I will happily accept any and all forms of C+C, public,
private or
skywritten. Even if it's merely to say "good job" or
"this sucks."
Very well, good job, this does NOT suck... ^_-
I shall strive to guess all the origins of your cameos and
named characters.
Bonus brownie points will be awarded to those cunning and
observant readers
who can identify the series of origin for all of the
named characters. (No
points for Hellsing charas ~_^) The first person to
accurately identify
every character will, in addition to all those nifty
brownie points, receive
a lovingly handcrafted CG image of their anime character
of choice.
Not gonna get all of 'em... but I'll try... ^__^
The tall man announced himself to the stony-faced
attendant, who nodded in
acknowledgement
and took his proffered hat and coat.
"The Minister is in the Red Room, sir."
"Thank you, Cedric," the tall man responded, and made
Don't tell me Cedric is a named character... ^_^;;;
Amidst the Edwardian decor of the room, the Minister
seemed quite at home-
he seemed a figure
>from a bygone era as he sat in the tall, high-backed
chair like a king on
his throne. As the tall man entered,
he rose to his feet and extended a hand. The tall man's
eyes noted a manila
folder bearing the Royal Seal on
the Minister's end table, but put it from his mind just
as quickly. If it
was germane to the crisis at hand, the
Minister would inform him. If not, he would continue to
ignore it.
"Brigadier, very good of you to come so promptly," the
Minister said, his
voice betraying his care-
worn state. His smile was tight, but sincere, and
crinkled the tin,
long-healed scar that bisected his left
eyebrow.
Brigadier... hmmm, need to look at his name to make the
guess.
A sigh, and then- "I'm afraid, Alistair, that what
which we feared has come
to pass."
Ahhh... Brigadier Alistair from 'Doctor Who'.
Lethbridge-Stewart.
Yeap, it's the Brigadier, can't quite place Minister
James, thou... ^_^;;;
Unflinching, he addressed her levelly. "Sergeant Celas
Victoria, late of
the Metropolitan Police,
also late of the now-defunct Protestant Knightly Order of
Hellsing." Her
eyes widened in shock, then flared
redly in angry and, he thought, not a little fear.
Celas of 'Helsing' fame, I guess... ^_^;;;
A sudden stillness filled the chamber, broken only by
the *shick-clack* of
empty magazines being
exchanged for fresh ones and rasping sound of her heavy
breathing. Across a
seemingly-bottomless chasm
stood a colossal golden idol of the Hindu Goddess of
Destruction, her six
black-skinned arms frozen as
though in the midst of a dance. Beneath the idol's
necklace of human skulls,
sat a trio of roughly ovoid
golden crystals, glowing softly as though lit from
within.
Crystals and statue are from
'Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom', ditto with the
temple and the Thuggee cultists.
"Onward, dobbin," Lady Croft said jauntily, pausing only
to drape a thin
blanket across her
shattered, useless legs. The pair swept out of the room
and back into the
main house.
The one and only Lara Croft from Tomb Raider... and
evident from the Glock hand cannons and jump... ^_-
The old man in the pinstriped suit stood at the lonely
gravesite, ignoring
the crisp, damp wind as
his bit into his bare scalp. His posture was slouched;
weight carried
heavily on an umbrella, incongruously
being used as a cane. Groaning, he bent to lay a fresh
bouquet of
carnations, matching the one in his lapel
in front of the stone, then, straightening, he gazed out
across the field of
stones, each a silent monument to
a life ended- some in tragedy and others, in heroism.
hmm... a vet?
It was a damned shame, he reflected, that after all
they'd been through,
all they'd survived, that it
was lung cancer, and not some madman's bullet, that took
her life. Still it
was on the whole, remarkable- he
chuckled ruefully, and not without pain- remarkable
indeed that one of them
had died in their beds.
a male and female partnership in an 'exciting' job
category...
Behind him, someone cleared their throat. He turned,
careful to keep his
weight on the umbrella-
cum-cane. "Hello, Father."
"John," the Brigadier answered. "I thought I'd find you
here, today." He
turned his gaze to the
stone. "No one loved her more than you."
The man with the umbrella chuckled. "One did, Alistair,
one did. And now
she rests next to him."
He cleared his throat and blinked away a stray tear,
placing his bowler hat
firmly on his head as he did so.
"So, what brings you out here today, old friend?"
The Brigadier clapped a hand firmly on his shoulder.
"Mr. Steed, you're
needed."
John Steed... ^_^
Avengers! Pity about Ms Peel, thou... lung cancer is nasty
business.
Lethbridge-Stewart sighed before answering. "We've
never been quite sure;
he was on assignment
in Eastern Europe during the Cold War. He was one of our
top agents, former
SAS, brilliant man. One of
the best men on Her Majesty's Secret Service. Somehow,
his cover was blown,
and the Opposition nabbed
him. After that. . ." The Brigadier shrugged. "He turned
up in 1968, on a
deserted island in the middle of
the Mediterranian. Quite mad. Doesn't even remember his
own name."
ouch... on an island... hmmmm....
"And what make you think he'll be able to help you
now?"
The Brigadier didn't answer, but instead walked slowly
towards the inmate,
maintaining eye
contact all the while. He crouched down beside the
straightjacketed man, and
softly spoke: "Agent 006-"
Oh no... not 'The Prisoner'?...
"I AM NOT A NUMBER! I AM A FREE MAN!!" the madman
shrieked, springing to
his feet and
bowling over the Brigadier.
Yeap... it's the Prisoner...
"Not so," the Brigadier responded. "A letter of
resignation was found in
your luggage, but it was
never posted. You were captured, tortured, drugged-"
Most definately confirmed now...
Their target was a deportee, being shipped to highly
secure custody from
Edwards Air Force Base
in Nevada. A wanted criminal in several nations, he was
the final member of
their team to be recruited. He
had driven a hard bargain, but his talents were
necessary, and Her Majesty's
government had neither the
leverage nor the ability to secure the services of any
equally talented
individual not already in custody.
hmmm... a US criminal...
Several hours later, the stealth plane arrived. Large
men in dark fatigues
bearing no insignia of
rank or country disembarked, leading a man in manacles
and a gag. Triumph
glinted wickedly in the
prisoner's dark eyes as the muzzle-like gag was
unbuckled.
Hannibal Lector?
"Ethan Rayne?" The Brigadier asked sternly.
Ethan... Rayne... errr... it can't be the dude from Buffy:
Vampi Slayer...
"Yes, that's me old chap," the dark eyed man answered
with a grin,
displaying clean white teeth.
He had middling-dark hair worn brushed straight back,
receding slightly at
the temples. With a patrician
nose, high forehead and expressive eyebrows, he seemed
puckish and charming
to Victoria, rather than the
dangerous man he was supposed to be.
Oh dear... It is Ethan, the bloody bugger... is
Ripper(Rupert Giles) going to make an appearance as well
as the Watchers and Slayers?
"Right," the Brigadier snapped, holding out his gloved
hand. One of the
dark-fatigued men
slapped a clipboard into his outstretched hand, and
Lethbridge-Stewart
briskly filled out the forms. With a
final flourish, he signed his name and handed back the
documents. In return,
the soldier handed the
Brigadier a small black metal box, no larger than a
modern cellular phone.
*raises* an eyebrow...
The Brigadier snapped back a perfect salute, and the
soldier about-faced
and broke into a jog back
to the angular black transport. The remaining
dark-fatigued soldier quickly
The Initiative? from BtVS? which means the blackbox...
hmmm.
grudges. Why, some of my best customers have been
vampires! Lovely folk,
quite charming really, just so
long as they're not feeling peckish." He shot her a
most definately BtVS's Ethan Rayne.
flipped a tiny switch on the black box
the soldier had handed to him, and Rayne shrieked,
clutching his head and
convulsing in agony. The
Brigadier let this go on for thirty seconds, then
released the switch. Rayne
immediately stopped convulsing
Heh, Ethan got chipped... just like muffin... err... I
mean Spiky did! ^_^
Inside one such hidden location, reachable only by
means of a
seemingly-obsolescent grille-faced
lift, were sealed the buried secrets of Britannia. The
Ahhh... kind of like the place where they're storing the
'Ark of Covernent' in the states, I take it... ^_-
chamber, -twice as
long as a regulation football pitch
with vaulted ceilings two storeys high- was indifferently
lit by banks of
incandescent light fixtures so old
they might have been shipped from Menlo Park under the
supervision of Edison
himself. In a far corner
lurked the blackened outer hull of a pepperpot-shaped
alien cyborg,
oooh... a Dalek from 'Doctor Who'
cobwebbed like a forgotten suit of
knightly armour abandoned in the dreary halls of a
crumbling castle. Inside
a locked glass case, cloudy with
over a century's worth of dust, sat a small lump of
unremarkable ore, beside
a yellowed label inscribed with
the legend "Cavorite". On a coat rack hung a brown
Cavorite... erm... why do I get an image of H.G. Wells?
Victorian overcoat and
deer stalker hat, worn and
frayed; propped up next to it, a cracked and worn violin
Sherlock Holmes?
case. In a rank of
glassed-in cabinets, strange and
disturbing forms could be half-glimpsed through the dirty
glass; humanoid
lizards labelled "Silurian",
Star Trek novel... the lizards men descended from
dinorsaurs? errr... hmmm... or... hang on... are this
lizardmen from Doctor Who? I seem to vaguely remember
lizardmen in Doctor Who... ^_^;;;
vegetable abominations labelled "Triffids", even a
ah yes... 'Day of the Triffids', a good classic novel,
that one.
doughy, brain-like mass
the size of a pony labelled
"Martian". Closer to the lift doors stood an affair of
bwahahahahahaha. 'World of the Worlds' is included as
well.
tarnished brass,
rusty wrought iron and cracked leather
upholstery, seemingly the demented offspring of a cotton
ginny and a
horseless carriage. Looking closer,
one could still see the faint traces of claw marks on the
front faring, next
oh no....
to the brass placard bearing the
outrageous claim that the contraption was some sort of
"Time Machine".
'The Time Machine' by H. G. Wells... how could you?
A shut, oak-panelled portal stood on the opposite wall
>from the lift, faint
light spilling from
beneath the door. On the other side was a salon that
would not have looked
out of place inside the famed
Diogenes club. The wall held a collection of small
rectangular-framed
portraits in ink, oil and
daguerreotype, bearing names such as the Reverend Doctor
Synn, Sir Alan
I can't place Syn... Alan Quartermain is somewhat famous.
Having books, Novels, comics based on him... heck, he
shows up in the comic that's being released in comic
stores 'The League of Extraordinary People', a very
interesting comic, it is. featuring quite a number of
'fictional' characters and assuming that they are real...
and the martians are there as well... ^___^;;;
"Miss Celas Victoria, soldier and markswoman. A
paradox: a hunter of
vampires who is herself
undead. Last surviving 'child' of the being once known as
Vlad Tepes,
Dracula.
"John Steed, adventurer, epicure and renaissance man,
as deadly with a
blade and pistol as he is
with his wit. He has served Queen and Country faithfully
since the Second
World War.
"Ethan Rayne, magician and criminal. Useful not only
because of his skills,
but also his mindset.
'Set a thief to catch a thief'.
"John Drake, agent of Her Majesty's Secret Service. His
fierce intellect
and indomitable will are
assets in any operation, but especially now.
"Last, but by no means least: Lara Croft,
crypto-archaologist and
adventuress. No man or woman
alive is better at getting in to places she has no
business being, and
getting out alive to tell the tale. Her
experience and tactical knowledge will be essential to
this operation.
And the cast is completed.
Prime Minister. Portsreeve was
a tall man, with a strong jawline and thick dark hair.
His facial hair was
trimmed into a perfectly-groomed
Van Dyke beard. The Brigadier continued: "It is entirely
appropriate to say
that Mr. Portsreeve is the most
powerful private citizen in Britain, and one of the
richest and most
influential businessmen in the world."
And I can't place him.... -_-
an American, born Bruce
Thompkins, a former paramedic from San Francisco.
Thompkins was a widower
who quit his job and
dropped out of sight after the death of his wife in
1999." He clicked the
I still can't place this guy... ^_^;;;
The only person who even approached this description is
'The Master' from Doctor Who... but even so... it can't be
him...
"Plastic surgery and coloured contacts, then?" Lara
asked. "What about his
fingerprints? If
Thompkins was a paramedic, surely his prints were on file
with the San
Francisco emergency services."
Unless all this Bruce Thompkins stuff is just a red
herring you're throwing at us...
a remarkably high rate of turnover, even for media
industries. Additionally,
there is a noticeably higher
statistical rate of employee alcoholism, suicide, drug
addiction and
on-the-job injuries in Portsreeve
ouch... perhaps a mazoku or some such demon has been set
loose on those poor employees?
companies. Individuals in our employ who are known
'sensitives' report a
crushing spiritual malaise
surrounding any Portsreeve building, especially those
built or remodelled
since the beginning of the
decade.
Hmmms...you make Portsreeve sound like a demon type
being...
"Furthermore, many of Portsreeve's associates are
individuals that we've had
our eyes on for some
time. Persons with unusual proclivities, strange talents,
and disturbing
interests. The architect responsible
for the uniform design of Portsreeve buildings, both
inside and out, is one
Constant Drache-" Rayne inhaled
sharply. "You have something to add, Mr. Rayne?"
Ditto with Constant Drache... no sodding clue as well...
but given the way Ethan seems to know and fear him... not
good. Unless he's a descendent from the 'Constantine' line
from 'Hellblazer'...
"John, I'd have to agree," Steed added, his tone
conciliatory. "I once met a
gentleman by the name
of Crow, oh, 'round about ten years or so ago, who showed
me a thing or two,
things which I can scarcely
credit to this day. "
John didn't meet the revelant known as 'The Crow' as
played by Brandon Lee in the movie, 'The Crow'... did he?
The Brigadier rubbed his temple. "No more than is to be
expected, Sir
James. As agreed, I did not
mention the stolen items."
'stolen' items? why do I have a bad feeling here?
The Minister's voice was cold. "Brigadier, this is not
up for debate. *I*
will determine when that
information is made available, and at this moment, your
team does not need
to know."
Sir James as an older 007, James Bond, perhaps?
"Mr. Portsreeve, sir!" The guard snapped to attention
as the head of the
Portsreeve conglomerate
stepped out of his private elevator, immaculately dressed
in a
crisply-tailored black suit which cost as much
as the guard's yearly salary. He strode down the
corridor, each step sending
rifle-shot reports ahead of him.
hmmm... likes to dress in black... could be the master...
but alot of people like to dress in black...
A very unpleasant smile grew on Derek Portsreeve's
face. "Well, well,
Captain Metcalfe," he
addressed the unconcious man. "You may prove to be
useful. Very useful
indeed..."
Captain Metcalfe... the invincible Captain Scarlet? damn
if I know... but the name invokes in me images of puppets
ala Thunderbirds...
But Portsreeve seems like a right bastard ala The Master.
Ah well... I guess I won't be getting the CG art piece
then... ^_^;;;
I do hope to see more of this Sir Menard.
Yours,
Bombadil
Lo and behold and the dark day cameth upon us and we found
ourselves striken and afflicted with a perdition most
peculiar... we had become badly dubbed...
_____________________________
For the best comics, toys, movies, and more,
please visit <http://www.tfaw.com/?qt=wmf>
.---Anime/Manga Fanfiction Mailing List----.
| Administrators - ffml-admins@anifics.com |
| Unsubscribing - ffml-request@anifics.com |
| Put 'unsubscribe' in the subject |
`---- http://ffml.anifics.com/faq.txt -----'