CSI:NY fic: AU: "The Tomorrow People"
Feb. 28th, 2006 04:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bedlamsbardThe world is a place just starting to team with metahumans -- some beneficial to humankind, some with more despotic intentions. Fighting the latter threat is the NYPD's Meta-Human Investigation Unit, run by Detective Mac Taylor. On the other side of the blue line are the vigilantes, masked heroes who fight their battles in dark alleys and forgotten streets. One of these is the Angel, a winged warrior who sunlights as a bouncer. Now a new villain has begun to emerge from the shadows -- a mysterious woman known as the Ghost -- and the only way she can be defeated is through the cooperation of the two sides of the blue line.
Previously on The Tomorrow People...
Detective Mac Taylor and his partner Stella Bonasera have created a formula to replicate the metahuman gene in flatlines. Reporter Aiden Burn is poking around in MHIU's affairs. The Angel is molting. MHIU detective Benedict Vicaro is on a witchhunt for the superheroes that make up the New York League. Detective Danny Messer has been deliberately exposed to Mac's formula -- and changed. And the Ghost has attacked the Tanglewood Mall...
Aiden leaned forward and jabbed a finger into his collarbone. "C'mon, Messer. You know I got half of your dirty little secret, and either you tell me the other half, or what I know goes on the front page of the Post and you and your freak scientist friends are screwed. When I get done with you, you ain't gonna have a job with the NYPD anymore."
"Obviously, you haven't seen the Herald, otherwise you'd know that the Angel was infolved in an attempted robbery today."
Distressed, Mac said, "I've turned my secondbest detective into a velociraptor!"
"Blood. You know what that means? It means DNA. And you know what that means? It means we can find out who this son of a bitch is that thinks he can do our fucking job."
"'Duck,'" she read out loud.
The world exploded around them.
Flack was in the mall with Polly, both of them flirting as more reaction than action. Nothing better to do. Shadowdancer, like the Angel, was a small-timer, but unlike the Angel, was in the New York League, although she worked mainly at night and alone. Showing her face in daytime was a big concession for her. Even indoors she wore dark colors, sleeves that went all the way to her wrists and sleek black boots with stiletto heels. Like most women Flack knew, she was guzzling coffee by the gallon and cuddling her hot fudge sundae like a junkie with her fix.
"So I'm sitting at the desk, right, and going through Avalon's files because the bitch thinks the solution to all life's problems is to put the bastard in a coma, which is raising questions with the NYPD and she is so getting kicked out of the League, when the Scarab walks in. It's a dumb name if you ask me, but no one does, right? He takes one look at me and starts cackling, the bastard. Like he's so smug -- guy's named after a fucking bug, for fuck's sake. Anyway, he's laughing his head off and I'm staring at him and reaching for my shoes when something hits the door. Zeke left it open, so what happens but Devin comes flying in and lands on his butt. And then there's this screaming, which means the idiot pissed off Siren again, which means the entire fucking League suffers. The Scarab's still laughing his head off -- the bastard -- and Sirocco's all doubled up like Astra kicked him in the balls, which she probably did and Astra's still screaming when -- what the fuck?"
Flack stood up abruptly. So did Polly. His wings were twitching inside their rack.
"Oh, shit," Polly said, eyes narrowing. "It's the fucking Ghost. I'm on my fucking break."
*
Danny shoved Aiden down under the table, reaching for his service revolver. Pieces of the ceiling were showering down around them and following them more sedately was the Ghost, long black hair floating in the wind created by her destruction. "Hello," she said, and smiled. "Nice to see you all turned out." She opened her clenched fists and small silvery objects cascaded down all around them. "I was hoping for a crowd."
"She's crazy," Danny said.
"Sure," Aiden said. "Chad, tell me you're taking pictures."
"What?" Danny half-turned. The photographer was flat on the floor, camera clicking away. Aiden pulled out her recorder.
"The Ghost floats down from the destruction of the roof -- doubtless she destroyed it herself -- and --"
"Are you fucking insane?"
"I'm dictating here, Messer!" Aiden snapped. "You're the cop -- you do something heroic!"
"I'm a detective ---"
"Oh, this just gets better and better," Aiden interrupted gleefully.
"What?" Danny said again, and turned around.
"You," the Ghost said.
"Yeah," the Angel replied. "Me."
"I wasn't talking about you."
The Angel looked surprised beneath his mask. "You weren't?"
A thick whirlwind of black air appeared on the floor beneath them both. "Hi, bitch," Shadowdancer said. "I called the cops. I hope you're looking forward to visiting Salamis -- for the rest of your fucking life."
"Oh, I can't quote that," Aiden said, sounding depressed.
"But what would you imprison me for?" Ghost demanded.
Danny stood up. "For starters, murder, grand larceny, destruction of public property, public indecency, vandalism -- NYPD, ma'am."
Ghost smiled at him. There was something familiar about it. "Don't be a hero, detective," she said and the little silver balls she'd dropped exploded.
Danny ducked with his arms over his face. Shrapnel hit him but just bounced off, and when he opened his eyes it was to find the world in a slightly red hue. "Oh shit," he said, but the words came out in a reptilian hiss. He turned his snout back and force in the mass of white gas clouding the food court.
"You will fuckin' die, bitch," a deep male voice roared.
"Oh," Danny said, the words sibilant and unstated. "Okay." He spread leathery wings that flowed out of his back like water and leapt into the air.
*
The Angel was having a bad day. First he got fucking shot, then the bullets got stuck so Gavin had to pull them out -- never fun -- then he started molting, and now the Ghost had picked this particular mall to come play her games in. Not even that, but she had some kind of poison gas that trapped Shadowdancer and left him in the air, and now some kind of fucking flying dinosaur was flying at his face.
"Jesus Christ!" The Angel banked sharply, wings stretching up to protect his face, loose feathers fluttering around him. Now that wasn't healthy. Normally he'd take a week off to molt, but that wasn't really an option at the moment. Especially at the moment.
The dinosaur -- what the fuck was the thing, anyway? One of those flying lizard-things on Jurassic Park III? -- banked abruptly, wobbling in the air. Its wings splayed out around it awkwardly. Almost balancing itself in mid-air, it opened its mouth and hissed at the Ghost, long teeth bright white and red tongue curling forward.
"So the lizard doesn't like you," Angel said, lowering his wings. "No surprise -- I don't like you and I got taste."
Ghost took a step back, almost see-through now. "I didn't do that!" she said, staring at the lizard.
It snapped at her. Like everything else, its jaws went straight through her.
"That doesn't work," Angel told the lizard-dinosaur -- thing. He flapped his wings, and the Ghost fluttered a few feet work. "You have to blow her out."
"Bastard!" the Ghost snapped, wavering in mid-air.
"Sirocco figured it out a while ago," the Angel told the dinosaur. "When she's incorporeal, she's lighter than air. And the only thing that can affect her --"
"You pigeon," the Ghost snarled and vanished upward,
The Angel curled his wings around his body and followed her. The dinosaur followed him.
Yes, this amuses me. Why do you ask?
Previously on The Tomorrow People...
Detective Mac Taylor and his partner Stella Bonasera have created a formula to replicate the metahuman gene in flatlines. Reporter Aiden Burn is poking around in MHIU's affairs. The Angel is molting. MHIU detective Benedict Vicaro is on a witchhunt for the superheroes that make up the New York League. Detective Danny Messer has been deliberately exposed to Mac's formula -- and changed. And the Ghost has attacked the Tanglewood Mall...
Aiden leaned forward and jabbed a finger into his collarbone. "C'mon, Messer. You know I got half of your dirty little secret, and either you tell me the other half, or what I know goes on the front page of the Post and you and your freak scientist friends are screwed. When I get done with you, you ain't gonna have a job with the NYPD anymore."
"Obviously, you haven't seen the Herald, otherwise you'd know that the Angel was infolved in an attempted robbery today."
Distressed, Mac said, "I've turned my secondbest detective into a velociraptor!"
"Blood. You know what that means? It means DNA. And you know what that means? It means we can find out who this son of a bitch is that thinks he can do our fucking job."
"'Duck,'" she read out loud.
The world exploded around them.
Flack was in the mall with Polly, both of them flirting as more reaction than action. Nothing better to do. Shadowdancer, like the Angel, was a small-timer, but unlike the Angel, was in the New York League, although she worked mainly at night and alone. Showing her face in daytime was a big concession for her. Even indoors she wore dark colors, sleeves that went all the way to her wrists and sleek black boots with stiletto heels. Like most women Flack knew, she was guzzling coffee by the gallon and cuddling her hot fudge sundae like a junkie with her fix.
"So I'm sitting at the desk, right, and going through Avalon's files because the bitch thinks the solution to all life's problems is to put the bastard in a coma, which is raising questions with the NYPD and she is so getting kicked out of the League, when the Scarab walks in. It's a dumb name if you ask me, but no one does, right? He takes one look at me and starts cackling, the bastard. Like he's so smug -- guy's named after a fucking bug, for fuck's sake. Anyway, he's laughing his head off and I'm staring at him and reaching for my shoes when something hits the door. Zeke left it open, so what happens but Devin comes flying in and lands on his butt. And then there's this screaming, which means the idiot pissed off Siren again, which means the entire fucking League suffers. The Scarab's still laughing his head off -- the bastard -- and Sirocco's all doubled up like Astra kicked him in the balls, which she probably did and Astra's still screaming when -- what the fuck?"
Flack stood up abruptly. So did Polly. His wings were twitching inside their rack.
"Oh, shit," Polly said, eyes narrowing. "It's the fucking Ghost. I'm on my fucking break."
*
Danny shoved Aiden down under the table, reaching for his service revolver. Pieces of the ceiling were showering down around them and following them more sedately was the Ghost, long black hair floating in the wind created by her destruction. "Hello," she said, and smiled. "Nice to see you all turned out." She opened her clenched fists and small silvery objects cascaded down all around them. "I was hoping for a crowd."
"She's crazy," Danny said.
"Sure," Aiden said. "Chad, tell me you're taking pictures."
"What?" Danny half-turned. The photographer was flat on the floor, camera clicking away. Aiden pulled out her recorder.
"The Ghost floats down from the destruction of the roof -- doubtless she destroyed it herself -- and --"
"Are you fucking insane?"
"I'm dictating here, Messer!" Aiden snapped. "You're the cop -- you do something heroic!"
"I'm a detective ---"
"Oh, this just gets better and better," Aiden interrupted gleefully.
"What?" Danny said again, and turned around.
"You," the Ghost said.
"Yeah," the Angel replied. "Me."
"I wasn't talking about you."
The Angel looked surprised beneath his mask. "You weren't?"
A thick whirlwind of black air appeared on the floor beneath them both. "Hi, bitch," Shadowdancer said. "I called the cops. I hope you're looking forward to visiting Salamis -- for the rest of your fucking life."
"Oh, I can't quote that," Aiden said, sounding depressed.
"But what would you imprison me for?" Ghost demanded.
Danny stood up. "For starters, murder, grand larceny, destruction of public property, public indecency, vandalism -- NYPD, ma'am."
Ghost smiled at him. There was something familiar about it. "Don't be a hero, detective," she said and the little silver balls she'd dropped exploded.
Danny ducked with his arms over his face. Shrapnel hit him but just bounced off, and when he opened his eyes it was to find the world in a slightly red hue. "Oh shit," he said, but the words came out in a reptilian hiss. He turned his snout back and force in the mass of white gas clouding the food court.
"You will fuckin' die, bitch," a deep male voice roared.
"Oh," Danny said, the words sibilant and unstated. "Okay." He spread leathery wings that flowed out of his back like water and leapt into the air.
*
The Angel was having a bad day. First he got fucking shot, then the bullets got stuck so Gavin had to pull them out -- never fun -- then he started molting, and now the Ghost had picked this particular mall to come play her games in. Not even that, but she had some kind of poison gas that trapped Shadowdancer and left him in the air, and now some kind of fucking flying dinosaur was flying at his face.
"Jesus Christ!" The Angel banked sharply, wings stretching up to protect his face, loose feathers fluttering around him. Now that wasn't healthy. Normally he'd take a week off to molt, but that wasn't really an option at the moment. Especially at the moment.
The dinosaur -- what the fuck was the thing, anyway? One of those flying lizard-things on Jurassic Park III? -- banked abruptly, wobbling in the air. Its wings splayed out around it awkwardly. Almost balancing itself in mid-air, it opened its mouth and hissed at the Ghost, long teeth bright white and red tongue curling forward.
"So the lizard doesn't like you," Angel said, lowering his wings. "No surprise -- I don't like you and I got taste."
Ghost took a step back, almost see-through now. "I didn't do that!" she said, staring at the lizard.
It snapped at her. Like everything else, its jaws went straight through her.
"That doesn't work," Angel told the lizard-dinosaur -- thing. He flapped his wings, and the Ghost fluttered a few feet work. "You have to blow her out."
"Bastard!" the Ghost snapped, wavering in mid-air.
"Sirocco figured it out a while ago," the Angel told the dinosaur. "When she's incorporeal, she's lighter than air. And the only thing that can affect her --"
"You pigeon," the Ghost snarled and vanished upward,
The Angel curled his wings around his body and followed her. The dinosaur followed him.
Yes, this amuses me. Why do you ask?
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-01 06:18 pm (UTC)I'm hoping to poke at mafia!verse and superheroes!verse during lunch today, although I'm also feeling awfully tempted to work on one of the other crack AU ideas I mentioned over the weekend. That would be the DeadZone!verse, in case you're wondering.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-02 01:56 am (UTC)For some reason I want to take a side look at the League. Maybe we'll see them...even though they're all bardverse in origin and based off DC rather than Marvel.
Hurrah!