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odditycollector Nov. 26th, 2003 05:29 am)
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carmarthen is probably shaking her head about now thinking, "Don't bring me into this travesty. I had nothing to do with this."And she's right. But she also wrote the first unlikely Bond crossover, which eventually led to me doing chemistry and thinking to my self: "But why would James Bond be after Crowley."
So no. This isn't a Bond crossover. (But it has the potential to become a Bond crossover, and that's more than scary enough.)
It was his fifth time performing the ritual, and Theodore was beginning to despair of anything actually happening.
“Anday aikbray etweenbay ethay orldway ithway udblay…”
He had bought the chant from an excommunicated priest in Africa, but he couldn’t pronounce the Latin properly. And it had just sounded stupid in English.
“Ithway udblay eyay allcay, ithway udblay eyay indbay….”
Theodore closed his eyes and raised his arms slowly, summoning the dark powers from across the barriers of beyond and within and without. He counted to ten under his breath and then let his arms fall again. He blew out one of the black candles he had carved with a silver knife under moonlight, and sighed. One day he was going to be the most powerful man in the world, and the denizens of the underworld would beg him for an audience. He would take great pleasure in shunning them.
There was a crack like lightning through the air beside him, and a dark shape appeared in a cloud of sulphur. Theodore gaped for a few moments, and then cried out, “It is I who called you forth into this world, my blood that binds you to my will, my every… um?”
The smoke cleared, and Theodore got his first good look at the demon he had summoned from Hell. He had been expecting something huge and hideous, with tentacles and claws and too many eyes, or a creature formed of shadow that fed on light and happiness, a thing whose roar would shake the life from his bones, and so was completely unprepared to be faced with a good looking man in a tailored suit and expensive sunglasses.
“Uh….”
The demon regarded Theodore for a second, and then looked down at circle which trapped it. “Nice,” it said. “Is that all your blood? Most people just kill a lamb or something.”
“Yeah,” said Theodore. “I’ve been collecting it for a couple months, like my own personal blood bank.” He almost smiled over at the demon before remembering to scowl.
“Um,” he said. “I am your master, Spawn of Satan. You can call me…” Theodore spread his arms, inviting the demon to take in the stainless steel control room of his lair. “Dr. Verruckt.”
There was a strangled choking sound from behind him, but when Theodore turned, the demon was grinning faintly. Obviously impressed.
“German, then, are you?” it said.
“Yes,” said Theodore. “On my grandfather’s side.” He looked severely at the demon. “He was a Nazi, and his evil lives in me, undiluted by blood or time.”
The demon started coughing again. Theodore frowned. “Maybe you’re not used to breathing the air up here?”
The demon coughed again into the back of its hand. It managed to get control, although its shoulders were still shaking. “That must be it,” it agreed.
Theodore nodded, satisfied. “I am Dr. Verruckt,” he continued, ignoring a last splutter from the demon. “And none shall forget that name, for I will burn it into the Earth. The peoples of the world will be mine to command, and those who displease me will be as ants under my feet. There will be a fear etched into the hearts of all men, and that fear will be me, and their women I will take at my choosing, or my whim. For I –”
“Yes, yes,” interrupted the demon. “Immortality, total dominion, the power to smite your enemies into a smoking heap or impregnate nubile virgins; fine. You want to be God.” Theodore glared at it, and it waved its hands in a placatory manner. “Look,” it said, “I’m hardly about to get in the way of a healthy ambition here. It’s just that I’m wondering if there was anything in particular you wanted me for.”
“Um, right.” Theodore struggled to maintain his Evil Glare. “Are you sure you don’t want to hear the rest of my speech?”
The demon tightened its lips. “Maybe later,” it said. “I’ve got an appointment in a few weeks, and I really don’t want to be late.”
“But I spent so long working on it,” Theodore said. “I’m going to give it when I finally take over the world.”
“Perfect,” said the demon. “I’ll tape it off CNN.”
“Oh, okay.” Theodore frowned. “Wait– You get CNN in Hell?”
The demon’s smile widened, and some leftover instinct from the bit of Theodore that had once been an early muskrat wanted to skitter into a dark corner. “Well, they have to find out what’s going on somehow, and I find there’s a great deal less paperwork this way. And it’s great PR.”
“Um?”
“Never mind.” The demon glanced at a sleek black watch of the sort Theodore planned to buy when the world was his currency. “I assume you had a reason for calling me forth and all that?”
“And binding you with my blood to do my bidding? Yes.” Theodore took some papers from a console and set them down quickly in the circle. “I was hoping, uh, that is, if it isn’t too much trouble, if you could look over my plan and see if it’s alright, please?”
The demon stared blankly at him for a few seconds, and then picked up the blueprints. Theodore watched anxiously as it flipped through them, but he couldn’t tell what it was thinking from behind the sunglasses. After a minute it held the papers out to the edge of the circle, and Theodore snatched them back.
“Well?” he asked.
“Hmm,” said the demon. “It’s a good plan, I’ll give you that.”
Theodore sighed in relief. “I knew it,” he said. “I knew I was an Evil Genius.”
“Hmm,” said the demon, noncommittally.
“What is it?” Theodore glanced down at the papers. “What’s wrong? You just said it was good.”
“Well, that’s it right there,” said the demon. “It’s not exactly an Evil plan, now, is it?”
“What do you mean?” said Theodore. “Didn’t you see the part about the stolen nuclear warhead?”
“Sure.”
“And? That’s Evil, isn’t it?”
The demon shrugged. “If it was a really Evil plan,” it said, “you wouldn’t just fire the missiles. You’d make some sort of ridiculous demand first and destroy them when they can’t pay up.”
“But, but, I don’t want to warn them,” stammered Theodore. “I want the world to be confused and frightened and without leadership. This isn’t about any demands.”
“That’s hardly the point,” the demon said. “And this deadly flesh-eating bug you’ve collected?”
“Yeah?”
“Is there an antidote?”
“An intense run of fast-acting antibiotics and immediate removal of any affected tissues?” said Theodore, slightly wary.
The demon shook his head slowly. “No. See, if you’re going to have a disease in an Evil plan, it has to be something with an impossibly effective antidote you keep neatly labelled in a vault somewhere.
Theodore raised a hand to his forehead. “Anything else?”
The demon grinned at him. “You know that secret entrance you’ve got rigged with nerve gas against the possibility of intruders?”
“Let me guess,” said Theodore. “There aren’t any secret entrances in Evil plans.”
“Of course there are,” said the demon. “Very important, your secret entrances. I just wouldn’t defend them with nerve gas, if it were me.”
“And what would you use?”
“Those giant swinging axes are always classic,” it said. “Or monkeys.”
“Monkeys!” Theodore giggled before he could stop himself. “What good are monkeys?”
“Monkeys are pretty dangerous, you know. Some of them can bench press cars. And you could give them weapons.”
“And monkeys are more Evil than nerve gas?”
“Hey, which one of us is expert at this sort of thing?” asked the demon. “Trust me, nothing says ‘Evil’ like ninja monkeys with lightsabers.”
Theodore walked towards the computer console, muttering “Monkeys” and trying to decide if he wanted to laugh or cry.
“Well, Dr. Verrückt, I'll have to go now, but I’ll stop in later to see how you’re getting on.” There was a companionable pat on his shoulder, but when Theodore spun around the demon was back in the circle of blood. It waved cheerfully at him and vanished in a puff of brimstone.
A few hours later, one of Dr. Verrückt’s minions came in to mop up the floor. “There you go,” he said. “I told you you’d get the Evil laughter figured out eventually.”
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The demon’s smile widened, and some leftover instinct from the bit of Theodore that had once been an early muskrat wanted to skitter into a dark corner.
Muskrat! I think 'muskrat' has just joined 'wombat' as 'word that makes me giggle uncontrollably'.
“Trust me, nothing says ‘Evil’ like ninja monkeys with lightsabers.”
Or "Hugely Dorky', for that matter....
I love it. You definitely need to bring Bond in.
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(Although actually, there's a little bit of an Andrew ring to that line, isn't there? Considers this. Wow, you people sure are lucky I'm not doing any more of Crowley responding to summons for the amusement they provide.)
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(Nooooo, you must continue!)
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I'm getting a flash of Austin Powers here.
"We couldn't get any
sharksmonkeys.""What? No monkeys?"
"We have, uh, wombats."
"Are they... Evil wombats?"
And so on.
(Nooooo, you must continue!)
Really? Here I thought it was pretty much becoming an overused plot device all thanks to me.
Maybe it could be a Thing, I guess, if you're so passionate about it. Like "Five people who might have summoned Crowley and then subsequently regretted it."
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Or you could write the bit with James Bond.
Or both!
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It's not exactly fair, is it?
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*cough*writeitwriteit*cough*
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(You know you want to, right? Well, now you do, anyway.)
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You could.
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I'm going to not look at that sidewise and just take it as a compliment, 'cause I'm tired like that.
It's actually quite likely that I will, although only in pieces. I mean, I know how it ends and all, but every time they try to question the strange shoppkeeper in Soho, it turns out they've brought the wrong files, or the photograph isn't of him at all, now that they've gotten a good look at it. And he got quite annoyed when they started checking for insects around his shop, because it may be a tad dusty, but he does keep it clean. He'd hardly let anything around that could make a nest in one of his books, now, would he?
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Woo! Andrew summons Crowley. Oh My God - I feel a fangirlish squeee coming on at the very idea!
SQUEEEEE!
Wow, you people sure are lucky I'm not doing any more of Crowley responding to summons for the amusement they provide.)
No. Nononono! Andrew has got to summon Crowley! Please!
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I know! (The problem would probably be convincing Crowley it's worth answering...)
You should write it!
Because otherwise, you know, I'd start getting weird flashbacks to a young Rupert Giles in my brain, or Wolfram and Hart's more forgotten files, and I don't think anybody needs another Really Dumb Crossover from me right now. (At least until I'm done this one...)
*Waits in terror of plot bunny, but none seem to be coming.* Hah!
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Someone probably killed it (http://www.morbidtendencies.com/gallery/carrionbag.html).
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Oh Look, Another Random Person
I haven't gone through much of your journal yet so I just wanted to ask if these are all short stories or continuing on from somewhere?
Cheers,
Ping.
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Re: Oh Look, Another Random Person
your stories are a scary kind of impressive!
Well, you can't see, but I'm certainly grinning like a scary thing at the compliment. Thanks!
As for the stories, well, mostly they're stand alone -(Although, this one in particular is something of a prologue to a bizarre James Bond idea.) At least in the sense that any fanfic is stand alone, as it could be said to 'continue' from the book or movie I stole the characters from. Crowley's from Good Omens, and I just have a naughty habit of making him respond to summons (http://www.livejournal.com/users/notassuch/1067.html#cutid1). (And, dude, if you want some seriously impressive stories, check out
If you're really planning on going through all my entries, I should warn you that there's a couple frightening things in there. (Or maybe you never watched Captain Planet as a child?..)
Smiles manically into the computer screen. They love me! They really love me!
Also, your icon amuses me greatly. Is it from an actual game?
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Re: Oh Look, Another Random Person
Anywho.
Didn't watch Captain Planet as a child? What are you, mad!? You'd have had to have been packed away in a box to have missed out on that one (GO PLANET!). You don't get that kind of quality in kids' TV shows anymore...
Anyway, this icon? Well, it's from Final Fantasy 1 but I only made it because of 8-Bit Theatre and a mild bout of dementia due to lack of sleep and a hang-over.
Cheers for the link by the by, I'll check out his stories once I'm done here!
Ping.
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Re: Oh Look, Another Random Person
Um.
I find 'mad' to be such an ambigious term. For instance, right now, I'm feeling not much other than tired. However, I'm also attempting to balance a bottle of shampoo on my head. I suppose I believe the viewer should be free to make their own judgements.
And I don't think I talk about maths that much. Goes and pouts.
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Re: Oh Look, Another Random Person
And balancing shampoo on your head is a good kind of mad. In fact most mad is a good kind of mad so it doesn't really work. You know what I mean anyway XP
Ping.