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Thunderbirds Are Go!-Family Comes First

THUNDERBIRDS ARE GO!

FAMILY COMES FIRST

WRITTEN BY ZARIUS

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

(This takes place after the episode “Touch and Go”)

 

“Alan Tracey, just when are you ever going to put these on?”  Lectured Grandma as she tossed Alan’s pyjamas tops and bottoms out of his bedroom.

“Well clearly not at peak afternoon hours” Alan quipped as he lay lazily stretched across the sofa.

“And another thing, this bed…” she continued, pointing to the perfect spread before her, “I don’t think you’ve ever slept in it. Oh, you remind me of your father back when he was in college…nothing could get him out of his civvies so late in the evening, he’d stay up all night making charts and taking notes on manned space missions, guzzle down a few cans of soda, and then, poof, he’d just lie all over the bed and wake up at these very hours. Sometimes he’d even stretch so far he’d miss dinner”

“That isn’t such a bad thing to miss where you’re concerned” Alan muttered, although he believed Grandma probably caught that last bit, as she then moved forward on the matter of lunch.

“Just for that, you’re getting one of my patented roast salads” she said, and stormed into the bedroom with her vacuum cleaner to clear up the state Alan had left on the floor.

“I didn’t say anything” Alan protested, but Grandma couldn’t hear his pretentious lies over the sound her cleaner was making.

“Great, that’s one salad I wouldn’t mind tossing” Alan replied, and plastered yesterday’s newspapers over his eyes, trying to doze off the day’s frustrations.

A string of arguments suddenly stirred him into alert and active action, he sprang up from the sofa to pinpoint the cause of the commotion, and found his older brother Scott storming into the lounge area with I.R’s resident shadow operative Kayo not far behind.

“Do you want me present for this guys?” said Alan, sensing now would be the best time to skip

“You stay right there Alan” said Kayo.

“Why? You need a witness to anything? Don’t expect a murder Kayo, it’s just a suspension”

“You can’t suspend me from operations Scott; you know how effective I was in ensuring The Hood didn’t escape with that fuel”

“There’s more to it than that Kayo,  you’re not opening yourself up to me enough about it, instead you turn around and lecture me about changing policies and morals taught to us by our father, what do you think he’d make of your opposition to his concepts?”

“I think he’d adjust” challenged Kayo.

“Let’s not get into theories; I’m dealing with enough of them as it is”

Kayo folded her arms, “And what is that supposed to mean? You’re not back tracking and thinking more about what The Hood had to gain in sparing me are you?”

“I don’t want to think anything courageous about that con man, but he seems to have a great interest in putting your needs above his , at least in this instance” Scott said, “I need to be clear on everything, and you need to be made to be clear on where we stand”

“You need me in my position Scott” replied Kayo, pointing the tip of her middle finger and tapping away at Scott’s chest, “A shadow is every bit a reflection of how we react, and so much good has come out of me being the first to seize an opportunity. Please, Scott, if anything last night proved, it’s that the rules of the game need adjusting”

“Is this what this is to you? A game?” asked Scott, keeping his anger in check with a disciplinary tone in his voice.

“Life is not a game, but we always end up playing ‘Risk’ a lot with it” snapped back Kayo.

Scott folded his arm and shook his head quietly, Kayo looked back at Alan, and Alan quietly took a silent instruction from her and sat down, almost as if he was being taught something that needed him to be attentive.

Scott put his finger on the tip of his mouth, calmly collecting his thoughts, and then finally retorted

“Ok, think of this as a rare instance of me changing my mind. No suspensions from duty, but you need to promise that you will be clear on things with me, otherwise I may just get someone to shadow you”

“I wouldn’t mind the company, two would be twice as good at getting the job done” Kayo replied.

“Ok, enough with being cute, you’re frightening when you get like that” Scott replied, and headed towards the kitchen to prepare a snack for himself.

Kayo twirled around, mimicked a gunshot aim at Scott, and then dropped down on the sofa besides Alan

“That’s what I wanted you to witness. Not a bad turnabout huh?”

“I don’t know….should I be picking a side here?” Alan replied.

Kayo swung her right arm over Alan’s shoulder, “We’re all family here, whichever side you take is always going to be the right one”

“Kayo…about what The Hood did…Scott told me earlier, is there anything you’re not telling us?” Alan asked. He figured if Kayo was to be more open to anyone, it’d be with the person she normally sailed across the star struck heavens with.

Kayo was temporarily silent, but Alan’s trust in her, combined with his spirited innocence, compelled her to confess at least part of what happened on the airship

“The Hood intended to sell the fuel to the under-privileged. I questioned his sincerity about it, but a part of me believed his words to be honest…everything we possess always falls into the hands of another, be it of ill earned gain or through honest trade, for all I know that could have applied here too, but I can’t stop to think about that, because if I do I can’t keep…”

“Playing risk?” Alan said, interrupting her, “You don’t want to stop reacting when you see something because it may not be so clear to you if the right thing is being achieved or not, and that you’d end up feeling like you were more basic in your role. You’re not content being the smaller component”

“Does that make me the right person to have on the side of the angels?” said

“Hey, we’re not those divas in Spectrum” Alan replied

“You know what I mean” Kayo snapped back, elbowing Alan.

“You just told me anyone on the side of this family, divided as we could be on a certain subject, was the right side. You’re not exactly divided in loyalty…are you?”

Kayo’s inner feelings fluttered, she struggled to hold back tension in her voice as she told the most boundless of all the Tracey brothers a bare-faced falsehood.

“No” she said, the quiet corners of her soul, the tiniest portion wanting to confess everything to Alan slowly cursing herself out for the deed committed.

Alan put his hand delicately over her right cheek and stroked it, as he noticed the distinct sadness in her eyes.

“Hey, you don’t need to get glum” he said, “Just remember the road is always paved with intentions, good and bad, you just have to be confidant that you can walk the divine path with your own”

Kayo kissed Alan on the cheek and snuggled up beside him, glancing out at the crisp beautiful and excruciatingly bright afternoon sky, and wondering how many more glimpses of the sun she would see on this island before the brothers Tracey discovered her secret and cast her out.

Would The Hood finally be satisfied with whatever her choices would be then?

Would he prove to be right after all?

Whichever way the world turned, one thing was certain.

Family came first.

Which family is what was tearing her apart

 

 

 

Dangermouse-A Day Reserved For Magic

DANGERMOUSE:

A DAY RESERVED FOR MAGIC

WRITTEN BY ZARIUS

Disclaimer: Dangemouse (2015) and all trademarked characters are property of Fremantle Media and CBBC


Christmas Day. London.

In the wake of a dicey dance with the cold colossus The Snowman, Penfold and Dangermouse have settled down in their may fare mailbox to share with one another the gift of giving. DM had been a generous spirit all day, being mindful of both the poor and the privileged.

He’d even given Tiny Tim an armed defence crutch. Armed with high explosives to fend off any foreboding foe that attempts to take advantage of a spy when injured.

He just forgot to tell Tim how to disarm the explosives.

Then again, the gift was’nt intended for Tim, but for Penfold.

Penfold, who was all a glow at the realization he had not gotten anything that could bring his enjoyment of Christmas down with a bang and then a bit of whimpering from him as he suffered the aftershock of dealing with a dangerous gift.

As he tried his warm, woollen cotton socks on, Penfold noticed poor Father Christmas struggling with the list of demands given to him by Professor Squawkencluck.

“Say, Santa, don’t be glum, I’ll take that list off your hands and help pay it off if you want” Penfold suggested.

“Ho ho ho, you are a helpful little Elf” said Santa, “If you can pull this off, you may be in line for chief aid”

Penfold clapped his hands wildly at that, only to be kicked in the shin by Santa’s cheif aid.

“Hey, cut that out, the crisis is over” said Penfold.

“You’re not nicking my job in a hurry you merrily mole” replied the irritated elf.

“Hamster” said Penfold, “I’m a hamster”

“Mess with me, and you’ll find I’m no spring chick” she said, nipping at Penfold’s toes with her beak.

Penfold scrambled behind Professor Squawkencluck out of concern for her safety.

“What are you doing behind me you big Jessie?” said Squawkencluck as the elf converged on Penfold

“‘Sick ’em, attack, defend” commanded Penfold.

“What do you think I am? A henpecker?” she said

“Well you’ve got the beak for it” said Penfold

“Oh you know me so well” sarcastically replied Squawkencluck.

“Look are you going to rise to my defence or not?” asked Penfold.

“Well, it is Christmas after all” she said, and began circling the elf, pecking holes in the floor. Swiftly and suddenly, the floor gave way, the elf remained suspended in the air for a fraction of a second for the type of comical effect found abundant in animation, before being pulled down by the laws of gravity.

The Professor dusted off both her hands and gently rubbed her beak.

“Whew, chipping away at the that floor can leave a beak feeling pretty bleak” said Squawkencluck.

Santa handed Penfold her list and then dived down the gaping hole in the floor to collect his elf before she hit the floor.

“Penfold, you’re going to take care of my list?” The Professor observed

“I’m not so secret a Santa am I?” replied Penfold.

“I don’t know…you make yourself to be a lot of things…” the Professor continued

“Really?” asked Penfold

“Sure…a spectacle of yourself, a target of yourself…” she began, until she noticed Penfold’s head, his expression highlighting a look of sure sadness about it.

“Hey, hey don’t be glum, despite making yourself look all those things, you always have the strength to face up to them as well, you’re honest about yourself, even to a frank degree, I’m like that too, though I come across as more cross than you are about those things. I envy how you can bottle that in at the best of times” the Professor continued, her compliments raising a tender smile out of the little agent.

“You’re a real champ Professor”

“Just tell me one thing though…why do you always get me a hair-dryer?” Squawkencluck asked

“Well, I…oh it’s nothing…it’s just…” Penfold began, but nerves began to overtake him.

“It’s got something to do with my appearance. A girl can afford to be flattered you know” the Professor said, urging him on

“It’s…well, yeah it’s kind of that. I always like to picture you with your hair down and you using something we’ve given you to make you look better and brighter every morning, no matter what mood you’re in, which is normally all feisty and ferocious, it’s nice to know that while you’re projecting fear into us, you spend those first few hours every morning bringing out the best in yourself…gives us something to think about”

Sqawkencluck gave Penfold a nod and a reassuring smile, placing one hand over his forehead and stroking cit, losing her eyes briefly as she took all those words in.

“Pr-Professor? You ok?” said Penfold as her hands slowly ruffled through him.

“You know…forget that list Penfold, you can get me the same thing every year” she said.

“Cor, thanks Professor, say, why did you reckon Santa wasn’t real?” asked Penfold.

“I didn’t want to think there was magic in the world…I’m a scientist, I always have to rationalize everything, to let logic take hold over ludicrous realization of fantasy…guess it’s a silly thing to think, especially around a day reserved for magic”

“I’m glad you’ve realized that” Penfold, clutching her hand, “You shouldn’t deprive yourself of the magic, in order for that to come, you have to make time for those moments”

The two stood where they were, transfixed in a precious moment of time, staring lovingly into one another’s gaze, each hoping one would make the move on the other without having to wait for the descent of mistletoe.

The alarms suddenly went off, DM sprang forward to answer the call as Col. K and his brightly lit Christmas jumper disrupted the moment.

“Penfold, Dangermouse, you must scramble immediately, those rouges Greenback, Loocifer, Duckula and the rest are threatening to tarnish the next 24 hours by staging a real boxing match between all of them on Boxing Day, get that group separated ASAP” the Colonel commanded.

“On our way Col.K, come along Penfold, and don’t stop for Christmas punch, we have to halt the literal kind from coming to pass” ordered Dangermouse.

“Heh, don’t want to get punch drunk then” Penfold said nervously to Squwakencluck.

“Another time?” said Squawkencluck

“Another moment in time…I’ll be ready” said Penfold.

“…Ready…to believe” replied Squawkencluck.

Disengaging from their grip on one another’s hands, Penfold and Dangermouse dashed into certain danger.

“Be safe” said Squawkencluck, waving to them as they darted into the Mark IV hovering outside and speeding off into the snowy skyline.

Dangermouse-Jeopardy on the M-1

 

DANGERMOUSE:

JEOPARDY ON THE M-1

Written by Zarius

Disclaimer: Dangemouse (2015) and all trademarked characters are property of Fremantle Media and CBBC


London.

It’s on fire.

A great fire indeed.

A great fire…of LONDON.

I’m paid to be this dramatic.

A new fangled super tank, a gift to the militaristic “men of mice” regiment in service to her majesty’s external defence network, with an impenetrable control dome shaped in the form of a mouse’s head, and christened the M-1, has been appropriated by that tyrant of a toad Baron Greenback, and is being piloted by the nefarious Snowman, and he is unleashing it’s unique and lethally irritable firepower on any monument that falls upon it’s targeting mechanisms.

Why the Snowman and not someone like, say, Stiletto?

Because it’s December, Snowman has offered up a discount price on his services as a principle antagonist.

It’s a winter sale.

I don’t write these puns, I just throw that out there.

But opposing the warpath of the M-1 is the world’s greatest road block, at the helm of the Mark Three as it darts across the sky is the world’s most insecure sidekick Penfold, and at his side, the ever-confident, ever cool, forever renowned…Jeopardy Mouse.

Hey, wait a second, my script said DANGERMOUSE a couple of rehearsals ago. Jeopardy, what is the meaning of this?

“DM’s locked up in bed. He has the sniffles”

Ah right, my apologies Penfold. Shall we cut away to him then?

“Best not to disturb him, he’ll just play up to the cameras”

This isn’t exactly a visual story Penfold.

“Oh it’s not? Well, he might put in a bit of an over dramatic word then if he hears us rambling”

“Penfold, I need you to take the wheel” said Jeopardy as she disembarked from the car in mid-flight, Penfold franticly scrambled into the driver’s seat as Jeopardy made her way over to the bonnet of the vehicle

“What’s the plan Chiefette?” said Penfold as the Mark III steadily hurtled towards the terrifying tank

“Cheifette? Just call me boss, it helps keep things clear” said Jeopardy, “And the plan is to get close enough to attach this DNA locking device to the outer shell, I then place my palm on it, the DNA overrides the security lock, and we can get it and drive the Snowman to meltdown”

“Wait, how did Snowman even get in that thing?” said Penfold.

“It was during a lunch break, he poised as an ice cream refreshment” said Jeopardy.

“Oh” said Penfold

As the Mark Three rapidly approached its target, Jeopardy fired a grappling hook; it latched on to the exterior shell. She quickly jumped on to the grappling wire feet first and slid down it.

As soon as she landed, she approached the side of the control dome. However, from hatches encircling it, shot forth small alphabetical letters, that, when they clicked into place, formed a sentence.

BOOM.

Explosions were set up as soon as they formed the word.

Jeopardy thankfully was able to doge the blasts.

Penfold was almost not so fortunate, as the words assembled ‘Dangermouse’, the mark three pulled up just in time as the giant logo exploded.

“Crumbs, why did it form the name of the chief” Penfold spoke over the radio to Jeopardy.

“Must be the Men of Mice’s way of honouring DM with a customized explosive” said Jeopardy, “How I wish such an accolade could be bestowed on me, especially since I’m more of a pro”

Smaller letters continued to click into place, trigging cataclysmic explosions that were truly testing the patience and perseverance of the American agent, but she was able to gut the experience out. She took to summersaults, rolls, and ducking to avoid becoming soup to the alphabet.

Finally, she was able to latch the DNA lock on to the control dome and placed her hand on it. The dome glowed brightly, and the top of the dome sprang open.

Jeopardy clambered inside and confronted Snowman, only to find a puddle in the command seat.

“Must be a faulty air conditioner” she said, and scooped up the Snowman’s liquid state in a small glass.

“Jeopardy, are you ok?” Penfold said over the radio as Jeopardy brought the tank to a standstill.

“I’m fine Penfold, I’m just a little irritated that I’ve brought the day to a peaceful end and DM’s name still ended up lighting up the skies”

“Well if it helps any, I now know whatever DM will have to say, and it won’t make as much a dent in the room as those lethal letters did” said Penfold.

Jeopardy permitted herself a giggle.

 

Link

Doctor Who-Exterminate Me

DOCTOR WHO:

EXTERMINATE ME

WRITTEN BY ZARIUS

Disclaimer: Doctor Who is trademarked by BBC. This is for non-profit purposes.


Note: This contains spoilers for “Hell Bent”


Somewhere, at the end of all things, it waits to speak

It cannot afford to whisper.

It’s not hard-wired to.

It must have a commanding presence. It must own the room. And all around it should obey.

In its private moments, it had often dreamed of being a Supreme in the legion, where all could obey it. It thought such a role to be a divine concept.

A concept of beauty.

Like all dreams, they fade and reality sets in. The reality of war, and the reality of consequence.

It lay there now, in the cloister corners of the Matrix, in the catacombs of its most hated adversaries, those who had denied its race the stranglehold on creation they felt they had earned through their persistence and patience. A race that had defied its own end twice, and once in a far more novel fashion than the last.

That one time, the end did come. The second instance was a cheat. A parlour trick, designed to fool naive eyes.

And those eyes were now staring back at it, give or take the seconds where their faces could show, and when their screams could be visible.

They never spoke to it, they needn’t have to, their thoughts were everywhere. Their thoughts and sounds and stories informed its hours. Informed it’s purpose. For purpose was what it needed to justify the endurance of the final days granted to all corners of creation.

Everything has purpose, even at the end.

It absorbed the information, the prophecies, the tales of the creature that was the making of the oncoming storm.

The talk of the hybrid.

Two travellers, two companions, who would break the barriers of all reality to undo the deaths of one another. Two stubborn spirits who refused to let the traditional course of events be the most natural and befitting.

Those who deemed endings inappropriate.

It knew what the prophecies meant.

It knew the prophecies were wrong.

It knew what the hybrid was. It had sussed it out.

All it needed was to give out a warning. That is, if the pain could permit it to speak, and if it could lay a gaze upon one face. Or two.

And then it’s chance arose.

There they were.

A man who, in all his lives, had never associated knowledge with wisdom, and his companion, a woman now thrice dead.

One with a pulse, another with none.

One who’s heart beat no more, and one who’s twin hearts were broken.

They stood now, in the catacombs of the Matrix, amongst the ghostly Cloister wraiths and other prisoners of the chamber, seeking a way to defy the impossible.

It knew it’s chance had come.

As the woman thrice dead approached it, it knew it’s voice needed to be heard. The pain was excruciating, the strain was unbearable, but the warning had to be given.

But would she hear it?

“Exterminate Me” it said, the veins around it tightening their grip, “Exterminate Me”

The woman thrice dead reeled back, the man with the broken hearts pushed her aside. In an instant of time, both disappeared from sight.

The Dalek rested, it complimented what had just happened.

Had the moment passed without incident? Had it been over just like that?

Did she understand the warning?

That there was another factor yet to step forward on their journey. Somewhere beyond the cloisters and the matrix and the world of the Time Lords. A third participant. An immortal who had long cut herself off from care and concern.

Someone whose influence could prove a damning one on that long way ’round.

Me.

The Daleks have a concept of beauty, and sometimes, a concept of mercy.

In this instance, at the end of all things, this Dalek chose to embrace that concept of mercy, to spare all of creation the unrest the Hybrid would cause.

The woman thrice dead, and the woman who lived.

Left unchecked, they could unsettle reality, and the ripples would be felt all the way to the end.

And all this Dalek wanted to do was rest alongside everything else.

As its consciousness drifted into a deep slumber, it prayed its mission, its mercy, would be understood.

And if the woman thrice dead was still able to run, so too, should she be able to remember.

The Dalek rested, remembering, or perhaps, hoping, that everything could work itself out, that everything had a purpose that could be eventually understood.

In time.

 

Link

Doctor Who: Twilight Seconds

DOCTOR WHO:

TWILIGHT SECONDS

WRITTEN BY ZARIUS


Disclaimer: Doctor Who is trademarked by the BBC. No profit shall be made from this venture.

Somewhere in the hereafter, you hear the question.

Somehow in the physical world, where you live, where you work, you take the question for granted.

Some person ought to ask you the obvious when you die.

Some angel.

Some God.

Someone you love.

Even some pet.

Yes, pets ought to talk.

You ought to understand a lot more than you tend to cope with and comprehend in normal life.

Nobody likes being put up against a wall.

Nobody likes putting their fist in one either.

That’s the way life is paced though.

You spend every waking hour pounding through the invisible skin of reality.

Accessing different things.

The lucky ones anyway.

Some will never know the way around walking.

Or talking.

Or thinking too clear.

And those blessed with all of that will never quite know what it is to feel that helpless.

Or even mistake it for a blessing.

Life is rough, we need reminding of that.

So that when we punch through the rough diamond, we settle each time.

Letting complacency get the better of us.

And consume us.

Just as I am doing with my stalker.

I’m too slow.

That’s ok.

It’s the long way ’round.

They’ll understand.

Those lords of time.

They’re also lords of patience.

Only mine is close to running out.

I have little time for jokes.

So I permit myself only one.

I look at my streak of failures in this castle so far.

My billion year setbacks.

And I focus on what it was like for the first.

The first Doctor to arrive.

The first to smell the flowers

The first to show off.

The first to get up off his arse.

And the first to take the plunge.

Into the murky blue.

Into the sea of skulls.

The sea of skulls.

There’s something black and white about that.

The first who arose.

The first to warm himself by the fire.

And then the one who left the clothes to dry.

We cast our mind back to who we see in the hereafter.

Some loved one.

Some angel.

Some god.

Some pet.

Yes, pets should talk.

They ask, “Are you decent?”

You look at how you present yourself.

Well…are you?

I am no angel.

I have no desire to be a God.

And I am nobody’s pet.

But I care.

Just enough.

Just enough.

To ask my first self that question.

Because if I cannot break through this reality, I will join them in the next.

And it may just brighten my twilight seconds.

How many seconds in Eternity?

 

Link

Face the Raven Edit

This the end of Face the Raven without the farewell speech and a slight modification to the beginning of the bit where Clara faces the raven to include the small reprisal of “Clara’s theme”, I’ve also removed the bit where The Doctor tells Ashildr to keep out of his way

A full version of the episode with these changes will also be coming out in the next few days. I will also be redoing this edit when the DVD version comes out in January