and mention of Jack Harkness
Rating: G
Warnings/Spoilers: crack!fic with DW S1 references.
Summary: Abney Park are a steampunk band with alter-egos as Airship Pirates. It just so happens that all the myths are true; this is the story of Captain Robert, and his merry band.
Disclaimer: None of this is mine except for the freaky plot bunny. I even nicked the title from Abney Park - it kind of seemed appropriate.
A/N: This all stemmed from an image, this one to be exact, which has been cropped to make my icon. I saw it and I thought steampunk Time Agent - well, he is known as Captain Robert. I'm not sure if this piece of crack!fic counts as either bandom or RPF but there are certainly elements of both in it. What it most definately *is*, is pure fantasy.
This is the Abney Park of the first part of the story (it's not the current line up).
And this is the Ophelia (cropped from a picture I downloaded from the Abney Park website)
~*~
All the Myths are True
Seattle 2006
The image on the screen was no less impressive for having been stilled; Big Ben, one of the most famous landmarks in London, shattered by an alien space ship. Robert stared thoughtfully at the screen and wondered whether the time was right for him to become Captain Robert once more, rather than just plain old Robert Brown. They’d even discussed the way to do it after Magdalene’s offhand comment about steampunk, laughing over their beer at his outrageous stories of the Airship Ophelia and its crew of drunken pirates. Robert smiled to himself; what none of them realised was that the Airship Ophelia actually existed, and he really *was* Captain Robert, even if it had been some time ago and a fairly empty title even then. As for the crew of drunken pirates? Well, that remained to be seen, but he was sure that some of them at least would stay with him for the Great Adventure. There was just one thing he needed to accomplish to enable him to take that first bold step on the road that would both resurrect his past and let him live in the future. Now the time had come to do it, he was strangely nervous; he’d lived this life for a long time. He stood up, took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders; nerves had never stopped Captain Robert before and they wouldn’t now. He left the room without another glance at the image on the screen.
*
The box lay on his knees, unearthed from the underground safe in his basement. It wasn’t particularly big, about 12 inches on a side, and looked to all intents and purposes like an everyday version of a safe deposit box. It *was* a safe deposit box, but it certainly wasn’t an everyday version. Robert fitted his fingers into the slight depressions on the side, and waited, unblinking. The box warmed under his touch while a light flashed briefly into his eyes, then it shimmered brightly, growing hotter all the time. He didn’t remove his hands, but he did close his eyes against the light. When he opened them again the box was still on his knee, but it no longer looked the same; it gleamed with an oily sheen that attracted and repelled in equal measure. He ran a hand over the surface and iridescent colours reminiscent of a magpie’s wing rippled in the wake of his fingers’ passage. There was no obvious lock, no seams in the smooth surface; this box was coded to him alone, and would not open for anyone else. It was a long time since he *had* opened it, and he’d only done that once since he’d made a home on earth, when he explained to Kristina that he was, both spatially and temporally, not a local boy... He smiled at the memory; she’d been so delightfully sceptical even while trying to remain open minded. Digging around in his pocket, he finally found his pocket knife and flicked it open. There was only one thing that would open this box, and that was his blood, fresh and warm from his body. A small nick to his thumb gave all he needed, and then the box was almost *humming* where it sat on his knee. The humming stopped as the box suddenly flipped open with a faint click, exposing the contents to any who had the eyes to see. Robert laid the box, now looking like a lump of dead metal once more, down on the floor and leant over to retrieve his prize almost reverently.
Oh, how he’d missed the touch of the leather around his arm, it almost felt like a lover’s caress as he tightened the straps and fastened the buckles. Some of the older agents had laughed at him when they’d first seen his modded wrist device, calling him a throwback and primitive but when they’d realised how much other people admired the workmanship they’d soon changed their tune. It was one of the reasons he’d hidden it; his wrist device was unique, and far too easily traceable. He had not wanted to be traced when he decided to relocate to late 20th century earth, but now he was ready to live a little more dangerously. His fingers flew over the keypad with unforgotten skill as he tried to discover if anyone had been searching for him or if there were any other refugees like him hiding in the temporal and galactic backwater that was early 21st century earth. The results puzzled him a little, and he resolved to investigate further, but first he had a ship to steal. With a smile on his face he began to call up all the information he’d saved about HMS Ophelia. Time passed.
His concentration was finally broken by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Kristina. He raised his head as she opened the door.
“Robert, what are you doing down... oh.” She glanced at his arm, and then back at his face. Robert grinned as he met her eyes.
“Are you ready to be an Airship Pirate?”
~*~
London, sometime in the 1920s
*
As the youngest, newest and most expendable member of Torchwood London, Peter Nichols had been given the thankless task of informing their boss, Evelyn Townley-Welles, of the disappearance of HMS Ophelia. So far the best thing to come out of the ‘meeting’ was that Peter was still standing and in one piece, even if he was quaking in his boots. Evelyn’s temper - and marksmanship - was almost legendary.
“What do you mean, the Ophelia’s gone? How can she be gone? More importantly, how can she be gone from a supposedly top secret location?”
“I don’t know, ma’am,” Peter answered helplessly. No-one had told him exactly how it had happened, beyond half hysterical accounts of a group of strangely dressed people appearing in a flash of light and making off with the ship - in broad daylight no less. He glanced up from his feet far enough to notice that she was tapping her fountain pen on her blotter. This was not a good sign, but as long as she was tapping, she wasn’t shooting, so he counted himself lucky.
“Then I suggest you find out, boy!” She barked at him. “Contact Cardiff and try to speak to that man, Harkness. This is just the sort of thing that lunatic finds interesting. You never know, he could be useful for a change.”
Peter answered the way he was supposed to - without hesitation - even though he had no idea what would happen by following the order. “Very well, ma’am,” he said. Then he mentally kicked himself for being a fool, took a deep breath, and continued. “Erm, ma’am?” He dared a glance up at the woman behind the desk, to find her grey eyes snapping with irritation. He ducked his head again.
“What now?” She growled.
Peter shook just a little bit more - he’d *really* had it now - but he had to say *something* or he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.
“It’s just that Captain Harkness has an..um..reputation.” He was sure she should be able to hear his knees knocking, and tried to will a bit more life into legs that felt more like blancmange than flesh and bone. She didn’t appear to notice, or more likely didn’t care.
“I know. Why do you think I asked *you* to contact him?” Somewhat shocked, Peter’s head jerked upwards to meet his boss’s eyes properly for the first time. The feral grin on her face was not reassuring in the slightest. “Pretty young thing like you - Harkness will never be able to resist and we might actually learn something.”
Peter swallowed, terrified out of his mind, and unable to help the spread of warmth up his face that her words instilled him. Since when had Evelyn Townley-Welles thought that he was a pretty young thing?
“If you say so, ma’am,” he agreed. It was far safer to agree than to risk another bombshell if he dared query anything else.
The smile stretched across her face unpleasantly.
“I do say so. Well get on with it then, it’s not like just *talking* to the man is going to kill you.”
“Yes ma’am. Right away, ma’am.” God help him, he nearly clicked his heels and bowed before he left. He managed to cling to the last vestiges of his composure and nodded instead before making good his escape.
As he leaned back against the door breathing heavily in relief he became aware of a rather odd sound from inside the office. With some bemusement, he realised it was laughter.
*
Aboard the former HMS Ophelia, there was a celebration in progress.
“I can’t believe we did it!” Kristina grabbed Robert and danced him round the main deck once more for posterity while Nathaniel and Magdalene joined in. The music of Ophelia’s engines thrummed beneath their feet.
Robert - now Captain Robert in truth rather than an empty rank - crowed with laughter.
“Believe it! Just take a look around you,” he said.
“I’m looking, I’m looking!”
Robert watched Nathaniel spinning Magdalene round and round happily, her delighted laughter echoing round the room. He glanced down at Kristina to find the same happiness shining in her eyes and squeezed her hand.
A taciturn sounding cough interrupted the moment. Robert swivelled round to see Jean-Paul leaning against the bulkhead, arms folded, and certainly *not* looking happy.
“Sorry to put a damper on all of this, but shouldn’t we be going? I’m sure those people in London are going to be looking very carefully for the Ophelia.”
“Don’t worry so much, Jean-Paul. We can hide any place, any time on the whole damn planet - there’s no *way* they’re going to find us!”
“But we haven’t gone anywhere yet. We’re still above bloody England with far too many nervous people with guns down there for my liking. It’s not that long since 1918, you know,” Jean-Paul grumbled.
“We won’t be here for much longer...” Robert tapped busily on his wrist device. “Here goes - I’d hold onto something if I was you seeing as it’s our first trip...” There was a flash, and the ship rocked around them. Robert grinned as a chorus of complaints about the driving hit his ears; they’d soon learn that when he said hold on, he meant it.
Magdalene was the first to the window, and gasped at the sight that met her eyes. Robert joined her and had to agree that the view was kind of impressive - the forest stretched as far as the eye could see.
“Where are we?” Magdalene asked.
“Still above England, though it isn’t called that at the moment. The right question would have been ‘when are we?’” Robert said with a grin.
“So - when are we?”
“According to my calculations, we should be bang in the middle of the Iron Age. We can relax a little, learn more about this lovely ship and decide just what we want to do with our lives. Anyone remembered the champagne?” There was the sound of frantic rummaging before Robert got an affirmative answer from Nathaniel. Magdalene passed around a selection of mismatched pewter tankards and leather goblets but when Robert raised an eyebrow in silent question she shrugged, and grinned.
“Couldn’t exactly bring glasses, could I? They would have gotten smashed.” He had to agree with the logic of that, and merely held out his hand for his own tankard.
Robert stepped into the middle of the room - the Bridge, he amended to himself - once his cup was filled and raised it in a toast; he was beginning to think he’d made the best decision of his life.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, the world is our oyster and imagination is our only limit. To Ophelia, and our travels aboard her!”
“Ophelia!”
“Ophelia!”
“Ophelia!”
“Ophelia!”
As they drank the happy thrum of engines and propellers reverberated beneath their feet as if the ship herself was happy to be part of this new life. Robert hoped with all his heart that would continue to be true.