Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek.
Inspired by The Script's "Hall of Fame".
...
Wesley grit his teeth and gripped tighter to the hand that held him by the hair. He swung his feet up and kicked the tricorder off the table.
The being in Liutenant Worf's body chuckled, "Struggle all you want, it won't save you."
"That's what you think." Wesley grunted.
From where it landed the tricorder, one Wesley'd been tinkering with, started to vibrate and hum.
Eyes narrowed, Not-Worf pulled on the ensign's hair and brought his face closer to his own. "What is it doing?"
The young ensign and budding genius only gave him a grimace, a determined look in his eye.
It was then the modified tricorder shot out a reversed tractor beam and shot Not-Worf in his shoulder. His grip loosened and Wesley took the chance to drop and roll away. Favoring his left leg, he leaped to his feet and limped out of the broken door.
His attacker gave chase, only to be stunned by a security officer.
Not-Worf subdued, Wesley leans against the hallway wall. With a sigh he slides to floor. Staring up at the security officers gathering in the hall and taking his attacker away, Wesley couldn't help but wonder, "Couldn't you have gotten here sooner?"