TITLE: Rocket from the Tomb (a.k.a. "Mary Cherry Masters Uranus!"--sorry.)
SERIES: "Spam and Umad" A.U.#6--sequenced after "Rosemary Cherry's Baby".
AUTHOR/E-MAIL/FB: Snarlsnout@yahoo.com
RATING/PAIRING: probably "NC-17" for language/violence/implied images of non-consensual g.o.g.a.--Sam/MC (sort of...); and of course--Nicole/Willow Sam/Dawn
SUMMARY/SPOILERS: The "Trio"/S6 Buffy villains drop by...
DISCLAIMERS: As usual--Joss Whedon (Buffy)/Ryan Murphy (Popular)--have the legit creative claim to these shows/characters; I'm just shaking them...like bugs in a jar...
A/N: Hmm, let's combine the title (name of obscure Cleveland punk band), some old 1930's space operas (Flash Gordon etc.), toss in a few young "Hollywood Hotties" and see what happens...
Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear--when your grandparents huddled half-frozen around the radio straining to hear the latest garbled, static-laced adventures of the hero-de-jour...before the inevitable cabin fever induced delirium/axe-murders ensued...
As avid fans/readers recall from our last exciting instalment (Rosemary Cherry's Baby)--
Evil Overlord (Overlady?) Mary Cherry and her blonde henchmen Spike and Harmony (a.k.a. the Peroxide Coven of Doom!) are foiled in her heinous "forced betrothal" plot aimed at our girl Sam McPherson. Aided (slightly) by vampire slayer/future "sister-in-law", Buffy Summers, Sammy escapes the twisted Texan's cruel clutches and is reunited w/ her larcenous Lolita, Dawn--but at what expense to her mental health?!? (As the following exchange indicates...)
"C'mon you guys, she's been sobbing non-stop about her little trauma-rama since she got back--" Nicole groaned, hoping she'd be allowed to administer her famous face-slap cure for hysteria, "--it's passed depressing--and nauseating--several hours ago..."
"Jeez Nicole, she's really upset!" Dawn growled, attempting to sooth the agitated brunette. "How about a little compassion here?"
"Dawn's right baby..." Willow (ever the peace-maker) began. "This Hairy Dairy person seems to have really unnerved her. I think we should take her to Sunnydale Memorial. Nic, can you call her folks and then meet us there..."
"I suppose," Nic resolvedly sighed. It was clear she wasn't going to be getting any tonight...(Thanks a lot, Spam!)
"And I'll see if I can find this...monster", Buffy calmly assured the group (while mumbling) "What? Was there a sale at the blonde hell-goddess outlet?" And matching heated glares with Nicole, she added "Buy 1, get 2 free...?"
Meanwhile across town--three panicked, berobed blondes slowly stagger out from the sewer-aqueducts. With all three looking behind them in fear of Buffy's pursuit. The two vampires in the rear fail to observe the point guard slamming into a low hanging pipe with her forehead, knocking herself flat on her tight teen ass...
"Is she dead?" Spike wondered; feeling a bit peckish.
"Grrr. 'Fraid not Blondie Bear," Harmony consoled, "We can't just leave her here tho...She's still got our tickets to France!"
"Bugger all Harm! Right--Drop her at the bleedin' Infirmary then..." Spike acquiesced, "maybe we'll grab a pint while we're there..."
Ed/N: "Wait, I don't recall any of that happening..."
A/N: "Poetic License. Work with me here..."
Due to Sunnydale Memorial's high turnover/burn-out rate; it is the perfect place for medical professionals who've had minor set-backs to kick-start their career. The fact that two such individuals have crossed paths with our Popular girls before then should come as no surprise...Unbeknownst to each other, we have Dr. Pudmurkin heading up the Psychiatric Dept., and (thru some carefully altered paperwork) Nurse Jesse Glass directing the 3rd shift nursing staff...I mean we can't really call it "graveyard shift" because the title could apply to ALL shifts in Sunnydale; and we can't call it a "skeleton crew" because, well, again folks would take it literally...
Willow fidgeted uneasily under Jane McPherson's intense maternal glare, as she and Dawn sat across from Sam's parental units in the bleak waiting room. Dawn was petrified; not exactly the way she'd wanted to meet her future "in-laws". Finally, the orderly (Godfrey in a brief walk-on role...) summoned them into talk to the doctor. Dawn and Willow started to follow, then returned defeatedly to their seats when Mike muttered something about "...family only." Dawn's scowl easily translated into "Then why are YOU here?!?"
Dr. Pudmurkin didn't have to proceed much beyond the basic snow-jobs he'd learned as a first year med student, since he was able to play Mike and Jane like a used car salesman. He addressed Jane with "utmost care" angle; and appealed to Mike with "the bottom line".
Jane breathed a sigh of relief, acknowledging that with the "substantial savings" they'll realize by having Sam treated at Sun-Mem, they'll be able to rent a nice motel room and visit her every day...
Pudmurkin, momentarily panicked, conjured up an apparently plausible tale of an "Intense Psychotherapy Regime w/ Total Immersion into the Wellness Process" which would, of course, exclude ALL visitors and outside distractions...
Mike's greed over-riding Jane's protective maternal instincts, the doctor guided them to the door; and by the way--would Mike be interested in a clean low-mileage BMW sedan an elderly patient was hoping to sell...?
"We'll start processing those insurance papers immediately", Dr. Pudmurkin called out jovially as he waved farewell to Jane and Mike. He turned to address the attending nurse-- "Start a mega-drip of Percocet, and instruct the orderlies to flip her over every 6 hours or so to avoid bedsores...that's always the first thing those '60 Minutes' people look for..."
"Dr., they just brought another one in--severe head-bonk; unconscious now, possibly veg-city...no I.D.--no insurance...Do you want to examine her?"
"Please! I've done enough for 1 day--I can still get 9 holes in before dinner. Just toss her in with the McPherson girl, same treatment--and get the ball rolling on those state financial aid papers for her immediately--you know how long it takes for those bureaucrats to cough it up..."
Godfrey was delivering the same spiel to Willow and Dawn in the waiting room (minus the "pre-owned luxury car" hype). Dawn craned her head around him to witness Jane and Mike exiting at the far end of the hall before she'd even had a chance to talk with them. Willow was trying to decipher the medical mumbo-jumbo, but Dawn phased Godfrey out completely--Hospitals equalled Death to her; patients check in but they never check out--"like those roach motels, only, you know, for people."
And so it came to pass--
11:05 PM--Nurse Jesse is on duty! She scanned the halls for any lingering
staff members, then locked herself in the glass enclosed nurses station. A quick
scan of patient monitoring systems (green lights-good; red lights-dead).
Satisfied with (or disinterested in...) the results, she proceeds to unpack
tonight's entertainment. It's so hard to stay awake all night without, say, a
magazine or two; or a trashy novel; 4-5 hard-core porn tapes and a large thermos
of martinis...A devout cat fancier, Jesse straightens the myriad of feline
pictures she'd brought to liven up the office (her favorite breed if you recall
is the "hairless pussy" owned by Dr. Evil--who, incidentally is on staff at Sun-Mem
in a consulting capacity...) She then inserted a video and proceeded to watch
"hairless pussies" of a different variety...
At the other end of the darkened hallway, Sam and Mary Cherry are unwitting room-mates slumbering together (well not, you know, ~together~ together; just, like simultaneously...) in drug-induced comas. The door opens. A head leans in to scour the scene.
Satisfied they've remained undetected, Warren enters with Andrew following entirely too close and Jonathon almost reluctant to follow at all. Jonathon locks the door and turns on the light, while Andrew strings an alligator-clipped jumper wire between both girls' monitoring systems and a mysterious electrogizmo that was probably a garage-door opener in a previous life. Two little green lights wink on and we're supposed to assume that they've now over-ridden Sun-Mem's state-of-the-art "Health-o-Matic 5000"...
Warren pulls back the covers exposing both comatose girls; lying on their backs, their modesty barely protected by the thin, short paper hospital gowns. Leering, drooling, wringing his hands; he lets loose with an evil, insane cackle just to reiterate what a lecherous, disgusting piece of human filth he truly is (A/N: Sorry...I still have some Tara issues...)
"Gentlemen" he smirked, "we have Babe-flesh!"
"Are you sure?" Andrew whines, while looking disgustedly at Mary Cherry. "I mean she seems kind of old to be a high school student--she looks like my Aunt Vicky..."
"What are we even doing here, Warren?" Jonathon ventured timidly. "I thought the only reason we took these jobs as orderlies was to gain access to drugs, chemicals and equipment to help aid in our ruthless ascent to Crime Lords status..."
Warren rolled his eyes theatrically skyward as if to ask the PTB why he was cursed with such inept underlings. Then, rooting like the vile swine that he is (A/N: Sorry...I'm getting help, really...) he roughly nudges up Sam's robe with his face in her crotch, inhaling deeply--"Yes, Jonathon, but sometimes you just have to stop and smell the roses!"
"Hmm, two hot babes. Unconscious. Completely at our disposal." Warren continued, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Probably not..." Andrew muttered in a snit...
"Don't tell me--" Jonathon challenged, "--Dress them in
provocative lingerie
and/or fetish wear; pose them in lurid, suggestive girl-on-girl action shots;
which we will then
photograph to post on a pay-per-view website..."
"Well...yeah," Warren hesitantly admitted, "So?...Shut up!"
"War-ren!" Andrew wailed, "You tried that with that last comatose brunette that was in here--Her pictures are all over the net now! And of course she regains consciousness--and even better she's a slayer! You are SO going to get your ass kicked if she ever finds out!"
"Alright!" Warren shouted agitatedly, cutting him off.
"Besides," Jonathon chimed in, "Why go to such bother? We can just build some more fem-bots; program them to put on complete shows--or even open a 'borg-brothel!--I mean, OK, this brunette (looks at chart)--Sam--is kinda of cute...but the BuffyBot was HOT and April---she was off the scale!"
Warren and Jonathon (and this author) tilt their heads momentarily and smile in fond remembrance; Andrew mimicking for appearance's sake...
Warren threw back the sheet covering the gurney they'd wheeled in and started dispensing--Andrew the cameras, stands, lights and filters; Jonathon unrolling and hanging a red velvet backdrop behind Mary Cherry's bed. Warren assigning himself the task of costumer; he pulls out a big box of assorted lingerie...
"We'll start off with a series of soft-core, frilly lipstick lesbian shots to draw in the female customers too." Warren instructed, laying an assortment of camisoles and teddies on Mary Cherry's unconscious body; selecting the appropriate attire. "Then as the site takes off we'll get into the really hard-core S & M and B & D stuff...for the true connoisseurs."
He was having entirely too much fun hoisting the limp blonde up into a sitting position, ripping off her paper gown, replacing it with a flattering red lace baby doll number complete with red feathery boa. He had just the pair of matching stiletto pumps in mind, but when he untangled the covers from her feet, he retched and dove for the nearest bedpan...
Andrew and Jonathon stopped their appointed duties to stare at the spectacle, simultaneously repulsed and mesmerized like a horrific car wreck...
"They're webbed--like a duck, no, like a frog..."
"Dude--like Creature from the Black Lagoon!"
"No way--that was so bogus! And you could tell his dorsal fin was just covering the scuba tank--"
Warren still averting his eyes, waved the red high heels in his minions faces as they bickered over who'd be forced to slip them on--Jonathon finally (and reluctantly) accepting his fate...
Unnoticed by our bumbling brainiacs, was the wild fluctuations behind Mary Cherry's closed eyelids indicating I.E.. dream-state. The blonde first noticed the heat, and as she opened her eyes, the glare from the desert sun high overhead. A 360 degree visual sweep of her environs revealed only endless horizon, a few jagged rock out-croppings and the oddly placed Joshua tree. Noticing her inappropriate (yet sexy) attire Mary Cherry tilted her head in one of her patented "perplexed" expressions. It was then she saw the creature, her spirit animal, from the corner of her eye...
"Well hey thar, lil fella," she bellowed, startling the timid silvery mink. She assumed it wanted her to follow it, but had it been able to read her thoughts about "anally electrocuting enough of the lil varmints for a new fall jacket", it probably would've insisted she lead the way...She wasn't sure how far or for how long she'd walked--she remembered slipping her heels off, her webbed feet less prone to sinking in the soft sand, altho they did leave a strange trail of odd triangular patterns--when she suddenly found herself in front of a roaring bonfire in the pitch black night...
For a low-rent, despicable chunk of putrid human refuse, (sorry-momentary relapse...) Warren actually had pretty good taste. He chose to adorn our girl Sam in the classic leopard-print Jungle Girl ensemble--a one shoulder-strapy number, short jagged hem-line barely covering her ripe, round rump...bare feet and wild hair... He grabbed her arms, Andrew grabbed her legs (looking everywhere BUT her exposed crotch) and they carried her to Mary Cherry's bed...
Sam is also embarking on an out-of-body experience. No doubt some hastily contrived plot conveyance attributable to a combination of mind-altering drugs and being at ground-zero on the Hellmouth... (um, the characters I mean...) Apparently not as heavily sedated as Mary Cherry (or this author) Sam arrives on the astral plane in time to follow a trail of strange tracks in the dwindling twilight... Disoriented by the stillness and space, she comes suddenly and surprisedly upon Mary Cherry gazing hypnotically into the fire. She accidentally announces her arrival by stepping on/snapping a twig (and her howls of pain as she drives a splinter into her bare foot). Mary Cherry turns to acknowledge her presence---
"Oh, hiya hon," the Texan drawls sweetly; complimented by a spaz-like wave...
"Oh no you don't!" Sam scowled. "Don't you dare act all friendly and bubbly with me you psycho! Not after you and your little Peroxide Coven of Doom tried to snuff me in that sex-crazed blood sacrifice!"
"Oh now Samantha, let's not go airin' our dirty unmentionables in public..." Mary Cherry offered, nodding across the fire where for the first time Sam noticed the presence of a strangely attired and eerily made-up spectre of a woman..."Friend ah yers, Spammie? Ah mean, Lord knows, both y'all could use a serious make-over..."
"N-n-no", Sam sputtered, staring transfixed: "wait a minute! If this is another one of your fiendish plots--"
"Silence!" the First Slayer (we'll call her Debbie) hissed. Then shaking her big gnarly, voodoo staff at them, she continued--"Your paths should not have crossed this soon. Your quests are long and perilous, tho you shall meet again..." Swinging around on a startled Mary Cherry--"You depart first! Be gone!"
Debbie's words seemed to hang in the air. Sam finally broke eye-contact with her to notice the vacancy where Mary Cherry had been seated. Time was immeasurable here. Sam sensed only the crackle of the fire, the soft wind, Debbie toking on a spliff and queing up some vintage Bob Marley on her boombox...
"N-n-no! I don't want this!" Sam empathically stated, as usual confusing her stubbornness for inner-strength..."I am not some whacked-out Carlos Castaneda peyote-ho on some mystical dream-quest!" And with her insecurities surfacing, concluded "I just want to go---"
"Home?" Debbie offered. "Where is that Sam? You haven't known for a long time now, have you? Not since your father died? Is it the Palace? Is it your fleeting, precarious place in high school? Perhaps it is lies within your fragile new relationship? See?" she consoled a teary, bewildered Sam, "you do seek answers."
~*~*~*~
"N-n-no! I don't want this!" Sam mumbled/moaned as Warren and Andrew swung
her into bed beside Mary Cherry...
"OMG! She's waking up! We are SO busted!" Jonathon panicked as he wheeled
Sam's attached intravenous drip stand along in their wake. He looked even more
horrified as that vile, bottom-feeding, repugnant slug (Crap! And I was making
such progress...) Warren tweaked the dial, increasing the dosage of Sam's
meds...
"Nighty-night baby" he sneered.
Had this been an actual television program (& had the censors been asleep at the controls...) we would at this point be entertained (?) by a seemingly endless video montage of the Terrorific Trio attempting to pose the two comatose girls into something resembling sappho-erotica. Perhaps it would be accompanied by a funky, retro soundtrack such as J. Giels Band's "Freeze-Frame" ...perhaps not...Either way we would note from the exasperated looks on the Trio's faces that events were not living up to expectations--Warren the most frustrated of all, not only cursing the limp, unmallable bodies of the two models, but the bumbling incompetence of his two underlings as well...Jonathon attempting to manuver Sam's "Silly Putty-like" form at arm's length (and still the closest his ever been to a girl in real life...); Andrew displaying equal reluctance with Mary Cherry's seemingly boneless bod--but for, um, reasons of his own...Trying to control the two comatose girls, loaded up on sedatives and muscle-relaxants was akin to "loading mercury with a pitchfork".
After several costume changes, and a myriad of poses/scenarios played out the Trio admit a momentary defeat. Sam and Mary Cherry's limp bodies collapse entangled with each other and the sheets, as the three discuss possible solutions--
~*~*~*~
"Nighty-night baby" Mary Cherry purred as she cuddled next to her "softly slumbrin' sweetie". She gave the gorgeous brunette a gentle kiss on the forehead as she reflected back on their night of passionate love-making. Sam had been insatiable this evening! Teasing the blonde mercilessly with her sexy outfits, taking her in every conceivable position in her wild abandon lust! Mary Cherry was exhausted; she was soon snoring so loud she didn't notice when Sam left her bed...
~*~*~*~
"Maybe we could get some fishing line; rig some pulleys or something..." Jonathon contributed, "...like marionettes."
"Yea because that was so ~believable~ in "Weekend at Bernie's"" Andrew chided.
Their petty bickering continued as Warren rubbed his throbbing temples. He was just getting ready to unleash his fury on them when his wrist-watch alarm beeped it's 6 A.M. warning.
"Widespread Panic" ensues as the 3 would-be pornographers start returning the girls and the hospital room into some semblance of what it looked like when they'd entered. Jonathon with a last lingering, almost longing look at our girl Sam, until Warren interrupted him with a disgusting display of copping one final feel. Finally, Andrew reconnected the girls to the hospital's monitoring systems and they snuck out as stealthily as they'd crept in...
~*~*~*~
The day nurse (even more devoted to her calling than Nurse Jesse) actually made a round of the ward once a day. She noticed the "accidental increase" in Sam's dosage of meds--but her restoration of it's former settings was a moot point now--our girl Sammy was ~light years~ ahead of Mary Cherry in the "whacked out dream-realm"...
"Nighty-night baby," was the last sound our Sweet Sammy heard as Mary Cherry a.k.a. "Bing the Merciless!" pulled the lever that operated the trap door...She plummeted into a cavernous room walled on 1 side w/ faux Roman pillars and 2 other sides with paper mache looking stone...Sam briefly considered searching for an exit, but fainted from sheer exhaustion instead...
~*~*~*~
Meanwhile the house on Revelo Drive was being slowly vacated. Willow had returned to Santa Monica with Nic for the week, for a "long over-due fashion make-over". Buffy was now preparing to leave for a 3 day seminar. She was slowly climbing the "Double Meat Palace" corporate ladder--today assistant night manager; tomorrow the world! (Giles, of course, was on one of his many unexplained Season 6 trips to England...)
"Dawn, if you get scared here by yourself, you can always go stay with Xander and Anya. I'm sure they won't mind--"
"Well Xander won't; but Anya says I inhibit her sex drive... which come to think of it, is probably why Xander doesn't mind."
Both girls shared a giggle until Buffy realized that as the responsible adult she should discourage such banter--
"Poor Anya" Buffy tsked-tsked, then simultaneously--"Poor Xander!" both girls' feigned concern dissolving into a fresh fit of laughter...Dawn's rapidly fading as a new wave of worry for her beloved Sam-a-lamb surfaced...
"She'll be alright Dawn. They're only keeping her until Friday--" Buffy tried to reassure her.
"T-t-that's what they said about Mom too," Dawn blubbered; the waterworks starting...Buffy hugged her little sister consolingly, "Look if you need anything just call me OK? Promise."
Dawn sniffled, and nodded stoically.
"Promise." Buffy reiterated.
"OK. Just go already!"
Buffy waited by the car waving until Dawn slowly closed the front door. "Poor kid," the Slayer pondered, "her First Love--seems like only yesterday she was--non-existent..." She was still trying to wrap her mind around that one, but as Willow was wont to quip "She's here; she's queer--but I had nothing to do with that because...well, hello? boundary issues here...and the whole jailbait thing...not to mention the...you and the clobbering..." Buffy sighed, climbing into Joyce's old SUV: she pictured herself as Bart Simpson, off to attend "Bovine University"...
~*~*~*~
The next two nights were pretty much status quo for the night shift drones at Sun-Mem (Emergency Ward overflowing; anything remotely edible in the caf having been picked over by the previous 2 shifts...and whatever lived in the ductwork...)
Things were actually looking up for our Treacherous Trio--Warren discovered he was getting much better quality pictures now that they'd escalated the girls abuse to staged bondage and discipline poses. All that duct tape; those cuffs, collars, and restraint devices were actually helping to hold the two comatose girls in the desired positions. The hoods, masks and ball gags enabling some good close-ups of what would previously have been only droopy-lidded, slack-jawed drooling...
Being a insensitive, ignorant, chauvinistic, vile, disgusting pig (what? that one was accurate...) Warren had derived his view of Lesbian Love from ~male generated~ pornography. And not the amazing work such enlightened souls as Bob Guccionni have provided for us with "Penthouse" etc. <g>; we're talking serious Internet quality raunch...
This could explain his penchant for outfitting our girls in skin-tight vinyl catsuits and huge rubber strap-ons...It wasn't even a gender/sexual thing with him--it was all about dominance and degradation.
Tension within the Trio was mounting as Jonathon and Andrew became increasingly frightened...In direct proportion to Warren's escalating sadism. Frustrated at their unwillingness to help him "realize his vision" Warren shoved his two cohorts back against Sam's empty bed and closed the curtain partition around Mary Cherry's. The weaker links exchanging worried glances between each other and the veiled villainy. All they could hear was an array of zippers, buckles and chains...
"A little help here..." Warren suddenly bellowed and the two meekly ventured beyond the veil.
Sam was tastefully attired in black thigh-high vinyl boots and matching ball-gag. She was on her knees facing the foot of the bed. Her legs held spread slightly by the broomstick tied behind her knees, while Warren was trying to hoist her cuffed hands above her head using the hospital's traction device. Mary Cherry was clad in your garden-variety rubber nun's habit, poised to mount Sam from behind with a humongous, "life-like", black rubber strap-on...
"Lube that puppy up good!" Warren ordered a visibly shaken Andrew. Then hissing wickedly into our poor brunette's ear--
"Sweet Sammy here is in for a treat!"
~*~*~*~
"Sweet Sammie heah's in fer a treat!" Bing the Merciless tormented our bound and begagged heroine. Brushing her thighs and ripe, round rump with that grotesque groin "growth"...
"Mmmph!" Sam mmphed defiantly. She scanned her surroundings for any avenue of escape. Still in that room with phoney back-lit pillars and the cheesy paper-mache stone walls.. Of course this whole sacrificial altar and restraints were "exciting and new"... Also, since there was no visible ceiling, what the hell were her bound hands chained to? And most importantly--Where was Major Summers of the Dawn Patrol?!? Shouldn't she be pulling some sort of suave, save-the-day, heroic shtick right about now?
Then, in the tradition of one-dimensional villains since time immemorial, Bing revelled more information than any doomed heroine (and the fans following the plot...) needed to have access to. She paraded before an elaborate Ed Wood/Plan 9 inspired View screen/Control Panel spilling her entire evil agenda...
"Y'all are on the planet Dallas Centari--Y'all shall become mah Queenly-Bride and rule--no, strike that--POSE besides me on the Royal Throne!" Then waddling towards her, wagging that menacing monstrosity--"But first y'all are gonna have to sub-ja-gate yerself to mah ohm-nip-o-taint authority!"
"Mmmph!" Sweet Sammy reiterated (roughly translated as "Fuck That!"). One good yank broke whatever was holding her hands heaven ward. "Judo Chop!" snapped the wooden restraint at her knees. "Judo Kick!" sent a confused Bing the Merciless sailing back, ass over elbows. Sweet Sammy dashed between the pillars where she found a tunnel complete w/ bizarre Phallic-shaped Rocket-sled Monorail. It was spewing smoke and sparks to indicate it was operational. Our brave brunette dives in, slams the control throttle forward, and leaves Bing the Merciless choking on her exhaust...
~*~*~*~
The traction device cable chose that moment to snap, throwing a startled Warren back on his ass (Yay!). This triggered a domino effect: Sam falling back into Mary Cherry, who tumbled off the bed and landed heavily atop of Andrew. The huge, veined slippery apparatus slapping him in the face--but was that surprised look more of arousal than fear?
Warren was enraged! He grabbed a metal-tipped cat-o-ninetails from the prop box and was ready to wail on our poor Sammy's exposed back. Jonathon and Andrew barely able to subdue his wrath by frantically pointing not only to their wrist-watch alarms, but the flashing Health-o-Matic 5000's "Nurse Alert" feature...the over-ride jumper cable must have came loose in the turmoil...
Warren growled resignedly. He flipped Sam's limp body onto the gurney and shoved it towards her bed. They watched it roll across the room, bump into Sam's bed and flip her precisely into place. They "high-fived" each other at the unexpected, but never-the-less cool, display then frantically hid themselves and all the sex paraphernalia. Warren peered nervously over the bed and rolled his eyes as he noticed the huge pup-tent Mary Cherry was sprouting with the sheets. He retrieved the ersatz erection and killed the lights as they anxiously awaited discovery by the duty nurse...who unfortunately, was in her usual drunken stupor. Finally slipping out as stealthily as they'd entered; they escaped by the skin of their teeth this time...
Tomorrow night they would not be so lucky...
~*~*~*~*~
Dawn had been bitching for as long as she (or any of us in BtVS fandom...) can recall that she "was NOT a little kid" any more. Now the only one she had to convince was herself. Sneaking into Sunnydale Memorial Hospital in the dead of night would go a long way towards testing her mettle--right now she was scared--and she really needed to pee...She crept past the psycho ward were the Queller Demon's victims had spent they're last miserable days. She (thank God!) found a restroom, and then proceeded past the place she dreaded the most. The Morgue. (Yeah, I'm not a little kid anymore...but I sure miss my mom...) Dawn seemed to draw a renewed sense of courage from the fond memories of Joyce; how brave she'd been to the very end. How proud she'd been of Dawn (of course, she didn't know about that whole klepto gig...) and even of Buffy (I mean, come on, sure she's a butthole but she IS the Slayer...)
Dawn knew she was getting close (after all there's not a whole lot of ~living~ patients to provide care for...). She turned yet another corner, onto yet another darkened hallway--nearly squealed as she caught a glimpse of the figure thru the window and threw herself back out of site. Damn! Where was that restroom again!?! As slowly, as stealthily as possible she craned her head to peer thru the window...Nurse Jesse Glass was kicked back in her chair, legs propped up on the desk in a most unflattering position; Her size 12 white sneakers pigeon-toed in now, would turn slowly out as her body swelled with each loud, laborious snore/whistle... Her head was lolled back, tongue protruding with a long glistening string of drool dangling from it. An empty Thermos on it's side on the desk. Dawn could see the reflection of the porn movie in the opposite window even tho the back of the television faced her. She ducked down below the window level and slowly began to crawl past the slumbering troll...
She bonked her head on the clipboard dangling from the door, froze for a moment in fear, then discovered it contained the patient/room roster...She'd sensed her Sam-a-lamb was close, now she realized she was just down the hall. Dawn moved cat-like past the doors, her sneakers living up to their name. Finally, Room 314, she was just reaching for the handle when the door flew open; Andrew and Jonathon practically flung out into the hallway. Dawn dove behind a nearby gurney, holding her breath, dreading discovery, but they'd caught nary a glimpse, wrapped up as they were in their own concerns--
Jonathon was scared. Andrew was petrified. Dawn struggled to hear their whispered, agitated exchange--
"H-h-he's out of control! You know that right?!?"
"N-no--he wouldn't really hurt them...w-would he?" Andrew babbled, in denial on SO many issues...
"Dude! He was on-line last nite trying to market a snuff video! Face it Monkey-boy, these babes are toast!"
Just then the door to Room 314 opened, capturing the two in the escaping shaft of light. Warren's shadow falling darkly over them--"Gentlemen, we're ready..." Warren calmly beckoned with the quiet, detached voice of the truly unhinged.
The two Nerds nervously walked towards the light. The door closed leaving our girl Dawn cowering in the darkened hallway, sobbing and paralyzed with overwhelming fear...
The hospital room seemed surreally elongated as Jonathon and Andrew slowly entered. At the far end, behind the closed partition curtain, was the latest of their demented leader's atrocities. Their eyes tracked a myriad of cables and wires leading back to a vast array of electronic control devices spread out on Sam's empty bed. Warren picked up one of the devices that slowly drew back the curtain...
"Gentleman, in the tradition of "Flesh Gordon" the finest sci-fi/smut parody ever--I present to you--the Rapist Robots!"
Sam was clad in a skin-tight silver lame body-suit, matching knee-high boots w/ 5" stiletto heels and elbow length gloves. Atop her auburn-haired noggin sat a slightly altered football helmet with a small, rotating parabolic dish antenna. Oh yeah, she was also sporting a two foot long, swirling, corkscrew shaped phallic device...
Jonathon and Andrew simultaneously gulped, transfixed with terror--"W-w-what are you going to do with her Warren?"
The curtain rolled the rest of the way back to reveal our other protagonist, Mary Cherry. Warren had selected a gold lame body-suit for our Glamazon, perhaps to accent her luscious locks? She also had the knee-high boots; except hers had that funky, '70s retro, 6" high platform soles. The outfit further accessorized with color co-ordinated knee-, elbow- and shoulder pads and a Devo-esque flower-pot hat with a miniature Eiffel Tower-shaped antenna with blinky red light...Had that whole David Bowie look going for her--except that 8" diameter, 3 ft. long strap-on that telescoped like a radio antenna.
Warren pressed a button on one of the control devices. The little red light on Mary Cherry's helmet flashed and her mechanical member started pulsating like a jack-hammer...
Andrew squealed, Jonathon groaned and they clung to each other in morbid fear...
~*~*~*~
Odd...Warren never fully explained to his underlings (and thus subsequently to you...) what was holding the two limp, unconscious girls up in a vertical, if not remotely animated, position. I'm betting it's got something to do with the shiny lame body-suits...He does launch into a brief, scathing tirade about how "all the good stuff had to be left behind when Buffy destroyed their first evil lair..." and "he's done the best he can with a bunch of reject Radio Shack relics". I think most of us would beg to differ tho, witnessing the two once-vibrant bodies slouching backwards, heads lolling loosely on their shoulders, seemingly propelled solely by the mechanical monstrosities strapped to their respective crotches...
"Gentlemen," Warren sneered wickedly, "let the games begin!"
He was attempting to manipulate 2 control boxes simultaneously, with a third pinched under his arm. The devilish devices accelerating as the girl's antenna blinked and/or spun wildly in response to the signals...The automatons turned slowly towards each other and advanced as Warren cackled with glee.
Andrew and Jonathon, still in each others arms, fell back and crouched in the corner. Andrew screaming like a little girl as the abnormal appendages made first contact and the resultant sparks flew. Warren frantically juggling one control box after another in an attempt to "fine tune" the action...
In the hallway, hearing what she presumed was the distressed screams of her Sweet Sammy, Dawn shook off the paralyzing effects of the fear that still embraced her, and sprang into action!
Inside Room 314 the mayhem was escalating at an alarming rate. Warren becoming increasingly confused and frustrated as he seems to have forgotten what control box controls what function...Our poor girls are being led haphazardly by the whims of their protruding prosthetics (You ~guys~ know what I'm saying...). Their unorthodox footwear becoming entangled in the cables as they shuffle around the room, blindly careening of the walls and furniture...Warren frantically tossing a few of the peripheral, secondary ops control boxes at them... One is instantly reminded of the limited distribution "Battlebots" style TV programming, had it also gone horribly awry...
Dawn's heroic efforts adding to the meley as she bursts into the room and promptly trips on the jumble of knotted control cables--(A/N: Warren, Warren, Warren-it's the 21rst Century dude; Go wireless!)--Our fine, freckled femme bowls over the Mary Cherry droid who almost lands on top of her. Dawn squeals in horror, as she back-pedals frantically across the floor on her hands and heels, her ripe, round rump skimming across the entangled, errant wiring. Mary Cherry has landed between our Dawnie's legs and is bouncing on her jack hammering attachment like it was a jet-powered Pogo stick, her limp torso thrashing violently with each pulsation... Dawn is soon backed into a corner with the pumping piston drawing ever closer. Looking around in desperation, she grabs a small fire extinguisher off the wall and bonks Mary Cherry in the head with it (A/N: I know, the least vulnerable point of attack...) The blow does manage to bend the Eiffel Tower-like antenna atop Mary Cherry's headgear causing Warren to loose--
a) any semblance of control he had over the droid, and
b) any semblance of control he had over his rage...
--he moved towards our Delicate Dawnie with evil intent, kicking distractedly at the writhing Mary Cherry droid. Dawn pulled the pin on the fire extinguisher and aimed it at Warren's seething, monstrous face. She unloaded the whole canister, using the cloud of flame-repellents as a smoke-screen as she desperately scampered under the nearest bed...
~*~*~*~
Sweet Sam bailed out of the slowing, Phallic-shaped, Rocket-powered Monorail only to find herself in a room exactly like the one she'd just left before that heinous, jostling dash for freedom. It was so exact, it even contained a Bing the Merciless.
"So! We meet agin mah lil purty-purty!" Bing sneered. She was just about to proceed to the "sinister encroachment" phase when both girls looked up to see a descending cloud of smoke and sparks that could only be the jet-pack exhaust of "Major Summers: Dawn Patrol!"
Dawn was waffling on which cool, Super-heroine opening line she should use. While I strongly urged her to go with "Unhand her, Foul Maven!"; Dawn chose the vastly-inferior flourish of "Hey! Get your big smelly paws off of my girlfriend!"
Sam used the distraction to deliver yet another "Judo Kick!" and that was all she (A/N: and I) wrote...
~*~*~*~
Dawn peeked out from under the bed terrified. Amidst the lingering cloud she could catch glimpses of Warren's feet as he searched for her. As the fog began to dissipate, she spotted Mary Cherry propped in the corner, her diabolical device making a myriad of holes in the wall, much to the screaming chagrin of the next room's occupants...
What she couldn't see was her beloved brunette poised precariously on the other side of the bed. Her feet totally entangled in lacerated cables she falls face forward. Her mechanical member still cork-screwing away, it slowly wraps the blankets around itself sending them into a slow, weird whipping motion. Gradually it punctures the mattress...drills thru the bed-springs...and bottoms out only after splintering the floor inches from Dawn's frightened freckled face! Her baby-blues bulging like saucers; her mouth gaping wordless & breathless.
She manages to struggle out and is attempting to free Sam from her twisted tangle, when Warren spots them. Dawn suddenly finds the "reverse" switch on the corkscrew; Sam almost instantly extricating herself. The sudden release sending both girls flying backwards, arms flailing, onto the other bed. Sam lands on top of Dawn effectively pinning her to the mattress. While neither girl would tip the scale in the triple digits; Sam was still encumbered with 50+ lbs. of horrific hardware...Dawn was trapped and Warren was closing in! She managed to free one slender arm and clawed at anything she could find for defence...
What she found was the nurse's call button. And the mechanical bed's control device which the Sun-Mem maintenance staff had duct taped together for their patients convenience. Of course she was unaware that the wires were now frayed and/or broken and were shorting out against all the other electrical cords and cables. Including the ones to the Trio's videocams. And most importantly (to our story anyway...) the cords from the overhead Boom microphone...
Jonathon and Andrew finally looked up in dismay at the devastation surrounding them. They saw Warren with his legs helplessly mired in a sea of coaxial cables. The saw Mary Cherry having what appeared to be full on sex with the wall...They saw Sam collapsed spread-eagle on her bed, her huge cork-screw mechanism starting to catch, sputter and smoke...
What they couldn't see was our wondrous waif Dawn completely blanketed by her girlfriend's limp form. She frantically pressed one button; the bed raised--giving the appearance of Sam attempting to sit up--much to the terror of our trembling twosome...They stood shakily, debating whether to help Warren, subdue Sam...or just run like hell! Warren, meanwhile, had broken free. Concerned only with unleashing his vengeance on the poor teen, he failed to notice the cable still snagged around one of his feet. It of course led back to Mary Cherry who was spun awkwardly, and dragged haltingly behind him. Dawn pressed the finally button--hoping to summon the night duty nurse to the rescue--what it did instead, was activate the Boom mic. Dawn scanned the impending Trio, summoned all her inner resolve, and focused all her ~energy~ on the thing she does best--
"GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!" she shrieked at the top of her little lungs.
Even if the amplified microphone had not been shorted out across Sun-Mem's P.A. system, Nurse Jesse still would have tumbled backwards out of her chair. Then noticing the lights, ran to the rescue...
Even if the amplified microphone had not been shorted out across Sunnydale Bell's phone network, the 911 Police dispatcher would have still sent every available patrol car and fire engine to the scene...and then went home with a splitting headache an acute ringing in the ears...
Even if the amplified microphone had not been on the same frequency as the control tower, planes and P.A. system at Sunnydale International Airport, Buffy and Giles would have still heard the littlest Scooby's scream as they unboarded their return flights, and ran straight to her aid...
Even if the amplified microphone had not been on the same frequency as WDED-FM Sunnydale's "Jazz in the Night" program, Anya would have still held Xander pinned to the bed...
~*~*~*~
Dawn kind of phased out after that. She remembered a lot of people running in and out. She remembered hearing Warren's blood-curdling yells of "Turn It OFF! Sweet Mother of Mercy!" etc. and later remembered seeing him being wheeled out on a gurney. He was lying face-down with a strange vibrating sheet tented high over his posterior--the orderlies making the mandatory off-color jokes (thus sparing this author, and you, dear reader...). She was still sitting trance-like in the waiting room the next day with her big sister idly/lovingly stroking her hair...
"I HATE hospitals!" she whispered to no one in particular.
~*~*~*~
Sam had begun to de-tox and regain consciousness as Jane, Mike and Brooke sat with her until she was coherent enough to check out. Brooke snuck a peek at the groaning form in the next bed--instantly recognizing her fellow Glamazon...even though the clipboard had her listed as "Jane DoeDoe" (an obvious -?- typo). Brooke muttered something about "that heartless Nicole" knowing she'd been here for a week and not telling anyone. Brooke made a call to Cherry Cherry who immediately sent a Life-Flight Helicopter Rescue to her daughter's aid. Dr. Pudmurkin kicking himself when he realized the goldmine that had just slipped thru his hands...
~*~*~*~*~
The first "formal" gathering of the clans--Mike, Jane and Brooke have joined the Scooby Gang for dinner at the Sunnydale's "Ceaser Crouton" franchise (fine dining compared to their only other option--the Double Meat...) A chance to thank Dawn for her role in saving our beloved Sam from that hospital's heinous malpractices--altho the details are still fuzzy...
"So Mr. Giles--" Jane began shrewly, "You've never married? And you prefer to surround yourself with a bevy of girls young enough to be your daughters..."
Rupert's ceremonial smile barely remained frozen in place as he tried to hide behind his water glass...Catching a glimpse of Mike McQueen's disapproving scowl out of the corner of his eye...
Meanwhile, around the rest of the table--Anya is eyeing Brooke who is eyeing Xander; Willow is her usual nervous, bubbly self; acutely aware that Nicole is being all broody, bored, bitchy and horny (also typical); Buffy just mopping around all self-absorbed with that I-can't-believe-I-was-in-Heaven-and-now-I'm-HERE 'tude; the only two people actually enjoying themselves are our two young brunette heroines--
Sam sitting there, all smiles and beaming with pride, as her girl Dawn is brightly babbling on (and on) about how she foiled the Evil Triumvirate and saved the day--
"--and it's lucky for them those other two escaped 'cause I still had a fresh can of whoop-ass with their names on it! It's like an inherent sense; or--dare I say, a supernatural skill and agility--That's why I'm convinced that I'm destined to be the next Slayer--" Dawn stopped short when she realized what that would mean if it ever came to pass. It was not lost on Buffy though, who shot her an icey stare...
"--Cause, like, remember that guy in Iowa, Milford?" Dawn began again, "I think he wanted to be my Watcher--"
"He wanted to be your PIMP, Dawn!" Buffy snapped. The whole table turned towards them in shocked silence. Dawn visibly sank into her chair, utterly deflated. Buffy sighed; embarrassed and mumbling "You have no idea...what it's like ...how hard...." until she too, turned it inside...
Nicole (obviously the only one who appreciated the humor in the situation) sprayed Willow with the water she'd just sipped, as she tried to stifle her guffaws...
Giles, probably more aware of Buffy's hard-knock life than anyone, managed to draw the painful, embarrassed stares away from the Summers girls by changing the subject to baby MacKenzie. Until Mike thought Rupert might be trying to add Little Mac to his harem as well...
Buffy reached a tentative hand out to her little sister in mute apology, only to be refuted by the younger girl's infamous pout. Sam too, reached a hand out, under the table. Now was as good of a time as any... She slipped the trinket she'd been holding into Dawn's limp hand. The youngest Summers looked down at the delicate gold necklace, adorned with a heart locket and a small gold key. The inscription; redundant but reaffirming--
"Dawn-You Are The Key to My Heart-Always, Sam"
~*~*~*~*~
The little dinner soiree actually became a little more congenial after the 8 or 9th bottle of wine had been emptied.
A more accomplished (read: talented) writer could have convinced you that at this point in the evening, a slightly tipsy but genuinely ecstatic, Sam McPherson glances briefly across the crowded restaurant and locks gazes with a beautiful Nubian goddess who she instantly recognizes. If not the embodiment of the Primal Slayer herself, then an obvious and direct descendant. This exotic woman would whisper, yet only Sam would hear it, across the crowded noisy restaurant--
"Home is your gift; it's where your heart is..." Sam would blink back an emotional tear and wordlessly lip-synch "Thank you."
Unfortunately, I am not that writer. So Sam did notice Debbie across the room and immediately averted her eyes in disgust. The First Slayer (and this author's charming dinner companion...) looked exactly the same as when Sam first encountered her in the "dream-realm". Her Voodoo staff leaning against the table, she was scooping her food off the plate with her fingers, and grunting and snarling at me whenever I reached for anything. This is the ~last~ time I will allow Mary Cherry to set me up with a blind date...
~*~*~*~
Back home, safe in her own bed, Sam slept away the remainder of the weekend. She was as ready as she'd ever be to return to Kennedy High...The catch-up with friends--Carm, Lily & Harrison--of course, leaving out the really heinous and embarrassing parts, and it was soon back to life as normal.
Rushing, as usual, against the tardy bell the investigative reporter rounded the corner and came face-to-face with Mary Cherry. Neither girl spoke as the initial eye-contact was rapidly broken, and then fleetingly and curiously re-established. Both girls shook it off as a lingering side-effect/flash-back/residual disorientation, then moved in opposite directions as quickly as possible...
"Awe-some!" Emory drawled, as he and Freddie Gong finished the download in the computer lab. Now they each had a CD-R copy of the entire photo series..."What to do? What to do?" he pondered sinisterly...
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