12-10-2008, 11:37 PM
Valles did not authorize this, nor did anyone else involved. It's probably best to consider this non-canon, unless you
want to canon-ize it, in which case, feel free. This is not V's fault. It was inspired by... wait, okay, yeah, it's V's fault. And Ops. And
Ankh. And the chatlog from last night.
And it wouldn't GET OUT OF MY HEAD until I wrote it down. So here. I inflict it upon you. Mwuah hah hah!
Twas the night before Christmas, and deep in V's blouse,
Magnificent pillows did gently bounce.
Her girlfriend and lover, that flaming red-head,
Looked happy and cheerful as she dragged V to bed.
Between them the room was flashy and hot,
The slept not a wink; they played quite a lot.
And the on-duty Mag sat up with a curse,
For a camera was hidden within V-chan's purse.
Was it villains? Who else? But it didn't matter.
When THIS hit the 'net they'd be mad as a hatter.
Away to the portals he bounded, quite rash,
Hopped a 'port, jumped a building, and started to dash.
The moon crested high over run-down King's Row,
Some Skulls wandered by, he told them to blow.
When finally, thankfully, what should appear?
The party for Christmas, and that hacker most dear!
"A crisis!" Mag cried, bursting in quite distraught,
and shared with all present what villains had wrought.
Faster than Cyberman his allies they came,
and he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Cyberman, quick! Go cut off the signal!
Net, do your thing! Shut down that drivel!
Amber, get Emet, and go guard their bed!
Terr, you're with me! We're off to bust heads!"
As scared villains before the wild catgirl flee,
the party dispersed, and rushed out to see
what could be done, to save their friends,
and preserve them from villains' nefarious ends.
Retribution would come; the storm would soon crest
And villains would learn what heroes do best.
Before long word came down, that the signal was gone,
Lewd pictures no more, that trick was done.
Net found and burned, in the digital sense,
All traces that proved that those pics might exist.
Amber, with Emet, arrived at the scene,
to find that the occupants were quite serene.
The disaster they'd dodged was not on their minds,
In truth, they were thinking of each others' behinds.
"Don't bug them, they're BUSY!" she called 'cross the tac-band,
And privately wondered if they needed a hand.
Crisis averted, the team had to wonder,
Just who on Earth committed this blunder?
And how was it that the (so nasty!) movie,
Had shown up at base while Mag was on duty?
His cigar rolled around as he pondered and worried,
Fell down and went out, as he suddenly hurried,
Leaving others on guard, back to the base,
To his desk where he saw a little white vase.
He'd seen it before, but paid it no mind,
Running late as he was when he first arrived.
But it ran through his mind that it had been here,
When nothing he knew of should have been there.
"Dear Mag," the note read, in calligraphy script,
"This vase is for you, but it's not quite a gift.
I needed a way to reach you, you see,
Without anyone knowing that the sender, was me."
It went on to prove that he'd ruined her night,
She'd set up the camera, planned it just right,
And timed it so well, to make sure he was on duty,
As a man she could trust to not watch the movie.
To keep it a secret, to not say a word,
To do nothing at all but hit 'Record'.
Hoping he wasn't too late to recover,
He hit the button and prayed they weren't over.
Called back the team, said "Go back to your party.
You're all the best, in our private army."
Settled down in his chair, with a mug of hot tea,
And resisted the urge to turn on the TV.
The morning dawned clear, cold and crisp in the city
Mag was awake when V came in looking pretty
Flushed with her 'efforts', yet still quite serene.
Grabbed her recording and left, eyes all a-gleam
Mag raised his mug, a toast to events,
Drained it dry with a gulp, grabbed a handful of mints,
Looked 'round the base, with a critical eye,
Then shut off the lights and let out a sigh.
"Merry Christmas to all," he said with a grin.
"V's got her present, it's a hell of a win.
I'm headed home. I admit it was fun.
But stick a fork in this boy, 'cause dammit, I'm done."
--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs
want to canon-ize it, in which case, feel free. This is not V's fault. It was inspired by... wait, okay, yeah, it's V's fault. And Ops. And
Ankh. And the chatlog from last night.
And it wouldn't GET OUT OF MY HEAD until I wrote it down. So here. I inflict it upon you. Mwuah hah hah!
Twas the night before Christmas, and deep in V's blouse,
Magnificent pillows did gently bounce.
Her girlfriend and lover, that flaming red-head,
Looked happy and cheerful as she dragged V to bed.
Between them the room was flashy and hot,
The slept not a wink; they played quite a lot.
And the on-duty Mag sat up with a curse,
For a camera was hidden within V-chan's purse.
Was it villains? Who else? But it didn't matter.
When THIS hit the 'net they'd be mad as a hatter.
Away to the portals he bounded, quite rash,
Hopped a 'port, jumped a building, and started to dash.
The moon crested high over run-down King's Row,
Some Skulls wandered by, he told them to blow.
When finally, thankfully, what should appear?
The party for Christmas, and that hacker most dear!
"A crisis!" Mag cried, bursting in quite distraught,
and shared with all present what villains had wrought.
Faster than Cyberman his allies they came,
and he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Cyberman, quick! Go cut off the signal!
Net, do your thing! Shut down that drivel!
Amber, get Emet, and go guard their bed!
Terr, you're with me! We're off to bust heads!"
As scared villains before the wild catgirl flee,
the party dispersed, and rushed out to see
what could be done, to save their friends,
and preserve them from villains' nefarious ends.
Retribution would come; the storm would soon crest
And villains would learn what heroes do best.
Before long word came down, that the signal was gone,
Lewd pictures no more, that trick was done.
Net found and burned, in the digital sense,
All traces that proved that those pics might exist.
Amber, with Emet, arrived at the scene,
to find that the occupants were quite serene.
The disaster they'd dodged was not on their minds,
In truth, they were thinking of each others' behinds.
"Don't bug them, they're BUSY!" she called 'cross the tac-band,
And privately wondered if they needed a hand.
Crisis averted, the team had to wonder,
Just who on Earth committed this blunder?
And how was it that the (so nasty!) movie,
Had shown up at base while Mag was on duty?
His cigar rolled around as he pondered and worried,
Fell down and went out, as he suddenly hurried,
Leaving others on guard, back to the base,
To his desk where he saw a little white vase.
He'd seen it before, but paid it no mind,
Running late as he was when he first arrived.
But it ran through his mind that it had been here,
When nothing he knew of should have been there.
"Dear Mag," the note read, in calligraphy script,
"This vase is for you, but it's not quite a gift.
I needed a way to reach you, you see,
Without anyone knowing that the sender, was me."
It went on to prove that he'd ruined her night,
She'd set up the camera, planned it just right,
And timed it so well, to make sure he was on duty,
As a man she could trust to not watch the movie.
To keep it a secret, to not say a word,
To do nothing at all but hit 'Record'.
Hoping he wasn't too late to recover,
He hit the button and prayed they weren't over.
Called back the team, said "Go back to your party.
You're all the best, in our private army."
Settled down in his chair, with a mug of hot tea,
And resisted the urge to turn on the TV.
The morning dawned clear, cold and crisp in the city
Mag was awake when V came in looking pretty
Flushed with her 'efforts', yet still quite serene.
Grabbed her recording and left, eyes all a-gleam
Mag raised his mug, a toast to events,
Drained it dry with a gulp, grabbed a handful of mints,
Looked 'round the base, with a critical eye,
Then shut off the lights and let out a sigh.
"Merry Christmas to all," he said with a grin.
"V's got her present, it's a hell of a win.
I'm headed home. I admit it was fun.
But stick a fork in this boy, 'cause dammit, I'm done."
--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs
