Fic: Mr Benn
Author: bistokids (I can't believe I'm admitting it)
Words: 1547
Rating: White Cortina, as long as you overlook a 'bloody' or two.
Pairings: none. Characters - the usual suspects, sort of.
A/N: Hmm. So, there was this meme . The idea was to write a fic containing three randomly selected elements. In my case, dinosaurs, pirates and retcon. All well and good - I had no idea what retcon meant, but now I think (hope) I do. (Retrospective continuity, apparently, but then you already knew that).
So, here is a Life on Mars fic containing dinosaurs, pirates and (with luck) an example of retcon. It's set shortly before the Camberwick Green ep. Do I need to point out it's total and utter crack!fic?
Sam stepped forward tentatively into a world alight with primary colour. Close behind him, a door clicked softly shut. He turned towards the sound, slightly bemused to see that the door appeared to be set into a wall of solid rock. Slowly, curiously, he scanned his surroundings.
He was standing on a beach of pure golden sand, surrounded on all but the seaward side by dense forests of palms and other tropical foliage. He could feel the fine grains fizzling beneath his feet, and a glance downwards confirmed that he was indeed barefoot. In fact, his ankles and calves were exposed by virtue of the knee-length black velvet trousers that, he was fairly sure, would not have been his usual choice of workwear. Fascinated, he continued his exploration of his attire, discovering a shirt with loose sleeves rounded off by a jauntily patterned waistcoat. This latter had a pocket in which Sam was pleased to discover his warrant card, along with, unexpectedly, a brass fob watch.
As he was replacing these items, his attention was captured by an urgent yell.
“Oi, Tyler!” Sam groaned inwardly, both the voice and the tone depressingly familiar. “When you’ve finished feeling yourself up, maybe you could get your arse over ‘ere and give us a hand.”
“Yes, Guv,” Sam sighed, trudging without enthusiasm away from the cliff, heading towards the small band of people gathered fifty yards or so along the beach. They were all dressed similarly to himself, and he had to admit, even through the blinding headache he was developing in the remorseless glare of the sun, that the Guv was looking the part in a baggy green shirt, a bandanna wrapped round his head.
Sam’s steps faltered as he approached, and he blinked involuntarily, his mind struggling to assimilate what he was seeing. At last, guessing it would be a mistake but unable to contain himself, he spoke.
“What - what are you doing?”
The two men in front of him broke off from their exertions, turning to face him with varying but comparable expressions of deep scorn. The Guv’s response was thick with hitherto uncharted levels of ponderous sarcasm. “Glad you asked me that, Tyler. At the moment we’re transcribing the complete works of Chaucer into Sanskrit. What does it bloody look like we’re doing?”
His companion’s moustache twitched slightly in what Sam assumed was supposed to be a sneer. “Sanskrit, Guv, that’s a good ‘un. We’re digging, you twonk. For treasure.”
Sam took a step back, arranging his face carefully into what he sincerely hoped was an expression of comprehension. “Oh right. Of course. Treasure. Because that’s, er, what pirates do.” He paused, gazing at the two men who were still staring at him, clearly expecting something more. “Um, any luck yet?”
The Guv snorted, his scornful glance turning to fall on the third member of the group, who was standing nearby, brow knitted, scanning a yellowed piece of parchment.
“Not much. Einstein here appears to have a bit of a blind spot when it comes to map-reading.”
Einstein looked up nervously. “I don’t get it, Boss. I’m sure the X is here. Look…” He jabbed randomly at a spot with his index finger, the action increasing his confusion still further. “Oh, hang on.” He rubbed frantically at the spot. “Squashed fly. Bugger it.”
“Chris, you complete div!” the Guv bellowed. Sam turned away, feeling that the broad grin on his face would probably not help to calm matters. He wheeled back round almost immediately, as a piercing scream shattered the stillness and a fourth person came haring out of the dense undergrowth, arms flailing madly. Sam had time to notice both that the newcomer filled out the costume in a pleasingly different way from the others, and that this fact was not lost on the rest of the group.
These pleasant thoughts were immediately banished by the incredible, horrifying word the runner was screaming. Sam turned to the Guv, seeking confirmation. “Did she just say ‘Dinosaur’?”
The Guv did not return his gaze. All his attention was focussed on the trees, which were cracking and ripping as something monstrous surged through and outwards. “I’d say it’s likely,” he answered in a tone of forced calm. As Sam turned back towards the forest, the creature appeared.
As it cleared the undergrowth, it straightened to its full, intimidating stature, towering above the pirate band now huddled together as if this could in some way protect them. Sam estimated it was four or five times their height. Its skin was scaly and dark green, apart from a protrusion of black horn on its head, which swirled down and over its brow, giving the bizarre impression of a quiff.
The dinosaur stalked towards them, taking its time, clearly aware that its quarry had no means of escape. Next to him, Sam could feel the Guv tensing, resisting the almost overpowering urge to run but determined to stand his ground. He glanced at him, taking in the set jaw, the determination masking the fear. The others were displaying a blend of bewilderment, defiance and terror. Sam looked back at the monster advancing inexorably upon them.
Suddenly, he had had enough. Shoving his way to the front of the group, he spread his arms wide, a symbolic if not practical gesture of protection.
“Right,” he declared. “That’s enough!” Fumbling in his pocket, he withdrew his warrant card, brandishing it upward in the general direction of the dinosaur, who looked momentarily nonplussed. “Back off, now! That’s an order.”
Nervous mutterings erupted around him. “Bloody hell, Tyler, are you mad?” the Guv hissed from behind him. Sam felt strongly that now was not the time for that particular discussion. The dinosaur lowered its head to peer closely at Sam, who reeled back at the stench of rotting meat tinged with the faintest hint of Paco Rabanne. The vast jaws gaped wide.
“Guten tag,” the dinosaur said smoothly. Sam attempted a confident smile.
“Hi,” he answered breezily. “Look, I know what it is you’re after. I think we can help each other here. If you’d just follow me…”
He strode off in the direction of the cliff. After a few paces, the realisation dawned that there was no sound from behind him, and he turned. All the others were standing motionless where he had left them, their expressions stunned. Even the dinosaur appeared utterly confused by this turn of events. Sam grinned encouragingly.
“Come on then,” he called. The dinosaur made a movement that could only be described as a shrug, and started to follow. Galvanised into action, the others broke into a run, catching up with Sam, and together they trooped back across the beach.
As they neared the cliff, Sam was relieved to see the door set into it, just as he recalled. He lowered his head, speaking in an urgent whisper.
“There’s a way out just over there. When I say the word, run for it.” He heard a murmur as the message was passed round the group. For Sam, time seemed to slow to a crawl as each step took them that tiny bit closer to safety. His heart pounded in his chest, and he prayed that the dinosaur would not spot the door before they had a chance of escape. One more step…and another…
“Hey.” The deep rasping voice boomed suspiciously across the beach. It was the signal Sam had been waiting for.
“Now!” he yelled, and the five of them took off at a sprint. The dinosaur lumbered after them, slowly at first - its bulk did not lend itself to speedy acceleration. Gradually, though, it picked up pace, and the final dash was a frantic one as the creature steadily gained on them.
Sam reached the door first. “Come on!” he screamed, flinging the door wide. One by one, the others sprinted through, until, with mere feet to spare, Sam slipped through and slammed the door behind him.
He leaned his head against the door, gulping in deep breaths, waiting for his thudding pulse to return to normal. “Bloody hell,” he gasped, turning. “That was…”
The sentence tailed away to nothing as Sam realised to his amazement that he was alone. He was in a small booth, a mirror on one wall, a heavy curtain in front of him. He spun back round. No door.
A gentle cough beside him. As if by magic, a shopkeeper had appeared. “Was everything satisfactory, sir?” the short, bespectacled man asked, holding out his leather jacket. Sam took it automatically. He cleared his throat. “Er, yes. Yes, thank you. Everything was…fine.”
Shrugging on the jacket, he pulled back the curtain and headed out into the street. A sign in front of him read ‘Festive Road’. Turning randomly to the left, he began to walk.
In the crepuscular gloom of a shabby darkened flat, a man twisted and muttered in an uneasy feverish sleep, as the television blared unobserved into the shadows. The jaunty, yet strangely gentle, music of a children’s programme seemed to soothe him, and he lapsed back into a deeper unconsciousness. He was unaware of the reassuring, maternal voice, announcing, “And now on Watch With Mother, let’s pay a visit to Camberwick Green. I wonder who’s in the musical box today?”
Words: 1547
Rating: White Cortina, as long as you overlook a 'bloody' or two.
Pairings: none. Characters - the usual suspects, sort of.
A/N: Hmm. So, there was this meme . The idea was to write a fic containing three randomly selected elements. In my case, dinosaurs, pirates and retcon. All well and good - I had no idea what retcon meant, but now I think (hope) I do. (Retrospective continuity, apparently, but then you already knew that).
So, here is a Life on Mars fic containing dinosaurs, pirates and (with luck) an example of retcon. It's set shortly before the Camberwick Green ep. Do I need to point out it's total and utter crack!fic?
Sam stepped forward tentatively into a world alight with primary colour. Close behind him, a door clicked softly shut. He turned towards the sound, slightly bemused to see that the door appeared to be set into a wall of solid rock. Slowly, curiously, he scanned his surroundings.
He was standing on a beach of pure golden sand, surrounded on all but the seaward side by dense forests of palms and other tropical foliage. He could feel the fine grains fizzling beneath his feet, and a glance downwards confirmed that he was indeed barefoot. In fact, his ankles and calves were exposed by virtue of the knee-length black velvet trousers that, he was fairly sure, would not have been his usual choice of workwear. Fascinated, he continued his exploration of his attire, discovering a shirt with loose sleeves rounded off by a jauntily patterned waistcoat. This latter had a pocket in which Sam was pleased to discover his warrant card, along with, unexpectedly, a brass fob watch.
As he was replacing these items, his attention was captured by an urgent yell.
“Oi, Tyler!” Sam groaned inwardly, both the voice and the tone depressingly familiar. “When you’ve finished feeling yourself up, maybe you could get your arse over ‘ere and give us a hand.”
“Yes, Guv,” Sam sighed, trudging without enthusiasm away from the cliff, heading towards the small band of people gathered fifty yards or so along the beach. They were all dressed similarly to himself, and he had to admit, even through the blinding headache he was developing in the remorseless glare of the sun, that the Guv was looking the part in a baggy green shirt, a bandanna wrapped round his head.
Sam’s steps faltered as he approached, and he blinked involuntarily, his mind struggling to assimilate what he was seeing. At last, guessing it would be a mistake but unable to contain himself, he spoke.
“What - what are you doing?”
The two men in front of him broke off from their exertions, turning to face him with varying but comparable expressions of deep scorn. The Guv’s response was thick with hitherto uncharted levels of ponderous sarcasm. “Glad you asked me that, Tyler. At the moment we’re transcribing the complete works of Chaucer into Sanskrit. What does it bloody look like we’re doing?”
His companion’s moustache twitched slightly in what Sam assumed was supposed to be a sneer. “Sanskrit, Guv, that’s a good ‘un. We’re digging, you twonk. For treasure.”
Sam took a step back, arranging his face carefully into what he sincerely hoped was an expression of comprehension. “Oh right. Of course. Treasure. Because that’s, er, what pirates do.” He paused, gazing at the two men who were still staring at him, clearly expecting something more. “Um, any luck yet?”
The Guv snorted, his scornful glance turning to fall on the third member of the group, who was standing nearby, brow knitted, scanning a yellowed piece of parchment.
“Not much. Einstein here appears to have a bit of a blind spot when it comes to map-reading.”
Einstein looked up nervously. “I don’t get it, Boss. I’m sure the X is here. Look…” He jabbed randomly at a spot with his index finger, the action increasing his confusion still further. “Oh, hang on.” He rubbed frantically at the spot. “Squashed fly. Bugger it.”
“Chris, you complete div!” the Guv bellowed. Sam turned away, feeling that the broad grin on his face would probably not help to calm matters. He wheeled back round almost immediately, as a piercing scream shattered the stillness and a fourth person came haring out of the dense undergrowth, arms flailing madly. Sam had time to notice both that the newcomer filled out the costume in a pleasingly different way from the others, and that this fact was not lost on the rest of the group.
These pleasant thoughts were immediately banished by the incredible, horrifying word the runner was screaming. Sam turned to the Guv, seeking confirmation. “Did she just say ‘Dinosaur’?”
The Guv did not return his gaze. All his attention was focussed on the trees, which were cracking and ripping as something monstrous surged through and outwards. “I’d say it’s likely,” he answered in a tone of forced calm. As Sam turned back towards the forest, the creature appeared.
As it cleared the undergrowth, it straightened to its full, intimidating stature, towering above the pirate band now huddled together as if this could in some way protect them. Sam estimated it was four or five times their height. Its skin was scaly and dark green, apart from a protrusion of black horn on its head, which swirled down and over its brow, giving the bizarre impression of a quiff.
The dinosaur stalked towards them, taking its time, clearly aware that its quarry had no means of escape. Next to him, Sam could feel the Guv tensing, resisting the almost overpowering urge to run but determined to stand his ground. He glanced at him, taking in the set jaw, the determination masking the fear. The others were displaying a blend of bewilderment, defiance and terror. Sam looked back at the monster advancing inexorably upon them.
Suddenly, he had had enough. Shoving his way to the front of the group, he spread his arms wide, a symbolic if not practical gesture of protection.
“Right,” he declared. “That’s enough!” Fumbling in his pocket, he withdrew his warrant card, brandishing it upward in the general direction of the dinosaur, who looked momentarily nonplussed. “Back off, now! That’s an order.”
Nervous mutterings erupted around him. “Bloody hell, Tyler, are you mad?” the Guv hissed from behind him. Sam felt strongly that now was not the time for that particular discussion. The dinosaur lowered its head to peer closely at Sam, who reeled back at the stench of rotting meat tinged with the faintest hint of Paco Rabanne. The vast jaws gaped wide.
“Guten tag,” the dinosaur said smoothly. Sam attempted a confident smile.
“Hi,” he answered breezily. “Look, I know what it is you’re after. I think we can help each other here. If you’d just follow me…”
He strode off in the direction of the cliff. After a few paces, the realisation dawned that there was no sound from behind him, and he turned. All the others were standing motionless where he had left them, their expressions stunned. Even the dinosaur appeared utterly confused by this turn of events. Sam grinned encouragingly.
“Come on then,” he called. The dinosaur made a movement that could only be described as a shrug, and started to follow. Galvanised into action, the others broke into a run, catching up with Sam, and together they trooped back across the beach.
As they neared the cliff, Sam was relieved to see the door set into it, just as he recalled. He lowered his head, speaking in an urgent whisper.
“There’s a way out just over there. When I say the word, run for it.” He heard a murmur as the message was passed round the group. For Sam, time seemed to slow to a crawl as each step took them that tiny bit closer to safety. His heart pounded in his chest, and he prayed that the dinosaur would not spot the door before they had a chance of escape. One more step…and another…
“Hey.” The deep rasping voice boomed suspiciously across the beach. It was the signal Sam had been waiting for.
“Now!” he yelled, and the five of them took off at a sprint. The dinosaur lumbered after them, slowly at first - its bulk did not lend itself to speedy acceleration. Gradually, though, it picked up pace, and the final dash was a frantic one as the creature steadily gained on them.
Sam reached the door first. “Come on!” he screamed, flinging the door wide. One by one, the others sprinted through, until, with mere feet to spare, Sam slipped through and slammed the door behind him.
He leaned his head against the door, gulping in deep breaths, waiting for his thudding pulse to return to normal. “Bloody hell,” he gasped, turning. “That was…”
The sentence tailed away to nothing as Sam realised to his amazement that he was alone. He was in a small booth, a mirror on one wall, a heavy curtain in front of him. He spun back round. No door.
A gentle cough beside him. As if by magic, a shopkeeper had appeared. “Was everything satisfactory, sir?” the short, bespectacled man asked, holding out his leather jacket. Sam took it automatically. He cleared his throat. “Er, yes. Yes, thank you. Everything was…fine.”
Shrugging on the jacket, he pulled back the curtain and headed out into the street. A sign in front of him read ‘Festive Road’. Turning randomly to the left, he began to walk.
In the crepuscular gloom of a shabby darkened flat, a man twisted and muttered in an uneasy feverish sleep, as the television blared unobserved into the shadows. The jaunty, yet strangely gentle, music of a children’s programme seemed to soothe him, and he lapsed back into a deeper unconsciousness. He was unaware of the reassuring, maternal voice, announcing, “And now on Watch With Mother, let’s pay a visit to Camberwick Green. I wonder who’s in the musical box today?”