Firefly/Warehouse 13 Ficlet 1/1
Written for Day 9 of consci_fan_mo and padawanpooh who gave the prompt Firefly/Warehouse 13 ; Mal, Pete Lattimer ; Whoops!
Nothing you recognise is mine
Prior Claim
Mal held his breath as he reached for the glass statue. He was fairly certain he’d disabled all the security protocols, but given his usual luck he couldn’t make any guarantees. He had no idea why Niska should want this ugly piece of go se, but if it made them square Mal was only too happy to acquire it for him.
“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” said a male voice from behind him. Mal cursed under his breath and turned, drawing his gun in the same movement. The man smiled. “That won’t do you much good. That statue belonged to a famous plastic surgeon back on Earth-That-Was. They said he could stop time. He couldn’t, but that could,” he explained, pointing at the statue.
“You think I’m gonna buy a fong luh story like that?” Mal replied.
“Listen to me, please, you don’t want to touch that statue. At least, not yet. Let me drop it in this first,” the man said and indicated a sealed container he was carrying. “My name’s Pete and I touched that thing in 2010, I haven’t aged a day since then. The owner escaped with it and I’ve been tracking it ever since.”
Mal lowered his gun; the guy’s story seemed so crazy that perhaps it was actually true. Would explain why the old Russian wanted it so badly.
“You’ll let me take it afterwards?”
“If you still want it, sure.”
Mal thought about this for a moment. It seemed reasonable enough, if this Pete was on the level. Mal raised his gun again.
“Ok, but no tricks,” he said and stepped aside.
Pete walked forward and picked up the statue, before removing the lid of the container and dropping it into the purple gunk inside. It sparked briefly, as though hooked up to electrical current, and then went still. Pete grinned and reached in to retrieve the statue, which was now covered in the goo.
“Needs cleaning, but here you go,” Pete said as he passed it to Mal. As he did, the statue slipped and time seemed to slow as it went tumbling to the floor. Mal dived to grab it, but it was too late, the statue shattered into tiny pieces.
Mal stood up, pointed his gun at Pete and glared at him. Pete grinned sheepishly and shrugged.
“Whoops?”
Nothing you recognise is mine
Prior Claim
Mal held his breath as he reached for the glass statue. He was fairly certain he’d disabled all the security protocols, but given his usual luck he couldn’t make any guarantees. He had no idea why Niska should want this ugly piece of go se, but if it made them square Mal was only too happy to acquire it for him.
“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” said a male voice from behind him. Mal cursed under his breath and turned, drawing his gun in the same movement. The man smiled. “That won’t do you much good. That statue belonged to a famous plastic surgeon back on Earth-That-Was. They said he could stop time. He couldn’t, but that could,” he explained, pointing at the statue.
“You think I’m gonna buy a fong luh story like that?” Mal replied.
“Listen to me, please, you don’t want to touch that statue. At least, not yet. Let me drop it in this first,” the man said and indicated a sealed container he was carrying. “My name’s Pete and I touched that thing in 2010, I haven’t aged a day since then. The owner escaped with it and I’ve been tracking it ever since.”
Mal lowered his gun; the guy’s story seemed so crazy that perhaps it was actually true. Would explain why the old Russian wanted it so badly.
“You’ll let me take it afterwards?”
“If you still want it, sure.”
Mal thought about this for a moment. It seemed reasonable enough, if this Pete was on the level. Mal raised his gun again.
“Ok, but no tricks,” he said and stepped aside.
Pete walked forward and picked up the statue, before removing the lid of the container and dropping it into the purple gunk inside. It sparked briefly, as though hooked up to electrical current, and then went still. Pete grinned and reached in to retrieve the statue, which was now covered in the goo.
“Needs cleaning, but here you go,” Pete said as he passed it to Mal. As he did, the statue slipped and time seemed to slow as it went tumbling to the floor. Mal dived to grab it, but it was too late, the statue shattered into tiny pieces.
Mal stood up, pointed his gun at Pete and glared at him. Pete grinned sheepishly and shrugged.
“Whoops?”