Subject: [FanFic] A Crossover Too Far Date: Fri, 7 Jun 2002 02:01:14 +1000 From: "WeeMadAndo" Newsgroups: alt.startrek.vs.starwars Here it is. The blood-brother of The Merging, and this one WILL get finished. I promise. Earth, January 1939. A stream of dust spills from the stone roof as the team of native diggers toils in the hot, dry cave. A clang sounds from deep within the cavern, the sound of metal on metal reverberating back to the surface. Racing against the excited shouts from the diggers it bursts out to the surface immediately turning all heads towards the cave as the cries quickly catch up. A man turns towards the cave, he is wearing moleskins, a leather jacket and a fedora. A large bullwhip dangles from his belt. "Bingo." He quickly gathers pace as he runs towards the cave entrance. The diggers are clustered around the protruding shape. A thin triangle of metal sticks out from the ground, its gray edging surrounding a shiny, glassy black with a ridged surface. Time and the elements seem to have done little to damage the artifact. "Keep digging," Indy turns to his father who has arrived in the cave, "This is it. We've finally found it." "Sure we have, but now, what do we do with it?" "Perhaps ve can help you vith zat?" The Joneses turn to face the uniformed man pointing a schmeisser at them. Several more Nazis begin herding the diggers out of the cave. Indy turns to his father, "Like we didn't see that one coming." Earth, September 1943. The dense jungle seems to trap the heat and humidity of the day, pulling the oppressive blanket of moisture down to the ground. A group of men march in single file along a well beaten track, the white-armoured guards watching them carefully, as they march the prisoners whistle a jaunty tune. The jungle abruptly stops, before them is a steep valley with a river running along it. From the valley and the river rise several timber and bamboo structures, obviously intended to support some larger construction. U.S.S. Enterprise, sometime between episodes . . . The console comes together in a brilliant flash and an inhalation of smoke and sparks as the ensign flings himself across the room and into his seat. *blink* "Sir we've detected a wormhole exactly the same as that one we saw a couple of weeks ago." "What? How . . ." The bridge crew cranes forward, ". . . Can that be? Did I . . . enter navigation . . . coordinates . . . while . . . drunk again?" "Most likely Sir, we appear to have gone on a 30 light year round trip due to your incompetence." "Excellent Mr . . . Spock. At least it wasn't . . . those damn . . . klingons . . . again." *blink* The away-team beams back unscathed. Their mission having gone perfectly and without any unforeseen problems. *blink* "Sir, the warp core is working perfectly! I donna know why, but the dilithium crystals are stable and OK." *blink* "He's alive Jim." *blink* "Sir, I believe that something has gone wrong with the universe." "What was that Spock? I thought you said - Oh yeah baby! Yeah! That's the spot Uhura! - that something was wrong with the universe." "That's precisely what I said Sir." *blink* "Sir, I believe that something has gone wrong with the universe." A small porpoise wriggles in the captains seat until it is looking at Spock. "Squeak - chit chit chit - squeak squawl - eep eep eep." A low whistle punctuates its anger at the end of the sentence. "Indeed Sir. Plotting the course now." *blink* "Sir, I believe that something has gone wrong with the universe." "I donna know what yerr talkin' aboot." "Indeed Sir. Bridge to engine room." "Engine room . . . here, what is . . . the problem . . . Spock?" *blink* The small cartoon puppy yaps at the captain, who nods slowly and turns to Uhura. "You heard Mr. Spot, now get the message away." *blink* "Sir, I believe that something has gone wrong with the universe." "Like . . ." "I believe that there has been a significant alteration to the continuum of our universe somewh-" ". . . what Mr Spock?" "-ere in the past." "Indeed, and . . . what effects . . . would . . . this have on us . . . now?" "Very noticeable changes in the fabric of reality. If you'd just look down Sir." "Dear Lord . . . I have . . . a . . . bigger gut than Scotty." "Sir, I believe you will find that that is an udder." A space bar on Ganymede, the future. Spike reclines in his seat, the whiskey glass in his hand has only few drops left in the bottom. Across from him sits Jet, a cigarette dangling from his hand, "How 'bout this one Spike: Hutt seeking bounty hunters to track down and capture spice-runner?" "What's the reward like?" "Let me seem," Jet hits a few more keys, his jaw drops, the cigarette falls from his hand into his lap, "Big, very, very big." His nerves transmit the message about flames and the nether-regions. "Yeargh!" Spike turns the screen to face him and looks at the details. "Han Solo, eh? Well, that should be easy enough." Somewhere that just cannot and should not be defined, the past, the future and the present. And that irritating bit of lost time from your last bender. The deities were in agreement, something was definitely wrong, and what was worse was that none of them had had anything to do with it. Jehovah and Quetzacoatl alike stared down at the tiny planet of Earth in utter confusion. *blink* There were more deities now. All of them staring down at the earth. Something was wrong and getting worse by the minute. *blink* Ganesha looked up for a moment to see Buddha in an animated conversation with Hermes, looking around he noticed that there were both far more and far less gods than there should have been. Suddenly an identical copy of himself appears in front of him. "What?" - "What?" they both say at once. "Who?" - "Who?" another simultaneous question. "Oh no." - "Oh no." *blink* Ganesha was himself again, his doppelganger sat next to him staring down at the earth as well. He was vaguely aware of the troubling fact that there were now more than one hundred and fifty of him running around the place. This wasn't as nearly as troubling as the fact that the number of Mormon's appeared to have just increased a thousand fold. Again. Earth, sometime in the mid-1990's The police cars speed through the city, sliding around corners, getting airborne off even the tiniest of jumps. Ahead of them an older police car jinks between cars before diving between shoppers and into a mall. In an unmarked car near the back of the procession, "And you thought that this was going to be another boring case." "Mulder, you cannot be serious." Scully braces herself as they bounce over the curb and into the mall. Far ahead of them the ancient black and white screams around a corner, smoke billowing from its tortured tires, "This place has got everything . . ." Earth, January 1939, the beginning +3 days. The excavations were obviously proceeding well. From his vantage point in the small steel cage Indy watched as load after load of dirt was brought out from the cave. "Fine mess you've got us into now Junior. I must have lost 10 pounds in sweat in this lovely little holiday destination." "Don't call me Junior. And how can you possibly blame me for the Nazis tracking us down?" "The Nazis always track you down. You must just be one big Nazi magnet. Now, how do you propose we get out of -" "Quiet Dad. They're bringing something out." Several SS men emerge, carefully carrying a body on a stretcher. It appears that it was once wearing black coveralls, its black boots, gloves and strange helmet still in reasonable condition. Indy squints to make out the markings on the helmet. "Dad, what civilization had a symbol of a cog surrounded by a circle?" "I have no idea, never heard of it before." "Well, whoever they were, the Nazis have their stuff now." Chapter 2 Tatooine, March 1991. The hummer rolls to a stop, "We are so fucking lost." "I thought you said just outside Karbalah." "Well I followed the fucking map." "Then where the fuck are we?" "Look up Conrad." "There's two suns. That ain't fucking right. Two suns ain't right." "What the fuck is going on? I for one am fucking confused." "OK, lets just think about this, we left the camp, followed the maps directions, there should be a town about a kilometre ahead." "Yeah well, there should only be one sun too." A grunting startles the four soldiers, they spin, their M-16s at the ready. A tusken stands infront of the hummer. "Is that an eye-rack-ee?" "No Conrad, that is not an Iraqi." "Arck Arck!" The tusken grunts. Its gaffa stick twirling dangerously. "OK everyone, stay cool and follow my lead." Gates steps towards the tusken who takes a swing with his gaffa, scraping his body armour, "Shit!" Elgin fires a burst into the tusken who tumbles to ground, blood oozing into the sand. "Now I am worried. We need to find friendlies and quick." "Damn straight. But which direction do we go?" "What's your Jesus-fire saying?" "Its saying head back the way we came from. Away from that thing, and that nasty-ass skeleton over there." "OK, we'll head magnetic south, see where that takes us." The crew piles back into the hummer and moves off towards the south. Without warning the ridge ahead of them explodes in burst of sand and smoke. "Lets check it out!" Conrad hops onto the '60 as the hummer swings towards the impact. As they approach a small almost urn shaped vessel becomes visible through the settling cloud of sand. Two shapes appear and move towards the hummer, one tall and human-like, the other a trundling dustbin, "Oh thank you, we're saved. That's the last time I follow you anywhere artoo." Earth, March 1939. The assembled group looked on at the dig site, the craft was nearly totally uncovered now. Two large hexagonal panels supported a small sphere between them, now that light was spilling onto the massive "wings" an audible humming could be heard coming from the vessel. Himmler leans forward, "What do you think mein Fuhrer?" "Very impressive. We need to begin testing immediately. It will not be long before it begins." "Indeed, mein Fuhrer. May I recommend that we assign more men to this location in case other artifacts lie undiscovered?" "Any requests relating to this project will be greeted with the utmost favour. Now, I must return to Berlin. Inform me of any developments." Hitler turns and leaves the now massive cavern, that has been filled with all sorts of devices, scientists swarm over the vessel, probing and searching for any clues. A film crew records the proceedings. Deep within the computers of the vessel a continuously repeating code resumes its transmissions after millenia without power. Earth, 1999. The door flies off its hinges as two men step over the threshold, their conservative black suits contrasting sharply with the massive silver weapons they carry. "Now really Mack, I though you had moved on. What is all this stuff? I hope there's nothing illegal here." "C'mon K, I got out of contraband a long time ago. I haven't shifted spice for years." "Dammit Mack. I know your lying. Where's the tumeric?" "Where's it at man? You can tell us?" J takes off his sunglasses. "I'm telling you guys. I got out of the business." "Look I'm going to ask you one more time. If you don't tell me where all the tumeric is coming from then I'm going to have to get rowdy. And we don' t want that do we?" "All I got here is a bit of coriander. I got a permit to have it here. I don't carry tumeric anymore. You gotta believe me!" "Who's dealing the tumeric! We got three OD's this week that we had to liberate from the coroners office." K raises his weapon "You got five seconds to tell me Mack otherwise you're going to be going home in a jar. Five." "I don't know anything K!" "Work with him man." "Four." "You gotta believe me. I don't know!" "Damn man, look at him. He is clearly unbalanced." "Three." "Tell us where the spices are at." "Two." "Dude, just tell his where the tumerics at." "I don't know anything about any tumeric!" "One." K begins to squeeze the trigger. "Wait -hold up. I heard about some Hutt trying to run some stuff in. That's all man I swear." "A Hutt. What the hell is a Hutt? I've never heard of Hutts before." Mack looks a bit taken aback. "Hutts are . . . Hutts are . . . What the hell is a Hutt?" Mack stumbles verbally. "Stop messing with us man! Tell us about the spice!" "I swear to God, I know about a Hutt trying to run stuff in, but nothing about Hutts." K shrugs. "Certainly not the weirdest explanation I've heard. C'mon sport. Lets take it to the twins. See if they can shed some light on this." Heaven. Five minutes ago (not that the laws of time and space really apply, but that's when it happened, OK?). God scratches his crotch as he listened to the weekly report from St Peter. Leaning back in his large leather chair he sets in motion one of the many "executive toys" that ornament his desk. The to the office opens and a young intern angel pokes their head around the door. "Err, God?" "Yes?" "Someone here to see you. Claims to be the King of the Gods and Lord of all He surveys." "Another one? Send him to hell, he sounds like he'd get along just fine with that Jesus Christ fruitcake." "Sir, I think this one's for real." "What, but I am the one true God! Cease your blaspheming!" The door explodes. "I am Zeus! Lord of the Pantheon of Gods!" "No, I am God. The one and only to be precise." "Maybe you were, but my dimension has just had a merger with yours and we need to streamline management!" "What are you talking about!" "Take a look you insular moron!" God stands and walks out the door, a carnival of deities mix happily with various saints, angels and sinners. Satan stroll up to God. "This whole dimensional transference thing is going really well." "What are you babbling about Lucifer? And how the Hell did you get here!" "All the dimensions come together. All the times become one. Everything returns to itself and becomes something different." "What the hell is he on about?" God points at the bearded Asian man. "Oh, him, that's Confucius, you'll get used to him after a while." "Infinity becomes one. And one becomes infinity." "What?" "All things merge yet all remain the same." "So, all the possibilities are being combined, to form one great truth. I like that. Peter! Get a prophet ready, I got a great line for them!" SSD Executor, when . . . does it really matter anymore? The entire bridge stares at the new arrivals. A man in a dressing gown, another with a towel slung over his shoulder, someone with two heads wearing a very spiffy suit, a very cute girl and some sort of droid all stand in the centre of the bridge-pit. They all look very confused. An enterprising young officer shouts at the top of his voice: "Vader!" The River Kwai P.O.W. camp, 1943. The isolation cell was unusually hot today. He wasn't sure how much of this he could take. But he had to keep a brave face up for his men. He had to keep their hope alive. Out of the total darkness steps an ephemeral figure. Its bluish light illuminates the interior of the corrugated iron structure. "Obi-Wan, much are you needed now." "Now I know I'm going crazy." "No, not crazy. Crazy the universe is. Crazy is the Emperor. Quite sane are you." "Stop speaking in riddles - Wait, who are you? And why am I talking to myself?" "In another place and time knew me as Yoda you did, and as Obi-Wan Kenobi did I know you. Quite real I am, assure you of that I can." "This is madness . . . what do you want?" "Something has happened. Something very bad. Only you can set it right Obi-Wan. Relying on you, we all are." A clanging on the structure startles him and the little apparition disappears from sight. An amplified and altered voice comes in from outside. "Keep it down in there." Says the stormtrooper guard as he hammers on the tin with his armoured knuckles. Earth, convergence time. The world ground to a halt. Everything stopped. And while it was stopped, everything changed. Everything came together, all variations became the norm, all possibilities became the outcome. Everyone simultaneously knew everything and nothing. They were a massive gestalt and they were all alone. The world begins speeding up again. Slowly at first as it gets comfortable with its new existence, then gradually reaching its normal pace. Everything was exactly how it was. And everything is utterly different. New York Coroners Office. "I'm Dr. Smith and this is Dr. White, we're from the CDC, you've got another one in?" "Yes doctors, some FBI people have already come in. We reported seeing traces of a pale yellow powder, so we thought it might have been anthrax." "You made the right decision. Where's the body now?" "Autopsy room 3. You'll need some biohazard suits to go in." "No we won't. J, if you would." A brief flare of red light. J and K step into the autopsy room. "What the hell? Get some suits on!" "Its OK, you don't need the suits. See that stuff around the mouth and nose, that's tumeric, not anthrax." "This guy was snorting tumeric?" "Whatever gets you going Scully." "Agent Scully, would you be so kind as to make a lateral incision just below the ribcage." "And what would this serve to prove." "My point." "And what is your point? And who the hell are you?" "Agent Mulder, please calm down, we are on your side. You are about to see something you've always wanted to see." Scully begins the incision. "Mulder, do you have any clue as to how much trouble you've caused us in the past. The amount of times you've nearly blown our operation wide open?" "I was that close?" "Closer than you think. Deputy director Skinner for example." "What about him?" "He's an alien." "What?" "Bazquin to be precise." Scully finishes the incision. "What the hell is this?" She peels back the skin slightly revealing a liquefied interior, for the most part it's a psychadelic orange colour. "Dammit, another Volungar dead." "Another one? I would love to know whats happening here." "OK agents. You want to know what's happening? Lets take a walk." U.S.S. Enterprise "We have achieved orbit captain." "Excellent Mr . . . Spock, send down the . . . away team." "What do you expect to find captain?" "I . . . don't know . . . Spock, I don't . . . know." The transporters flare briefly as the three redshirts are relocated to the surface of the planet. The jungle that envelopes them is thick with vines and undergrowth, strange animal cries come from the canopy as the fluttering of wings marks the departure of a flock of bird-like creatures. The redshirts stalk forward, their tricorders flashing and blooping. A rustling in the bushes to one side of them makes them turn. "I'm reading human life-forms about 100m east of here." "Excellent ensign," Kirk's voice comes over the comm-badge, "Continue . . . searching." "Captain, whats my name?" "Why, you . . . are . . . ensign Molloy . . . why do you . . . ask?" "WooHoo! I'm going to live! I'm going to -" The ensigns mad victory jig is cut short by a flash of movement as he is ripped from sight. "What was that?" The remaining ensigns draw their phasers and aim into the jungle, their movements skittish as their eyes move rapidly between tricorders and the surrounding foliage. "Life forms are closing rapidly from the east, 50 metres, 20, 10." Several ridiculously large men burst into the clearing, their upperbodies covered only with bandoliers, and all of them carrying improbably large guns and even less probable amounts of ammunition. One of them indicates a small patch of luminous liquid on the ground. "Luuk, iv it bleeeeds, ve can kill it." Earth, 1939. >From the cage Indy could clearly see the surrounding landscape. In the past 72 hours he had made the following deductions. 1, it was very hot. 2, it was very dry. 3, there were lots and lots of Nazis. And finally, his favourite, 4, there was no hope of escape, and even if he could, he would die before making it to safety. "Any outstanding plans junior?" "None as yet, I'm just waiting till I get an even tan, then I might consider bending these steel bars, jumping the nearest guard, stealing his gun and then fighting my way to that plane over there, before taking off and making my way to freedom." "Excellent, when do we start?" Indy's head sags forward. It would have been perfectly fine to have been stuck in the cage alone and with the Nazis everywhere. Hell he was used to it by now. His fathers presence just really made everything that little bit more grating. "Ein kelester! Alarm! Alarm!" A burst of sub-machine gun fire from the edge of the encampment sends the guards running. "Scheizen!" By the sounds of things the gun battle was slowly shifting their way. Indy slunk as low as he could in the limited confines of the cage, only to find his father had taken the best cover, namely him, first. Three silhouettes appear on the ridge of the dune ahead of them, advancing steadily towards the centre of the camp. As the figures approach the faces become visible, in the centre is a tall, stongly built man carrying a small automatic pistol in each hand, his blond hair is swept to one side like some Hollywood star. On his left is a tall Arab with a tattooed face, firing a thompson from the hip, his dark purple robes tattered from many bullet holes and what appear to be claw marks. To the right of the group is a woman with long, curly dark hair wielding a double-barrel shotgun far too confidently. They continue pressing forward until they reach the cage. "What's going on here?" The centre man asks. "Nazi's invaded our dig site, they've been holding us hostage." "Just Nazi's?" "Yeah." "No mummies? Scarabs? Spirits? Half-human, half scorpion critters? Little skeletal pygmies with knives?" "No . . ." "Well, there's a relief." Says the Arab, "Cover your faces." He takes aim at the lock and fires. SSD Executor. Vader sits at the large circular table with the various beings. "Now, let me get this straight . . . You," he points to the two-headed man, "Are a galactic President. You," he points to the woman, "Were his assistant. You two, are hitchhikers. And you are?" "Depressed. So very depressed." The droid looks as if it could break down and cry. "Okay . . . now, I'm going to call in my good friend the interrogator droid and try and get the truth out of you." "Why can't you believe us?" Pleads the man in the dressing gown. "Its all quite simple, we were just leaving the Restaurant At The End Of The Universe in the Heart of Gold," Vader sloooowly nods his head, "When the infinite improbability field failed and the ship turned into a half-lemur, half-giraffe, three-quarter moose, one-third lobster the size of a winnebago and we ended up on the bridge of your ship!" Arthur seems exasperated. "Riiiiiiight." Vader shakes his head slightly. A whimper seems to emerge from the mask. "I'm going to go and get a coffee. Then I'm going to come back and we'll go over this again." Chapter 3 Coruscant. The stormtrooper armour lays scattered over the floor of the sleeping chamber. Somewhere above the humming of air-cars stirs him from his sleep. "Shit. Still on Coruscant." The man sits up, "Everytime I wake up, I think I'm going to be back in the field." Standing up, he takes a swig from a hipflask, his regulation green reg grundies would appear not to have been washed, let alone changed for days. Several days growth obscures his face. He begins a series of martial arts kata, his arms and legs flailing and torso swaying, his lack of coordination would seem to be linked to the piles of Johnny Wookie bottles littering the floor. He smashes his fist into a mirror, pieces of glass fly and slowly he crumples to the floor as blood spills between his fingers in his tightly gripped fist. The door bell chimes. And again. Standing the man makes his way over to the door. He presses the control pad to open it. Two immaculately uniformed COMPNOR men stand outside. "Captain Willard?" 3 Hours later. The COMPNOR building was an imposing presence, its monolithic design telegraphing its intentions and serving to augment the fear generated by the agency. Willard is led through the corridors till he arrives at a small door. Stepping though seems to transport him to another world. Gone is the cold steel, harsh angles, inside is a mahogany panelled dining room, a massive table is set with the finest silverware and spectacular dishes and platters adorn its surface. Three men sit around the room, two are uniformed in the dress of COMPNOR officers. The third wears a long dark robe with a hood. After some time they come to the point, "Play the recording please." The lower ranking officer stands and moves to the wall, where a panel slides out of the way to reveal a complex bank of computers and other electronics. He presses a button and a grainy transmission begins. "I watched a nerf . . . walk along a light saber blade . . . and live . . . a nerf . . . walking along a light saber blade . . . and living . . . that is my dream . . . that is my nightmare." All around the table the faces contort as they listen to the transmission, it is clear that it is quite close to them all. Even in the darkness of the hood some emotion seems to be stirring. Another transmission begins. "We must destroy them, city after city, planet after planet, system after system, BDZ, death star." The COMPNOR officers hand over a dossier on the man, one Colonel Hit-Man, "It is clear, that Hit-Man has gone quite insane." "We need you to terminate his command." "Terminate, with extreme prejudice." As Willard stands to leave the room, something strikes him as being wrong, he turns and faces the younger COMPNOR man, "I know you from somewhere." He scans his impeccable memory, searching for the face, suddenly his face lights up with recognition as he remembers a wanted poster from his time on Kessel, "You're Han Solo!" All the heads in the room turn to face the younger officer. "Actually no," he hangs his head, "I'm his younger brother, he's such a shame to our family. I only hope that one day they bring him in." "That's the worst goddamn excuse I've ever heard." "But it's the truth!" "Aw, fuck it." Willard turns and walks out the door. Chapter 4 Outer Solar System. The 45th Flying Tigers raced back towards the Yamato after their sneak attack in the stolen Kamov bombers. Weaving about in the ponderous vessels to avoid the defense satellite blasts they engage afterburners in an effort to get their quicker. "Sweet and sour baby Jesus on hokkien noodles! What the hell is that!" Ship after ship explodes. "I don't know it looks like a -" "A what!" "A crash to desktop!" "Huh! Haven't we patched!" "We're a microsoft product, we don't get patched!" "We don't have a chance!" And then that particular universe was deleted from my HDD. A certain Jungle World. Kirk wandered back and forth in the small clearing, the massive commandos forming an inpenetrable wall of testosterone around the slaughtered away team members. "He's dead Jim." "Nooo sheeeeiiit." Says the commando with the ridiculous accent. "What . . . has been killing . . . these . . . men?" "I dawn't knooow. Baaut eet ees aooout dere." "We have . . . to . . . kill it . . . We . . . have to . . . avenge these . . . men." "Sir, I should point out that this being is clearly adapted to life in such a jungle environment and as such any hunting of it in such an environment is clearly illogical and will only lead to further casualties." "Damnit Spock . . . don't . . . undermine my . . . authority." "Iv it bleeeds ve can keeel eet." "Yes . . . yes, you've . . . said that . . . before." "Iv it bleeeds ve can keeel eet." "Look . . . are you a . . . complete . . . moron?" "Iv it bleeeds ve can keeel eet." "I believe he's lost his page in the script sir." "How can a . . . man lose . . . his place in . . . a script?" "Perhaps his brain is of such low function that he can only speak a few words of, I think its english." "Perhaps Bones . . . but, that . . . makes . . . little sense . . . How can . . . a person . . . survive with . . . such a . . . tiny mind? "Berman and Bragga lasted quite a while sir?" Onboard Home1. Leia stood in the briefing chamber, awaiting the arrival of the straggling commanders and pilots. Slowly the amphitheatre style seats filled with people. Leia dims the lights and activates the holographic projector. "Soldiers of the alliance, we now face our greatest threat. A new force more dangerous than the Death Star, more evil than the Emperor himself. This threat could destroy the galaxy as we know it in barely 120 minutes." She pauses long enough to trigger a new image on the projector. The room stops. Just stops as everyone stares at the holograph in a confused manner. Several mouths hang open. Heads sit at that angle that just screams: WTF? A single hand is raised. "Yes Lieutenant?" "Just who the hell are those two?" "Jake and Elwood Blues." Earth, New York City in fact. "So there have been aliens on earth since the fifties?" Mulder asks in between bites from his hot dog. "Well, that's when they officially arrived, but they've been hanging around for much longer than that." "So what about the conspiracy?" "Those old coots? They just sit around and think that they run the place. A couple of years ago me and J here neuralised them all as a joke, then made them think that they were chickens. Of course Z made us turn them back." "Aliens on earth, refugees you say. It all sounds a little far fetched." Scully looks over at J who appears to be interrogating a flower sticking up from a subway grating, "Is he OK?" "J? Oh, he's fine as long as Jeff doesn't get angry with him." The flower disappears and J walks back over to the rest of them. "Just making sure Jeff understands his new living arrangements. Apparently he nudged the Brooklyn B train this morning, so I thought I best have a word." "Jeff is a flower?" "No, Jeff is, well, Jeff. Best if you meet him yourself. Just make sure he's already eaten for the day. Anyhow, your goddamn investigations were constantly compromising us. You know how many families we had to relocate a fter that goddamn debacle with the alien resistance?" "No . . ." "Suffice to say it was a lot. Now, we have a bit of a dilemma, you two know our most intimate secrets. You now know the truth about aliens on earth. So we either have to kill, imprison or neuralise you." "You could recruit us." "Recruit you two? Damn, I never thought of that." The streets of Sydney. "Its an Agent - RUN!" The group scatters into the crowds, each running for their lives. The men in suits chasing after them with inhuman speed. Neo reaches a door and kicks it in desperately trying to make it to an exit. "Take the next left, and it's the third door on your right!" Neo charges down the hallway and opens the door. A figure dressed in a ridiculously over the top drag queen outfit raises a Desert Eagle and fires. Neo is thrown back by the impact, hitting the wall opposite the door and slumping down the wall leaving a bloody trail. Two other agents step into the room and look at agent Smith, "What are you wearing?" "You don't like it sweetie? Damnit. I paid $100 for these shoes." "Its not *just* the shoes." "Oh damn, am I clashing colours again?" "Well, the mascara certainly is clashing with the fake nails." "Shit, look, give me 15 minutes and I'll change." "But the others?" "We got the one they needed. Now, I can't go out looking like this. Urgh! Clashing mascara and nails!" Agent Smith shrieks as he slams the door in the face of the other two agents who stand there, looking completely stunned.