It occurs to me that I have yet to actually post something for today. Whoops.
It also occurs to me that I've been promising to finish my UNIT!100 table since March, and yet, haven't uploaded anything since then. Naughty, naughty Smitty.
I won't lie; things got hectic. Between an officer course and wedding prep and the actual wedding and a very cadet-oriented May/June, then Quadra...between all those things going on in Real Life, I sort of lost the drive to write in the DW fandom. I still had four (or so) completed works that I hadn't posted, but I held off on posting them, as I knew that if I left myself with absolutely nothing completed/a bunch of works suffering from a bout of the dreaded Block, I'd never get the urge to complete anything.
But never fear - the muse has come back (sort of)! I've completed three new stories (and gotten ideas for a few more, to boot), but the ones on the Block are still waiting, though. I should be getting on those soon...at least, once the Block decides to work with me and give inspiration for those stories.
Therefore, have a story! :D Those of you who read them; you've put up with my random IRL blatherings for long enough.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Richard Michaels, Master (Delgado), John Benton, Mike Yates
Prompt: 056. Breakfast.
Word Count: 1192
Summary: “But you’ve got the wrong person!”
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own OCs, should I create any for these stories.
Author’s Note: For those who don’t know, Richard Michaels is my headcanon Inferno!Yates, who now resides in the UNIT!’verse as an self-employed artist with no memory of his previous life. For a full explanation, I recommend reading The Great Escape.
Richard Michaels had planned to go to Hyde Park and spend the day sketching the passersby. He certainly hadn’t planned on being kidnapped and locked up in an abandoned old warehouse-turned-secret lair for the better part of a day, tied to a chair by who he assumed was a madman. After all, there was no other logical reason for why he had been taken - he was an artist, and it wasn’t as though he was rolling in money.
It also didn’t help that in between his monologuing about world domination, the man kept calling him “Yates”. No matter how many times he tried to insist that he wasn’t this “Yates” person, the man didn’t seem to listen. Richard tried to rack his brain - did he even know a “Yates”?
Then it occurred to him - John had a friend at his military base with that name. Richard had never met him, of course, but John had told him that they looked very similar. Perhaps that was the cause of this misunderstanding?
Richard’s stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and he tried again to protest that he wasn’t this Yates fellow the man seemed to be looking for, in hopes of being freed. Unfortunately, the man only turned around from where he was fiddling with a bank of controls to give him a patronizing smile from behind his neatly-trimmed beard. “My dear Captain, you should know by now that you can’t possibly hope to fool me with these pathetic outbursts. Besides,” he looked Richard over, gesturing at his clothes, “as disguises go, that’s rather a poor one. Now tell me what the UNIT access codes are to this missile system, or I shall be forced to use violence.”
“But I don’t know them! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” And it was true - whenever he saw John, they rarely spoke abut his work besides the cursory questions of how things were going and the like. Richard knew he wasn’t privy to the goings-on of the facility (something about Official Secrets Acts and such), and he was usually alright with that. Except now, he was in trouble for something he had no idea about, and this man didn’t seem to believe him.
The man sighed. “Very well. It seems I shall have to give you a demonstration of the consequences that occur if you insist on being uncooperative.” He then pulled out a small gadget from his pocket, showing it to Richard. “Do you know what this is, Captain Yates?”
Richard shook his head, uncomprehending. It looked rather like a cross between a penlight and an eggbeater, though he couldn’t for the life of him fathom what it was for.
Not waiting for an answer, the man continued: “This is a Dalek gunstick. Normally a single blast from this weapon would be enough to kill you, but I have found a much more effective way to use it for my benefit. With just a few small changes to the beam’s setting, the weapon is no longer lethal, yet still contains enough firepower to make things quite unpleasant for you. It causes paralysis, instead of death.” He pointed it at Richard. “I’ll ask you one last time, Captain Yates - what are the UNIT access codes?”
By now, Richard was getting worried. He didn’t want to be crippled, but he could see no other way out. He could always try to bluff, but he had no idea what sort of format these codes were meant to be in, and who knew what the man would do if he found out that he wasn’t telling the truth. Just then, the man interrupted his train of thought: “Well, Captain? Are you prepared to see reason?”
Richard just shook his head, sure by now that the man was completely out of his mind. “You’ve got the wrong person. I haven’t got the foggiest idea what you’re talking about.”
The man smiled coldly. “Wrong answer.” He then prepared to push a button, and just when Richard had given up all hope of being able to get out of this without becoming a paraplegic, the doors burst open and a group of UNIT soldiers rushed in, headed up by John and… a man who looked nearly identical to him. Richard wasn’t sure who looked more shocked; his captor or the soldier, who he assumed must be the ‘Captain Yates’ the man had spoken of.
Fortunately, John wasn’t taken by surprise at all, and quickly ordered the other soldiers to handcuff and take the man away, and just like that, the moment was over. His doppelgänger snapped out of his reverie and briskly strode over to where Richard was still tied, pulling out a penknife to free him. Despite the circumstances, Richard couldn’t help but smile wryly. “So, you must be the famous ‘Captain Yates’ I’ve been hearing so much about.”
Yates, for his part, returned the smile as he sliced the ropes binding Richard’s wrists behind the chair. “That I am. You must be the ‘Richard’ that Sergeant Benton has told me about.”
Richard nodded, rubbing his wrists, trying to regain some feeling in his hands. “Shame we couldn’t have met under more pleasant circumstances, but there it is.”
Just then, John returned to the building, to report to Yates that he’d locked the man up in an armoured vehicle, guarded by several soldiers and was now ready to be taken back to HQ.
Yates straightened up and faced him. “Thank you, Sergeant. I’d best be heading back with the Master, then. You’ll be alright to take the rest of the soldiers and clean up what’s left here?”
“Yessir.” John saluted, and Yates left. John then turned to where Richard was still sitting. “Sorry you had to get mixed up in this, Rich. I honestly didn’t think the Master would target you like that.”
Richard shrugged. “I was thinking I needed a little more excitement in my life; though, maybe not to that extent. This what you handle on a regular basis, then?”
“Sometimes, if we’re lucky,” John answered, vaguely. Then he changed the subject. “He didn’t injure you at all, did he?”
Richard shook his head. “Just some sore wrists and some bruises; nothing permanent. Could have been worse, all things considered.”
“Yes, well, I’m just glad we got to you in time. The Master would definitely gone through with his threat, and then you’d have been in trouble.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Richard shuddered. “So who is this Master fellow, anyway?”
“Old friend-turned-rival of our Scientific Advisor. He might seem polite at times, but he’s an utterly horrible sort of bloke. Generally not a good person to get mixed up with.” John explained, grimacing.
“I see,” Richard replied. “I’ll keep that in mind when I get kidnapped next time.” The last part was added on with a smirk.
John laughed, but soon became serious again. “Let’s hope there isn’t a next time.”
“Couldn’t agree more. I’ll leave the Master to you, if it’s all the same.” Richard took one last look around the building before preparing to leave for his flat. “What a day…”
A Fine Line - Between Chaos and Creation
Everybody seems to think I'm lazy; I don't mind, I think they're crazy...
- NaBloPoMo 2014 - Day Four