Well, under threat of being bludgeoned to death by an umbrella, I'm writing another chapter.
I also know I should write longer chapters…
But I probably won't.
-Pax
Spool swiveled around, slightly disoriented. For one, he was surrounded by people in funky clothes. Second, there was some sort of theme song blasting from somewhere, and third, he was fairly sure most of the puny humans around him were speaking in a form of guttural nonsense that he couldn't decipher for the life of him.
"WHAAAAAAT?" he demanded, to no one in particular.
He hadn't expected an answer, so he nearly leapt out of his shell and flopped away when one of the humans to suddenly growled loudly at him and shouted, "Kraaaaasch-kak!"
This only served to confuse Spool more. He paused, unsure what to do, before repeating, "WHAAAAAAAAT?"
The puny human glared at him. "You're dressed as a Dalek and you don't know Klingon? I mean, I know they're different programmes, but really."
"WHAAAT IS A KLING-ON?" Spool asked, confused.
"You're pathetic." Muttered the puny human-Klingon thing. "And your costume looks fake. I mean, pink? Real Daleks aren't pink."
"I CAN-NOT HELP IT!" Spool suddenly sobbed. The Klingon-whatever had hit a nerve. "I HAVE AL-WAYS BEEN THIS WAY! ALL THE OT-HER DAAAAA-LEKS AL-WAYS MADE FUN OF ME!" He then collapsed into a cascade weird mechanical sobbing noises.
The puny human looked shocked. "I'm sorry!" he apologized. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings…what's your name?"
"SU-PREME DAAAAA-LEK SPOOL!" Spool bellowed before choking up again. "AND DAAAA-LEKS DO NOT HAVE FEEL-INGS." This last sentence, was, of course, interspersed with more sobs.
The human-Klingon put his hand on what might have been a shoulder, if Spool had had shoulders.
"Tell me all about it, Supreme Dalek Spool."
By the time David entered the con, there was a silent, solemn crowd of sci-fi nerds gathered around something in the middle of the lobby. They each had sympathetic, pensive looks on their costumed and painted faces.
He was about to tap one of them on the shoulder before he realized the particular person he had in mind was wearing a long brown coat over a pinstriped suit, with white converse shoes on his feet. Perhaps walking into the middle of a science fiction convention unannounced wasn't exactly the best way to ensure his survival to a ripe old age. Fortunately, everyone's attention was on the middle of the lobby.
David sneaked off to a costume stand, saw the saleswoman reading a comic book with her feet propped up on the table.
He rolled beneath the table, came up behind the saleswoman with a flourish, and did a Vulcan death grip on her.
The saleswoman looked at him. "Why are you rubbing my shoulders?"
David quickly hid his hands in his pockets. "No reason, just a whim, you know."
"Are you gonna buy something?" she demanded, obviously wanting to return to her comic book. "Or just molest me some more?"
"It depends," Tennant muttered.
"Look, I'll give you a Doctor Who costume for free if you leave me alone."
"I don't think that's a good idea," began the actor, but he already had a Cyberman helmet on his head and was being ushered out of the booth.
He stumbled towards the crowd again, unable to see particularly well, and approached a kid dressed as a Weevil.
"'Scuse me," he said, tapping the kid on the shoulder. "I'm looking for a pink Dalek, have you seen one?"
The kid turned towards him. "Y'mean Spool?"
"What?" David asked. "How do you…?"
"He's really quite the poet," The Weevil interrupted, nodding. "Killer roleplayer, too. Hasn't come out of character once. Though the character itself is rather odd, a pink Dalek."
"Sure." David said, cautiously. "Where can I find him?"
The Weevil pointed. "He's telling his life story to a bunch of cosplayers a bit further down the lobby. Fascinating stuff."
David nodded and went in the direction the kid had pointed, stumbling every once in a while as the helmet slipped down over his eyes. It was a trifle large for his head.
He easily found the crowd, and pushed himself through the silent cosplayers to find Spool, in the centre of a large circle of people.
"BUT DAVROS TOLD ME THAT I COULD NOT PLAY BASE-BALL WITH THE OTHER DAAAAALEKS," he was saying. "HE SAID MY COOR-DIN-A-TION WAS NOT GOOD E-NOUGH!"
Sympathetic murmurs.
"AND THE OTHER DAAAALEKS THREATENED TO EXTERRRRRRRRRRMINATE ME!"
"I've never been threatened with exterminations," said a kid dressed as a Klingon.
"I think it's the Dalek equivalent of a wedgie," hissed a fellow Klingon.
"How embarrassing for all those people that got killed by them," murmured the first. "Wedgied to death."
"I don't think the wedgie analogy applies to people," David said, suddenly coming up behind them.
"Sure it does," the first Klingon said. "Shouldn't it apply to any species?"
"Think of it this way," Tennant explained. "If you put a pair of underwear on a dog…"
"Actually, that makes sense," The second mused, thoughtful. "Since, technically, dogs don't really have bu…"
It was at that point that Spool caught sight of David in his cyberman mask.
"THE DA-LEKS WILL EXTERRRRMINATE THE CY-BER-MEN!" He suddenly bellowed, and hovered towards the actor. "A-NY LAST WORRRRRRDS?"
David debated for a moment, then lifted his mask up so only Spool could see and hissed, "Spool, it's me!"
"DAAAAAAAAAVID!" the pink Dalek said gleefully. "MR TENNANT! HAVE YOU COME TO HELP ME FIND A JOB?"
Suddenly, there was a predatory feeling in the air. The pit of David's stomach filled with dread as he glanced round.
There came a murmur, so low and dangerous that it sounded as if it came from nowhere. All the cosplayers were hissing, "David? David Tennant?"
Suddenly, Klingon-kid number two reached up and yanked the helmet off of his head. He then shouted in a guttural, angry language. It didn't take a Sci-Fi nerd like to David know he was speaking Klingon, or that he'd said, "It's him!"
The room filled with a hungry, anticipatory feeling, as one would feel when they are about to get ambushed by a pack of starved wolves.
"Spool," David whispered. "Start running."