Boredom Strikes the Fab Four!
Being the fourth part of
The OC's: Adventures in Characterization
A/N: uhm….I don't own anybody in particular in this chapter, except of course for myself. Yeah. Inspired by…I don't know what, really. I suppose this chapter was inspired by my complete and utter love of the Navy Officers of the Caribbean, and thus I ignore pirates completely. Dedicated to Musey, who came up with the idea of stereotypical evil Officers in the first place. ^_^. Now sit back, relax, and enjoy as the Fab Four (plus Groves/Pearce) become…the Fab Six. Yeah.
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"I'm bored," Moncrieff opined, for the fourth time in fifteen minutes. Everyone else rolled their eyes, and Bennett in particular grumbled something under his breath about Moncrieff and his short attention span, and a small tussle broke out between the two token evil naval officers. And that was a rather long sentence, wouldn't you say?
As it turned out, the boys were all of them quite bored, but three of the four had the good sense to retain their dignity and not whinge about it every thirty seconds or so. In fact, they had quickly discovered that without copious quantities of alcohol to keep things amusing, the officers really didn't have that much to talk about.
Gillette was, at the moment, using empty cans of mango juice to stage the slaughter at Agincourt, and was giving a running commentary. A commentary that went something along the lines of: "Now THIS is how things should have gone, and then…"
James Insert Inventive/Embarrassing Middle Name Here Norrington, Scourge of Pirates and Pride of the King's Navy, was fighting a losing battle against the cup ramen. He had inspected the food (such as it was) in a calculating and strategic manner, figured out how to cook it from the rather vague instructions, and completely failed to master chopsticks. This led to various attempts to eat the ramen without any suitable utensils, which in turn led to some not-terribly-serious but extremely painful burns, and a lot of yelling. Having exhausted his English and (rather meager) French vocabulary of expletives, he was now cursing at the microwave oven in Latin. Which is harder than it looks.
Bennett, without any puppies to kick or young blacksmiths/Mary-Sues to rape, was going stir crazy. And by stir crazy, I mean he was sitting in the corner and gibbering nonsense about the Phantom of the Opera. It was rather sad, really, to see a waste of such perfectly good evil. The man should have been out there doing nefarious deeds on the high seas and ruling shady port towns with an iron fist and doing it all in the name of whatever monarch held the British throne, but instead he was quietly shaking and muttering anachronisms. Sad, very sad.
Truth be told, without pirates to thwart, Naval officers go completely mad. They're just wired that way. So when the Author appeared in a cloud of smoke and glitter (coughing up a storm, it should be noted), Lt. Groves/Pearce in tow, there was a bit of an uproar.
"Teddy!" Gillette yelled, hugging his friend's knees. "You're alive!"
"Well of course I'm alive. I'm far too amusing to remain dead in fanon, you know that." Groves/Pearce rolled his eyes, and smiled good-naturedly.
"Have you come from the outside world? Did you bring us normal food?!" Norrington looked manic.
"What news from the Riddermark?" Bennett asked, one eye twitching sporadically.
"Uhm…well…some of these OCs, as they call themselves, are having a golf tournament on Commodore Bennett's grounds. Miss Swann exploded from not knowing whether to be characterized as an oathbreaking bitch or a reasonable, strong female character, and I'm afraid Sally-Ann still hasn't been able to get the mess out of the carpet." At this news Norrington would have liked to go on a sad drinking binge, but then the Author suddenly realized that the esteemed Commodore was rather quickly turning into Kiefer Sutherland's character in The Three Musketeers (Disney version), and decided to put a stop to all Alcoholic!Norrington references for the moment.
"Wow, it's a real Cuckoo's Nest in here," the Author stated, looking around at the destruction. It should here be noted that most of said destruction was due to Norrington's attempt to murder the hateful microwave oven. "How are you boys holding up?"
"Rather badly, I'm afraid." Gillette surveyed the field of aluminum cans surrounding him, stood up, and kicked them all down. He then proceeded to laugh in a deranged and maniacal manner. "Rather badly indeed, I daresay. Ahahhahahhahahahhahahah!"
"Get ahold of yourself, man!" Groves/Pearce said, looking concerned.
"I'd love to, mon ami, but there are ladies present."
The Author rubbed the bridge of her nose, because she was getting a headache.
"Hey! That's MY token gesture of annoyance!" Norrington said, getting upset. And it was true, because the Author never got those nose-type headaches. Just the annoying kind around your temples that you can't really do anything about because they're not bad enough to warrant taking any Advil or what have you. Anyway. Where is this fic going?
"I have absolutely no idea," said Moncrieff. "But I need more lines."
"As do I, madam!" said Bennett stuffily (he is Colin Firth, after all) "I have no dastardly deeds to do! And when that's your only purpose in life, it gets terribly depressing when you can't you know, pillage towns and torture people."
"Tell me about it," drawled Creepy Albino Spawn of Hell Guy, appearing out of nowhere. While the officers looked rather startled at his sudden appearance, the Author's eyes went wide. And then she screamed, in the grand tradition of women in mortal peril from giant monsters or serial killers from the first days of talking pictures.
"GETITAWAYGETITAWAY!!!" she shrieked, diving at Norrington and holding onto him for dear life. She broke out into panicked sobs. "Make the scary man go away!"
"Madam, what on earth is the matter?" Norrington asked, while attempting to comfort her as best he could (which is what all gentlemen are trained to do, but the process is somewhat hindered when the lady in question refuses to faint gracefully but instead is attempting to hide by burrowing into one's chest).
"I think the problem might be a film the Author's seen recently?" Moncrieff said, unsure of the knowledge that just spontaneously popped into his head.
"Ah," said Norrington, not in the least bit reassured or less confused.
"You see, girl?" Bennett grumbled. "This is what happens when you're not loyal to your fandom! You go off like some harlot, getting obsessed with some other book or film or what have you, and it comes back to blow up in your face! Serves you right, I say."
"Fandom karma, that is," said Gillette thoughtfully. He then regained his composure and looked at the newcomer with a steely gaze. "You, sir. Who are you, and why are you here?"
"As far as I know, my name's 'Creepy Albino Spawn of Hell', but I find that a bit offensive." He glared at the Author with his evil pinkish glare.
"Stop it, you Lucifer! Stop being creepy!!" the Author was, of course, not calming down in the least.
"I can't, woman! That's my damn character!" Creepy Albino Spawn of Hell was getting rather upset.
"I feel you pain, man," said Bennett helpfully, offering him a can of mango juice.
"I liked you better when you were Dumb Blonde Dickensian Hero, you pink-eyed bastard." The Author said, pouting.
"Well I'm sorry." Creepy Albino Spawn of Hell said. He was getting a bit upset. "I'm sorry to ruin the perfect little worldview of a silly little girl. But you know what? Anthony Minghella films just DO that to people! It's not my fault!"
"Now that I understand," said Norrington quietly.
"Why can't you ever have a happy ending, Peter?" the Author wailed at Norrington.
"Now this is just getting silly," Groves said decisively. "You've gone and confused reality again."
"I'm easily confused!"
"Can we all just please settle down?" Gillette asked.
"Not until I get this leechy fangirl off me," sighed Norrington.
"Not until Creepy Albino Spawn of Hell gets un-creepy-ified!" the Author yelled.
"Can I please go back to North Carolina? I have to kill Jude Law, you know." Bennett rolled his eyes at this statement.
"Why do I get the feeling she's not going to want that to happen?" he said to no one in particular.
"That's it, Spawn of Hell, you're joining Bennett and Moncrieff's little team. You can be like, the evil Groves/Pearce or something." The Author got a wicked gleam in her eye.
"Alright then, what's my name, Miss 'I Change the Laws of Time, Space, and Fandom'?"
"Nickleby," she said smugly. "Lievtenant Charles 'Seriously Evil Bastard' Nickleby."
"I hate you," the newly re-characterized Lt. Nickleby said, glaring at the Author. But he had very little time to glare, as he was trapped in a group hug from Bennett and Moncrieff.
"Woohoo!" Bennett shouted anachronistically.
"We're an Evil Triumvirate!" Moncrieff said, tears in his eyes. "I've never been so happy!" The Author said nothing, but smiled a wicked (but in this case righteous) smile, and snapped her fingers. In an instant she had disappeared, along with Norrington, Gillette, and Groves/Pearce. And thus the new Evil Triumvirate was trapped in Space-Time, while Bennett's house continued to be trashed by rowdy, drunken OCs.
Life is good, sometimes.
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So, that's it. Drop me a review, if you'd like. And go see Cold Mountain. It's a good movie, but such a downer. *shakes fist at Charlie Hunnam*