FANFIC: T-Bird in Summer of Phsyics

[PoshAlligator]

The characters and events depicted in this fanfic ar purely fictional. Any similarities to characters living or dead (i.e. Elson) are purely coincidental. Any unauthorised copying, duplication or use of any part of this fanfic will result in Oscar Taylor-Kent being invited to your house for tea and scones.

Before reading this. I would like to make it clear that it takes place the evening after SoS. Anything T-Bird or Darkspeeds may have told you they did that evening, is all just a cover. I found out the truth. And here it is...

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A street lamp stood solitary amongst the throng of office blocks. Once up on time one might have been able to refer to it as tall, but as time had passed and more and more office blocks had been erected around it, it had become more insignificant and tiny. Sometimes the street lamp would yearn for these old days, when it was something more important to the community, but slowly it had come to terms with it’s new place. Over time it had seen many of it’s friends grow old, decrepit, and useless. One by one the other street lamps would fail, and stop working altogether. A short period would pass where the street lamp would gaze at it’s silent friend, hoping upon hope that by some miracle it would spark back to life. But within a few weeks the men in yellow coats would come and haul it away. And just like this, one by one, the street lamp had been left all on it’s own. The last rays of sunlight washed over the roofs of the assorted buildings around the streetlamp, and it became alert. As the sunset finished and the highlighted glow around the buildings grew slowly dimmer and dimmer, the street lamp turned on for the night.

It was in this dim glow from the old street lamp that the figure of a man became illuminated, leaning against the lamp. He was rough of face, which had two distinct features, his dark brown beard, and his dark sunglasses. The main distinguishing feature about this man however, was his hat. It was light brown and of the Stetson variety, which looked reasonably out of place in 21st century London. Which, as it happens, is where he was. He adjusted his hat and looked at his watch. After a brief pause, during which it can be assumed he was checking the time, he set off, away from the street lamp. The street lamp watched him go, interested in this man, even if it was just for the reason that nobody had stood beside him in years. The lamp was not to know, but it would not be the last time it met the man that night.

***

The man walked purposefully along the alley. It was pitch black save for the small area lit by the street lamp. He moved silently, shifting through the shadows in such a way that one would have to look twice to even ascertain his presence. He wore a long black coat that protected him from the night cold, and his sunglasses still adorned his face despite the darkness. He exited the alley and turned left, heading away from the soon to be busy clubbing areas, and headed instead for a district made largely out of warehouses and storage facilities.

If one could read minds, and they chose to read the mind of this man at this moment, they would be a very bored psychic. This is because only one thought raced through the man’s mind. Find Elson. The man grimaced as he remembered the car. The car with it’s tinted windows and black paint job. Her remembered the men which had come from the car. And he remembered how they had thrown a bag over Elson’s head. The man knew why they had taken Elson, and he held himself solely responsible.

The glow from the neon sign distracted the man from his lamenting. It was a sign for a bar that simply read ‘BAR’. The man nodded to himself, as if to confirm it was the right place and walked in.

***

The bar wasn’t exactly your family Weatherspoon’s. It was illuminated by an even dimmer light than that of the street lamp, and smoky too, despite the introduction of the smoking ban recently. This was due to the fact that the bar kitchen comprised of three grills and a toaster behind the counter, which were in near frequent use, even though there were currently few customers at this time. The man made a mental note of everyone’s positions as he walked in. It wasn’t anything personal, but he was always careful in situation’s like this. He headed towards a man in the corner of the room. The jukebox that was playing various hits from the 80s skipped a couple of beats as he walked past. The sitting man stood up in greeting.

“T-Bird.” He said, offering his hand

“Aye,” said the man in the hat, his voice coated with thick Northern soul, “but please, I don’t go by that name anymore, call me Adam.”

“Very well T,” the man responded, deliberately ignoring Adam’s request.

Adam took in the man’s features. He was a fairly ordinary man who appeared to be somewhere in his 50s. Silver clean cut hair, a messy beard, and a plain, brown suit. Perhaps I could say he didn’t seem to fit in with the bar’s image. But that would be implying that he made any impression at all. This was made all the stranger to Adam with the feeling that he knew this face from somewhere before. Adam could be fairly certain that no such encounter had been made, as he had only talked to this man through a short series of quickly typed emails from an internet café in Soho. A friend of Adam’s, a physicist, had directed Adam towards this man. This man was allegedly very knowledgeable on London’s secret underground physics societies. Adam knew him only by his screen name: ‘b0rkedphysics’.

“So, you’re b0rked?” Asked Adam.

“Indeed I am. And I know what it is you want.”

Adam looked surprised. He hadn’t gone into any specifics with b0rked through email. He had only mentioned that he wanted some information on the Societies.

“Your friend was kidnapped yes?” A pause. He chuckled and continued, “the fools have no idea. They’re certain it’s you.” Adam’s fist clenched.

‘How does this guy know so much?’ He thought to himself. More over it confirmed his worse fears. He had been the intended target all along.

Adam closed his eyes, lost in thought. A few seconds passed and Adam opened them again,

“Well,” began Adam, “I need to ask you… where.. Where can I find my friend?”

“It may be too late for your friend.”

“No!” Adam retorted harshly, “I refuse to accept that. Can you tell me where he is or not?”

B0rked smiled,

“I didn’t come here just to play good citizen T-Bird,” Adam cringed at the mention of his alias, “I came here because I had to see if it was really you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was there. All those years ago. I saw what they did to you. And I can help you T-Bird. If we leave right now.” Adam remembered the dark room. The flashes of light. People in surgical outfits. The inability to move as he lay paralysed on the cold table. People mumbling. Scalpels, cutting. The loud hum of heavy machinery. Pain.

“No.” Stated Adam firmly. “I have to find Elson. And besides, that past is behind me now. I’ve moved on.”

“Very well. If that’s how it must be.” He grabbed a napkin which had been lying on the table in quiet anticipation. He scribbled an address and passed it to Adam. He scanned it. He knew the area well enough to know that it wasn’t any more than ten minutes away.

“Thanks.” Said Adam as he stood up to leave.

“You can’t run away from your past forever T.”

“Adam.”

“You have my email if you change your mind.”

“Whatever.” Said Adam, and left through the door.

***

A cluster is a grouping of similar things. For instance some cereals are described as being ‘clusters’. In these cases the delicious, small cereal snack is bonded together to form slightly larger, bite-size snacks. However, in this case Adam found himself within a cluster of warehouses. This was a slightly less delicious predicament, and more enclosed and silent. As it was now fairly late at night, the district was deserted. Each warehouse had an assigned number, illuminated by a small light above each one. Using these numbers Adam quickly manoeuvred his way into the heart of the cluster. He reached number 37 and checked it against the napkin. This was the place.

He walked up to the steel shutter that barred the front of the building, and pressed his ear against it. Something barely audible, but audible never the less, wormed it’s way into his ear. It was a soft, pulsing rhythm. Probably machinery. He walked over to the door to the right, and grasped the handle, expecting it to be locked. To his surprise however the door swung open. Cautiously, Adam walked in.

The warehouse was large, spacious, but practically empty. A large metal tube reached from floor to ceiling in the centre of the room. Every second or two it glowed a deep red, illuminating the warehouse briefly and giving everything a bloody, red glow. A stack or red, wooden boxes by the door. A pause. A shiny, red metal balcony running along the far wall. A pause. Two red smaller rooms under the balcony. A pause. Red wood barricading them shut. A pause. A red staircase leading down. Adam adjusted his hat and shades, expecting the worst. Swiftly he headed towards the stairs.

He took the stairs slowly, carefully. With no idea of what could be awaiting him, one creak could spell disaster. Unlike the main warehouse above, this room was in a constant red light. The tube passed through the floor and connected to a large machine in this room. It was a box that housed a giant Newton’s Cradle behind glass, clinking in rhythm. But Adam didn’t pay much attention to this, as in the centre of the room lay a body. Adam immediately recognised it as Elson. His short Asian frame was unmistakeable. Abandoning all sense of stealth Adam ran towards his friend.

He flipped Elson over. Horror filled his face as he saw the lifeless eyes, devoid of his usual carefree Australian joy. His body was bruised, and a cut ran across his left eye. Adam smashed the floor with his fist and screamed in rage, tears building up behind those dark shades. Then a change. The red light became a softer blue. Adam whipped round. The cradle had stopped. He turned back to Elson, but he was gone. In his place lay a doll. The doll was in the shape of an orange Fox. It had an antenna attached to it’s head with a red sphere on top. A timer was illuminated on his chest. 5:00. 4:59. 4:58.

“Tails Doll,” cursed Adam, “it can’t be!”

A maniacal laugh flooded the room. Adam looked over, and saw it was coming from a monitor in the far corner of the room. An image of a face was displayed on it. An image, from his past.

[BakingBluePotatoe]

O_O

Scary.

I didn't expect that Tails Doll thing at the end. Good work!

[BlueFox]

That's so random and so brilliant. I'm guessing T wears that hat to hide a scar. Anyways, I'm suprised to find myself saying that, I can't wait for the next part (Not usually a fan of Fanfics).

[T-Bird]

The characters and events depicted in this fanfic ar purely fictional. Any similarities to characters living or dead (i.e. Elson) are purely coincidental. Any unauthorised copying, duplication or use of any part of this fanfic will result in Oscar Taylor-Kent being invited to your house for tea and scones.

Lovely to know that instead of going out into the world and meeting girls, people are writing about me.

T

[PoshAlligator]

The characters and events depicted in this fanfic ar purely fictional. Any similarities to characters living or dead (i.e. Elson) are purely coincidental. Any unauthorised copying, duplication or use of any part of this fanfic will result in Oscar Taylor-Kent being invited to your house for tea and scones.

Lovely to know that instead of going out into the world and meeting girls, people are writing about me.

T

C'mon, it's not like I sat around bored and wrote it. It was a Lit assignment gone horribly right/wrong.