Disclaimer : Same as always
Author : Same
Rating : Same
Story : Reproductions - ha! Gotcha! It changed!
Summary : I don't remember. I updated it! I think . . . Ugh! *confused look*
Dedication : All my loyal reviewers - you're the best!!!
******************************************************************************
Vaughn closed his eyes and savored the feel of Syd's hand against his nearly-shaven face. However, the master of bad interruptions, Bob, chose that moment to enter the room.
"Ugh! Lovey-dovey shit. I knew I should have accepted Sven."
Syd and Vaughn "jumped" apart at the sound of Bob's abrasive voice. Well, they didn't really jump, being as how Syd was tied to the bed. They "rolled" apart at the sound of Bob's abrasive voice. Vaughn grabbed the Woody tie that had slid from his wrist during their "tryst-ing".
"Bob, what good timing!"
"Sarcasm does not suit you, Saras." Sydney just rolled her eyes in response.
"How's our Lover boy? He seems awfully quiet." Bob turned to Vaughn.
"Umm . . . I'm good . . . How are you?" Vaughn asked as if he wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. It was so odd for him to be facing a villain that wasn't "evil".
"Well, I got up today, went to my video camera, saw my two spy captives making out, decided that I really didn't want to watch, came back later, saw my two spy captives doing some weird sort of post-play, and I came down to stop it. So, overall I'm happy, because if what I think happened . . ." Bob turned his voice into a whisper, "sex!" Then he continued in a normal tone, ". . . really happened, then I stand to make a lot of money hocking off spy-babies."
"What?" Sydney exclaimed loudly.
"Relax, I'm just kidding. I'd keep the babies. They'd be good for business."
Vaughn spoke up this time, "What makes you think that she'd give you our babies?"
"*Our* babies? Oh, Vaughn, I'm sorry. I love you, but I don't love you that way," Bob said using a highly sarcastic tone.
"You know what I meant," Vaughn commented, rolling his eyes.
"You love him?" Sydney exclaimed. "That's twisted. I mean you guys have only known each other for like a day. Ewww. Have you been cheating on Lauren-and-or-me with Bob, Vaughn?" Syd teased.
"Syd, I'm serious. I would never cheat on you, and if I was going to cheat on Lauren, I would have done it with you."
"Hmm . . . What do you mean by "it"?" Syd raised her eyebrows suggestively.
"Yuck! You two are sickening. How do y'all get anything done on missions?"
"And why does your accent change every three seconds, Bob?" Sydney countered.
Vaughn jumped into the argument. "Yeah, Bob. You started out all ultra-suave British style. Now you're mid-western. You were doing the California "dude" thing. I'm just really confused, Bob. Maybe you could explain *that* to me, Bob."
"I prefer not to waste my time on little people."
"Hey! I'm not that lit -" Sydney interrupted Vaughn with a poke in the side and an exasperated look. 'That's not the kind of little he meant, Vaughn,' her eyes communicated.
A confused look crossed Vaughn's face before he got it. "Oh. Ouch, that hurts."
Sydney rolled her eyes. 'Men. Everything's always about their . . . egos. Yeah. Egos. I like that.'
"Not as much as the surgery will, but I'll use drugs." Bob perked up at the mention of surgery. Or maybe it was the mention of drugs?
"Wait, surgery? Who? What? When? Where? How? No - I don't want to know how. I just want to know if the drugs are for me or you." Sydney had a look of panic in her eyes.
"My top-secret reproduction injection thingy equals surgery. I need to get some junk out of you so it can go into the formula. It won't be bad, it's just a small prick . . . by a really, extremely, horribly, humongous-ly, appallingly, amazingly, astoundingly, astonishingly, surprisingly, overwhelmingly, shockingly, tremendously, exceptionally big needle. And the drugs are for you."
Sydney licked her lips nervously. "Sounds like you need a better name for your 'formula.' At least you're a thesaurus, so it should be easy for you."
Vaughn looked over at Sydney suspiciously. She was planning something. He knew her fear of needles, and she would definitely not be that calm about the threat of something rumored to be that huge about the enter her system. Well, she hadn't been afraid their first time, but . . . That was different circumstances. Sydney turned her head and caught Vaughn watching her.
'You're thinking about sex again, aren't you?' She thought.
'I was thinking about you. My dear, my love, my life, my -'
'So basically, you were thinking about screwing me.' Her mental exasperation flared up, and Vaughn tried to back-pedal.
'Well, yeah, . . . but only because you're so cute when you're planning ways to take over the world.'
'So you only think I'm sexy when I'm plotting? Ouch.'
'No! I meant that . . . I mean I think that you're . . . Oh crap. Syd, you make me ache all the time.'
'Better. I'm going to *hold* you to that later.' Their eyes seductively flirted for a moment before Bob caught their attention. He was bending over an odd, metal contraption. His back was turned to them.
Syd nodded to Vaughn. Thanking God for the plush carpeting that silenced his steps, he slid out of the racecar silently and moved behind Bob. Vaughn's quick arms used the loosened tie to grab Bob around the neck. Vaughn closed his eyes as Bob struggled and fell silent. Michael let Bob's limp body slip to the floor.
"He's OK," Syd commented. When Vaughn looked up at her quizzically, she continued. "I can see his . . . rotund belly moving. That usually means someone is breathing and is, therefore, alive."
"Alright. How do we get you out of this thing?" Vaughn questioned gesturing to the absurdly shaped bed and the invisible manacles that held her there.
"Bob said there was a manual somewhere. He brought it in here when he loosened the restraints. I think he left it on the table over there."
Vaughn hurried to the computer-like machine desk and started to thumb through the multitude of miscellaneous papers.
"A Brief History of Bob" by Bob Hamelemah. Weird. Who would've thought his last name was Hamelemah.
"An In-depth History of Bob" by guess-who, dah-dah, Bob Hamelemah.
"Bob and Sven, *A Modern Day Romeo and Juliet*" by Reger Ivanavi. Reger? Wasn't that the guy Bob was always commenting on?
"War and Peace . . . " Finally! Something normal. ". . . as told by Bob" Never mind. So much for Tolstoy.
Vaughn was now at the last of the manuscripts. He held his breath and slowly read the title of the tome. "Bob's Many Miraculous Inventions". He picked up the work and paused. He could barely hold it's massive weight. There had better be an index or table of contents.
Vaughn opened the first page. "Chapter One: There Were Inventors. Then Came Bob." Oh crap. This was going to take a while. "Chapter Two: Bob's Early Experiments" Vaughn rolled his eyes. This guy had a massive ego! Finally, he flipped to the last pages. Rejoicing at finding the index and skimming it quickly, Michael flipped to page 789. "Sydys Handcuffs".
"Love, we have a problem."
"Dear?" Sydney raised her head from where she had been day dreaming of weddings, flowers, and cheap champagne.
"It's in what looks like Sanskrit."
"Umm. . . I don't speak Sanskrit, hun."
"I know. That's the problem. I don't either." They exchanged meaningful looks.
"Looks like I'm going to be here for a while. You might as well tie up Bob for the moment."
Author : Same
Rating : Same
Story : Reproductions - ha! Gotcha! It changed!
Summary : I don't remember. I updated it! I think . . . Ugh! *confused look*
Dedication : All my loyal reviewers - you're the best!!!
******************************************************************************
Vaughn closed his eyes and savored the feel of Syd's hand against his nearly-shaven face. However, the master of bad interruptions, Bob, chose that moment to enter the room.
"Ugh! Lovey-dovey shit. I knew I should have accepted Sven."
Syd and Vaughn "jumped" apart at the sound of Bob's abrasive voice. Well, they didn't really jump, being as how Syd was tied to the bed. They "rolled" apart at the sound of Bob's abrasive voice. Vaughn grabbed the Woody tie that had slid from his wrist during their "tryst-ing".
"Bob, what good timing!"
"Sarcasm does not suit you, Saras." Sydney just rolled her eyes in response.
"How's our Lover boy? He seems awfully quiet." Bob turned to Vaughn.
"Umm . . . I'm good . . . How are you?" Vaughn asked as if he wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. It was so odd for him to be facing a villain that wasn't "evil".
"Well, I got up today, went to my video camera, saw my two spy captives making out, decided that I really didn't want to watch, came back later, saw my two spy captives doing some weird sort of post-play, and I came down to stop it. So, overall I'm happy, because if what I think happened . . ." Bob turned his voice into a whisper, "sex!" Then he continued in a normal tone, ". . . really happened, then I stand to make a lot of money hocking off spy-babies."
"What?" Sydney exclaimed loudly.
"Relax, I'm just kidding. I'd keep the babies. They'd be good for business."
Vaughn spoke up this time, "What makes you think that she'd give you our babies?"
"*Our* babies? Oh, Vaughn, I'm sorry. I love you, but I don't love you that way," Bob said using a highly sarcastic tone.
"You know what I meant," Vaughn commented, rolling his eyes.
"You love him?" Sydney exclaimed. "That's twisted. I mean you guys have only known each other for like a day. Ewww. Have you been cheating on Lauren-and-or-me with Bob, Vaughn?" Syd teased.
"Syd, I'm serious. I would never cheat on you, and if I was going to cheat on Lauren, I would have done it with you."
"Hmm . . . What do you mean by "it"?" Syd raised her eyebrows suggestively.
"Yuck! You two are sickening. How do y'all get anything done on missions?"
"And why does your accent change every three seconds, Bob?" Sydney countered.
Vaughn jumped into the argument. "Yeah, Bob. You started out all ultra-suave British style. Now you're mid-western. You were doing the California "dude" thing. I'm just really confused, Bob. Maybe you could explain *that* to me, Bob."
"I prefer not to waste my time on little people."
"Hey! I'm not that lit -" Sydney interrupted Vaughn with a poke in the side and an exasperated look. 'That's not the kind of little he meant, Vaughn,' her eyes communicated.
A confused look crossed Vaughn's face before he got it. "Oh. Ouch, that hurts."
Sydney rolled her eyes. 'Men. Everything's always about their . . . egos. Yeah. Egos. I like that.'
"Not as much as the surgery will, but I'll use drugs." Bob perked up at the mention of surgery. Or maybe it was the mention of drugs?
"Wait, surgery? Who? What? When? Where? How? No - I don't want to know how. I just want to know if the drugs are for me or you." Sydney had a look of panic in her eyes.
"My top-secret reproduction injection thingy equals surgery. I need to get some junk out of you so it can go into the formula. It won't be bad, it's just a small prick . . . by a really, extremely, horribly, humongous-ly, appallingly, amazingly, astoundingly, astonishingly, surprisingly, overwhelmingly, shockingly, tremendously, exceptionally big needle. And the drugs are for you."
Sydney licked her lips nervously. "Sounds like you need a better name for your 'formula.' At least you're a thesaurus, so it should be easy for you."
Vaughn looked over at Sydney suspiciously. She was planning something. He knew her fear of needles, and she would definitely not be that calm about the threat of something rumored to be that huge about the enter her system. Well, she hadn't been afraid their first time, but . . . That was different circumstances. Sydney turned her head and caught Vaughn watching her.
'You're thinking about sex again, aren't you?' She thought.
'I was thinking about you. My dear, my love, my life, my -'
'So basically, you were thinking about screwing me.' Her mental exasperation flared up, and Vaughn tried to back-pedal.
'Well, yeah, . . . but only because you're so cute when you're planning ways to take over the world.'
'So you only think I'm sexy when I'm plotting? Ouch.'
'No! I meant that . . . I mean I think that you're . . . Oh crap. Syd, you make me ache all the time.'
'Better. I'm going to *hold* you to that later.' Their eyes seductively flirted for a moment before Bob caught their attention. He was bending over an odd, metal contraption. His back was turned to them.
Syd nodded to Vaughn. Thanking God for the plush carpeting that silenced his steps, he slid out of the racecar silently and moved behind Bob. Vaughn's quick arms used the loosened tie to grab Bob around the neck. Vaughn closed his eyes as Bob struggled and fell silent. Michael let Bob's limp body slip to the floor.
"He's OK," Syd commented. When Vaughn looked up at her quizzically, she continued. "I can see his . . . rotund belly moving. That usually means someone is breathing and is, therefore, alive."
"Alright. How do we get you out of this thing?" Vaughn questioned gesturing to the absurdly shaped bed and the invisible manacles that held her there.
"Bob said there was a manual somewhere. He brought it in here when he loosened the restraints. I think he left it on the table over there."
Vaughn hurried to the computer-like machine desk and started to thumb through the multitude of miscellaneous papers.
"A Brief History of Bob" by Bob Hamelemah. Weird. Who would've thought his last name was Hamelemah.
"An In-depth History of Bob" by guess-who, dah-dah, Bob Hamelemah.
"Bob and Sven, *A Modern Day Romeo and Juliet*" by Reger Ivanavi. Reger? Wasn't that the guy Bob was always commenting on?
"War and Peace . . . " Finally! Something normal. ". . . as told by Bob" Never mind. So much for Tolstoy.
Vaughn was now at the last of the manuscripts. He held his breath and slowly read the title of the tome. "Bob's Many Miraculous Inventions". He picked up the work and paused. He could barely hold it's massive weight. There had better be an index or table of contents.
Vaughn opened the first page. "Chapter One: There Were Inventors. Then Came Bob." Oh crap. This was going to take a while. "Chapter Two: Bob's Early Experiments" Vaughn rolled his eyes. This guy had a massive ego! Finally, he flipped to the last pages. Rejoicing at finding the index and skimming it quickly, Michael flipped to page 789. "Sydys Handcuffs".
"Love, we have a problem."
"Dear?" Sydney raised her head from where she had been day dreaming of weddings, flowers, and cheap champagne.
"It's in what looks like Sanskrit."
"Umm. . . I don't speak Sanskrit, hun."
"I know. That's the problem. I don't either." They exchanged meaningful looks.
"Looks like I'm going to be here for a while. You might as well tie up Bob for the moment."
