So here it is! The new Fanfiction Court Trials of 2011!
But Before we get to the story, I would like to thank, in no particular order what-so-ever, some people!:
First off, I would like to thank Snooky-9093 for originally creating this wonderful idea! And letting me get to play with it :)
Second, to the Boys of Barracks Two for being fed up enough with us to sue us.
Third, to Hogan Macgyver for having the crazy notion of wanting to bring the Trial back
Fourth to Konarciq for her wonderful additions to this story!
Fifth, to Bits and Pieces for being a most AMAZING (and patient, and educational) Beta ever! :D
Sixth, to Marie1964, and Jinzle for being my cohorts-in-crime throughout this
Seventh, to Dust on the Wind, ColHogan, Yellowrose, Konarciq, and Snooky-9093 for letting me indirectly mention some of their stories. (And myself of course, Thank you Lizzi, no problem, Lizzi!)
Eighth, to the creators of Hogan's Heroes/Ein Käfig voller Helden for letting us borrow their creations, even if their creation is suing us... hee hee , and to the creators of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, for letting me borrow their Temporal Investigators
Ninth, to the annoying birds that keep me up all night, along with the annoying hedgehogs.
Tenth, to my computer, without whom I could not have written this story.
Eleventh, to the English Language – okay, okay, I'll stop ^^ on with the Story!
(In other words THANK YOU ALL, especially those of you who helped and supported me as I wrote this first chapter, I hope it does the first version of the trials justice, and makes you proud!)
-Lizzi0307-
A/N This story is based on the "Fanfic Court" created by Snooky-9093. If you have not read that story please do so. Otherwise this version (as it is a sequel, which while brilliantly written, and incredibly funny [*grins and takes a slight bow*] may not make all that much sense…. Just a FYI.
Now without further delay, on with the show!
NS. Oh yeah. I don't own Hogan's Heroes, seeing it was produced in America long before I was even born. I don't own Ein Käfig voller Helden either, though it'd be cool if I did. I don't own Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, though it'd be super cool if I did. I don't own this original idea of a trial either, that's Snooky-9093's. Nor do I own the stories mentioned here, except for my own. Okay. NOW. (Really!) On with the Story!
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Lizzi stood by her window and sighed while staring at the dark clouds approaching. We are in for another storm. Shaking her head, she walked back to her computer and sat down at her desk. After reading over what she just wrote she added a couple of more lines, and just as she was finishing the line, Lizzi heard the first crack of thunder. Great, she thought, staring at her computer cord, I wish I could "ground" my computer like Brian….. Thinking about the grounding device that the American exchange students had, Lizzi looked nervously away from her outlet and went back to staring at her computer as she read over the paragraph.
p.A. Colonel Robert E. Hogan, USAAF, Gefangener
Stammlager Luft XIII
97762 Hammelburg
Dear Prisoner,
My name is Mary Sue Doe. My teacher says we have to write to you, and that you are in Prison. What is it like? I wish I could come visit you and cheer you up. It must be hard being in Prison. Do you ever dream of escape? What do you do day to day? Please send me a Picture. I know you aren't allowed to have Cameras, but maybe someone can draw one.
Sincerely yours,
Mary Sue Doe, age 10
Satisfied, Lizzi glanced again outside. As the storm continued to gain strength, she watched the constant flicker of lightening and shuddered at the roar of the thunder. I hope it doesn't came any closer, she thought as she hit save, and logged onto Fanfiction to send the story over to Snooky. The last thing I need is for it to hit nearby and cause my building to short out. Licking her lips nervously, as she briefly thought about unplugging her computer, Lizzi hit "Send". At the same moment a most amazing light struck, followed immediately by the most vicious roar that caused several seconds of deafness in Lizzi's ears. Catching her breath she looked up, as the noise had caused her to fall out of her chair in surprise. Her computer was entirely blank, and her cord looked fried. Hmmm, Lizzi pondered nervously as she looked at the damage, I wonder if the Email got through…. And I wonder if my computer will ever be the same…..? It better be…. I've got more stories to write…that and I need it for work….but my story better still be intact…
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Colonel Robert Hogan was walking across the compound at Stalag Luft 13, when he was suddenly hit with a massive headache. His head felt as if were going to explode. Hogan dropped to his knees and grabbed his head with both hands. Panting heavily, he tried not to think, yet it seemed as if his mind was swarming through years of memory that had been forgotten.
Hogan was still grasping his head trying to sort out his mind, when a hand suddenly appeared on shoulder. He recognised it as one of the newer prisoners who had come in only a few days ago.
"Colonel, sir! Are you all right?" The man asked.
"Uggg, uhhh, yeaaaah, I, I thiiiink so….. woooah…:" Hogan tried to stand up, but wobbled horribly. "Just, uh, just, bad…. Bad headache…." Hogan felt nauseous.
"Come-on, sir, I think you better see Wilson." The private led a wobbly Hogan towards the prisoner's Infirmary.
Once there the duo found Wilson also lying on the ground holding his head. The private led Hogan over to a cot as he tended to Wilson.
"Hey Joe, Joe! Are you all right?"
"Headache….. bad headache….." Wilson moaned as the private looked around desperately trying to figure out what to do. Leaving Wilson still lying on the floor, he jumped up and looked around for help. The majority of the camp seemed to have suddenly come down with the exact same headache. This isn't possible…. The man looked up towards the guard towers. Most of the guards were also incapacitated, and those who weren't, prisoners and guards alike, were lost in confusion. What's going on here….?
Hogan breathed a bit easier as the headache lessened. Opening his eyes he realised he was in the Infirmary. Slowly sitting up, he saw that Wilson was lying on the floor. Blinking his eyes several times he tried to clear his vision as he crawled over to Wilson.
"Wilson, are you alright?"
"Uhhhh. Yes, yes sir. That was a doozy of a headache. I felt like my head was gonna explode. It's like an overdose of memories making their way from the corners of my mind to the forefront."
"I know what you mean…." Hogan stood up uneasily, and walked to the door leading out of the Infirmary towards the compound. He saw over three-quarters of the men and guards all trying to clear their heads. "Hey Wilson…" Hogan continued to look outside. He could hear Wilson getting to his feet. "What would cause every guy here to suddenly collapse with the same headache?"
"I dunno. Freak flu?" Wilson paused a second while he smiled. "Klink playing the violin?"
"No, really. What would cause that?"
"I dunno. Someone writing a story where that happens?" Wilson laughed. Hogan while chewing his lower lip, spun around.
"What?"
"Oh nothing, just a joke, sir." Wilson picked up the chair he had toppled over and sat it up straight, before turning towards his CO. "Why?"
"Nothing… just a feeling…." Hogan had a distant look for a minute, before smiling like nothing was wrong and turning back towards the door. "I'm gonna go check on the rest of the men."
"I'll follow Sir." Wilson grabbed his satchel and followed Hogan out the door and into the compound. Hogan, still rubbing his temples, made his way instinctively towards Barrack Two. Wilson followed him inside.
"-not knock you on the 'ead, Louis!" Newkirk turned as Hogan entered.
"Well if it wasn't you, then who? It wasn't Carter, he's over there!" LeBeau pointed across the room.
"He's right. It wasn't me." Carter looked up from sewing his sock and shrugged.
"Ah the guv's 'ere. Guv-" Newkirk started before Hogan interrupted.
"Did anyone in here experience a sudden and horrible headache a few minutes ago?"
"It wasn't me, Louis! I didn't 'it you on the 'ead!"
"Le Colonel already knows, Pierre…" LeBeau gave him a dirty look.
"All right! Enough! I simply want a yes or no answer. Who had a sudden excruciating headache a few minutes ago?" Hogan looked around. "Carter?"
"Yeah," Carter shrugged. "I was-"
"Newkirk?" Hogan interrupted Carter and turned towards Newkirk who was half lying on his bunk.
"Right-o guv. And Louis 'ere had one, too."
"That's because you hit me!"
"I didn't. Dropped the pan on you, maybe. Deliberately 'it ya…. Don't give me ideas…." Newkirk smiled as he sat up to light a cigarette. Hogan looked at both the men and sighed openly. He glanced at the other men in the room.
"And how many of you"? Hogan watched as the rest of the men all raised their hands, except one. It was a corporal who had been admitted into the barracks a week before. "All except, um, except…-"
"Doe, sir. Jonathan Guy Doe." Hogan eyed him curiously.
"Your name seems familiar…"
"That's cause we 'ad us already a John Doe, guv. Don't know where 'e disappeared to though… seems like a lot of 'em seem to just come and go like 'at."
"He's right, Colonel." Kinch stepped forward as Hogan turned towards him. "It's funny, it's like I just suddenly remembered that when Newkirk here mentioned it. But there are a lot of guys that don't seem to be around anymore. Yet I can't remember what happened to them. And I don't mean the escapees." Kinch rubbed his temples a bit, to try and lessen the leftover headache.
"Kinch is right, boy, um, sir. I mean gee, we've had a lot of guys through here lately, or so I think, but I can't ever remember what happened to them. Hey. And all the stuff we've blown up. Whatever happened to that or to-"
"Thank you, Carter," Hogan interrupted. "I'm going to go into my office to lie down. There must be some explanation. Kinch, would you mind digging up that old list we had of the guys who've been through here? I'd forgotten about it till just now."
"Sure, Colonel. Do you want me to bring it to you as soon as we find it"?
"No…." Hogan massaged his forehead right above his eyes. "Bring it to me in an hour or two; I want to lie down first. This is one whopper of a headache…" Hogan turned towards his office and shut the door behind him. Kinch turned towards the rest of the men.
"Well, you heard him. Any ideas where it may have been stored? I don't remember ever seeing it before…. Yet it sounds familiar…." Kinch looked around for a possible hiding spot.
"Maybe it's down in the tunnel. I mean, that would be logical, right? We always hide things down there, so if it is something that we are gonna hide, I would hide it down there, simply because, well, the tunnel has-" Carter was interrupted by a scattering of feet scouring the barracks, each acting as if he were searching for gold.
The men searched every inch of the barracks, some looking through the secret files down in the tunnel. Half an hour later, the men were discouraged.
"Maybe we don't have one-" Carter started to say.
"Non, mon Ami. I remember it." LeBeau shook his head. "Pierre, would you mind putting this in my footlocker?" LeBeau handed Newkirk the thread Carter had been using earlier on his socks. Newkirk made a sour face as he rolled his eyes, and went about putting the thread in his footlocker instead, smiling slightly to himself. Every man quickly turned to focus on him as he crawled out from underneath his and Carter's attached bunk.
"'Ello 'ello 'ello, what 'ave we got 'ere?" Newkirk pulled a bunch of papers out from under the assorted junk in his footlocker.
"I said my locker, Newkirk, not yours." LeBeau stood over Newkirk's shoulder as Newkirk sorted through a pile of papers.
"What's that?" Carter sat down next to him on the lower bunk, and Newkirk read:
That afternoon, a Mrs. Groundwater from Australia found a peculiar mail in her inbox. "Congratulations!" it flashed out to her. "The International Board for Fanfiction is so impressed with your work, that they have decided to reward you with a very special prize: a week's stay at the site where your stories take place. All expenses paid, everything is taken care of. Just bring your own toothbrush, that's all. We will expect you tomorrow morning at 7 a.m. sharp. Welcome to Stalag 13!"
She raised her eyebrows. "Expect me tomorrow morning at 7 a.m.? Where? At Stalag 13? I can't even make it over there, unless I charter the Concorde." She shrugged.
"Nonsense. Probably spam." And she pressed the button to delete the message.
A couple of hours later a few American ladies from the East Coast found a similar mail upon starting their work-day with the checking of their inbox. They, too, wondered, shrugged and deleted the message. Nobody believed it to be true. They could make up the most outrageous events when it came to other people. But never once did it enter their mind that someone else could do exactly the same to them.
A couple of hours later a few American ladies from the East Coast found a similar mail upon starting their work-day with the checking of their inbox. They, too, wondered, shrugged and deleted the message. Nobody believed it to be true. They could make up the most outrageous events when it came to other people. But never once did it enter their mind that someone else could do exactly the same to them.
There was sudden chatter among the men in the barracks. All those memories that had come flooding back into their minds not ten minutes ago were suddenly clicking into place.
"Authors…. Stories…. Women….. the women were authors…." Newkirk started muttering to himself.
"They killed the Colonel…. Mon Dieu, they killed him, again and again…:" LeBeau buried his head in hands. Those heartless women…."
"What on Earth are you guys talking about"? The John Guy Doe took a few steps towards them. "What do you mean 'women, authors and stories'? What authors, what stories?"
"Putain! He wasn't here! I don't remember him before." LeBeau turned and took a few steps so he was nose to shoulder with Doe. "Those…. Those…. Those 'women', those Authors… they write about us. And they kill the Colonel. He always comes back, but they kill him. They kill him!" LeBeau stomped off in a French tirade that made Kinch and Newkirk wince as they pretended not to hear what he was ranting.
"What are you guys seriously talking about? Who would write about us, we're real people-"
"No, no we aren't." Kinch handed the rest of the story to him to read. Doe sat down quietly, shocked.
"This can't be…. This just can't be…"
"It is, mate." Newkirk stood up from where he had been lying on the bottom bunk.
"Hey, I just remembered! That was that funny story we wrote, about those four authors being trapped in camp!" Carter's eyes lit up. From over at the stove, LeBeau snickered.
"Remember, Newkirk, that part we secretly wrote? When we 'accidentally' had them turned into starfish?"
"And with the spiders in their overalls!" Carter recalled. Kinch began to cough the nasty cough he'd had since some heartless author had inflicted him with TB nearly two years ago.
"And you had a nice little plan involving itching powder, as I recall."
"Maybe we should continue the story," Carter hopefully suggested. "We never did finish it, did we? I'd love to get a chance to use that itching powder on them."
LeBeau scowled. "I have a much better idea: maybe we should go to court and sue them. Look at what they've done to poor Kinch! And to you, too, Pierre."
"Didn't we already sue them"? Kinch took what he hoped would be a deep breath as he looked at LeBeau.
"No, I don't think so. I think I would remember suing a bunch of authors."
"No, really, that seems familiar…." Kinch began to breathe easier.
"Yeah, well," Carter spoke up. "I mean, if we did sue them. Kinch is right, I think we did, that warning didn't help at all. Except I don't really remember it; it's all pretty fuzzy. But if you think about it, and we did sue them, and well they still keep writing, then it's them who always seem to have it in for you, Newkirk. I don't even want to think about and remember all the horrible things you've been through lately."
"And all because they 'love' you so much," Kinch managed to say before he began to sputter a heart-wrenching cough.
"Well, don't forget your own troubles. And the Gov'nor's. So, it's all agreed then that we want to bring them back to court for a renewed trial; that is if one 'appened before? And if it 'asn't, then it's 'igh time. I say this should be dealt with once and for all now!" The others nodded firmly, and together, they headed over to Hogan's office. But Newkirk hesitated before he knocked on the door. "Let's just 'ope they 'aven't killed 'im again..."
The men opened the door to find Hogan lying on his bottom bunk. He seemed to be having a nightmare of sorts, thrashing around, and sweating as if he had a high fever.
"Should we go get Wilson"? Carter muttered quietly.
"No, mon Ami. Let's wake him first. You know how he feels about doctors..:"
"Wilson's not a doctor, LeBeau. He's a medic. That's different-"
"Shh!" Newkirk gave the two of them a dirty look. He glanced over at Kinch who took a deep breath and gently shook Hogan's shoulder.
"Colonel? Sir? I'm sorry to wake you-"
"WOMEN AND CHILDREN AND PRISONERS FIRST!" Hogan's eyes snapped open and it took a moment for them to adjust to seeing his men in front of him. "Oh sorry…" he muttered quietly as he gingerly sat up. "I was having a Nightmare about the camp being flooded…" He covered his eyes with his left hand. "I feel like I've been through Basic a hundred times over; with a few trucks running over me for good measure."
"Um, Colonel, we think we know why. You see, there are these authors-" Kinch started to explain as Hogan's eyes shot up.
"Those women who keep showing up in camp?" Hogan stood up weakly as he stared Kinch straight in the face.
"Mon Dieu! They do… I remember them…."
"Yes, sir. I believe now that you mention it, some of them have."
"That's it. I've had enough. We need to take care of this. I thought it was over when we hid the watch. I thought it was over when we put them on trial-"
"So, it did happen!" Carter's eyes lit up.
"-I thought it was over when you guys added your secret portion to our story about them!"
"'Ow'd he know 'bout that…?" Newkirk barely muttered to LeBeau.
"But this time, this time we'll show them we aren't something from their imaginations. Kinch, summon London. I want to show those authors that Papa Bear is not to be muddled with!"
"Yes, sir!" Kinch grinned and headed quickly towards the door.
"The rest of you," Hogan turned to the rest of the men, "find evidence that will help support our side. I want to show those authors just what they do to us. Find a way to contact them. I believe we had help from someone; something we weren't supposed to know about. Um, I think I recall someone from the future visiting once, maybe… these headaches are causing more memories to come flooding back, but it's all foggy,… oh and get something for my head while you're at it. But not from Wilson. I've seen enough of him leaning over my sickbed to last me a lifetime, and a few more apparently…" Hogan slumped back down on his bed.
"Yes, sir," the men replied as they walked out of the room. Hogan had just laid down when Olsen appeared in his doorway.
"Yes Olsen, what is it?" Hogan didn't bother getting up.
"Nothing sir. Just the mail. And this one's label has a return address for Germany on it. And a very strange return address to be sure. But more than that, it's labelled directly to you." Olsen set the mail down on Hogan's desk as he turned away.
"Thanks, Olsen." Hogan sat up slowly. He felt as if his ribs were cracked and bruised. Limping over to the desk, he looked at it. Suddenly squinting his eyes closed, the memories of the trial came flooding back. Several minutes later, and after several deep breaths, he opened his eyes again. He had them. At least, one of them. That return address was an address. An Electronic Address of sorts I think, Hogan recalled. If he had one, he could get more. The secret was how to use that one, to get the others. I have you now, authors. And this time there is no escape. You wanna meet us and give us missions? Fine. Here's your chance. But I have a doosy of a one for you!
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Hogan and the rest of the main team sat down in the tunnel. Kinch lay with his eyes half-closed panting, trying to think through the pain he was feeling. Not only was Consumption draining his energy, but he was black and blue from a beating he had received as well. Hogan, frowning at the quickly deteriorating condition of his Right-Hand-Man, shook his head slowly, causing the world to spin.
"Al…..alright men." Hogan swallowed to try and knock back his nausea. "We are faced with the greatest crisis this war could give us." He paused looking at each face of the men in front of him. "Women."
"Please don't call them that." LeBeau bit back his anger. "That gives them a warm, friendly, sound. Besides, we don't know if they are all women. Please Colonel, just call them,… 'Authors'."
"Very well. Authors. Authors who, for fun, send us on the most dangerous missions, who have us beaten, mutilated, even killed for their entertainment! We put them on trial before, we can again!" Hogan pounded the beat-up wooden table in front of him. "I know some of you are still sketchy on the memories. I know that some of you are dealing with the memories you do remember." He glanced over at Newkirk, before turning back to the rest of the men. "But I want you to set aside any feelings you may have of the authors and focus on our task at hand. I asked Kinch to contact London about getting the authors here again. Kinch-"
"Sir. Sorry for interrupting, but it was no-go." Kinch panted heavily, summing all his energy to stand up from leaning against the wall. "It was no-go. London doesn't seem to recall the trial from last time, and personally sends a message of "are you bonkers, old chum", and a message to "lay off the bratwurst for a while, till you come to your senses, eh mate." Although one of their radio operators did mention that he had been having nightmares about working with us that seemed very real…. So who knows? But don't expect any help from them…." Kinch coughed as he leaned back. Carter helping to sturdy him looked over at Hogan.
"What does that mean"?
"It means, Carter," Hogan winced as the pain in his ribs increased as he turned, "that we are on our own. London either doesn't know what's going on or doesn't want to get involved." Hogan paused a moment. "How did we get in contact with the authors last time…. Anyone remember"? Everyone was silent for a moment.
"I think that, um, that crew 'elped us… um, the, the, Starship Enterprise Commander…." Newkirk stroked his chin thoughtfully, ignoring the fatigue he felt.
"A Navy Crew"?
"No… they weren't, they were Air Force I think…. they flew…. Yet had a ship…." Newkirk shook his head. "I don't remember…." He felt he was thinking through cotton, all he could focus on since the morning were a few young girls; girls who had had so much to live for, but were denied the chance of a happy childhood. Anger began to build up as he shouted. "We better bloody get them, Guv! Those children deserve some revenge!"
"We will, Newkirk…." Hogan stammered as pain fled through his body. He felt old, worn out, and in need of some good rest, but that would have to wait. Hogan glanced at the letter written before him. "Any idea where this came from? Is it really written by a 10-year-old-girl? What are the chances? And this address, we need to find a way to contact it." Everyone was silent for a moment, glancing in different directions. "Well"?
"Colonel… what if we, I mean, we have this address, couldn't we, well, um, send them a letter"? Carter shrugged innocently. Everyone stared at him, it was so simple it was stupid.
"Send them a letter"? Hogan repeated registering what it meant.
"Well, yeah. I mean, we are supposed to respond to it anyways, right? So whoever this Mary Sue is, maybe she can give us the rest of the addresses, of the other authors I mean." Carter held up the envelope looking at it before LeBeau snatched it away.
"And just how do we write them, Carter? The address is written with strange symbols." LeBeau pressed his lips together and muttered something in French.
"And French isn't?" Newkirk chuckled to himself softly, receiving a very dirty look from LeBeau, to which he merely smiled.
"Good idea, Carter. Get right on that. With any luck maybe we can get a connection going." Hogan started to turn, when a voice spoke up.
"And just what are we ruddy gonna do if we do establish contact, Colonel? Send 'em an invitation? Last time I checked we didn't 'ave any fairy dust."
"No… you're right, Newkirk. But we do have brains. I seem to remember that our own story has gone unfinished, correct? Well, if that one can affect them, why not write another and mail it to the author's world? Who knows, maybe we may get some response after all!"
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Dulmur sat sipping a Raktajino while reading over the day's reports. He was briefly considering switching files, when his partner entered the room. Dulmur looked up with surprise.
"What is it, Lucsly?"
"You'll want to see this." Lucsly handed him a PADD. Dulmur hit the desk with his fist.
"When will the 21st Century learn that just because they have discovered computers, that they have no right to mess with the timeline!" He stood up and started heading towards the door. "Fictional world to them or not, authors have no right to send letters to the past. We need to fix this before it goes any further."
"You want to intervene, then?" Lucsly stated the obvious.
"Yes. We need to wipe the memories of those poor men before any further damage is done to their timeline."
"I will arrange for transport then. Do you want me to contact Commander Riker? I believe he has some previous experience with the men and authors in question."
"Yes," Dulmur nodded. "His familiarity will indeed be helpful." Dulmur headed towards the lift. "Have him meet us here at Headquarters immediately. I want to waste no time in getting this sorted out." The doors quietly hushed closed, as Lucsly shook his head and went to follow out the orders.
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"Any news?" Baker climbed out of the tunnel and into the Barrack. "You guys sent the letter off what, two days ago?"
"Three…" Kinch panted from his bunk.
"Well I hope we hear from them soon. It's getting crowded down there with all those men cooped up. We need to move them soon. Some of them are seriously ill."
"Move them where?" LeBeau asked bitterly from where he was sitting at the table. "Half of Germany is outside this camp, and with the Germans just west of here fighting, where exactly would we move them to?" LeBeau stared blankly at his cup of hot water.
"I dunno, I was just saying that we should move them soon. A lot of these guys need medical attention-"
"They're not the only ones." Newkirk spoke up for the first time in 3 days. He had been sulking and had a distant look in his eyes. "There are countless men dying everywhere! Including little girls!" He jumped off his bed and stormed out the door, slamming it behind him. The barracks got very quiet, as each man stared at the ground. Scarcely a minute had passed before Carter came bounding in through the same door.
"We got it! We got it!" He waved the letter around, as if it were a golden ticket. "Colonel! Colonel! We got it!" Carter ran into the Colonel's quarters where he had been lying down.
"Excellent! Open it up Carter, don't keep us in suspense." Hogan barely sat up.
Dear Boysofbarrackstwo,
um, I'm not exactly sure who you are, or how you got my address, but that's not funny writing back. Especially since it hasn't been posted yet, and pretending to be some-one whom you obviously aren't. No I'm not going to give you other people's information. It's not mine to give. If you want to contact them, just do it yourself. Other than that, please leave me alone.
With friendly Wishes,
-Lizzi-
"What does that mean?" LeBeau asked an obviously puzzled Carter.
"I dunno, LeBeau, but I do know what that means." An exhausted Kinch pointed out the window. "Two Germans, ss from the looks of it. They just headed into Klink's Office."
"What would they be doing here? I thought they were all off fighting somewhere…" Hogan peered weakly out the window. "Is Klink even home? I haven't seen him in three days…" Hogan turned briefly, pondering going over there, but decided to use the coffee pot instead. "Kinch, if you would be so kind." Kinch wobbled over but the pot didn't turn on. Cursing, Hogan started to head towards the door, but Schultz bounced in first.
"Colonel Hogan, oh Colonel Hogan, there are two men here, from the ss, and they want to speak with you! Oh ,Colonel Hogan, what did you do noooow? Not monkey business again? I don't want to be sent to Siberia!" Schultz looked frightened.
"No, Schultz. Not this time. But let's get this over with." Hogan adjusted his cap and walked over to Klink's office. Upon entering he noticed that these ss held themselves more like secret agents from comics he had read as a kid, than the crew Hogan usually ran into. They just need the sunglasses, Hogan grinned internally.
"Colonel Robert Edward Hogan I presume?" The man immediately to Hogan's front greeted him coolly. "That will be all, Klink." Klink muttered something incomprehensible and scattered. The same one who greeted Hogan moved to behind Klink's desk and sat down, gesturing for Hogan to do the same.
"Alright. I'll bite. What's the deal? Why am I here?" Hogan tried to calm the fear that he felt.
"Relax, Colonel Hogan. We are not here to investigate you, rather we understand you have sent and received letters from persons outside your little world." The man leaned forward over the desk. The question caught Hogan completely off guard.
"Yesss… I suppose…?"
"These letters you received are from a female living in Germany, age 26, am I correct?"
"I…. I actually don't know…. What… what's this all about?"
"Colonel," the second man spoke up, from Hogan's left, "you are not supposed to be in contact with persons outside your own universe. Especially the ones who create it."
"How do you know so much?" Hogan crossed his arms and stared in-between the two men.
"That is our job. Just like yours is to help the Allied War Effort. Now. Where is the letter, we need to destroy it."
"No." Hogan stared firmly at the two men. "We need it to get in contact with the authors. We are going to put them on trial." Hogan leaned back in his chair, with his arms still crossed. The two men looked at each other before speaking up.
"This may come as a surprise to you, but you have already done that."
"I know. And it didn't work. They still get pleasure out of hurting us. Especially Newkirk and myself."
"That's because he's British… look at Doctor Bashir…." The one to Hogan's left quietly muttered, causing a disapproving look from the one behind the desk.
"Colonel, if they stop writing, you stop existing."
"I know. But couldn't they write happier stories…- oh, why am I arguing this with you? I want to put those women and any men with them on trial!" Hogan stood up, taking a few very large steps in a hap-hazard circle. The man behind the desk paused for a minute.
"Alright. If it will grant you closure. But you won't remember it happened."
"I don't think I was supposed to the first time." Hogan turned and faced him. The man had stood up and was walking towards him.
"You're right. That is something I will work on. But give me the letter and I promise you I will hunt them all down. You will have your justice. I assume you want the same lawyer and defence attorney from last time?" The man looked at Hogan curiously. Hogan paused trying to think.
"Yes. If I remember correctly he did a good job." Hogan stroked his chin a moment. "Wait. When will this take place? We have a lot going on here-"
"One week. That will give us time to send out the ultimatums and get the authors here, and set the court room up again. You have one week to get your evidence together, Colonel. I suggest you make the best of it." With that, the two men dressed in the black suits exited. Hogan watched them with his eyes, still unsure of what happened.
Klink popped his head in. "Is it true? Are we putting them on trial again?" Hogan spun around from where he had turned to look at the cuckoo-clock.
"You remember?" He was surprised. But of course Klink would, the vast majority of the camp did. "Yes, yes we are."
"Good, good, good. I have a bone to pick with some of these authors. Like the one who can't seem to get my accent right. When is the date?"
"Next week. We have until next week to get all our evidence together. Those authors don't stand a chance against us."
-HH- -EKvH- -HH- -EKvH- -HH- -EKvH-
Uh-oh! It seems the guys, Allies and Axis alike, are going after us again! I don't know about you, but I just received my Ultimatum!
ATTENTION AUTHOR LIZZI0307!
Your presence has been requested at the Fanfiction Courtroom on 1 July 2011, to be involved in: Men of Stalag 13 vs. The Authors. You may bring any evidence to which you feel will help clear your name. The charges against you are as follows:
1. Physical Harm to a Character
2. Mental Harm to a Character
3. Endangering the well-being of a Character
4. Encouraging other Authors
5. Miscellaneous Acts
Please have all evidence ready by the time and date of your hearing. Your computer will need to be turned over for evidence of unfinished stories to the prosecuting attorneys. You may choose your own attorney, or use the one the Fanfiction Court choses for you.
Sincerely,
Moneypenny,
FFC Secretary
Fanfiction Court
Room 1 Building C
Fictional Way 1001
101010 Imaginationland
Yes that is correct. THEY ARE BACK! Anyone who wishes to submit their testimony is more than welcome to. The guidelines are the same as before. Those in quotations are from the end of chapter one in Fanfic Court Part 2: The Trial. Please read the original story before participating. Not only will it help with understanding this sequel, but it's just really funny! You may find it under Snooky-9093's Page. Note that there are actually more parts. Part one is the first original...the hearings...It really goes into the who what where when and hows...part two, and part two B and C [B listed under Janet's profile] are the trial portions with author's testimony, and then the sequel, (under Snooky's profile) where we try again to erase the memories.
If you are interested in participating, or found a strange letter in your letterbox, please send Jinzle your story and she will post it. You may participate as defendant or as in the previous version; "If, however, you are appalled at the treatment given our beloved heroes, are just readers, or have only written nice stories and want to help take revenge on the writers, by all means do so. Riker will ask the questions first, and then you will be cross-examined by" the defence attorney who is Charles Emerson Winchester III, unless of course you would feel better having another attorney. If you are defendant however, Winchester will ask you the questions first, and then Riker will cross-examine.
And again, as before! "You come up with all the questions and answers. Feel free to include interludes, comments from the Judge, other characters, spectators, side-effects on the characters-whatever! Turn on each other, or help one another. You can do it! You're all talented!"
Don't worry about the characterization if you are not familiar with these characters or about legal language and procedure. And don't forget the ones you yourself created!
And again, quoted from the original!
"The testimony will likely be out of order if I get testimony from both sides. I will not rehash previous testimony, you'll have to either recall what occurred in part one or go back and reread it. Any new stories posted can and will cause problems, if that's your choice. (cough, cough, hack, hack-someone call Wilson!)"
If anyone wants to bring Kinch, Carter, LeBeau or Newkirk to the stand-be my guest!
Please proofread before sending!
Remember: Stand up for yourself!"
Cast of Characters:
Judge - Harold "Harry" T. Stone, from Night Court
Prosecutor – William T. Riker, USS Enterprise (Star Trek: the Next Generation)
Defence Attorney - Charles Emerson Winchester III (from M*A*S*H, or the choice of the Author)
Stories - To be sent to Jinzle at: Jinzle dot FFN at Hotmail dot com
Enjoy! And happy Defending!
-Lizzi0307-