Summary: A fan of Lois and Clark is taken by H. G. Wells to their universe
to help stop Tempus. Possible Mary-Sue story.
Author's Notes: Yeah, I know this is rather silly. The plot bunny for this story was the result of several long nights and not nearly enough sleep. Also, if you hadn't noticed, the chapter names are quotes from the series, so there's a bit of trivia for you.
Rating: PG-13 for some possible mild/strong language and some very mild violence. There's gonna be some sappy romance in here too, so I hop you like that sort of thing. :)
Feedback: Whatever you have to say about this strange little piece of fiction is fine by me as long as it's not flames.
__________
Crossroads
by OcelotKitten
__________
Part 1-"I'm H. G. Wells."
"The writer? Aren't you dead?"
When I opened the door, my first thought was, 'Oh, this day just keeps getting better and better. Hoo boy!' Not wishing to be rude, I kept that thought to myself. "Can I help you?" I asked the dapper little man that stood on my porch. I just barely managed not to laugh: I suppose that someone could have good reasons for standing outside my house dressed like an bit character from a canceled TV show, but nothing came to mind at the moment. He genteelly removed his bowler hat and gave me a warm smile, "Hello, my dear. My name is H. G. Wells. If the look on your face is any indication, you are probably wondering what I am doing here. If you would be so kind as to let me in, I will explain." I shook my head emphatically, "Hey, no way. Like I would let a complete stranger into my house with a flimsy excuse like that." I started to close the door, but he pleaded, "Please, you must hear me out! It is imperative that you believe me."
"You have got to be kidding me. Who put you up to this? The quality of the jokes has fallen, let me tell you."
"A joke? Why would this be a joke?" he asked, looking genuinely confused.
"Yeah, was it Tim? Or maybe it was John. This is way below their usual par for practical jokes," I folded my arms and leaned against the doorframe. When his confused, yet earnest expression persisted, I grew slightly less certain of myself. He was either a very good actor, or . . . no. I refused to consider the only other possibility. I ticked off the points on my fingertips, "Well, for one thing, H. G. Wells is dead. Has been for a long time. Also, you look exactly like . . ." I trailed off as I glanced behind him for the first time, "No, it can't be . . ." He gave me a small smile, and said gently, "My dear, I promise you that I am who I claim to be".
"How did that get here? I didn't hear any moving trucks, and it couldn't have just appeared . . . could it?" I said, trying to disbelieve what my eyes were telling me. I told myself that even if there was a time machine in my front yard, and even if there was no indication of how it had gotten there, that did not mean that it was anything more than a prop. My visitor sighed resignedly, "I see that there is only one way to prove this to you. Would you come with me on the time machine? If you are correct, and I am not who I say, then nothing will happen, and you are free to go back to whatever you were doing before I arrived. If, on the other hand, I am who I say . . . well, I think you will agree that it is, I believe the phrase is, a win-win situation." I thought for a moment. What he was saying did make a certain amount of sense: I lost nothing by putting what he was saying to the test. Feeling slightly foolish, I held up my hands in resignation and said, "Okay, let's go."
"Excellent!" he said, "Follow me please." I shut the door behind me, and followed him over to the machine. I took a moment to stare at it in fascination. All things considered, it was a remarkable replica of the prop that had been used on the show; from the massive clock on the back, down to the pattern on the carpet on the floor. Noticing my preoccupation, Wells asked, "What is it?"
"I just never thought that I would have a chance to see in person one of these things," I glanced over at him, "I've been a huge fan of the show ever since it started." He chuckled and took his seat behind the controls. "Yes, I know. Now, if you would be so kind as to take your seat, we should get going." I took the only other seat, and he began pulling levers and pushing buttons. Nothing happened, and I sat back, unimpressed, "Well?"
"Just be patient. It takes a minute to warm up," he said, sitting back. Suddenly, we were engulfed in a swirling white light and there was a feeling of weightlessness. Space seemed to stretch and this was about the time that I squeezed my eyes shut, certain that we were about to die. When the universe regained its sanity and my inner ear quit insisting that we were hurtling forward, I tentatively peeked one eye open, and was greeted by the sight of Wells looking at me amusedly. I took a quick glance around. We were most definitely no longer in my front yard, unless it had suddenly turned into an alleyway in a major city in the span of about thirty seconds. I turned to Wells, "All right, let's just say for the sake of argument that I believe you. Why do you need me?"
"Because Tempus has gotten out again, and your unique . . . skills are needed to stop him."
"But you've dealt with Tempus before. Why am I so important this time around?"
"Because it is not just Lois and Clark's world that is in jeopardy this time. Tempus has found a way to dissolve the boundaries between the dimensions. He intends to blend them all together, thereby creating the chaos that he craves."
"What, you mean alternate timelines?"
"No, the dimensions that are your TV shows, movies and books. I believe that he intends to create chaos not only in those dimensions, but also in your world by blending all those things together. "
"Oh, lovely!" I sighed, "So, now that we're here, what do we do?"
"We'll need special devices to travel through the dimensions, and I must go and retrieve them," he said, "While I do that, I suggest that you get acclimated to this world. It isn't quite like yours, and it may take some getting used to. We will be using this world as a base of operations, coming here between trips, and then setting out again. Here, this will take you between locations in the dimension that you are in, therefore eliminating the need to walk," he handed me a flat black box. It had a screen and a set of buttons. Wells continued, "Enter in the location you wish to get to, and you will be taken there. And now, I must get going."
I climbed down off the machine and asked, "Where do I go first?"
"I suggest the Daily Planet. Lois and Clark are probably there, and their help might prove to be invaluable during this," he said as he fired up the machine again. I nodded and stepped away as the time machine disappeared in a swirl of white light. After a bit of fiddling with the device, I managed to program it for the Daily Planet building. A swirl of blue light surrounded me, and I felt space stretching. When the light cleared, I found myself in another alleyway. Apparently all of Wells devices found a spot to materialize in that wouldn't be observed. Moving to the end of the alleyway, I saw that I was right outside the Daily Planet building. Entering the lobby, I took the elevator up to the newsroom.
TBC . . .
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OcelotKitten: Ok, the next chapter is on the way. As I go along, the chapters are probably gonna get revised, so I suggest reading it again at some point. *a little black dragon lands on her shoulder with a mouthful and a double-clawful of cookies* Everyone, please meet my pal, muse, and valiant conqueror of writer's block, D'altian.
D'altian: *pauses momentarily from munching* Hi. *goes back to his cookies, ignoring Ocelot*
OcelotKitten: I thought I told you to stay out of those! *D'altian blows cookies crumbs in her face* Anyway, I have a sneaking suspicion that this story is gonna be VERY long. *sweatdrops* Hoo boy, what am I getting myself into? *D'altian snickers and Ocelot thwaps him on the nose*
==========
Author's Notes: Yeah, I know this is rather silly. The plot bunny for this story was the result of several long nights and not nearly enough sleep. Also, if you hadn't noticed, the chapter names are quotes from the series, so there's a bit of trivia for you.
Rating: PG-13 for some possible mild/strong language and some very mild violence. There's gonna be some sappy romance in here too, so I hop you like that sort of thing. :)
Feedback: Whatever you have to say about this strange little piece of fiction is fine by me as long as it's not flames.
__________
Crossroads
by OcelotKitten
__________
Part 1-"I'm H. G. Wells."
"The writer? Aren't you dead?"
When I opened the door, my first thought was, 'Oh, this day just keeps getting better and better. Hoo boy!' Not wishing to be rude, I kept that thought to myself. "Can I help you?" I asked the dapper little man that stood on my porch. I just barely managed not to laugh: I suppose that someone could have good reasons for standing outside my house dressed like an bit character from a canceled TV show, but nothing came to mind at the moment. He genteelly removed his bowler hat and gave me a warm smile, "Hello, my dear. My name is H. G. Wells. If the look on your face is any indication, you are probably wondering what I am doing here. If you would be so kind as to let me in, I will explain." I shook my head emphatically, "Hey, no way. Like I would let a complete stranger into my house with a flimsy excuse like that." I started to close the door, but he pleaded, "Please, you must hear me out! It is imperative that you believe me."
"You have got to be kidding me. Who put you up to this? The quality of the jokes has fallen, let me tell you."
"A joke? Why would this be a joke?" he asked, looking genuinely confused.
"Yeah, was it Tim? Or maybe it was John. This is way below their usual par for practical jokes," I folded my arms and leaned against the doorframe. When his confused, yet earnest expression persisted, I grew slightly less certain of myself. He was either a very good actor, or . . . no. I refused to consider the only other possibility. I ticked off the points on my fingertips, "Well, for one thing, H. G. Wells is dead. Has been for a long time. Also, you look exactly like . . ." I trailed off as I glanced behind him for the first time, "No, it can't be . . ." He gave me a small smile, and said gently, "My dear, I promise you that I am who I claim to be".
"How did that get here? I didn't hear any moving trucks, and it couldn't have just appeared . . . could it?" I said, trying to disbelieve what my eyes were telling me. I told myself that even if there was a time machine in my front yard, and even if there was no indication of how it had gotten there, that did not mean that it was anything more than a prop. My visitor sighed resignedly, "I see that there is only one way to prove this to you. Would you come with me on the time machine? If you are correct, and I am not who I say, then nothing will happen, and you are free to go back to whatever you were doing before I arrived. If, on the other hand, I am who I say . . . well, I think you will agree that it is, I believe the phrase is, a win-win situation." I thought for a moment. What he was saying did make a certain amount of sense: I lost nothing by putting what he was saying to the test. Feeling slightly foolish, I held up my hands in resignation and said, "Okay, let's go."
"Excellent!" he said, "Follow me please." I shut the door behind me, and followed him over to the machine. I took a moment to stare at it in fascination. All things considered, it was a remarkable replica of the prop that had been used on the show; from the massive clock on the back, down to the pattern on the carpet on the floor. Noticing my preoccupation, Wells asked, "What is it?"
"I just never thought that I would have a chance to see in person one of these things," I glanced over at him, "I've been a huge fan of the show ever since it started." He chuckled and took his seat behind the controls. "Yes, I know. Now, if you would be so kind as to take your seat, we should get going." I took the only other seat, and he began pulling levers and pushing buttons. Nothing happened, and I sat back, unimpressed, "Well?"
"Just be patient. It takes a minute to warm up," he said, sitting back. Suddenly, we were engulfed in a swirling white light and there was a feeling of weightlessness. Space seemed to stretch and this was about the time that I squeezed my eyes shut, certain that we were about to die. When the universe regained its sanity and my inner ear quit insisting that we were hurtling forward, I tentatively peeked one eye open, and was greeted by the sight of Wells looking at me amusedly. I took a quick glance around. We were most definitely no longer in my front yard, unless it had suddenly turned into an alleyway in a major city in the span of about thirty seconds. I turned to Wells, "All right, let's just say for the sake of argument that I believe you. Why do you need me?"
"Because Tempus has gotten out again, and your unique . . . skills are needed to stop him."
"But you've dealt with Tempus before. Why am I so important this time around?"
"Because it is not just Lois and Clark's world that is in jeopardy this time. Tempus has found a way to dissolve the boundaries between the dimensions. He intends to blend them all together, thereby creating the chaos that he craves."
"What, you mean alternate timelines?"
"No, the dimensions that are your TV shows, movies and books. I believe that he intends to create chaos not only in those dimensions, but also in your world by blending all those things together. "
"Oh, lovely!" I sighed, "So, now that we're here, what do we do?"
"We'll need special devices to travel through the dimensions, and I must go and retrieve them," he said, "While I do that, I suggest that you get acclimated to this world. It isn't quite like yours, and it may take some getting used to. We will be using this world as a base of operations, coming here between trips, and then setting out again. Here, this will take you between locations in the dimension that you are in, therefore eliminating the need to walk," he handed me a flat black box. It had a screen and a set of buttons. Wells continued, "Enter in the location you wish to get to, and you will be taken there. And now, I must get going."
I climbed down off the machine and asked, "Where do I go first?"
"I suggest the Daily Planet. Lois and Clark are probably there, and their help might prove to be invaluable during this," he said as he fired up the machine again. I nodded and stepped away as the time machine disappeared in a swirl of white light. After a bit of fiddling with the device, I managed to program it for the Daily Planet building. A swirl of blue light surrounded me, and I felt space stretching. When the light cleared, I found myself in another alleyway. Apparently all of Wells devices found a spot to materialize in that wouldn't be observed. Moving to the end of the alleyway, I saw that I was right outside the Daily Planet building. Entering the lobby, I took the elevator up to the newsroom.
TBC . . .
==========
OcelotKitten: Ok, the next chapter is on the way. As I go along, the chapters are probably gonna get revised, so I suggest reading it again at some point. *a little black dragon lands on her shoulder with a mouthful and a double-clawful of cookies* Everyone, please meet my pal, muse, and valiant conqueror of writer's block, D'altian.
D'altian: *pauses momentarily from munching* Hi. *goes back to his cookies, ignoring Ocelot*
OcelotKitten: I thought I told you to stay out of those! *D'altian blows cookies crumbs in her face* Anyway, I have a sneaking suspicion that this story is gonna be VERY long. *sweatdrops* Hoo boy, what am I getting myself into? *D'altian snickers and Ocelot thwaps him on the nose*
==========