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Visionary 
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Member Since: Sat Jan 03, 2004
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In Reply To
J. Jonah Jerkson

Member Since: Fri Nov 19, 2004
Posts: 140
Subj: This right here is why I stuck to Star Trek.
Posted: Sun Apr 24, 2011 at 12:30:56 pm EDT (Viewed 347 times)
Reply Subj: The Baroness, Part 59: Doctor Who?
Posted: Sat Apr 23, 2011 at 10:21:22 pm EDT (Viewed 537 times)

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News item: “This upcoming season marks the first time “Doctor Who” has ever been filmed on U.S. soil. The Doctor, played by the plucky Matt Smith, even dons a cowboy hat for some scenes in the Utah desert.”

The Baroness, Part 59 – “Doctor Who?”


Striding through an abandoned warehouse near the Englehart Bridge, Baroness Elizabeth Zemo turned to complain to the Minion, tagging along at her side. “I’’m too late. Vendredi is already taking over in GMY, and there’s nothing left for me. Why was there such a delay in taking over the South Side?” she snarled.

The Minion replied in his usual submissive tones, “I’m sorry, your Excellency, but we didn’t have the manpower to take over the South Side gangs. You only allotted eight henchmen to me, and two of them were over 60 and not exactly fearsome. With so many thugs eliminated in the last three years, even Vendredi relies on revenants to staff his own mob.”

“Who’d think there’d ever be a shortage of mooks and spivs,” the Baroness grumbled. “But I’ve found a solution.” She paused before a thick steel door locked with thick deadbolts. “Be sure your force field is on maximum,” she warned.

Spinning the wheel that undogged the door, Elizabeth Zemo motioned to the Minion to pull the door open, which he did with a maximum of straining, huffing and puffing. As they entered the darkened vault, a cry arose from the 50 occupants: “EXTERMINATE!!!” The air lit up with four dozen death rays spattering against the force fields. Elizabeth stood nonchalantly while the air around her crackled and keened; the Minion dropped to his knees, cowering. A few moments later, the barrage ended and a human stepped over to the light panel and threw the switches on. The floodlights revealed five ranks of ten robotic beings, looking like ambulatory salt shakers studded with spherical protrusions, topped with a tentacle-like stalk bearing a single eye.

“I’m Roni Y. Avis, and these are the Dulleks,” the human announced. “Aren’t they marvelous? Great attitude. Just what you need, your worship.”

In the background, there was a chorus of hums as the Dulleks recharged their death rays. “Well, they certainly have the firepower,” observed the Baroness, “but they aren’t exactly team players. In fact, they just were firing randomly toward the door.”

“That’s just their excitement in being chosen for a mission again. They haven’t had anything to hate for months,” Avis explained in a greasy voice. He went on in a whisper, “In fact, that’s all they do. They get a little wonky, you know, on leave.”

“And how do you fit into this?” the Minion inquired.

“Me? I’m their agent. For ten percent, I find them what they need. Opportunities for mayhem and destruction.”

“And you control them?” wondered the Baroness.

“Of course I control them,” blustered Avis. “All right, boys,” he addressed the Dulleks, “let’s greet your new employer properly.”

A squad of Dulleks rolled forward, raised their weapons, and began muttering, “Kill, hate, destroy . . .” Avis threw himself to the floor. “EXTERMINATE!” The death rays resumed firing. Once again the Zemo force shields held, and the Dulleks eventually ceased fire.

A shaken Roni Y. Avis picked himself up from the floor and resumed his sales pitch. “You see, fantastic fire power. And very reasonable rates also, just $10 per day per Dullek, plus my representation fee.”

“They’re a bunch of maniacal, undisciplined sociopaths,” responded Beth. “How could I possibly use them? It’s like a team of Yurts with blasters. And why are they equipped with bathroom plungers?”

“But they’re programmable sociopaths,” Avis wheedled. “Just take this interface here” – he brandished something that looked like a NTU-150 remote control – “and you can program them to do anything you want – as long as it’s violent, destructive or irrational. And on their down time, they do toilets.”

“I’ll pass,” decided the Baroness. “If I want mindless carnage, I already have the Plaid Rhino on call.” She turned to leave.

“Wait! I’ll make a deal!”

The Baroness kept moving through the doorway. Avis punched a button on the remote, paralyzing the Dulleks, and went after her. Catching her sleeve, he made his pitch before she could slug him. “AllrightallrightI’llrentthemtoyouoncontingency.Nochargeunlessyou’resatisfied!”

“So if they don’t work out, I owe you nothing, and if I decide they do, your normal rate?”

“Yes,yes!” Avis whined.

“Fifty percent.”

“You’re killing me!!” the agent moaned.

“Actually, if that crew doesn’t get some action soon, they’ll be killing you,” the Minion observed.

Avis looked back at the Dulleks, who were starting to stir from the temporary shutdown. “All right, fifty percent, first job only.”

“You recorded that, Minion?”

“Of course, your Excellency.”

Avis moaned pitifully.

Two days later, just outside Westover, Utah, fifty Dulleks rolled over the hard, flat pan of the Bonneville Salt Flats, heading at full speed toward what appeared to be a small hut with Air Force insignia. As they approached, a squad of MP’s emerged and opened fire, first with semiautomatics and then with RPG’s. The bullets merely bounced off the Dulleks’ armor; the RPG’s, the few times they hit the advancing robots head-on, propelled them backwards but hardly damaged them. The advancing robots halted in front of the MP’s and ceased fire to allow their leader to speak. In a metallic voice, it demanded, “Surrender or be exterminated! Hand over the combined orientation fractal engine!”

Before the defenders could reply, a blue, box-like structure appeared between the MP’s and the hut. Surprised, the sergeant in command scrambled to face the intruder. Its door opened and a weedy young man dressed in tweeds, a long plaid muffler and a tan cowboy hat stepped out.

“I say, are you having a bit of trouble with Dulleks?” he asked the sergeant.

Before the soldier could reply, a scream came from the attackers. “Ka Faraq Gatri! Exterminate!”

“Watch out!” exclaimed the visitor, ducking behind the structure as a blistering array of beams blasted against the blue box and ricocheted.

A minute or two later, a white flag waved from behind the blue box, and was almost instantly reduced to ash. However, the Dullek leader noted the gesture and again ordered a cease fire. Rolling forward, he confronted the visitor. “So, Doctor Whom, you recognize our superiority and surrender? Most unusual for you. Most fortunate for me. Now, where is the combined orientation fractal engine?”

The Doctor nonchalantly nodded toward the hangar. “Right over there.”

A pair of Dulleks stood guard over the Doctor as the rest of the platoon rolled quickly toward the hut – and stopped. A set of three stairs led up to the door. The platoon milled around while a few Dulleks circled the hut to find another way in. Failing to do so, they reported to the leader, who rolled himself up to the stairs and tried to tilt himself upwards to climb them. Instead, he teetered backward and fell. A stream of curses came from his speaker; finally, four of his comrades righted him by pulling him upright with their plungers.

Incensed, the leader roared, “Dulleks don’t climb stairs, they destroy them! Fire!” Fifty death ray beams turned the wooden steps into smoke. A team of four Dulleks rolled to the foundation wall, blasted a hole inside, and boosted their comrades inside the hut. A few minutes later, the searchers returned empty handed.

Turning to the Doctor, the leader snarled, “You deceived me! Hand over the engine, now!”

“Hardly, old chap,” replied Doctor Whom. “I placed the engine underneath those stairs, right where I showed you. Looks like it’s gone now, though. Terrible luck for you and all that.”

The Dullek leader launched into a rant threatening unspeakable tortures for the Doctor and the defenders, but before he could order his followers to take action, another box-like structure appeared. This one, though, seemed to be covered in furry white skin with large, random black spots. Its door opened and a woman similarly dressed in white with black spots emerged. “Moo-hah-hah! It’s Doctor Moo!”

“Doctor Moo?” the Dullek leader rasped. “Who is a Doctor Moo, and why does it wear an animal helmet?”

Instead of answering, the bravura bovine lifted a large hose and sprayed the Dulleks with a white fluid. “Mayhem milk!” she exulted. The sticky fluid immobilized the Dulleks and penetrated their armor, causing sparks and smoke to emerge from the helpless robots. Setting the hose down, the diabolical Doctor Moo unholstered her own ray pistol and approached the other Doctor. “Now that I have those clowns out of the way, I’ll take that combined orientation fractal engine.”

“Sorry, my dear, but our friends over there were in a bit of a hurry and disintegrated it. They were quite chagrined and all that.”

“You mean . . . .

“Yes, you creamed the Dulleks without the COFE.”

Playing the part of Baroness Elizabeth Zemo

J. JONAH JERKSON
Voice of the People




A highly enjoyable little farce... Although Dr. whom could have used a companion to play Sherman for him.