Primeval ficlet: "Connor's gone hunting"
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Title: Connor’s gone hunting - humor.
inspired by a fic by Deinonychus_1.
Fandom: Primeval.
Rating: PG-19
Warnings: Connor’s not entirely a purely geeky guy.
Pairings: None.
Characters: Diatryma, Connor, Abby, Cutter.
Spoilers: all of 1-5 of season 1, and the first 1/3 of episode 6 of season 1.
Genre: Humor
Word Count: 528.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters.
Short Summary: Connor may’ve set to go hunting with the guys, but c’mon, Connor?
Author’s note: Anybody catch the references? One tv and one movie.
Note: Yes, that bowling-over strategy was proposed for the South American Terror Birds…but I figure it’d work just as well for Diatryma.
Any typos are entirely my own.
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Here he was, deep in the Forest of - of - of…oh bugger it, he couldn’t be bothered to remember which forest this is. Not with a Diatryma chasing him.
“’They’re herbivores,’” Professor Cutter’d said. “Yeah, and I’m DCI Scott,” Connor muttered as he kept running. His lungs were protesting, the center of his chest hurt, and he knew enough that it was below the heart, so at least he was good there. Hips and knees were on autopilot, not sure if they could survive stopping their race for survival.
No doubt while he was here working to keep more than one step ahead of it, the others were working out how a Diatryma had gotten to England. Island-hopping across the Atlantic, with a stop in Greenland midway?
The wings were vestigial, unlike the Terror Birds of South America which had re-evolved clawed hands. But then, Diatryma didn’t need hands to bowl Connor over -- it leaped forth and shoved him aside with the flat side of its tall and deep beak.
Relief flooded him: he was alive, and he had stopped running. Pain was nipping at relief’s heels, what with the crash into the ground; thankful that there weren’t exposed roots at his landing site. It took some time for his breath to return to him.
Raising his head ever-so-slightly, hoping the bird didn’t strike at the tiniest movement, Connor saw Abby standing there at the top of the rise, less than four yards away and three yards up - saw her out the upper corner of his eyes. Where were you lot five minutes ago? Or ten? Or…? and realized he had no idea how long he’d been running. Adrenaline did things to the body’s sense of time. That and he had no idea how many twists and turns he’d taken through the woods - it felt like a straight line, but the trees didn’t allow for perfect lines…and every little swerving angle added up in the end.
Speaking of ends… Connor thought to himself, wondering where the Diatryma had gone off to. Had it left? Were Dr. Cutter and Stephen standing off to one side, the prehistoric bird tied up and bagged like the protoges of Steve Irwin that they could be, watching and silently laughing at him - unlike what Mr. Irwin would do in this situation.
Taking a deep breath, Connor raised himself to his hands and knee, lifting his head to look fully at Abby -
And was struck in the sides, again by the flat of that damned beak.
The narrow and deep beak was lowered, the curved tip centimeters from the packed dirt ground. He heard what he thought was panting…or the drooling of giant avian predators.
“Aw c’mon,” Abby said, with Dr. Cutter standing alongside her. Very close alongside, now that he thought about it. “Don’t tell me you haven’t seen this movie.”
“What movie?” watching the bird like it was an approaching killer - which it very well could be.
“Yuir joking, right?” Dr. Cutter asked. “Its mandatory in our field.” Connor heard a laugh, and then a, “He’s playing with you.”
One thought ran through Connor’s mind: I am going to kill Helen Cutter.
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The End
The movie Nick referred to was Night At The Museum.
Title: Connor’s gone hunting - humor.
inspired by a fic by Deinonychus_1.
Fandom: Primeval.
Rating: PG-19
Warnings: Connor’s not entirely a purely geeky guy.
Pairings: None.
Characters: Diatryma, Connor, Abby, Cutter.
Spoilers: all of 1-5 of season 1, and the first 1/3 of episode 6 of season 1.
Genre: Humor
Word Count: 528.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters.
Short Summary: Connor may’ve set to go hunting with the guys, but c’mon, Connor?
Author’s note: Anybody catch the references? One tv and one movie.
Note: Yes, that bowling-over strategy was proposed for the South American Terror Birds…but I figure it’d work just as well for Diatryma.
Any typos are entirely my own.
-------------------------------
Here he was, deep in the Forest of - of - of…oh bugger it, he couldn’t be bothered to remember which forest this is. Not with a Diatryma chasing him.
“’They’re herbivores,’” Professor Cutter’d said. “Yeah, and I’m DCI Scott,” Connor muttered as he kept running. His lungs were protesting, the center of his chest hurt, and he knew enough that it was below the heart, so at least he was good there. Hips and knees were on autopilot, not sure if they could survive stopping their race for survival.
No doubt while he was here working to keep more than one step ahead of it, the others were working out how a Diatryma had gotten to England. Island-hopping across the Atlantic, with a stop in Greenland midway?
The wings were vestigial, unlike the Terror Birds of South America which had re-evolved clawed hands. But then, Diatryma didn’t need hands to bowl Connor over -- it leaped forth and shoved him aside with the flat side of its tall and deep beak.
Relief flooded him: he was alive, and he had stopped running. Pain was nipping at relief’s heels, what with the crash into the ground; thankful that there weren’t exposed roots at his landing site. It took some time for his breath to return to him.
Raising his head ever-so-slightly, hoping the bird didn’t strike at the tiniest movement, Connor saw Abby standing there at the top of the rise, less than four yards away and three yards up - saw her out the upper corner of his eyes. Where were you lot five minutes ago? Or ten? Or…? and realized he had no idea how long he’d been running. Adrenaline did things to the body’s sense of time. That and he had no idea how many twists and turns he’d taken through the woods - it felt like a straight line, but the trees didn’t allow for perfect lines…and every little swerving angle added up in the end.
Speaking of ends… Connor thought to himself, wondering where the Diatryma had gone off to. Had it left? Were Dr. Cutter and Stephen standing off to one side, the prehistoric bird tied up and bagged like the protoges of Steve Irwin that they could be, watching and silently laughing at him - unlike what Mr. Irwin would do in this situation.
Taking a deep breath, Connor raised himself to his hands and knee, lifting his head to look fully at Abby -
And was struck in the sides, again by the flat of that damned beak.
The narrow and deep beak was lowered, the curved tip centimeters from the packed dirt ground. He heard what he thought was panting…or the drooling of giant avian predators.
“Aw c’mon,” Abby said, with Dr. Cutter standing alongside her. Very close alongside, now that he thought about it. “Don’t tell me you haven’t seen this movie.”
“What movie?” watching the bird like it was an approaching killer - which it very well could be.
“Yuir joking, right?” Dr. Cutter asked. “Its mandatory in our field.” Connor heard a laugh, and then a, “He’s playing with you.”
One thought ran through Connor’s mind: I am going to kill Helen Cutter.
------------------------------
The End
The movie Nick referred to was Night At The Museum.