Thunderbirds Are Go!-Something Worse

 

 


THUNDERBIRDS ARE GO!

SOMETHING WORSE

WRITTEN BY ZARIUS

Disclaimer: Thunderbirds is trademarked by ITV Studios. This is for non-profit.


Martin Janus had heard stories.

At first he didn’t believe them.

It wasn’t possible he thought

He never makes a mistake, he never slips up

Part of him was close to cursing the part of his soul that felt the temptation of elation.

Keep yourself in line, it’s not real. It cannot be true.

“I take it you’ve heard?” a voice interrupted from across the dark recesses of the dimly lit prison corridors.

Janus peered through the bars of his cell to find Colonel Casey of the GDF, the woman who had, with International Rescue, exposed him as a fraudster, greeting him.

“About The Hood?” asked Janus.

“The one and the same” Casey replied, “Somebody finally cut the strings off the Puppet Master. He’s in custody now”

Janus closed his eyes very briefly; to permit that portion of his soul he had been condemning a moment to savour an apology from his conscious rational mind.

“Mr. Janus?” Casey asked, checking to see if he was alright.

“It’s nothing…nothing really, go on” Janus continued.

“I was wondering if now would be a good opportunity to finish the conversation we began a few weeks ago? You need not fear him any longer”

“Anything I can tell you, he surely can. All you need now is my testimony at whatever trial you’re going to stage for him. I’d like that, a chance to play the role of expert witness” Janus replied, opting to lay down on the bed in his cell, raise his hands high above his head, and form a small ‘screen’ with them.

He began to envision his name scrolling along the info box on the main British news channels, and even what he thought the artists’ impression would be like.

“You certainly do crave attention don’t you?” Casey noted.

“Too kind” Janus replied

“I’m afraid you won’t be going anywhere any time soon. When we brought The Hood in, he deliberately let something slip. New information, we’d like to know if you had any idea about it?”

“What new information?” Janus asked.

“He claims he knows what’s coming next, there’s something out there bigger than him, and we need to know what that is”

“Bigger than The Hood? First I’m hearing about it” Janus continued.

“Are you absolutely certain?” Casey asked

“I’ve got nothing to fear or to lose. I say again, all you need now is my wilful testimony, and that’s all you’re going to get” Janus continued.

“If you insist on your day in court, I can arrange that…but let it be known that the GDF will not be permitting The Hood’s trial to go into the public arena. A direct request from International Rescue, they said it would be too…emotionally compromising. I’m sure you can understand that” Casey explained. “Now, get comfortable, your cell mate will be joining you shortly”

“My cell mate?” Janus asked, curious.

“Yes, he’s even interested in seeing you again, as a matter of fact; he could barely disguise his excitement, surprising really considering he is a master of that craft”

Janus gave her a cruel and condemning stare. He knew what she was up to.

He knew what was coming next.

“Let me make this perfectly clear to you Mr. Janus. So long as you, The Hood or anyone who opposes or tries to pull a fast one on the GDF, there will always be something worse than the Hood and whatever is behind him to fear…and that’s me”

Col. Casey slowly walked back into the dimly lit corridors, leaving Martin Janus to curse her name, and to resume cursing his soul all over again for daring to indulge in hope.

For hope was a terrible thing on the scaffold.

Doctor Who TV Movie Edit-Samples

With work on Hell Bent concluded, I’ve since moved forward with revisiting something I edited years ago, only now that I have new ideas for the project.

My earlier edits of the Paul McGann Doctor Who TV Movie proved ultimately too creatively reckless. I had tried to remove and alter too much in order to make it mystifying and a lot more exciting and I wound up with more plot holes than even Moffat would reasonably allow.

So with this approach, the changes are about as minimalist as possible. The biggest addition is this, footage of Anthony Ainley from the PC Video game “Destiny of the Doctors”. Ainley, the fourth actor to play the Master and the third (or 14th) overall “incarnation” of the notorious renegade, never got a proper farewell story (and died before Big Finish could ever give him one like they did Colin Baker’s Doctor) so that needed to be addressed immediately.

 

Following this, I decided to push the opening credits back by a few minutes, so there was proper tension, and going to the titles just as the camera zooms in on The Doctor’s look of silent shock at the empty slime-covered box was a note perfect moment to send you off into a grand adventure

 

Other edits included the removal of the notorious snogs between The Doctor and Grace. This proved initially tricky, but I think I worked around it well:

Finally, inspired a bit by a trick utlized by Whoflix, I decided to end it on The Doctor, Grace and Lee heading off to Gallifrey in the TARDIS, and concluded the edit with the Big Finish version of the Eighth Doctor theme (a leftover idea from my more primitive McGann edit)

 

Doctor Who-Hell Bent (No Diner) Edit

Well, here it is. My fanedit of Hell Bent. A finale I feel is let down by the overindulgent farewell to Clara. While I can’t do a top-to-bottom edit of this story the way I would like to, I can at least try to minimize the infodumping and overcooked elements represented by the diner and waitress Clara scenes. In this edit, we learn what the neuroblock is along with Clara as she and the Doctor go on this final journey together, rather than having The Doctor tell waitress Clara what it’s use is intended for. C’mon Mr. Moffat, we don’t need our hands held and everything explained to us, let the story lead and we will follow.

With no Clara and no Ashildr mucking about with their chameleon circuit at the end, a nice little voice-over from Capaldi , extracted from the final diner scene, gives us a much more poignant conclusion. One I’ve already shared on this blog in an earlier update, and which you can now appreciate in the full context of the episode

Doctor Who-After Image

 

 

DOCTOR WHO:

AFTER IMAGE

WRITTEN BY ZARIUS

Disclaimer: Doctor Who is trademarked by the BBC.

(This is a “Female Doctor” prompt fic requested to me by FF.Net author Bighead98, who wanted me to pattern this Doctor off of Rebecca Mader.  I’m not that good with describing appearances, so I used a Youtube interview she conducted as inspiration in her dialogue)

 

He wasn’t up to it.

The TARDIS could tell.

The soothing hum within the console room levelled off ever so slightly. It had been building ever so steadily to a climax for a good minute or so, wanting to ease The Doctor into what was to come next.

But no, he was being stubborn.

He always was when the end times came.

Whatever had it been this time?

It urged him to answer.

He didn’t have to speak.

He had so little breath left, he could barely whisper.

His hands were numb, clammy, ice cold to the touch.

Even as they glowed as brightly as a sunbeam.

He cast mind back to a day rich in that sort.

The day the impossible faded from his memory.

The day the forgotten companion left him where the buzzards gather.

Leaving behind a simple message. To run, and be a Doctor.

A healer, a wise man. Not a warrior. Never cruel or cowardly.

And he had honoured that.

Even if it had cost him yet another of his lives.

How did it happen this time? His mind was too spent, too traumatized from what had occurred that he could barely recollect the aftermath.

All that seemingly mattered now was anticipation of the after image.

Perhaps it had been a murder.

Perhaps it had been self sacrifice.

Or perhaps it had been a dream.

Yes, perhaps.

They seemed like they were all dreams to him. Each face, each lifetime, some longer than others, yet all over in the blink of an eye.

And in each instance, all was the same.

And yet all too familiar.

The methods, the madness, all too alike, and more alike each day. As if a single stubborn creative mind in the universe had refused to cast itself aside to let another’s vision take root and guide him through an altogether divisive and riskier path.

Perhaps. Yes, perhaps.

The healer, the wise man, had been made a warrior in a time where there was no need for a Doctor.

Perhaps now, in the wake of death, for the sake of the end, and for the needs of a better way, there was now no time for man.

There would always be time for mercy, always be time for life, but as all of life knows, there is always a time to sleep.

He stretched his arms outright; he tilted his head up to the heavens.

Go gently, do not resist.

And don’t sneeze. Sneezing interrupts the flow of all things.

Even something as delicate as magic.

He also chose to smile.

If nothing else, he’d like to remember the smile

The radiant glow of regenerative energy flowed through his hands and stretched upwards across his neck and enveloped his features. The old order collapsed, and a new, more graceful age, figuratively and literally, came to life. The hair grew longer, the body became thinner, the lips became ruby red, the chest expanded.

As the glow slowly dissipated, the radiance in the hair remained. A principle highlight of a stunning body of on display.

The console room warmed up to it already, the temperature mildly increased.

This was a moment to savour.

Both for it.

And now for her.

She examined the body, but more to the point, the outfit.

“Great, a booby t-shirt, I’m already competing with the old darling” she remarked.

A purr came from the TARDIS

“Drink. I need a drink, where DID River misplace the scotch cabinet…scotch? Do I have even like that anymore? Maybe I should hold a referendum…wait…” she stopped, checking her voice, “British accent…faintly, no, mostly, yes definitively mostly…distinctively…ENGLISH. Oh yes, I’m on the winning side again. England all the way. We’re gonna score one more than you”

She gleefully waltzed over to one of the roundels on the wall, opened it up and took out a string of mirrors. Compact and wide. She waited ages to properly glimpse herself in their reflections, she was indeed too busy waiting for the reflections to catch up with her, and they were all maintaining the image of the old coat she had just discarded.

That had happened once before, with the first of her previous life cycle.

“I’ll try not to hold it against you dear” she said, admiring the old face as it slowly transmorphed into her new one.

“Ginger. So many dreams, and this one comes true at last…mind you, I look like I dropped straight out of Cambridge” she said. “Cambridge…they’ve got universities there…oh I don’t fancy that. No, I’d fancy being more of a carnie…have my house on some wheels”

The TARDIS generated a significantly louder hum. Almost in protest.

“Hold it together old thing” she said.

The hum settled.

“Good boy” she said, “And yes, I know you were a woman once, but since we’re fiddling about with genders, you might as well have a go. From the way you let the Cloister room blossom, it’s practically your way of letting your hair grow like a beard anyway…”

Thoughts occurred to her,

“Settling in now…yes, change, not a moment too soon, whether you like it or not, but I feel like you’ve got to remember something important…not crashing, crashing’s too easy, no…I have to remember all the people I used to be. Mix a bit with the old in with the present. Come to think of it, Cambridge Universities have professors…academics….I remember a Dorothy someone; she used to call me ‘Professor’. Always liked that name. Sounded I’d been promoted. I was a chess master then, very good at making myself look like a capable comedian, so busy setting plans and traps, I failed to see those set for me…it’s high time I reminded everyone what I stand for and what I stand against. Injustice, crime, tea getting cold, and bus stations. Loads of bus stations. What do you reckon boy?” she asked of her faithful time/space machine.

The kitten was obliged to purr with another loud hum.

This time it was made in confidence and not irritation.

Whatever the challenge, she would be up for it.

The TARDIS could tell.

 

THE BEGINING OF A WONDERFUL DREAM

 

Doctor Who-Hell Bent Alternative Ending

This is how I’ve approached the ending to Hell Bent without the use of Clara’s TARDIS diner or any real conversation between The Doctor and Clara. I was told on The Hive forums this alteration proved much more enjoyable than the actual televised version. Make your own mind up.

I had to do this twice because on the first draft I kept in the Doctor having the guitar when it didn’t line up continuity wise with what I was trying to convey, but it was not exactly a problem to cut around the guitar completely.

 

 

 

 

Sherlock-Potential Season Four Edit Idea

Whenever Sherlock’s fourth series begins properly, I’ve been strongly considering using the final few minutes of The Abominable Bride as the pre-credits sequence for whatever the season four premier proves to be. It’s very easy to play the reinchenback falls confrontation scene in it’s entirety and then cut to the titles just as Sherlock wakes up from his overdose and says “Miss me?”

Thunderbirds Are Go!-An Experiment In Error

THUNDERBIRDS ARE GO!

AN EXPERIMENT IN ERROR

WRITTEN BY ZARIUS

Disclaimer: Thunderbirds are trademarked by ITV Studios. There shall be no profit from this.

This contains spoilers for “Undercover”

 

The crisp glow of the sun pierced through the windows of Tracey Island. It had been a long and taxing night, and it weighed heavily on Scott Tracey’s mind.

The boys were all coming in now. Virgil had been indulging in some off-island recreation, Gordon was left to front the bill after being forced to take a dinner for one when Penelope cancelled their date so she could work on the bungled GDF sting operation to retrieve the Repulsor, and Alan had been in space helping John make adjustments to space suits left in their care by members of the International Space Station after high water content was found in some of the suits.

Scott dismayed at that last bit.

International Rescue. Reduced to being dry-cleaners.

Better that than a group of policemen. Taking matters into their own hands.

Grandma walked up to Scott, offering him some tea.

“This ought to sooth that burdened soul of yours” she said, giving the cup to him.

“Nothing’s been the same these last couple of weeks” Scott admitted, “I shouldn’t be throwing dice with our operation”

“Had that Repulser contraption slipped out of our hands, it’d have led to many more disasters, you did what you did to minimise what you do…isn’t that we’re always fighting for? To hold back the tide?”  Grandma challenged him.

“Holding back the tide is one thing” Scott continued, his grip tightening on the cup handle, staring at the tiniest trace of a reflection in the boiling brown concoction he was drinking from it, “ but then we have people in our care, people in our family, who are all too eager to just dare to ride the waves and don’t care if they drown so long as they prove something” Scott replied, “Last night made me feel like a first-class Frankenstein…daring to defy the laws of our very nature, to change the way we act, and it almost cost Kayo her life, and if that had happened…”

“…But it didn’t Scott. Kayo pulled through, and you recovered the device” Grandma responded

“Kayo got into contact with us afterwards….she says she has to tell us something, something she should have told us a long time ago” Scott revealed, “I knew she’d been keeping something, I should have pressured her more into telling us exactly what…I trusted her enough, hoping she would tell us sooner…so we wouldn’t have to take the risks we did last night, so I wouldn’t be forced to play mad scientist”

Scott suddenly and aggressively threw the cup clear from his grasp, Grandma gasped as it careered through the air, and sighed with relief as it made a gentle l thud on the comfortable sofa.

“Smooth landing” Grandma replied, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. “Clean-up’s going to be a nightmare though, remember when Alan got that blackberry juice all over it when he was nee-high?”

“I could never be that rough with your prize china” Scott said. “Just not in my nature”

“..And maybe now that Kayo’s decided to change and open up to you, maybe now you could afford to go about your ‘experiments’ without any doubt factoring into things” Grandma suggested

“When family is involved, the science is simple: Without trust, there is no firm foundation” Scott replied, and gave his grandmother an encouraging peck on the cheek and walked away.

As Grandma watched him go, she stared out at the warm and beautiful sunset. Despite the inviting glow inviting in the morning, paving the way for what she hoped would be a new day of understanding and togetherness, she couldn’t help but feel a chill that steadily unnerved her.

She knew what Kayo was going to tell them, and she was right to be concerned.

Without family, there was no firm foundation.

But if Kayo was going to tell them the truth about her true family, Grandma pondered to herself what foundations would be built from that revelation, and which would collapse.

Grandma believed that, for Kayo, this would be an experiment that would produce life-changing results.

She silently prayed it would not prove to be an experiment in error.