[Adrics] 2002 Awards Show, Part 4/9
BKWillis
the TV set. His Tux of Lovecraftian Ugliness has some large cuts
on the front, as if from a flying saw blade.]
ADRIC: (muttering) Well, that's our deposit knackered, then. (to
audience) That was Coyote, ladies and gentlemen. Need I say
more?
Now, before I introduce our next presenters, I'd like to take a
moment to thank someone whose efforts this evening have been
crucial to the success of this year's show. As you all may have
guessed, our budgetary constraints are pretty serious and we've
had to cut back on certain frills in tonight's show. We had enough
money to rent the school auditorium, but not enough for them to
let us run the heating system. This could have been a major
hindrance, but for the sterling efforts of one person. Ladies and
gentlemen, a big round of applause for the woman who's been
keeping us warm all evening, Miss Dodo Chaplet!
[The camera shifts to the opposite end of the auditorium, where
DODO is standing beside a 55-gallon drum with a fire raging inside
it. DODO waves cheerfully in response to the applause, then
tosses some more copies of _Who Killed Kennedy_ into the fire.
A large stack of the books can be seen behind her, awaiting similar
immolation. The camera lingers for a second on the NorInCo logo
on the oil drum before switching back to ADRIC.]
ADRIC: Keep up the good work, Dodo. Now, our next presenters
are a bit on the mysterious side. We don't know where they're from
and we don't know their real names, but they're either the most
heroic villains or most villainous heroes around, whichever pays
better. Ladies and gentlemen, presenting the award for Best Series
or Story Arc, it's the stars of 'Gates of Dawn', 'Derelict', and
numerous TTR stories, Magnus and Varne!
[ADRIC withdraws, applauding.]
----
[VLPHS Auditorium, Magnus and Varne are seated at a table
towards the back.]
Varne: "What reason did Ken give for sending us this year? After
all, his work is up for an award this time."
Magnus: "Well, he said that as you had to attend for best
character and that as we were on salary, we might as well do the
lot."
Varne: "And the real reason...?"
Magnus: "Apart from the fact he makes a Trappist look sociable,
look at this place."
Varne: "Oops, I should have realised, the entire place is non-
smoking."
Magnus: "That's it, we're on."
Varne: "Just a minute. Have you got a mirror, Lord?"
[Magnus gestures and a mirror appears in front of Varne. She
makes small changes to her appearance.]
Varne: "What do you think, should I go for green or blue eyes?"
Magnus: "Oh, green."
[The stage; enter stage left Varne, stage right Magnus. They meet
at the centre and Magnus conjures two microphones out of thin
air.]
Magnus: "Well, ladies, gentlemen, and authors."
Varne: "Welcome to the award for the Best Series or Story Arc."
Magnus: "The finalists are:
'Look Who's Talking' story arc, by Imran Inayat. Full of damn
brats.
Varne: "Don't you like children, Lord?"
Magnus: "Roasted or fried are OK."
Magnus: "'Mystery Psycho Theater 3000', by BKWillis."
Varne: "I like those."
Magnus: "You have a part. I suppose you like 'Shock Value' as
well. Anyway the rest of the finalists are:
"'Peri Arc/Camelot-Krontep War', by Paul Gadzikowski;
'Shock Value', by BKWillis;
'Taliesin Cycle/Books of Taliesin', by Helen Fayle; and
'To Die For', by Douglas Killings, BKWillis, et al."
Magnus: "We have a problem here."
Varne: "Since people voted for complete series, it hardly seems
possible to select representative examples without keeping you
here for hours."
Magnus: "So, we have decided to go straight to the presentation.
Varne, the card please."
Varne: "Well, here are the results...
6th Place: 'Look Who's Talking' story arc, by Imran Inayat
Magnus: "...and we have a three way tie for third:
"'Mystery Psycho Theater 3000', by BKWillis;
'Peri Arc/Camelot-Krontep War', by Paul Gadzikowski; and
'Shock Value', by BKWillis."
Varne: "2nd Place: 'Taliesin Cycle/Books of Taliesin', by Helen
Fayle."
Magnus: "And now, what you have all been waiting for, the
Winner:
"'To Die For', by Douglas Killings, BKWillis, et al.
"Will et all please come and collect the prize?"
[Varne takes a look at the wings, while they are waiting for the
winner to show up.]
Varne: "Lord, I told you we should have cut that crack about
authors, and judging by stage right, the one about children. And
as for that incredibly bad 'et all' joke..."
Magnus: "Time for a disappearing act."
[There is a crack of thunder and a large cloud of brimstone-scented
smoke. When it clears, the stage is bare. A faint voice is heard
through a still active mike.]
Varne: (voice-over) "I will have to stop taking you to pantomimes,
Lord."
----
[ADRIC walks back to the podium, making shooing motions at
someone in the wings, from where the sound of many grumbling
childish voices can be heard.]
ADRIC: (to wing) Go on! It's past your bedtimes, anyway. Am I
going to have to call Izzy?
[The sound of a toddler lynch-mob withdraws as ADRIC turns
once more to the audience.]
ADRIC: Ahem. If you could all just bear with us for a moment,
since my 'Badlands' counterpart saw fit to annihilate our telly, we're
having to make other arrangements for our next taped presentation.
While we wait, perhaps I might sing a song for you...?
[A chorus of outraged screaming and catcalling erupts from the
audience, along with a shower of hors d'ouevres, glasses (empty,
of course), and at least one copy of _Who Killed Kennedy_.]
ADRIC: Or perhaps not.
[ADRIC wipes some bits of culinary debris off his tux, which
actually looks better with the crumbs on it, as two technicians in
coveralls wheel a futuristic-looking video unit onto the stage. The
word 'NorInCo' and a hammer-and-chain logo are sewn on the
men's uniforms. They quickly set up the device, then hand ADRIC
an owner's manual the size of a John Grisham novel, but with more
plot. The taller technician then holds out a clipboard and pen.]
TECH: Sign here, please. That'll go on your NorInCard, at 68%
interest, compounded weekly. Failure to pay the debt in its entirety
within six months will result in repossession of all merchandise, a
lien against your property for the balance, and we'll send the boys
around to break your legs or make you listen to a Michael Bolton
album, whichever hurts more. Thank you for shopping NorInCo,
where the future belongs to us.
[The technicians leave the stage. ADRIC examines the device and
pages through the owner's manual for a moment. Finally, he takes
a videocassette and places it inside a hatch on the unit's front and
begins pressing buttons.]
ADRIC: (muttering) Let's see, we press 'retro' to get the right
menu. Then 'mag. tape' for the medium... Now 'optimize'. And we
should be ready...
(to audience) Okay, our next presenters are also representatives of
the Author Group of Individuals Who Have Done Nothing to
Interest the Kefauver Committee. They've written numerous pieces
both separately and as a team and are certainly no strangers to the
Adric awards. One is well-known for her 'Thirteen Worlds' stories,
and the other is author of numerous This Time Round tales and,
most recently, the BBC novel _History 101_. Ladies and
gentlemen, presenting the award for Best 'Doctor Who' Character, I
give you those Fabulous Femmes-Fatale of Fan Fiction, Helen
Fayle and Mags Halliday!
[ADRIC presses a button on the video unit. Instantly, a three-
dimensional holographic image springs to life above it, showing the
NorInCo logo and the words, 'Thank you for purchasing a NorInCo
ImageMaster 3V Entertainment System.' This dissolves into the
image of...]
----
INT. CASTLE OF KINKINESS, TWILIGHT
The living space is unusually quiet; a box of chocolates abandoned
on the low table, a glass of wine spilt on the white fur rug, the tv
screen showing static. More surprisingly, there are no moans or
groans emanating from the bedrooms.
Pan across to the side wall where both bedroom doors are. They
both burst open and MAGS and MISTRESS HELEN emerge,
glaring at each other. They speak simultaneously.
MISTRESS H: Where's my whip? I can't go without my whip.
MAGS: Hair gel. You took my bloody gel, didn't you? Give it.
They frown, flounce back into their rooms and re-emerge, clutching
the items. They swap and flounce back. The doors are slammed.
CUT TO:
LIMO INT., EARLY EVENING
MAGS and MISTRESS H are sat on the long leather seat, as far
away as possible from each other. Both have their arms folded and
are looking out of their respective windows. Both are pouting.
Note for the fashionable: MAGS is in another slinky Chinese
dress, fitted tightly all the way and slit to the thigh. This year,
she's in imperial red and accessorised in black. Her hair is short
and mussed up. MISTRESS H has gone for the romantic look,
long auburn hair curling down her back, wearing a cream and forest
green concoction in lace, embroidered skirts and a deep plunge
front, lace dripping off every cuff and neckline, and festooned with
60's style beads. However, she's still carrying the whip.
MAGS: You'd better not have any handcuffs in that bag, not after
last year.
MISTRESS H: Believe me, I have no desire to be handcuffed to
you again.
MAGS snorts. A reverse shot reveals two men sat in the flip-seats
opposite the women. Kastchei is impeccable in a cream tux with
forest green bowtie and cumberband, clean-shaven, with his long
dark auburn hair just brushing the collar of his shirt. Spike is in his
usual black jeans, t-shirt and dark red silk shirt, with the leather
coat. They exchange long-suffering glances.
MAGS & MISTRESS H: Bitch.
MISTRESS H & MAGS: What did you call me?
MISTRESS H: Sell out traitor. Going to work for the Corporation.
Getting the glory.
MAGS: Oh yeah, says the woman with how many bloody
nominations tonight?
MISTRESS H: Too busy to beta-read now, Miss I've-Got-A-
Contract.
MAGS: Too busy pouncing about with your own creation to write
any Doctor Who. No offence, Kit.
They have turned towards each other now, glaring nose to nose.
MISTRESS H: Me? Look how you drag *him* into every damn
thing you do. At least Tal and Kit are original. No offence, Spike.
MAGS: Hey! Don't you start on my darling boy!
MISTRESS H: He's a tramp! He'll work with anyone! I *know* he
does it with Imran as well....
MAGS: I don't care.
MISTRESS H: And I bet he's in your bloody novel!
MAGS: He is *not*! I'm a professional!
MISTRESS H: Ha!
MAGS: Oh that bugs you so much, doesn't it? But who got all the
praise last year? Huh? Who got everyone nominating her? Huh?
And then claims that no-one read her work? Bloody bollocks....
MISTRESS H: Yeah? Well if no-one bloody comments, how am I
supposed to *know* they're reading it. Hell, I never really liked
you anyway and....and....you have stupid hair.
SPIKE (quietly to Kastchei): Wasn't that my line?
KASTSCHEI (to group, with long suffering sigh): We're almost
there. Ready?
MAGS and MISTRESS H glare at each other and then check
themselves in their compacts. They nod to their respective escorts.
CUT TO:
EXT. FRONT OF TTR.
A red carpet is laid and a crowd of about four people are held back
behind golden ropes. RANDOM stands on the low steps, a big
'press' pass around her neck and microphone in hand, looking
bored. GORDON is walking up the carpet, accompanied by
ALRYSSA. Both are looking very dapper in formal evening wear
and GORD is waving to the non-existent crowd.
As they say a few words to RANDOM, a limo pulls up. Luckily, it
has a double door on the street side so SPIKE and KASTCHEI step
out simultaneously and then reach in to help MAGS and
MISTRESS H out. The women are all smiles. They link arms, the
men taking the outer arms and all four walk up the carpet together.
One camera bulb flashes.
RANDOM: Ladies, looking forward to your joint presentation
tonight?
MAGS: I always look forward to being presented with joints.
MISTRESS H (under her breath): I could always make you a
present of your kneecaps...
RANDOM: It's good to see your friendship is as strong as ever,
that the events of the last year haven't changed you.
MISTRESS H: Oh, we're the bestest of friends, as always, Ran.
RANDOM: I see you've gone for a Master/Mistress theme this
year...
KASTCHEI: Actually, I'm not The Ma...
THE TVM MASTER taps RANDOM on her arm.
TVM MASTER: So embarrassing, isn't it? They tell you it's a one
off original, then someone else shows up wearing the same thing...
Pan down to reveal he's wearing black jeans, t-shirt and dark red
silk shirt, with a black leather coat. SPIKE glares at him, and THE
MASTER just pushes his sunglasses back up his nose and smiles,
before walking off. SPIKE gives him the finger.
RANDOM: So, Lord Kastchei - there's talk that you weren't too
happy that you missed out on a nomination this year...
KASTCHEI: No comment.
RANDOM (desperately shoving the mike under his nose): And the
stories that you seem to be seeing an awful lot of your co-star,
Vivienne of Avallion, in between scenes and after hours...?
KASTCHEI (points to where Vivienne and Tal are arriving, looking
sickeningly snuggly): Does it look like it?
He takes MISTRESS H's arm. The shot lingers on them for a
moment, as they do make a striking, and very colour co-ordinated
couple.
RANDOM: And Spike, you do know this is a black tie affair...?
SPIKE raises his free arm, revealing a black tie wrapped around his
wrist.
SPIKE: They didn't say where I had to wear it.
MAGS takes hold of the free end and tugs, bringing him to heel.
They likewise make a colour-co-ordinated couple. It's only when
the two women stand next to each other that there's a clash.
The four move on, making space for NYSSAIAS and
EMBERICLES.
MAGS & MISTRESS H (quietly to each other, still beaming for the
non-existent cameras): Bitch.
CUT TO:
KARAOKE STAGE, TTR INT.
ANNOUNCER TYPE: ...with the presentation for Best 'Doctor
Who' Character, Mistress Helen and Mags.
There is cheering as MISTRESS H comes on stage. She glares off
to one side.
MISTRESS H: Put. The. Vampire. Down.
MAGS comes on, tugging lightly at the black tie knotted around
SPIKE's wrist. Both have mussed up hair and dirty grins.
MISTRESS H raises her eyes heavenward and whistles.
KASTCHEI hurries on and stands beside her. The two women glare
at each other, then shoot obviously false smiles to the camera.
MAGS: Ladies, gentlemen and beings of indeterminate gender,
we're here to present the award for Best 'Doctor Who' Character. A
category neither of us were nominated in. (glances at Spike) For some reason.
MISTRESS H: Yeah, wonder what that could be? (she glances at
the outside of the envelope)
MISTRESS H: ...and the nominations are...
[The screens behind the women light up, showing the appropriate
scenes.]
MISTRESS H: ...Adric for 'To Die For', by Douglas Killings,
BKWillis, et al....
>"Whatever you... or anyone else, for that matter... thinks of me,
>know now that I've got at least enough self-respect to not play
>this game anymore. Now, gods know I can't stop you from killing
>me, so I guess I might as well not even try. But I can attempt to
>make you understand that, whatever your reasons are, it won't do
>you any good. In short, you've lost. I no longer fear you, I refuse
>to be afraid of you." Adric took a deep breath, but continued to
>look at her back squarely. "If anything... I pity you, because you
>won't see what it is you're doing to yourself."
ADRIC shuffles in his seat, looking faintly nervous.
MAGS: Compassion for her role as the Stepmother-
COMPASSION (off-stage): Dark Queen! Dark Queen!
MAGS: ...as the Dark Queen in 'Look Who's Talking: Story Time -
Cinderella', by Doug Killings....
>COMPASSION: (nodding, voice rising as she continues) Yes,
>that is correct. And when the Prince sees my daughters, he will
>fall instantly in love with one of them, and they shall marry! And
>when they are married I shall kill the rest of the royal family, and
>then my daughter will be left to rule in their place! And then I shall
>control the throne from behind! And then _I_ shall rule the
>kingdom! And with this kingdom as a base, I shall put together an
>army from which I shall gobble up all my neighbors, and then I
>shall conquer whole continents, and then I shall RULE THE
>WORLD! BWAHAHAHAHA!
>
>From outside, the sound of ominous thunder can be heard on a
>perfectly clear day.
>
>FITZ: Um, Cam... don't you think you're overdoing it just a bit?
>
>COMPASSION: (looking around, appearing rather sheepish) Oh,
>sorry. I'm afraid I'm not much good at this evil thing.
KASTCHEI: ...Dr Harry Sullivan for 'Bride Quest', by Clive May...
>Harry was no fool. He was a doctor, and had a certain empathy;
>but this sort of thing was new ground for him. Not much exposure
>to romance as a Navy Surgeon, he thought wryly. He gazed
>around, vaguely aware that there was a majestic melancholy about
>the scene, but it could not really touch his soul. Now, Sarah, well,
>she was one of those creative types. You sort of expected them to
>be set on fire by places like this.
>
>"It has a certain something," he conceded at last, not too sure
>what he ought to have said.
>
>"A certain something?" Sarah echoed his words with mock
>dismay. She put hands on hips. "Harry Sullivan? Have you no
>romance at all in your soul? Look around you. Look. All these
>ruins. Can't you just feel the weight of sadness?"
>
>"Ruins are always sad," Harry said a little lamely. He was aware
>that there was no way he could hold up his end in a conversation
>that began like this.
There are a few mutters of "good show" from the more stiff-upper-
lipped parts of the room.
SPIKE: ....Pyscho Nyssa for 'To Die For', by Douglas Killings,
BKWillis, et al. Mmmmm. Women with crossbows....
MAGS elbows him whilst Nyssa shoots him a filthy look.
NYSSA: Pervert.
BUFFY: Tell me about it....
>"I don't care. I don't care. It doesn't make a bit of difference to me.
>I have no reason to be bothered. I don't care."
>
>Nyssa ran the razor edge of the arrowhead down the whetstone
>yet again, despite the fact that the steel had long since passed
>any reasonable degree of sharpness and was now on its way to
>becoming a danger to passing electrons. But then, she wasn't
>really looking at it, either.
>
>"Whatever he decides to do, or whoever he does it with, it doesn't
>matter to me, right? Right. No reason at all to care."
MAGS: ....Tegan in 'Cockatiel', by Graham Woodland...
>"Nyssa," said Tegan thickly, in a bit, "I know I'm rotten at -- ahh --
>saying it, but in case you haven't noticed I do love you, all right,
>and I've wanted you ever so long, and -- will you _please_ stop
>teasing me, and get that silly shirt off?!"
>
>The other girl smiled with delicious heartlessness. "No. But you
>can take it away from me, if you want it." She backed off coyly,
>still moving to the music. How could such a _little_ lady have legs
>that stretched up so many miles? "There's a price, though..."
>
>"Nyssa," breathed Tegan again, trying to make it sound exactly
>like Yes.
TEGAN and NYSSA exchange a glance and a smile.
MISTRESS H: ... and The Third Doctor in 'Death & Toliman,' by
Jeri Massi.
>Two very long hours ticked by, and the Doctor fumed and paced
>and tried to take it out on the desk sergeant but could not get past
>that helpful and useless exterior, so he at last sat down and
>waited. But he would periodically erupt into a commentary to
>himself out loud about police forces, police states, police history,
>and police actions, and the overall lack of suitable service
>rendered by police across the galaxy but on earth in particular,
>and especially in London.
>
>"Hullo, you talking to yourself?" a voice asked at his shoulder. It
>was the Brigadier.
>
>The Doctor stood up. "It's about time! Have you seen her?"
MAGS: And the winner is....
MAGS turns and hands the envelope over to MISTRESS H.
MISTRESS H stares at her.
MISTRESS H: But, you always want to do this bit.
MAGS shrugs.
MAGS: You do it.
MISTRESS H: Aren't we going to wrestle over it?
There is a murmur of worry from the audience. The annual hair-
pulling and dress-ripping is cancelled? They knew separating the
awards from the radw ones would raise the tone too much.
SPIKE: I'd like to see that.
KASTCHEI: The idea does have its merits...
They grin at each other.
MISTRESS H & MAGS: Hey!
MAGS & MISTRESS H: Men!
They both arch their eyebrows and then grin at each other.
MAGS: Get on with it then, woman.
MISTRESS H: And the winner is....well. It's a tie.
She shows the card to her fellow presenters who all smile, filthily.
MISTRESS H: Adric in 'To Die For' and Tegan in 'Cockatiel'.
SPIKE: See? Women with crossbows... they bring out the best in
anyone.
ADRIC and TEGAN reach the stage, both glancing back at NYSSA
who is torn between smiling and frowning and is therefore just
looking confused.
----