| Home | Most Recent | Categories | Authors | Titles | Help | Search | Log In | |
| Fourth Doctor, Seventh Doctor, Other Era, Multi-Era, Ninth Doctor, Torchwood | |
Crazy Cracky Crossovers by JJPOR [Reviews - 30]  Chapter or Story Author's Notes: Another response to the same livejournal meme, this time requested by greatbriton. The Ninth Doctor helps Agent Dana Scully with her enquiries... Remember, I don't own 'em or profit from 'em, folks. | |
A Federal Case
“FBI! Drop the weapon and keep your hands where I can see them!” The man with the short hair and the leather jacket took his time turning round, the slim silver cylinder still resolutely clutched in his hand.
“I’m sorry,” he said, in some sort of English accent and a tone that suggested he was not sorry at all, “but does this look like a weapon to you?”
“I said, keep your hands where I can see them!” ordered the short redheaded woman with the big gun.
“Or what? You’ll shoot me?” The man spoke with a sort of amused contempt, but the amusement was only skin deep; there was something about his eyes, something haunted and dangerous. “Do you have any idea how much paperwork you’re going to have to fill out if you do that?” He gave a little snort of what might have been exasperation: “Look, if you’ll just let me put my hand in my jacket pocket, I can show you my ID and we can clear this whole thing up.”
“Nice and slowly,” the woman insisted; the gun did not waver, and neither did she. The man gave a little sigh and produced a small leather wallet from his jacket pocket, flashing the blank piece of card contained within in her general direction:
“Agent Smith,” he lied. “Centers for Disease Control. Maybe you’ve heard of us?” The woman’s eyes narrowed:
“You know that’s a blank piece of paper, don’t you?” For a split second, the man looked shocked; then he broke into a toothy grin:
“You know that maybe only one human in a million is immune to the effects of psychic paper, don’t you?” he asked her. “You must have an amazingly sceptical mind, Agent…?”
“So my partner keeps telling me,” she replied, not sharing his smile; she remained all prim, professional calm; the pistol remained pointing at his head, even as she took out her badge and showed it to him; hers was not blank. “Special Agent Scully, FBI. Now drop the weapon.” The man tried a different tack:
“Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m doing wandering around an apartment complex where three people have been found with exploded heads?” he wondered.
“I certainly am, sir,” she assured him. “When you’re in an interrogation room back at the field office.” She risked a glance over her shoulder without taking the gun off him: “Mulder! In here!”
“I made their heads explode,” the man said, calmly. That got her attention:
“You’re confessing to three murders?” she asked, carefully.
“Not murders,” he protested. “Vandalism, maybe. They were androids, you know.”
“Androids?” she asked, a little dubiously. “I saw the blood and brains,” she added, with a touch of anger. The man’s grin only widened:
“I know; the craftsmanship on those things is amazing; attention to detail doesn’t begin cover it.” He glanced at his watch. “Look, those lads in the black suits are probably going to be along in a minute to retrieve their robots, and I’d rather not be here when they arrive; they’d only want to dissect me. So, see you later, Agent Scully; have a fantastic life.” He did something to the silver cylinder in his hand. When Scully woke up, he was long gone.
END
Script for this archive provided by eFiction. Contact our archivists at help@whofic.com. Please read our Terms of Service and Submission Guidelines.