xparrot | ancient fic snippets

So I was organizing my writing folder, coming across all manner of unfinished fics and bits of things scribbled five years ago or more and long since forgotten. Such as crossovers from hell.

I'm sure I had a plan for this one. I just have no idea what that plan was.

"Well," Ray panted, "at least it can't get any—"

"DON'T say it!" Kuririn cried hastily.

"In most cases, I would agree," Peter said, swinging his proton thrower around in time to blast a razor-clawed imp before it sliced off Egon's hair, along with most of his head. "But seriously, HOW can things get any worse?"

Kuririn considered. "Umm...Vegeta could find out you've been flirting with his wife."

"Wife?"

Bulma, still concentrating on repairing the destabilizer, raised a hand.

"You're married? To one of them?" Peter spared a glance away from the present battle to track the figures overhead flinging demons around the sky. "Which one's Vegeta?"

"The short one," Yamcha supplied.

"...THAT guy?" Peter pointed as the man in question, golden hair flaring behind his head like a torch, threw a burst of light from his hands, cutting a meters-wide swathe through the monstrous army. When the brilliance died, all that remained were cinders drifting in murky clouds.

Peter's horrified stare was broken by a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry," Bulma grinned. "It'll be our secret."

By the way, Sin-chan, J-chan, remember our fic? RGB/FF8/B5? Found that, too.

And then there was this Sentinel--not fic, so much as extended joke--which would have gone crossover had I continued. If you ever wanted to see X-parrot blatantly self-insert, now's the time.

Jim's first action upon their arrival was to turn on Blair. "Okay, Sandburg, tell me this is one of those crazy shaman deals."

Blair shook his head. "Uh, sorry, man. I don't know what this is."

One minute they had been driving down the freeway, discussing last night's Jags game. The next instant, not heralded by so much as a flash of light, they were standing in a dark cavern, stony walls lit by sputtering torches.

Blair put his hand flat against the closest surface, felt the rough, cool rock. "Well, it's a pretty detailed hallucination, if that's what it is. You're seeing it too, right?"

"If what you're seeing is a long rock tunnel with a ceiling half a mile high, then yeah."

The Guide craned his neck up, trying to pierce the shadows beyond the torchlight. "I'll take your word about the ceiling. Umm...you don't think we, uh, had an accident, and this is..."

Jim shook his head. "Wouldn't it be warmer? Anyway, last time we nearly died it didn't look anything like this..." He mulled over the possibility for a moment. "My truck better be okay. You all right, Chief?"

"Physically, yeah. Mentally...well, I'm hoping you aren't just a figment of my imagination."

"I was just hoping the same thing."

"You think you're a figment of my imagination?" Blair inquired innocently.

"Sandburg—" Jim's growl cut off. Straightening, he stepped in front of his partner, reaching for his holster and swearing when he realized his gun was gone.

Blair, always able to follow the Sentinel's actions, silently mouthed, "What'd you hear?"

"Footsteps," Jim hissed back. "Over there."

Just as he pointed, the torches flared from sullen orange to a bright white, revealing a figure some ten feet in front of them. Female, long dark hair flowing free, wearing a black catsuit trimmed with gold. She smiled at them and spread her arms. "What do you think? Not really me, I mean I wouldn't ever wear something like this, but for this, why not? I think it looks pretty dang spiffy."

Blair eyed her appraisingly. "Not bad..."

"Sandburg," Jim berated out of the side of his mouth, then folded his arms and glared at her. "Who are you? Do you have anything to do with why we're here?"

"Oh yeah. Definitely." She crossed her arms and uncrossed them again. "I need you for a problem. To take care of one. Saving the world, that kind of thing. I brought you first because it's kind of your fault—well, not really you. But the guys who made you. The company. Pet Fly and all that. There's an endemic of anti-hugs going around US shows. I think Geddon's behind it—maybe Geddon and the Scientist together. Real smart of me to put them together, yes, I know, but I thought'd be interesting. Who knew? Anyway, that's where you come in. I—you—someone--anyway, we need to generate a smarm force powerful enough to stop the demons and save the world. Okay?"

Sentinel and Guide gaped at her. "Chief," Jim muttered, "did you—"

"Get any of it? Nope..." Blair sidled around his partner to face her. "What was that about the demons? 'Geddon'?"

"And...'smarm'?" Jim added. "What's that?"

She smiled brightly. "Oh, that's pretty easy to explain. With you being right here. Watch." She raised one hand. A beam of blue shot from her fingers and struck Blair in the chest.

He gave a choked-off cry, then as the light vanished dropped to the stone floor and lay there, motionless.

"BLAIR!" Jim shouted, and plunged toward his partner, falling to his knees beside him, one hand pressed to his throat to check for a pulse.

She smiled. "That's it!"

...I might possibly write too much.