Close Encounters

The distant sound of a telephone's ringing distracted him from the image of the young, Victorian woman he'd been looking at on his monitor. Jogging around the console, he quickly picked up the receiver upon the fourth ring and answered with a smile,

"Hello? Oh, yes! Charlie, glad you could return my call! It's the Doctor. Heard you were having doubts about your latest venture..."

The Doctor flipped a few switches on the console as he rounded the circular platform,

"Don't worry! It's going to turn out fine. You might want to bring somebody else on, though. Hart's not really all that reliable. Who? Well...have you considered asking Griffith? No? You might wanna do that..."

He pulled a vibrantly coloured knob to his left; the TARDIS replying with a whine and a whirr,

"Also, you might want to consider dropping the required amount of productions from 5 movies to 3...why? Because, Mr. Moneybags, not everyone can afford to star in and produce five pictures a year! And with the coming of sound...No, no, no, I don't think you're mad. I know mad when I see it and it's not you..."

He felt a strange shudder under his feet and frowned, marching back over to the console monitor,

"Listen, I'll come by, we'll have tea, sort out the doubts in your head, then you and your cohorts can hammer out the details of your partnership, how's that sound?"

He frowned as he looked up at the screen, his eyes widening. Beside the picture of the Victorian woman, a new window had appeared. It was flashing bright red.

"Hold that thought, Charlie, I'll have to call you back. I think I'm about to crash."

He went to hang up the phone, confusion flashing across his face as he realised he was tangled in the phone cord. After numerous twirls and tugs, he managed to free himself and quickly grabbed the TARDIS controls. The ship continued to shake and jolt, and he could hear the sound of distant crackling through her whooshes and whails...

'"GERONIMOOO~!"'

~ø~

'Salutations! From a greater, northwest alley and...'

"Any sign of the van, yet?"

Kobra shook his head as he peered through a set of binoculars,

"No...though, I could probably see a little better if you slowed the fuck down."

"Oh, I'm sorry," the fiery-haired man snapped, glancing over at him briefly,

"Who was it who wanted to get out of 'Drac territory' as fast they fucking could?"

With a snarl, he gave Party Poison a fierce shove to the shoulder,

"Fuck you. I wasn't the one who got the piss scared out of 'em by a statue."

"Fuck you, I wasn't scared!"

"Really? Your little girly squeals would say otherwise..."

Party Poison growled at that, punching the younger man in his arm. Kobra punched back in retaliation and soon, a mini slap-fest broke out between them. From the back seat, Jet Star rolled his eyes as they continued throwing punches, swiftly kicking the back of their chairs,

"Knock it off! Both of you!"

Poison scowled as he placed both hands on the wheel, muttering softly under his breath,

"He started it."

"You're the one who's driving too fucking fast! I can't see for shit!"

"Then, open your fucking eyes!"

Kobra shoved him again, scowling deeply,

"Don't tell me what to do!"

Reaching over, Party Poison slapped him on the back of the head, and another tiff began. With a growl, Jet Star leaned forward and slammed both of his hands down on the shoulders of their seats,

"HEY!"

Both of them jumped as they glanced back at him, Kobra swallowing hard as their frizzy-haired fourth glared them down,

"I said... STOP. IT."

The blonde-haired man coughed shortly, and turned his gaze for the window,

"Sorry, Jet."

"Yeah," Party Poison cleared his throat as he adjusted his hands on the wheel,

"Sorry, Jet."

There was a long, awkward moment of silence in the car, the fiery-haired man muttering softly to himself as he glanced at Kobra from the corner of his eye,

"Fuckface."

Kobra raised the binoculars back up to his eyes and let out a seething breath,

"Dickbag."

Jet cleared his throat then, and the two shifted uncomfortably, both murmuring in unison,

"Sorry, Jet."

'"When did that statue get there?"'

Glancing over at Fun Ghoul, Jet Star raised an eyebrow and leaned over to watch the glitchy, tinny-sounding video he'd recorded earlier,

"You're watching it, again? You're gonna give yourself nightmares, you know..."

Fun Ghoul sighed deeply, shaking his head as the video continued,

"I don't get it, though. It doesn't make sense."

The clip began to flicker, the lights going on and off as the angel statue seemed to move closer,

"How does a statue fucking move like that?"

He turned, handing Jet Star the camera,

"It's just...freaky."

"It was a robot," Party Poison grumbled from the front seat, switching gears as they turned onto an off road,

"Had to be. There ain't no way a statue that big can move by itself."

"Like a guard droid or something," Jet queried, watching the video some himself.

"Yeah..."

"It was probably pissed off about that poster you nabbed," Ghoul snickered, taking the camera back from Jet Star,

"You and your Matt Damon boner..."

"Hey," Poison snapped, glancing back at him in the rearview mirror,

"Matt Damon is the best goddamn actor in the whole fucking world, a'ight, and you'd be hard-fuckin'-pressed to tell me otherwise..."

Kobra frowned as he heard a strange noise from outside of the car and glanced out of his window. He couldn't see anything immediate, but the sound was growing closer.

Poison was still rambling; the other two beginning to snicker,

"...'don't fuck with me, Sean'. God, I cried like a fuckin' baby-"

"Guys, shut up a minute!"

The four of them went silent; Party Poison raising an eyebrow as he heard the faintest sound of 'whooshing' in the distance. Kobra turned to him in confusion,

"What is that?"

Fun Ghoul snapped the camera shut and glanced out of the window, as did Jet Star. Neither of them could see anything that would produce the odd noise they were hearing.

Sliding back a bit in his seat, Party Poison grabbed his raygun and nodded to his blonde-haired compatriot,

"Take the wheel. I'll check it out."

"You'll what!? We're going 90-!"

"Just take the fucking wheel, I got this."

The car weaved violently as he let go and Kobra frantically reached to grab it,

"Jesus...!"

Leaning halfway out of the window, Poison aimed his gun at the direction of the sound. For a moment, he saw nothing save for the blinding light of the dying sun, beaming through fluffy, gray clouds. The sound was growing louder as he gazed at the sky; so close he could feel it vibrating in the car door.

Suddenly, with a loud crack, it burst through the clouds. Boxy in shape, it was near unidentifiable in the shadows of the sun. His eyes widened as he gazed at it; watching it spin out of control as it flew closer to them.

"Well," Kid began, raising an eyebrow as he glanced up at the mirror,

"You see anything?"

"Uh," Poison stammered, his mouth hanging open in shock.

"'Uh' what," the blonde snapped, frowning as he moved his other hand to the wheel,

"What do you see?"

Poison raised an eyebrow as it drew ever nearer, and slowly he began to make out the words,

'Police Public Call Box'.

He cocked his head to the side, confused,

"...that's a good question."

The rumbles grew louder and he could see the thing beginning to spark as it spun. It was barrelling straight for them.

"Shit," he cursed, quickly throwing himself back in the car.

Snatching the wheel back from Kobra, he stepped on the gas; Fun Ghoul quickly flipping the camera back on as he turned to look out of the back window.

Jet Star glanced back, his eyes widening as he watched the box spiral closer,

"It's coming in fast, P!"

Leaning across Kobra, he grabbed the younger man's seatbelt and fastened him in; giving the wheel a hard turn,

"Hold on."

The blonde quickly grabbed hold of the roof as he threw the car into a donut.

The car screeched as it spun, seemingly in slow motion; a cloud of dust exploding into the air. The box just barely missed them as it whirled past the front bumper, bouncing off the dusty, broken asphalt with a loud clang. Sparks flew as it soared back into the air, now completely horizontal as it plummetted a second time. It bounced away, clanging loudly as it went, plumes of dirt flying into the air as it rolled a few miles out into the desert.

The Trans Am came to a halt rather sharply, nearly rolling as it reached the edge of the road. It bounced as all four tires returned to the ground, and the group was silent as they heard the sound of a distant 'boom' that they could only assume had come from the strange box.

Kobra swallowed hard, still holding onto the roof as he glanced out at the direction the boxy craft had fallen,

"Did you see that...?"

"Yeah..."

Poison coughed harshly, his heart pounding as he gazed down at the wheel and his bone-white knuckles,

"That was some full on 'Smokey and the Bandit' shit, right there...!"

Ghoul and Jet stared at him blankly as he began to laugh, looking on in disbelief as he leaned back in his seat and smacked the steering wheel in excitement. After a moment, he caught their stares and cleared his throat, wiping his nose as he regained composure,

"Erm. Right you-uh...you meant the box...thing."

He coughed again and opened his door, standing up to look at the horizon. A trail of smoke rose up from the sporadically grassy, desert scape, and he frowned; Fun Ghoul climbing out beside him with the camera,

"What do you think it is, P?"

The sun, already settling into the horizon, caught the smoke in it's amber hues; creating for an eerie atmosphere.

"I dunno," the fiery-haired man began, his hazel eyes catching the light and making him look nearly mad as he turned to his cohorts,

"Let's check that fucker out, shall we?"

~ø~

They followed the trail of broken shrubs and cacti for about four miles, the billowing smoke growing lighter in colour as night fell. Kobra frowned as they rounded a small, rocky hill; noting the square shape that had been carved out of the top. It was blackened with burns; likely from the sparks.

"I don't like this, guys. We shouldn't be here..."

"Don't be such a negative fuckin' Nancy," Poison quipped as the box came into view,

"We're here."

Leaving the headlights on, Party Poison reached over and grabbed a flare from the glovebox.

The four of them got out of the car; Ghoul filming the smoking box with his camera,

"Holy shit...it's like something out of a Steven Spielberg movie."

They inched toward it cautiously, Poison holding up the flare for better light. The box lay on it's side, popping and fizzing as sparks shot out from it's doors.

Kobra coughed sharply, covering his mouth with a brightly coloured handkerchief from his pocket,

"The air's pretty thick tonight...what was the toxicity supposed to be, anyway?"

"Only 20%," Ghoul replied, glancing between the viewfinder and the smoking box,

"I checked before we got out of the car."

The words were lit up now, glowing as brightly a yellow as the smoke that billowed out from within the box. Jet Star shook his head as they approached it, his eyes wide in wonder,

"What the hell is it...?"

"I dunno," Poison began, taking out his gun with his free hand,

"But I sure as hell ain't gettin' probed, tonight..."

They stopped as they began to hear a loud creaking noise and the doors to the box flew open. A golden light, as well as a cloud of black smoke, began pouring out and they could hear the sounds of violent coughing from inside. As the cloud began to dissipate, a hand appeared on the edge of the opening and a tall, lanky man pulled himself up out of the box. He brushed himself off; glancing around with a wild smile,

"Hello, Hollywood! And aren't we beautiful tonigh- hold on. No...this isn't Hollywood. This is a desert..."

The four of them exchanged confused glances as the man continued to ramble, each of them slowly pulling out their guns,

"...I must have crashed a few miles away," the man continued glancing around curiously as he climbed out of the box and jumped down,

"The air's a bit thick here...that's strange. Oh well, no matter I suppose...I can always..."

He glanced up, spotting the four of them with a smile as he straightened the dusty bowtie at his neck,

"Oh, hello! Sorry, didn't see you there. Could one of you point me in the direction of Hollywood? I'm due for tea with Charlie Chaplin in an hour."

Swallowing hard, he stopped as he was immediately met by the barrels of their four brightly coloured guns and let out a sigh,

"I take it that's a no."

'So fucking olllllllllld~! I'm so fucking alooooooooooooooone~!'

A/N: The format is coming out a little different on each site. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck mah liiiiiife~

Ah well. Enjoy guys!