Disclaimer: I don't own BttF.
Written by Jake Skywalker and typed by Anakin McFly.
(t/n): You have been warned. I couldn't stop laughing as I typed this. Seems like weirdness runs in the family... Anyway, I wash my hands off this fic, and assume no responsibility for any rules it might break regarding the writing of actor fics. Oh, and this chapter is for all you anti-Clara people out there.
In the Shadow of Time: Chapter 3
"Great Scott!"
Marty ran over to the time train and stared at it as Doc went in.
"Why didn't they destroy it?" Marty asked, looking at the initials E.L.B.
"They've done just as bad," Doc said, emerging from the train holding a jumble of wires and what looked like...
"The time circuits?" Marty said, as he stared at the familar box. Doc sighed.
"I'm afraid so, Marty. Anyway, let's try to find the kids first." The two of them went walking through the grass calling for Jules, Verne and Clara. Suddenly, when they reached another gorse bush, Clara jumped out towards Doc. Marty watched as the two hugged, when he realised there were rather weird clouds in the sky. Upon looking more carefully, he discovered they weren't clouds, but thick smoke. He glanced at the gorse bush where Clara had been hiding and his suspicions were confirmed. Marty and Doc still had their cold towels with them, but Clara's was still at the bush.
Marty glanced back at the smoke and saw humanoid shapes with a robotic look appear...
"Cyborgs!" Marty yelled. Doc and him grabbed their towels and dived into the bush. Clara, however, wasn't so lucky. A rain of bullets cut her down and missiles streaked from the sky. A huge bomb dropped down, creating a crater in the ground.
Marty pulled his jacket over him as the aftereffects of the bomb sent a rippling wave of heat towards them. Doc stared at the crater, and slowly a smile crept across his face.
"Yippee! I'm free!" he shouted in joy. "No more dishes! No more cleaning! No more obnoxious wife!" He saluted the disappearing cyborgs. "Good work!"
~-~-~
"Are you sure Dad's here?" Verne questioned. His older brother, Jules, was walking in front of him.
"Of course! I'm positive. And when I'm positive, I'm positive."
Verne cocked an eyebrow. They were in a dark building where sunlight filtered through rusty windows laid with spider webs. "Uh, Jules... I doubt Dad's here."
Jules wheeled around. "Verne, use your underused brain. Our wild-eyed scientist, an expert in the field of chronology, would obviously transport himself to a timepiece creating structure."
Verne stared blankly. "Have that in English."
His brother shrugged. "In other words, or 'English' as you so amicably call it, it's a clock factory," Jules said as he moved off.
"A clock factory?" Verne said. He shrugged and followed Jules deeper into Koolen's Clock fatory.
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(a/n): Do you think the man in the sports car was Michael J. Fox? That's for me to know, and you to find out. More reviews, please. Okay, assuming he is MJF, here's a short chapter.
Mike strode to the building. He was very, very angry. He pushed the doors open, then ran to a certain someone's room. Finding the door, he smirked. He knew he was here, to talk to a director. Flinging the door open, he yelled. "Thomas F. Wilson, how dare you steal my Mercedes!"
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(t/n): He has a Mercedes? 0.0
TO BE CONTINUED... Please review!
