MiSTing: Stephen Ratliff's Revenge Challenge [2/6]

[Matthew R Blackwell]

>Article: 71388
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>From: cmdr...@aol.com (CmdrBevC)
>Subject: Response to the challenge (TNG/RL xover) 1/1

Crow: But what about the challedge?

>Date: 7 Nov 1997 01:58:16 GMT

>Stephen, you inspired me. . ..granted it's really short and rather stupid. . . .
>but that was the point.

Tom: Let's hear it for honest self-examination!
[All cheer and applaud]

>"You're WHO?!"

Tom: I'm Inigo Montoya. Zhou killed my father. Prepare to die.

>The red-headed woman stared blankly at the dark-haired, green-eyed girl,

Crow: ...standing in the white corridor, next to the yellow trashcan,
seeing only red because the world was blue. . .

> wondering where she had been so unclear as to confuse this. . .*thing* that
>had caused her such misery. The tortures were halfway inventive. She'd
>assumed it would be a little more intelligent than this.

>"I thought I'd been pretty clear. . .my name is--"

Mike: Bond? James Bond?

>The girl shook her head emphatically, sputtering as she spoke. "Nono,

Tom: Her name is Nono?
Mike: Apparently, we've stumbled into some sort of ultra-violent
Japanese porn cartoon.
Crow: Or an ultra violent French porn cartoon.

>that's not what I meant. I HEARD what you said, but--"

Tom: [Spock] She simply could not believe her ears

>"Then WHY did you ask?!"

>The girl straightened from her gaping posture, staring skeptically now.
> Abruptly, she turned and ducked her head in the door, screaming. "DEVIN!
>Is this some kind of sick joke?!"

Crow: No. This is some kind of a sick joke. "A man walks into a bar
carrying a tiny piano. . ."
<Mike seizes Crow's break and holds it shut.>

>Audibly, a male voice returned "Huh?!"

>A moment later, the girl's head reappeared, followed by a tall, lean,

Crow: Drink of water?

> brown-eyed boy.

Crow: Oh. Never mind.

>For a moment, he looked like. . .

Mike: Dr. Smith from Lost in Space?

> 'Nah," thought the readhead.

Crow: "Nah. Dressing up like a jockey won't help me get on Ricky's
show."

>The boy, upon entering the rather crowded high school hallway, stopped dead
>in his tracks.

Crow: Nearby, Martin Blank grinned at another job successfully
completed. Whoever said that an assassination in a High
School would be hard?

>"Whoa! You're-you're--"

Mike: A maniac, and you're dancing like you've never danced before?

>". . .Beverly Crusher?"

Tom: NO! I'm Susan Ivanova! Get it right!

>The boy looked confused a moment, staring strangely at Beverly. "Uh. . ..no."

>Beverly looked from the boy to the girl, ready to slap them both.

Tom: Is it wrong to wish she would?
Crow: Yes, but perfectly understandable.
Mike: Feeling dark today, Tom?

>"Then who the HELL am I?!"

ALL; [singing] Two-four-six-oh-ONE!

>The two looked at each other briefly, then back at the tall, uniform-clad,
> phaser-wielding woman. "Gates McFadden?" they asked in unison.

Crow: But, since our little story doesn't take place in Unison, the
question was unheard.

>Beverly frowned, wondering why that name kept popping up here.

Tom: So, she's sufficiently meta-aware to know about fanfics, but not
about the actual show?

> Who WAS this Gates person, anyway?!

Tom: He's an alien teleporter who's been drafted into serving with the

Teenage Death Squad, but that's not important right now.

>Scowling and VERY ticked off,

Tom: Great, now Jim Cowlings is here too.

> Beverly lifted the phaser.

>"As they say in Mongolia, WHAT THE HELL'S GOIN ON HERE?!"

Mike: Hey! We say that here too! I guess things really are the same

all over.
Crow: So when is Bev going to get mad over the bizarre writing in
*this* fic?
Tom: RevengeFic Part II: Revenge for the RevengeFic.

>The teens turned to see a tall, slightly balding man walking up to them.

Crow: It's Mr. Hohm!
Tom: So, Mrs. Troi will be showing up soon too?

>"I'm being held hostage," said the girl.

Mike: And years later, she showed up in a bank security photo holding
an AK-47 and wearing a Star Trek Uniform.

>"That's normal, Miss Powell. You're a hostage every day you come here. It
> seems to be a favorite pastime among your teachers. . ."

Tom: Is this guy just not getting it, or is there something about this

girl's school we don't know?
Crow: Don'twannaknow, don'twannaknow, don'twannaknow, don'twannaknow,
don'twannaknow, don'twannaknow. . .

>The man stared at Beverly, finally noticing her. As he was about to speak, he
>was interrupted."

>"NO, I AM NOT GATES MCFADDEN, I'VE NEVER MET HER BEFORE
>IN MY LIFE. I'M BEVERLY CRUSHER, I'M MAD AS HELL,

Tom: AND I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANY MORE, EVEN IF IT DOES
MEAN RIPPING OFF LINES FROM "NETWORK!"

>I'M HOLDING A PHASER,

Mike: Death ray, fiddlesticks! Why, it doesn't even slow them up!

>AND I'M GONNA SHOOT ALYSSA AT *LEAST* ONCE!"

Mike: Come on, Embrace of the Vampire wasn't *that* bad.

>This time, she aimed it.

Tom: Before, she was just randomly pointing the thing around.

>"No, wait!" the girl screamed. "Why are you going to shoot me?!"

Crow: Well, I was going to write some rationale for it, but then I
figured that I could blame it on the millennium
Tom: It's a post-modern Star Trek story.

>"Retaliation. You've tortured me too much. Payback's a bitch,

Crow: And so am I. . .
Mike: You're on thin ice, pal.

>as you people say. . ."

Crow: So humans are now considered to be "you people?"

>"TORTURED?!" Alyssa stared a moment, then laughed. "You call getting
>together with Picard TORTURE?!

Crow: YES! For Pete's sake, stop trying to pair me off with that
reject from the hair club for men! Can't you team me up
with Fabio, or George Clooney or something?

> Hoo, boy, gotta stop doing THAT, then. . ."

Crow: If you don't, you'll start growing hair on your palms.

>"Huh?"

Crow: See when you. . .
Mike: We get the picture, Crow.

>Alyssa smiled as she spoke. "All I've done is find original ways to pair you
> up with Jean-Luc Picard-and believe me, that's no very easy anymore.

Mike: After all, the show's off the air and Stewart's gone legit, and
thus avoids Star Trek actors like the plague. . .

>If you'd shoot me for doing THAT, then please go ahead. . ."

Tom: And Claudine Longet wanders into the school.

>Beverly stared a moment, blankly, then lowered the phaser and scratched her
> head. "I hadn't thought of it that way. . ."

Tom: That's because you think rationally.

>"Hmm. Bet not."

Crow: I thought that you can't bet on 00. Am I wrong?

>"You HAVE done that, haven't you?'

>"Yep."

>"So I should be thanking you. . ."

>"Maybe. . ."

>Beverly smiled, nodded decisively, and then shook Alyssa's hand. "Thank
>you."

Tom: HOLD IT! She's been kidnapped and tortured, but it's okay because

she got the chance to score with Picard? *WHAT KIND OF
TWISTED WORLD ARE YOU LIVING ON?*
Mike: Calm down Tom. It's going to get a lot worse before this is
over.

>THWUMP!

Tom: Hmmm. She got knocked down.
Crow: So? She'll get back up again.
Mike: You ain't never gonna keep her down.

>As Beverly walked away, a smug smirk on her face, Devin and the teacher
>reached down to help a reeling Alyssa off the hallway floor. "What was that
>for?!" asked the teacher.

Tom: That's how we say "Thank you" in the Twenty-fourth Century.

>Alyssa frowned, rubbing the forming knot on the back of her head. "Maybe I
> shouldn't have written Twisted Revenge?"

Tom: Wow! She writes for those Spike and Mike cartoon festivals? Cool.

>Devin smiled, shaking his head. "Maybe not."

Mike: Especially since there's a line of other annoyed characters
lining up in the gym to kill you.

>"Never thought I'd be whacked over the head in the middle of the hallway by
>the person who put me here.."

Crow: The bus driver hit you?

>"What do you mean?" asked the teacher.

>"This is a magnet for health and science, right?"

Tom: Please. We're in a Medical School in Grenada.

>"Right. . ."

Crow: So, you want me to build an ark?

>"She inspired me to be here."

>"And. . .?"

Tom: It's a conjunction. Don't make us sing the song.

>Rubbing the bump again, she shrugged. "Proof that ya can't hang the hand
>that feeds you in cuffs and expect Gul Madred to bite it for you. . ."

>Only Devin understood exactly what that meant.

Crow: Could you fill the rest of us in then?

>***

Tom: Microsoft presents: Asterisk pets! Feed them! Clean up after
them! Listen to them beep all day long!

>Lys, still reeling from the "BonC" on the head. . .. . . . .

Tom: BonC! New for the NES!

>220 71428 <3464135a...@news.snowcrest.net> article
>Path: ix.netcom.com!zdc-e!super.zippo.com!

Crow: Oh, it's one with the *Four* Marx Brothers.
Mike: No, Crow, that's *Zeppo*.

>lotsanews.com!howland.erols.

Tom: Pogo meets Robin Hood?

>net!agate!overload.lbl.gov!snowcrest!usenet
>From: grey...@snowcrest.net (Greywolf the Wanderer)
>Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>Subject: Re: A Little Challedge . . .
>Date: Sat, 08 Nov 1997 07:39:49 GMT
>Organization: Furverts Anonymous

Crow: Um. . .?
Mike: Don't, Crow. Just don't.

>Lines: 102
>Sender: grey...@snowcrest.net
>Message-ID: <3464135a...@news.snowcrest.net>
>References: <63rgog$m...@newslink.runet.edu>
>Reply-To: grey...@snowcrest.net
>NNTP-Posting-Host: ttyd11.mtshasta.snowcrest.net

Crow: Mount Shasta! NOOO! It's one of John_-_Winston's aliens!

>X-Newsreader: Forte

Mike: Uh, not quite so loud, please.

> Free Agent 1.1/16.230
>Xref: ix.netcom.com alt.startrek.creative:71428

>On 6 Nov 1997 04:23:44 GMT, srat...@runet.edu (Stephen Ratliff)
>wrote:

>>Over on rec.arts.anime.creative, I spied a recent group of stories that
>>made me wonder if that type would work here. That type being the
>>RevengeFic. The idea is a story where the character(s) who we've put
>>though such trails and tibble-ations come visiting us (the authors) to
>>get their revenge.

>And we're off!!! This is an experiment, folks -- wanna see if the
>header comes out right. . . <It's a pain in the arse to change 'em, so
>most of the time I won't bother. but if it works, it means I can post
>me stories under me own name,

Crow: [pirate-style] Arrr, matey.

> and save Alara the Hassle!>

Tom: Wasn't there a Voyager fan-fic posted a while ago starring Paris
and Kim called "Do the Hassle?"
Crow: Fan-bot.

> "Revenge", a TOS/RL Challenge story

> It was a dark and stormy night.

Tom: Suddenly, a shot rang out!
Mike: The maid screamed!
Crow: A door slammed!
Tom: Then, a pirate ship appeared on the horizon!
Mike: Meanwhile, while many people were starving, the king lived in
luxury!
Crow: Then the man in the hat killed the other man in the hat!

> Actually, it wasn't -- but the Wolf was bored. He leaned back
>in his chair, scratched lazily behind his ear, and sighed.

Mike: He had to start remembering not to try to scratch his ear with
his leg. Oh well, back to the ER.

> The latest story was not going well; the characters simply would not
>cooperate.

Tom: They were on hunger strike due to the recent ill-treatment of the

red-shirted ensigns.

>He was about ready to say fuckit, and go get drunk.

Crow: The caliber of the prose could only improve, after all.

> But he really wanted this one to work out -- it was the third in a series, and
>he had high hopes for it.

Tom: o/~ Oh, he's got hiiiigh ho. . . o/~
Mike: No singing on this one Tom. Please.

> But not tonight, apparently. He just wasn't getting anywhere.

Crow: Then he remembered that in order to get anywhere, he had to
leave his chair.

>Finally he shut the computer down, and walked downstairs, planning on
>heading over to the mini-mart and buying some more beer.

Mike: They were having a sale on "cheapest" brand beer.
Tom: Yes, writing goes better with booze! Many of the world's
greatest classics were written when the author was liquored
up! This message brought to you by the Booze Council.

>But he no sooner got out the door, than he heard a funny whining sound,

Crow: Fran Drescher, no!
Mike: He said "funny," Crow.

> and everything went black.

Tom: o/~ I read a fan-fic and I want it painted black. o/~

> When he finally swam back to consciousness, he found himself
>in his own living room, duct taped to a chair -- and being watched by
>a human and a Vulcan, both wearing 20th century clothing.

Mike: Unfortunately, they were both dressed like flappers.
Tom: [Wolf] Jeez. I keep telling you, I don't know where the whales
are.

>The Vulcan was pointing a tricorder at him, while the human kept a phaser
>turned his way. The Wolf smiled, nervously. . .

Crow: Uh, could you point that tricorder somewhere else?

> "Ummm. . .. guys? Can't we all just get along, here?"

Crow: Chief Gates just laughed, and turned to his Vulcan companion.

> The human laughed, scornfully. "Get along? With *you*? Do
>you have any *idea* what you've done to us? Get along, my ass."

Tom: [Spock] I don't thing that your ass will detach itself, sir.

> The Vulcan merely raised a sardonic brow, and murmured,
>"Apparently, it is you, sir, who has problems "getting along", as you
>so quaintly put it.

Mike: In the 23 rd century, we say that you have problems "keeping
your Schick in shape."

> Certes *we* have never done anything to *you*, to
>match what you have inflicted on us."

Tom: [Wolf] Well, it happens to all guys from time to time. I was
just trying to inject a note of realism. Deal with it.

> The Wolf was feeling pretty spooked. He had never, in his
>wildest dreams, expected *this* to happen.

Crow: Three coeds from a small midwestern college were in his living
room?

>"Umm, hey -- you know, it wasn't nothing personal, guys. . .

Crow: [Spock] I believe that is a double negative, indicating that it
was, indeed, "something personal." We'll have to kill you
now.

> Honest!! I was just writing some stories, is all. Doesn't anybody write
>stories, in your time?"

Mike: Judging from the Star Trek V script, no, they don't.

> "Indeed they do. However, they manage not to intrude upon
>others' private lives, while doing so. This. . . "series" of yours -
>most unpleasant.

Crow: Oh, Greywolf must be writing for "Jenny."

> It never occurred to you that we have our own
>existence?"

Mike: Well, Spock still lives in his parent's basement, but at least I

have an existence.

> "Heh, heh, heh. . . Uh, not really, no. But hey, listen --
>didn't I send you guys to the Elysian Baths, on Risa, that one
>time? Wasn't that fun?"

Mike: [Spock] Captain, what say we beam down to where no man has gone
before--the Phi Epsilon Nudist Colony for Women?
Tom: [Kirk] That's not what I meant when I said we should explore some
"heavenly bodies," Mr. Spook!
Crow: The "Mad Magazine" sketch, ladies and gentlemen.

> "It was . . .interesting, I will admit.

Mike: [Spock] I believe the Captain's exact words were, "Golly! Them
women shore is purty!"

>However there is still the matter of your other stories, the ones in the series. I
>must insist that you stop it at once. The Captain and I have duties to
>perform,

Tom: D'oh! There's more proof for the slashers.

> we do not have time to go chasing about the galaxy on some
>wild whim of yours."

Crow: That's right! They need to rush around the galaxy on their own
wild whims!

> "You tell him, Spock. Now listen, you -- I hereby order you,
>in the name of the United Federation of Planets,

Mike: Granted , the UFP won't exist for several hundred years, but
we'll be really mean to your descendants if you don't stop
it.

> to cease and
>desist, at once. Find someone else to write about -

Crow: How about David Hasselhoff?
Mike: Crow!
Crow: Come on Mike. He's a prime candidate for slash stories. After
all, he's surrounded by all of these handsome men all day
long. You have to assume that he'd get a little curious. . .
Mike: Well. . .
Tom: Mike? We are not bringing up Baywatch slash. Period.

> do I make myself clear?"

Tom: [Kirk] Try writing about Janice Rand for a while. I'll show her
that no one shoots down James T. Kirk!

> "Uh. . .. yeah. . . But there's a problem, guys. . ."

Mike: You see, I sold the story to buy a hair brush for my sister, and

she sold her hair to buy me a binder for the story.

> The human sighed. "Of course. There always is, with you.
>What problem?"
> "Well, you see, there's this other story, you know? And uh,
>it's going to appear in a printzine, pretty soon. And, uh, well, it's
>kind of gnarly, you know?

Mike: [Spock] "Gnarly?" You must mean "twisted."
Crow: [Wolf] No! No! Auuuugh!

> I didn't mean nothin' by it -- I just wanted to tell it, see?

Tom: And suddenly, we're in Donnie Brasco.
Crow: Forget about it.

> So, ah, until this one
>dies down, I think you guys are going to be kind of, well, um, *busy*, you
>know?"

Mike: Busy? Oh, that's right. They're government workers. They'll be
on break until then.

> As he said that, his two captors went transparent for a
>moment, before solidifying again.
> "Spock? What the hell was that?"

Crow: I believe that his TV reception is bad, Captain. I'll go move
his antenna around some.
Mike: Crow!
Crow: Oh, I guess that was a double entandre . Sorry.

> Another sigh, from the Vulcan. "It appears, Captain, that
>this disreputable individual is correct. . . We are about to be taken
>from here."

Mike: [Kirk] Damn. Are those weaselly executives from NBC back again?

> "Shit. Just what we *don't* need." He slapped his phaser
>back onto his hip. "Well, I guess that's it."
> "Ummm -- guys? Could ya untie me, here, before ya go?"

Tom: [Wolf] Or, more important, before *I* "go?"

> One raised Vulcan eyebrow. "No. I don't think so. I believe
>that you are best left exactly as you are.

Mike: So don't go changing to try to please me.

> Perhaps then we shall have
>a little peace for a while." They flickered again, and began a slow
>dissolve. . .

Tom: . . . and pan towards the furnace. Move in closer to the sled. .
..

> "Greywolf?"
> "Yes, Captain?"
> "Enjoy yourself. I *might* come back and let you out, after a
>while. Depends on how badly you piss me off, this time. In the
>meantime, sleep tight." He grinned, like an evil Cheshire cat -- then
>there was a puff of sparkles and smoke -

Crow: So, David Copperfield's running the transporter now?

> and they were gone.
> The Wolf strained at the duct tape, wiggling, pulling off a
>goodly portion of his fur in the process -- and got absolutely
>nowhere.

Mike: And we're back to the 'forgetting to leave the chair' thing
again.

> "Ahhh, *shit*. I *hate* when this happens!" Then something
>occurred to him, and he whistled in relief.

Tom: "Thank goodness. They could have forced me to see Spiceworld."

> "Geez. I guess it's a good thing I *didn't* write that Q story. . ."

> -----///-----

Tom: So, we came to this river, and those blasted Ratzis had blown up
the bridge!

>Ask, and ye shall receive, O Stephen. . . ;-)>

Crow: That's one mighty pointy chin you got there, Wolf.

>Greywolf the Wanderer, *still* pickin' goddamn' duck tape outta my
>fur!

Tom: DUCT! IT'S *DUCT* TAPE! YOU GOT IT RIGHT IN THE STORY!!!
Mike: Easy, pal.
Tom: <Huff> <Huff> Sigh. Oh well. It's time to go anyway.
[The trio exits the theater.]

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