Disclaimer: *mournful sigh* Own nothing...
Whee - keeping up with the original here! This one's tagged to chapter 27 of "The Master's Rose".
"Let's just hope a swarm of Vashta Nerada haven't made a home here too…"
The characters' apprehension was all too genuine, and the Director, following the manuscript as the cameras rolled, couldn't help but feel some sympathy for them. There, at least, was one statement that he could vouch for. After all, it had taken the pest control team from FanFiction HQ a good week before they could declare the whole Cruciform free of the flesh-eating shadow creatures – and he knew exactly who would foot the bill.
Apparently, some of the crew had missed the memo, as they began scrambling in their pockets for torches and the Director had to frantically motion to them to stop. Their numbers were a few less since that morning, and the medics' tent outside filled with camera crew and set supervisors nursing nasty burns from blaster pistols. Fortunately, although the fact that the scene had been filmed entirely in pitch darkness may have been at least partly to blame for some of the mishaps, it also meant that the thumps of heavy cameras and equipment being dropped could pass for the required sounds of the fight. In fact, when they had turned the lights back on after the scene was wrapped, to the Director's disconcertion, there were barely any Lich to be seen.
Of the remaining crew, most had been grinding their teeth by the time they restarted after Hart had spent the entire lunch break tunelessly whistling "Let the Bodies Hit the Floor" through his teeth. Snatches of it still kept coming through on the microphones, hummed under the breath of one crew member or another – nothing the sound technicians couldn't filter out, the Director fervently hoped.
From what he could see now – and he knew precious little Gallifreyan and even less computer source code – Tejana was working her way into the computer system without a hitch, and he and the camera crew moved closer.
"My spidey-senses are tingling, Princess," Hart called, and several camera crew, taking their cue, swivelled towards the holographic viewscreen in readiness.
"I'm going as fast as I can!"
"…one, nothing wrong with me, two, nothing wrong wi-" There was a barely audible scuffle of a toe being stepped on and the murmur of song was cut short – and then all eyes were on the viewscreen as the image of a young Time Lord shimmered into view. He was turned slightly to one side, gesturing with one hand as he spoke, his tone frustrated.
"…but this technology is archaic! Even your audio rendering software must be centuries out of date. No…no – it's the package from FanFiction HQ. Look, tell the Director I could upgrade the video input in six rels if he-…what? What?" He turned towards the camera, but his eyes didn't meet those of Tejana, instead apparently catching sight of something just above the screen. "Oh – it's already recording. Right – what if I-" His hand reached out towards one corner, and then the transmission was cut short, leaving the screen blank.
The bemused silence in the Axis didn't last long.
"Keep rolling, keep rolling…" the Director ordered, waving towards the camera crew. "There might be another one coming through in a minute…"
"That was…" Tejana was shaking her head in stunned disbelief. "That was Damon. From the Valiant – Damon Smi-"
"Yes, yes," the Director cut in hastily. "Keep watching the screen. You haven't seen it yet, O.K.?"
"But why-" Again, the screen flickered; again, the dark-haired Time Lord appeared, this time facing the screen, his expression drawn and weary, and the Axis fell silent.
"My name is Damon, of the House of Windcrest," he said solemnly as Tejana's eyes filled with tears. "I am a Time Lord of Gallifrey, known as the Technician…" Something moved at the corner of the screen, visible just for an instant; the Director wondered if it might have been a trick of the light, a shifting reflection on the screen – until it reappeared, wandering in from one side in the shape of a lighting technician in the background behind Damon, polystyrene coffee cup in one hand, cellphone held to her ear with the other. She raised her head and her eyes widened, and the Director could just make out an embarrassed apology called out over her shoulder as she hurried off-screen. "This evil would not exist, but for-…what?" Damon turned, the lighting technician's voice came again, and then the screen darkened.
"Hey – do we ever get to do more than just watch him?" came Hart's voice from near the door. "Wouldn't mind getting a very close look at that one…"
"Keep rolling…" the Director reminded the crew, ignoring the Time Agent. His eyes were on Tejana, and he moved to offer her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, but the screen filled with static for a third time and he quickly stepped back out of sight of the cameras.
This time, Damon was only half visible on the screen, standing to one side. There were raised voices in the background, and as he appeared, he spun around and leaned towards the camera.
"Sorry – you'll have to delete this recording," he said, his eyes darting between the camera and what sounded like an escalating argument off-screen. "There's been a bit of a misunderstanding – the operator at FanFiction HQ must have…" He trailed off, turning back to the side. From somewhere off-screen, one voice rose above the rest, dark and harsh with icy fury.
"Incompetent insects! My Matrix is corrupted beyond repair!" A whining buzz, vaguely reminiscent of a sonic screwdriver, filled the air, and Damon's surroundings were suddenly bathed in a blood-red light. Moments later, the holographic transmission was replaced with fizzing static and white noise, before blinking out entirely.
"Owch." Hart didn't sound the slightest bit sympathetic, but the Director barely noticed him. For the first time, he began to feel the slightest twinge of apprehension. It seemed like the pause was stretching on for far longer than previously – if whatever had occurred had caused enough of a delay, if the team that had been sent to the Cruciform to liaise with Damon hadn't managed to get their message recorded before-
"My name is Damon, of the House of Windcrest." The Director's head snapped back around to the screen, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief at the sight of Damon facing the camera, his image and transmission crystal-clear and uninterrupted. He glanced quickly around at the crew – cameras were still rolling, microphones out of sight, Hart was once again on edge, standing guard by the door – and clutched the manuscript nervously in both hands as Damon's transmission played out apparently flawlessly.
"I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…" At last, the sad soliloquy came to an end. The Director raised his hand in signal, counting down on his fingers to the camera crew as the loop replayed itself once, twice, three times…
"CUT! That's a wrap." The screen faded to black, and with a satisfied shuffle of the manuscript, the Director turned to the crew. "Right, take five, then outside for the Master to get here in the next scene. Someone needs to go back and meet the archivist – we're going to need a few flashbacks by the doors, and she won't be able to find-"
"Hope that's all right," a harried voice interrupted from somewhere overhead, and the crew and characters turned to see the image of a set supervisor slowly solidifying on the viewscreen. "We've just got a call that the Doctors will be using the Moment any minute now, so you'll have to do all the editing at your end. There might be a few false starts – sorry about that. Just checking – you're in the Citadel with Tejana and the Master? We'll send the tapes over there. Got to get going – cheers!"
Cursing under his breath, the Director scrambled for his cellphone, crossing his fingers that he hadn't exceeded his limit yet for temporally transcendent calls. How many times did he have to remind the crew – time was never a strict progression of cause to effect in this fandom. Fanfictions were planned from a non-linear, non-subjective point of view, and especially when they involved the Time War…well, they were more like a big…ball…of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey…stuff.
