This is the first time I've ever tried a crossover fic. So please review.
Chapter 1
At Gunpoint
"Is it real?" Matty asked imperturbably.
"Do you wanna find out?" Franky tried to intimidate him. It didn't work. Her voice was cracking up with all the tears. Matty simply pursed his lips and shrugged.
"It's a redrilled replica," Franky tried again, struggling to hold the gun steady, "it shoots bullets, okay?"
"Bullets for bitches?" Matty wasn't daunted. He was curious about this girl.
"What?" Franky was confused. First she was humiliated by the kids at school. Now this strange boy was taunting her. Where did he come from? He didn't seem aggressive. But he wasn't exactly friendly either. He was just standing there, making no sense.
"Is this how you have fun?" his voice was soft, attempting to placate her.
"Can you just leave me alone?" she sobbed. Her hand was shaking. She was afraid she might accidently shoot him. She thought, for a moment, she wanted to shoot him. Here she was, full of complicated emotions waiting to explode, and he just walked casually into the picture, defying her with his unfeeling devil-may-care attitude. If she had shot him, he'd have had it coming.
Matty advanced on her. His pace was slow enough not to alarm her, but brisk enough to show her he wasn't scared. He stopped when the barrel of her gun was pressed against his chest. "Go on then," his brown eyes flared challengingly.
"I don't have to take this shit anymore," Franky continued to sob. She knew he wouldn't go away. He was obstinate. She still hoped he might decide to leave her to her misery. Whatever he was trying to do was not helping her nerves.
"No you don't," Matty reaffirmed. He could feel he was restoring some confidence in her, the confidence previously extinguished by the demeaning public exhibition of the past she had tried to hide. She could shoot him now and it would be worth it. He was a wretch. His life was forfeit. But she was beautiful.
"Bang!" he startled her. Franky gasped. She was frightened. She didn't want to hurt him. Whoever this boy was, he was being kind. No one had been kind to her for a long time. Slowly, she lowered her gun.
"You're beautiful," Matty told her. He sounded genuine. He looked mesmerised by her.
"No," she denied, looking away from his entrancing eyes, "no I'm not. I'm a no-good shit-magnet. I'm nothing."
"So why do I see a glorious fucking head fuck thing?" Matty wasn't big on words. It wasn't a compliment he had worked on for any amount of time. But Franky could see in his eyes he meant it.
As they stood there in a moment that seemed to last forever, a strange wind began to rustle the bushes around them, a gyrating light began to flash and a whooshing noise began to resonate through the rocks. Matty turned around, searching for the source of the disturbance, as Franky raised her gun again, alarmed. A big blue box began to materialise in front of Matty, who remained fixed in his place whilst Franky took half a dozen steps backwards.
"What the fuck is that?" she gestured to the blue box with her gun.
The box looked fully solid now. "It says 'Police box'," Matty teased, clearly untroubled by the strange apparition, "maybe they've come to arrest you for breaking gun laws."
The wooden door of the box creaked and a dark-haired head peered out.
"This doesn't look like the eleventh century," remarked the head before it noticed Matty and Franky. "Oh! Hello there! If I gave you an apple, would you stop pointing that gun at me?"
