Thirty Days of Drabbles: Day Twelve
For drakemagi 's prompt of "Airwolf meets Dr. Who! Specifically, Dominic meets the Doctor."
Dominic shut down the Lady's APU, popped open the pilot's side door and almost bumped into the tall, skinny man dressed in a tweed suit and a pair of Converse high tops, holding a magazine in his hand.
"Dominic Santini?" the man asked brightly, a huge smile on his face.
"Yeah, who the heck are you? How didya get into the Lair?" Dom demanded.
"I'm the Doctor, a time traveler, came in my magic blue box. Here's proof." As he talked he shook Dominic's hand hard and then handed him the magazine. Dominic looked at the cover. At the top the title read Air & Space Magazine, April/May 2003. The cover photo featured a picture of Airwolf herself, in the lead of a formation with an SR-71 at her right and on her left flanked by a smaller aircraft shaped like a stone age arrowhead cut from obsidian, flying above the clouds. A caption read "Special Black Projects Issue!" and in much smaller type in a corner, "F/HX-19 Airwolf in formation with the SR-71 Blackbird and the F-117 Nighthawk."
Dominic looked from the magazine just in time to see the Doctor pulling himself inside Airwolf. "Hey! You can't go in there!" he shouted, climbing in after him and waving the magazine. "What kinda joke is this anyway?"
"Ah, this is terrific," the Doctor said excitedly, sitting down in Dom's usual seat in the EWO's chair. "Mach 2 plus with a disengaged rotor. It's like a super fast gyrocopter. Plastic aluminum composite radar absorbent hull, semi-sentient adaptive flight and combat modeling software, and look at this. He pushed a button and a narrow tray opened up on Dominic's console. "It's even got its own CD ROM burner! Those won't be common for another ten years or more!"
"Don't touch that! That's worth ten thousand bucks!" Dominic shouted again.
"Well now it is. Twenty years from now you can pick one up for fifty quid at your local big box store," the Doctor said.
"Sure ya can, buddy," Dom said. "Look, what are ya doing here anyway? The Lady ain't for hire."
"You know Archangel, the FIRM director that supports you? Tall fellow, one eye, bit of a limp, obsessed with the color white?"
"What about him?" Dominic asked cautiously.
The Doctor's expression suddenly changed from manically cheerful to dead serious in less time than it took to turn out a light bulb. "Tell me, Mr. Santini. Has he ever mentioned looking for the pieces of a certain Key?"
Dominic shut down the Lady's APU, popped open the pilot's side door and almost bumped into the tall, skinny man dressed in a tweed suit and a pair of Converse high tops, holding a magazine in his hand.
"Dominic Santini?" the man asked brightly, a huge smile on his face.
"Yeah, who the heck are you? How didya get into the Lair?" Dom demanded.
"I'm the Doctor, a time traveler, came in my magic blue box. Here's proof." As he talked he shook Dominic's hand hard and then handed him the magazine. Dominic looked at the cover. At the top the title read Air & Space Magazine, April/May 2003. The cover photo featured a picture of Airwolf herself, in the lead of a formation with an SR-71 at her right and on her left flanked by a smaller aircraft shaped like a stone age arrowhead cut from obsidian, flying above the clouds. A caption read "Special Black Projects Issue!" and in much smaller type in a corner, "F/HX-19 Airwolf in formation with the SR-71 Blackbird and the F-117 Nighthawk."
Dominic looked from the magazine just in time to see the Doctor pulling himself inside Airwolf. "Hey! You can't go in there!" he shouted, climbing in after him and waving the magazine. "What kinda joke is this anyway?"
"Ah, this is terrific," the Doctor said excitedly, sitting down in Dom's usual seat in the EWO's chair. "Mach 2 plus with a disengaged rotor. It's like a super fast gyrocopter. Plastic aluminum composite radar absorbent hull, semi-sentient adaptive flight and combat modeling software, and look at this. He pushed a button and a narrow tray opened up on Dominic's console. "It's even got its own CD ROM burner! Those won't be common for another ten years or more!"
"Don't touch that! That's worth ten thousand bucks!" Dominic shouted again.
"Well now it is. Twenty years from now you can pick one up for fifty quid at your local big box store," the Doctor said.
"Sure ya can, buddy," Dom said. "Look, what are ya doing here anyway? The Lady ain't for hire."
"You know Archangel, the FIRM director that supports you? Tall fellow, one eye, bit of a limp, obsessed with the color white?"
"What about him?" Dominic asked cautiously.
The Doctor's expression suddenly changed from manically cheerful to dead serious in less time than it took to turn out a light bulb. "Tell me, Mr. Santini. Has he ever mentioned looking for the pieces of a certain Key?"