Author's Note: If anyone has any good prank ideas, let us know! We'll be happy to credit you at the top of the chapter!
Chapter 3: Revenge is Sweet
Radek's POV
So John Sheppard thinks he can out prank me, does he? That American fly boy, as Rodney is so fond of calling him, is in for a very rude surprise. After an hour or so in my lab thinking, I had decided on the perfect opening prank. Just then, my com sputtered to life.
"Dr. Zelenka."
"Radek, we need you in the Control Room. One of the consoles won't respond and Rodney's busy." Elizabeth sounded slightly annoyed.
Meaning McKay won't get off his overgrown arse to fix it, or he and Allie got into some sort of disagreement. Such are rarer then before, but I am sure it will not be the last time I must pick up the slack.
"I am on my way, Dr. Weir."
First, I needed to retrieve my tool box since there was no telling what had happened this time. Stalking into the appropriate storage area, I leaned over to snatch it, only to be reminded that the laws of physics state that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. I found myself meeting the floor rather painfully, my right ribs taking the full impact of the tool box handle. Carefully, I caught my breath and picked myself up, assessing the damage. While not enough to actually crack a rib, at least I hoped, I was going to feel as if a Red Army tank sat upon me tomorrow. It would, however, give me the perfect excuse to visit the infirmary after I fixed the problem upstairs.
I tried once more to lift the offending item, a little more carefully this time, but it would not budge. Looking around, I tried to decide what it could be caught on. The nearby tube of super glue, however, told me all I needed to know.
"John Sheppard, you rotten American osel!"
Apparently, I must teach the colonel that messing with one's opponent can result in a variety of very unpleasant forms of retaliation.
Just then, my com buzzed to life once more, scaring several years off my life.
"Dr. Zelenka, is everything all right?"
"Yes, yes. Už běžím! I am coming!" Stupid com.
Opening my toolbox to at least grab a few things, I found more evidence of Sheppard's handiwork. My screwdriver was missing! Hrom do toho! I snatched Rodney's toolbox instead, figuring it served him right, and headed for the Control Room.
Shortly after arriving, I discovered the problem. A crystal had been jarred loose, probably during one of the many times we had hostile weapons fire following a team home. It had just waited until now to come the rest of the way, disrupting the power flow. As I gently teased it back into place, I saw a red-faced Dr. Beckett lead Dr. Weir into her office.
I wonder just what else my light fingered opponent has been up to already?
Minutes later, the relative quiet of the Control Room was shattered by a quick series of crashes, a loud thump, and a startled yelp.
"What in the world...?"
With the gate room technicians and several of the marines on security detail on my heels, I rushed to Dr. Weir's office. I was greeted by the sight of our expedition leader sitting on the floor amidst the remains of her desk chair, her face a mask of shock.
Oh, now that's going too far, colonel!
A sharp curse in Gaelic brought my attention to the room's other occupant. The Scot looked even angrier than before.
"It looks like I'm not the only one to have a wee bit of trouble, Elizabeth." Dr. Beckett commented almost smugly. I was horrified to note the doctor clutching my missing screwdriver in his hand. Now I would never get it back!
"I'll deal with it, Carson." Elizabeth sounded almost amused as she reassured the Scot from her position on the floor.
A rather comical look of chagrin passed over the physician's face as he finally extended a hand to help the woman from the floor. "Are ya all right, Elizabeth? That was a bit of a nasty tumble."
"Yes, Carson, I'm fine, though my pride's slightly dented."
Dr. Weir abruptly noticed their audience, and raised an eyebrow. I decided that I'd best finish the work on the console now, allowing our leader to nurse her bruises in peace. It was time the good colonel had a taste of his own medicine, yes? Knowing he would be occupied with his regular afternoon training session with Teyla, I headed out. Half an hour later, I snuck back out of Colonel Sheppard's office, feeling like... What was the American saying? Oh, yes, the cat that ate the canary!
Now, if everything went correctly, by tonight Atlantis would be in for a surprise. Limping a little more then my honestly sore side really warranted, I made my way down to the infirmary, hoping Dr. Beckett was still occupied with Dr. Weir. If not, I would make do.
An hour later, I allowed myself to grin as I carefully walked out of the infirmary, the item I had come for tucked safely out of sight in a pocket. As a bonus, Dr. Beckett would be in for quite a surprise the next time he used his stethoscope. Finding it laying unguarded on his desk was highly unusual, though the remains of the good doctor's chair gave me a hint as to why it had been forgotten. Spying a jar of Vaseline, I just couldn't resist. Patting the bottle of Laxative in my pocket, I resisted the urge to laugh like one of the villains in the American horror films. A fresh shipment of gravy had come in on the last Daedalus run, and I knew it would be served tonight. Yes. This was going to be very interesting, indeed.
Take that, Colonel Cruel.
Prankster's POV
I walked leisurely through the halls of Atlantis, enjoying the sounds of the city settling into a quiet evening. Dinner had been particularly good tonight, and I was still gloating over the results of my day's work. I had both my opponents ready to take drastic steps to go after the other, which would keep them from comparing notes and realizing they weren't alone in their little war.
Suddenly, the quiet was shattered by the sight of an airman bolting down the hall toward the nearest bathroom, followed quickly by a second. Odd. Wonder what those two got into? As I continued to walk, I received the first inkling that I might have missed something as the halls began to fill with others also seeking the restrooms, and I heard several calls go out to the medical bay over the com. Which one of the two sources of trouble had done what?
Unfortunately, my gut chose then to tell me that whatever it was, I was also a victim. I had better find a relatively unclogged restroom, now. My further plans would have to wait. My com clicked to life one more time as I entered the quiet of my quarters, heading toward the bathroom.
"This is Dr. Beckett. I need a med team and gurney to Colonel Sheppard's quarters, immediately!"
I had no time to investigate as my body informed me in no uncertain terms just where I would be spending my immediate future. It did tell me who was most likely responsible for my present indisposition, however.
That Czech menace is going to be sorry for this!
A/N: If any of you want to know immediately if your guess is correct, let us know and we'll e-mail you. We don't want to spoil the fun of the mystery for anyone! Thanks to those of you reading, and reviews are always received with great interest and appreciation!