Life at FANWOOD: Season Three

Episode 2.3: Space...

Loki shrugged as he glanced at the wide-eyed, hyperventilating London on the floor of the bridge as Khan kneeled beside her.  “Well, I’m not sure what happened,” he replied.

“What do you mean?  Over.”

“I mean I don’t remember anything.  She apparently knew me, but I didn’t know her.”

The Director paused.  “You mean that you don’t remember anything?”

“I remember Tom.  Is he my brother?”

There was another pause and London stood up.  “Yes and no,” she replied slowly, “Yes as in he’s the closest thing you have to a brother in FANWOOD.  And no because… he’s… not.”

“I beg your pardon?” Loki asked.

“Well,” London began, “He’s not your brother, but he treats you like you are his brother.  Kinda.  Sorta.  No, he’s not your brother.”

“You lost me,” Loki said.

“Do you think we could continue this discussion on the Vengeance?” Khan asked as he fiddled with buttons and controls on a wall panel.

 -

“Hello?” Paris asked the walkie-talkie as she repeatedly clicked the button on the side, “HELLO?!”

“What happened?” The Director asked.

“It cut out,” she explained as she lowered the device to the table, “I can’t get them back.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have a long enough range.  They are in space, after all,” The Director suggested as he stared at the paper and pencil.

Paris glared at him and said, “You’re the author.  You write.  Create a wider range for the walkie-talkie.  Now.”

“Excuse me,” John the hedgehog said as he brushed crumbs from his sweater, “Do you mind if we fix this first?”

“What’s to fix?” The Director asked as he leaned back in his chair, “I’m the author.  I can do anything.  I can change people’s thoughts.  I can-”

He didn’t finish.

Paris hauled him out of his chair and slammed him face-first into a wall and Christine twisted his arm behind his back.

“Ow.  Ow,” he muttered in pain as his face was pressed up against the wall.

“I really don’t like you right now,” Paris growled through gritted teeth.

“Me neither,” Christine agreed, “Can I dislocate his shoulder?”

“NO.  Wait.  Stop.  I’m sorry.  I’ve just never been in control of this kind of power before, you know?” he asked.

“No, I don’t know.  I only know that you are one lab accident away from being a super villain,” Paris said.

“Not a lab accident.  Just a sentence or two,” Christine muttered angrily as she released him and smacked him on the back of his head.

Paris shoved The Director back in his chair and ordered, “Now get the walkie-talkie back online.”

He made a face at the pencil and paper, huffed, and then wrote deliberately, pausing now and then to think or erase a mistake.  When he finally put the pencil down, he had written about three paragraphs.

“What was so important that it took more than one paragraph?” John asked.

The Director glared at John and crossed his arms.  He looked at Paris and said, “That should work now.”

Paris grabbed the walkie-talkie, pressed the button, and said, “Hello, London?  Loki?  Khan?  Over.”

Static replied.

“London, come in.  Over.”

Static.

Paris stared at the table serenely as she listened to the static.  “LONDON, YOU TOADSTOOL! PICK UP THE STUPID WALKIE-TALKIE NOW!  DO YOU HEAR ME?!” she exploded.

“Paris,” Christine said soothingly as she gently took the machine from her and sat her in a chair, “It’s okay.  They probably forgot to beam it over with them.  Don’t worry.”

Paris sighed worriedly, as if she was going to cry, put her arms on the table, and lay her head on them like a pillow.

 Krrch!

“Who is this?  Over,” London’s voice asked over the speaker.

Paris sat bolt upright and at attention.  Then she grabbed the walkie-talkie as she stood up.  “London?  This is Paris.”

Silence.

“You’re kidding, right?” London asked.

“What?”

“Two months, Paris.  Two months.”

“No.  No, I just spoke with you less than ten minutes ago,” Paris said in confusion.

“Two.  Months.  In space.  With two super villains.  It feels like five years.”

Paris slowly turned to The Director, who was nonchalantly spinning the paper on the table.