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Disclaimer: repeat after me. "There is no such thing
as continuity." ;) Dedicated to Jim and the IRC crew. "Jim, can Songbird still sing?" being one of the loudest yelps of, "Oh my gods, I think I've gone 'round the bend..." Alphabet Soup 6/13by ALC Punk!"Ms. Pryde?"Kitty carefully looked the blonde governmental worker up and down before replying. "You want me to sing one of them, don't you? I'm tone deaf." "Recite, actually," Val corrected. "Ah." Kitty sighed and looked over at Pete. "Come with me?" "Yeah." Pete nodded, "Just lemme get a quick smoke in. Fortitude, y'know." Val nodded, "We'll do mic-checks and such first, anyway." Standing on the small balcony, sucking on the cig, Pete thought of the weirdness of the day. [Bloody Cooper and her scattered brain. Alphabet? Sesame Street?] He snickered. [The Spandex crowd would be lucky if they didn't bring the studio down with the normal rate they did things.] He slipped back into the building and down the hall to the studio. Cooper had two other people in the room, he noted. Rahne Sinclair, he recognised. But the other he didn't--at least, while she had her back to him. Cooper had somehow gotten fashion model supreme herself, Ms. Janet van Dyne, to participate in the humiliation of her peers. "Since K is the next letter, Kitty Pryde will now recite this K poem. So listen to the words that start with 'K-uh'." Janet said sweetly after all checks had been done and places assigned. Kitty looked a little disgruntled, "I don't wanna." "Why not, luv?" Pete asked slipping an arm around her waist. The two sat as close as possible on the stools. "Well, because everyone says it's silly." "Och, Kitty, no we won't." Rahne said, shaking her head. "You won't say it's silly?" "No!" The three chorused. "Oh. OK." Kitty cleared her throat, took a deep breath and began.
"There once was a Kitty from Kalamazoo "I hate to say this, Pryde." Kitty looked at Pete rather suspiciously, "What?" "That were bloody silly." ---- The technician glanced around her. Good. A slight break in things. Coffee was foremost in her mind as she staggered down the hall towards the kitchen area adjacent to the main room. Coffee. Some sugar. Maybe a bit of cream. She froze--nearly at the door. There were voices in the kitchen. "Peter, that's coffee, right? Tell me that's coffee." "Yes, Val, it is." Parker gave a snort. "As if I'd make anything else." "Caffeinated?" Hope sounded in the blonde's voice. "It should be, madame." Hank McCoy, the tech identified as she stood outside in the corridor and listened. "Thanks, Henry. Tell me, you're not going to put something nasty in it if I ask you to poor me a cup?" "If he does, I'll smack him." This voice was unknown. The young woman carefully moved closer, trying to pinpoint who this female could be. "Reed once tried to put something nasty in my coffee..." The woman's voice trailed off reminiscently. Deciding that coffee was the better part of valor, the technician stepped around the corner into the kitchen. The kitchen was a long room with a large steel door--open at this time--that led into the main room of the underground facility. It included all the amenities of a gourmet restaurant. Stoves, ovens, refridgerators, and a huge walk-in freezer were just a few of the shiny things in the room. And all were ignored for the dinky little Mr. Coffee on one of those gleaming counters. "Coffee." The tech breathed in reverance as the smell reached her and her mouth watered. "Oh!" Val turned to her and smiled brightly, "Cup?" "Yes, please." The young woman accepted the cup from Ms. Cooper. As she poured the coffee, she ignored the conversation, though she did note the older blonde woman along with Dr. McCoy and Mr. Parker. "Hi." The blonde extended her hand, "I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Sue Richards, and you are...?" "Erm. I'm the technician." Awkwardly she set her cup down and shook Ms. Richards' hand. "I--er, I'm not supposed to, um..." She fumbled, trying to remember the pat speech she'd been told by someone about her job. Her exhaustion-soaked brain refused to cough it up. Though her hands mechanically went through the motions of filling a coffee cup and adding uber amounts of sugar and cream to it. Val took pity on her and moved forwards, "Sue, really, she's a bit tired. Right, ma'am?" "Yes." "Why don't I escort the young lady to the studio?" McCoy asked, casually reaching out and snagging a few of the doughnuts on the counter as well as a few napkins. He smiled at her. "Perfect. Thanks, Hank." Val smiled at him and turned to Sue, "Tell me, Sue, how's Franklin these days?" ---- Clinton Barton was a man with a mission. That mission came from--well, not God. But it came from close (at least, some considered Val a Goddess in her own right). It came from his inate sense of justice. Make the Thunderbolts more socially acceptable, his mind commanded. So he brought them to Valerie Cooper's little meeting. And, currently, he was searching for one of his team. Val had given him the script earlier, and he'd forgotten it. Somehow, he'd then proceeded to loose track of his team. Not that they were all especially comfortable around the rest of the group. Even if there WAS a truce of sorts in effect. Abruptly, he spotted his quarry and hastened towards her. "Yes, Hawkeye?" "Mel, I was wondering if you'd mind doing this--for the good of the team. . ." Melissa 'Songbird' Gold stared at the script in her hands. "La-la-la...? What the hell is this, Clint?" "A script. For one of the skits in Val's idea." "A script." She repeated. "Yeah. Could you please--would you...?" His voice trailed off. She was glaring at him. "I get paid for this. Got it?" The fact that she'd capitulated without a fight startled him. He agreed. "I'm looking at a one-two thousand dollar gig, here." He nodded again, then froze. "Two--" She smiled at him, sweetly. "I'm off to the studio. Have the money ready, 'k?" And Clinton Barton, Hawkeye, ex-Avenger and now current leader of the Thunderbolts stood there, mouth opening and closing like a fish. ---- Valerie had been pleasantly surprised that Vision hadn't objected. He'd not even seemed to care what the script said. Now he and Melissa were set up now, ready to record at her order. "Begin, please." "Hi, Vision." "Oh, hi Songbird. I have been seated here, pondering this letter. L, it is. I can not recall any purpose for it." "Well. . ." Songbird paused. "I guess you could sing a sort of 'lalala' song with the letter L." "How do you mean?" "Well, there a lot of pretty words that begin with L. You could sing a few lalalas and some pretty little words and you'd have a nice little song." "La, la, la, like that?" Vision asked unemotionally as music started up around them. "Sure, go ahead."
"OK. Let's see, uh..." And Vision began to sing a
mechanical voice that did nothing for the heart. "Uh-huh." Songbird sounded as if he was somewhat depressing her.
"La, la, la, la, lithium bicarbonate," Vision paused
and noted, "This is. . .fun." "Well, that's not quite what I was thinking of, Vision." "No?"
"I mean there are a lot of pretty L words, and I was
sort of thinking of the ones that are more lilting and
lovely. You know like..." Songbird took a breath and
sang. "Oh, yes. I see." "La, la, la, la, lullaby." "Oh, like that. Huh?" "La, la, la, la, lollipop." "Ahhhhhh!" "La, la, la, la, lights in the sky." "Oh! Oh! Songbird, I have a great L word. This is indeed a beauty. Oh, do listen." And Vision sang again in that mechanically unemotional voice. "La, la, la, LINOLEUM!" Songbird fought the smile rising to her lips and replied, "Ah, no, Vis, ah, listen to me, 'Cause L is such a lovely letter. For words like licorice and lace the letter L lights up your face, so why not la, la, la, la, la, with me." "La, la, la, la, laaaaaaaaaaaaah." Vision echoed. "CUT!" Val called. ---- tbc
Part Seven © 2000 ALC Punk! |