#and more coffee plants so i can give harvey coffee every day..... i am a good spouse

[ratspider]

stardewvalley......

[highly-opinionated-ramblings]

Batshipping masterpost

Sometimes asking yourself the question “what would it take for me to ship these two characters together?” helps you come up with really really good stories that you otherwise might never have thought of! 

Very fun writing exercise. Do recommend.

ANYWAY. I like Batman, so I asked myself this question about him, and these were the results! 

(Featuring: Catwoman, Riddler, Twoface, Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, Azrael, Mr. Freeze, Clayface, Superman, Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter, Flash, Green Lantern, Green Arrow, and Aquaman)

What would it take for me to ship Batman with that character? A few key ingredients: 

If they are/were a villain, a redemption of sorts. A slow process of coming to terms and actively deciding “yeah, that’s not who I am anymore.” 

A connection, a distinct moment where they’re able to talk to Batman as more than just an old enemy or a League ally. A spark that generates interest in developing the relationship further.

An establishment of explicit trust. This usually comes in the form of Bruce revealing his identity to the other and trusting them (maybe tentatively at first, but even so) not to give it away.

An introduction to the kids. I am one hundred percent positive that this is, for the vast majority, not a voluntary action on Batman’s part. But if you raise nine kids to be detectives, you can’t expect to keep secrets from them for long! And once they know you’ve been sleeping with that former villain, you’re going to have to justify that to them somehow.

Then the whole cycle starts again as the villain redeems themselves in the eyes of the kids and gains their trust and acceptance too. Good stuff.

Note: my interpretations of these characters are entirely my own and by no means do all of them line up with any sort of canon. I just sort of do whatever. 

Also: some of the bullet points below address some of the mental health problems in the villains, so proceed at your own discretion.

Catwoman: I really like the Gotham tv show’s dynamic between Bruce and Selina, which is to say, they were childhood friends with an early attraction to one another, but had a falling out sometime around the very beginnings of Bruce actually becoming Batman. She spends a few years as a professional thief. He sends her to prison a few times. But eventually she settles down and opens up a casino or whatever, where she deals information under the table. Alfred and the kids know her these days as an ally rather than enemy. So it’s just a matter of her realizing that her attraction to Bruce is deeper than originally assumed, and that if she wants to be with him she has to really dedicate herself to that idea, and for him to realize that she’s being serious and that he needs to prioritize spending time with her over obsessing over his work.

Bruce takes his mask off dramatically, saying something along the lines of “it’s me, Selina” and she’s like “yeah I know.” “What?” “You do this thing where you pace back and forth and nod your head up and down when you’re thinking. Never known anyone else who did that but Bruce Wayne.” “...Oh.”

Childhood friends interpretation is also great because Alfred already knows her and likes her. And she has all these embarrassing stories about 14 year old Bruce to share, which means that even the most resistant of the kids warm up to her right away.

Riddler: the first line in his Arkham file is that he has an obsessive need for attention. And Bruce KNOWS that. But it takes years for it to occur to him, incredibly sleep-deprived and staring down one of Ed’s death traps that he really, really doesn’t want to deal with today....what would happen if he just, y’know, gives it to him? The attention that he wants? And the results are instantaneous. It’s like the floodgates are open and Ed just can’t stop talking. It starts out snide and derogatory, the same way he usually talks to Batman, but the longer it goes on the more it deteriorates into something oddly helpless and vulnerable. Bruce has been so used to cocky, swaggering Ed that it never really occurred to him that this was someone suffering, who needed help. So he sits down and does his best to convince Ed that he’s not going to take him in (how many times has he been sent to Arkham? And what good has it done him, really?) and they talk. He leaves out of necessity (bank robbery in progress, says Barbara’s voice in his ear) but he goes back the next day, and again after that. Ed gets attention from Bruce without having to resort to crime to get it. Bruce gets a break from head busting and an outlet for some of the stale energy inside his head. They tell each other riddles and play strategy games and get to know each other, for real this time.

Ed stops worrying so much about proving that he’s smarter than Batman. Instead he channels all that energy into uncovering Bruce’s secret identity. It’s just another one of their games. Bruce has kept that secret for a long time and he’s confident he can keep it up, but Ed’s always alert waiting for him to slip up, to leave a clue

Option 1 for how he finds out: he sets up an elaborate trap, making it seem like he’s in danger and the only way to save him is for Bruce to take his mask off, so he does. Ed is outraged. “REALLY? BRUCE WAYNE? FUCKING REALLY?” he yells, dropping all pretense of being in danger. The robots he made for this setup drop like puppets with cut strings. Bruce gets ready to Fight.

Option 2: Some other villain reveals Bruce’s identity before he gets the chance (Arkhamverse style). Ed is outraged. “HOW DARE YOU LET ANYONE ELSE BUT ME DO THAT” he yells while Bruce tries his best to ignore him and focus on calling the JL to fix the whole situation somehow

Option 3: Bruce just tells him. Ed is outraged. “I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE ONE TO FIGURE IT OUT YOU IDIOT”

The kids are Not Happy about Bruce dating Gotham’s Most Annoying Super Villain

Twoface: again I gotta go with the whole ‘they were friends when they were younger and Bruce had a raging crush on him’ setup. Cause that adds a whole layer to Bruce’s part of the story, watching Harvey become Twoface and assuming responsibility for locking him up every time he gets out. One day something happens in Gotham- string of murders or something, it’s not important really what it is. Bruce goes after the person responsible and his trail leads him to Harvey. So he busts into the safe house, intending to intimidate anything Harvey knows out of him, and then throw him back in Blackgate. “Ohohoho, noooooo, you got this all wrong,” Harvey says when he figures out what Batman’s getting at. “That motherfucker put a dozen of my men in the ground. This is personal. You want me to tell you what I know, you’re going to take me with you.” And Bruce agrees. Cause he knows Harvey’s got a certain moral code that he can be trusted to stick to, and it’s the most painless way of getting what he wants from him anyway. Working with Harvey is weird, though. He shoots a couple of goons going after Batman and gives him that lopsided smile, says “I’ve got your back,” and suddenly Bruce is like 20 again and Harvey is bringing him a coffee, smiling. During their chase they have a dramatic rooftop showdown with whoever it is they’re chasing. Bruce turns around just in time to see one of the thugs push Twoface over the edge. He gets caught up in the moment and practically screams, “Harvey!” Of course, he’s able to dramatically swoop in and save him, though it’s a pretty close call. When Harvey comes to he sits up and says quietly, “It’s been a long time since anyone’s called my name like that, did we have that kind of relationship?” and Bruce panics and tries to brush it off as his imagination, but Harvey shakes his head and says “once you’ve seen it, you can’t unsee it, man. It’s you under there, isn’t it, Bruce?” And it turns out that knowing Bruce’s real identity turned out to be exactly what Harvey needed. Cause he can identify some of the duality he feels about himself in Batman, now. They spend some more time together, talking some of that out, and it doesn’t take long for Bruce’s crush to return en force.

Poison Ivy: He lets her go. He knew she was at that scene, and she knows he saw her, but he lets her go, cause it wasn’t a big deal. No one died, relatively little property damage, and that jerk deserved it anyway. The next day there’s a potted plant sitting on GCPD’s doorstep and they call Batman thinking it might be dangerous, but it’s just a lovely specimen of a rare flower, which he knows is her way of saying thanks. (He doesn’t let the police know that, though. He just puts it in the back of the Batmobile and tells them it’s nothing he can’t handle). He takes it home with him and treats it well. And she knows it, can kind of sense it, distantly. They have a few more run ins over the course of the next few months and they take it easy on each other, having this sort of mutually unspoken agreement. Eventually something happens for her to need to talk to Batman, so she digs her roots in deep and finds that flower...in the garden at Wayne Manor. She leaves a message for Batman and they meet up and talk about whatever she needed. She doesn’t mention the Manor, so he asks about it. She just shrugs and mentions something about Bruce Wayne’s recent efforts in protecting the environment. “Maybe we’re not as different as I thought, after all.” They give each other more little presents from afar. One day she sees him hanging around (where she knows he knows she can see him), and drops by to talk. He offers her a ride home and ends up spending the night.

This one I think he owns up to before the kids can figure it out. Pam’s a good source of information, and if he was desperate he’d call her even with all of them watching. They’d all think he’d been bewitched, of course. It’d take a while to convince them all otherwise.

Harley Quinn: all it takes is for him to get his first glimpse of the real her and decide that Joker victims need to stick together and help other Joker victims. After the breakup and the subsequent recovery, she’s living free (albeit under Constant Surveillance) in Gotham, and he checks in every once in a while, just to make sure she’s doing ok and not reverting to her previous, Joker-driven, rocket-fueled bad habits. One day there’s an incident in her neighborhood- maybe someone was going after her and Bruce was there protecting her, or maybe it wasn’t related to her at all. Regardless, it’s her who finds him after the explosion and takes him home and gives him first aid. He’s groggy and panicky when he first wakes up in a strange place (not a hospital, not the cave) with an IV drip in his arm (he’s not in a hospital, where did that come from!). It gets worse when he realizes that his mask was blown right off his face in the blast. It gets SIGNIFICANTLY WORSE when Harley appears in his field of vision, waving around a tablet pulled up to Bruce Wayne’s wikipedia page, in full psychologist mode, ranting about how he’s been going about dealing with his childhood trauma All Wrong. But they talk, and she promises not to give his secret away. “What would I have to gain from that? You’d stop coming to visit me then!” It takes a while for the two of them to figure out exactly what’s going on between them but once they’re both sure the others’ intentions are good, they develop a good, strong relationship.

Bonus points if, at any point in the above time space, she walks up to him one day and hands him an unmarked usb drive. “What’s on this?” “My daughter.” “What.” “My daughter! Her location and everything about her.” “Is she...Joker’s?” “I dunno. Could have been him or any one of a number of other guys. Mistah J threw some really wild parties. *shrug* The only part that really matters to me is that she’s mine. And if anything ever happens to me, she’ll need someone to look out for her, y’know?” “And that’s me???” “Well, helping people in need is one of your compulsions, after all. Especially kids, or else you wouldn’t have so many of your own.” 

I usually imagine Jason as one of the ones kind of sticking up for Batman, citing how crime has all but disappeared since he started sleeping with whatever particular villain and that who are they to police who Bruce shares his bed with anyway (BONUS bonus points if he’s just entering the early stages of coming to terms with his own bisexuality and never realized that Bruce was bi, too), but that wouldn’t be the case with Harley. He’d feel pretty hurt about that, I think. On the other hand: Dick has been around since Harley’s debut on the scene, and has always thought of her as relatively harmless and even respected her to a degree, as a fellow acrobat, so he’s cool with her dating Bruce

Azrael: His JL team goes on hiatus for a little while, so he calls Bruce up like “uhhh, I don’t really have much of anywhere else to go, so can I come back to Gotham for a while?” And Bruce tells him that they’re actually experiencing a pretty calm stretch for a change, but yeah, he can come if he wants. At first he’s excited because he’s never been invited to the actual, og Batcave, but there really IS nothing going on. He meets Alfred, who offers him tea. He meets Steph and Tim, out of masks, lounging on the couch playing Street Fighter. They assure him that if literally anything happens, one of their gajillion alert systems will let them know. He goes off in search of Bruce, finds him sitting at the kitchen table making his way through a veritable mountain of paperwork. Eventually he admits that he doesn’t really know what to do with himself in the downtime. “I usually try to use time like this to do things for Bruce Wayne, instead of for Batman,” Bruce explains. “You should do something for Michael Lane, while you have the chance.” “But...but...but I’ve been Azrael full-time for years now...” “Alright, well, what did you like to do before you were Azrael?” “UHH...” Before he can short-circuit too much trying to come up with an actual answer to that question, Bruce puts aside his paperwork and takes his arm. They get in the car and Bruce takes him to like a hobby shop or something. They buy model kits and a cookbook and some yarn (”one of the kids can teach you”), and he promises that one of these days they’ll clear some space on the lawn to play football. Michael hasn’t experienced this level of anyone caring for his well-being probably ever? and all he can do is stammer something about “is there anything I can do for Bruce Wayne in return?” “You can keep me company while I file all my paperwork, I guess.” So he sits at the table across from Bruce and builds his little ATAT model kit feeling happier than he has in a long time. Bruce can tell that a little more attention would do him good, so they spend some more time hanging out which leads to having some deep conversations and building up feelings for each other, it’s all very cute

Right at the beginning of Michael developing his crush on Bruce he realizes that something’s different, but doesn’t quite realize what it is, and his mind jumps to the worst case scenario right away. He locks himself in his room, calls Bruce at work, panicking, and says he thinks his St. Dumas brainwashed obsession with Bruce might be coming back. Bruce tells him to calm down, they’ll run some tests. All the tests come back negative, but Michael is visibly shaken, so Bruce offers for him to hang around Gotham a little longer so they can monitor him, which is what leads to his extended stay in Gotham

Mr. Freeze: One day something changes. One day the realization finally, finally clicks into place. There’s a huge floating JL base in the sky and aliens living on Earth and people coming back from the dead and healing from miraculous injuries and plagues all the time. If it was going to happen to him, it would have happened by now. It’s over. Nora’s not coming back. That day he laces up his boots and loads his gun and walks over to the little diner on the corner and wrecks it. Batman gets the call, and obviously he knows that something’s different, this isn’t Vic’s MO, but he goes anyway, of course. Vic blasts away at him with his freeze gun, wildly, recklessly, screaming and ranting the whole time. Bruce dodges out of view, and Vic transfers his aggressions to the nearest object in sight: a table. He blasts that thing in half, and then in half again, and keeps going until it’s nothing but splinters and he’s just standing there, gasping for breath. “Victor,” says Bruce from behind him, “tell me what’s wrong.” “Nora’s dead,” Vic mumbles under his breath. Bruce comes around to face him and Vic is looking at him with THE SADDEST puppy dog eyes he’s ever seen. (I know what you’re thinking right now. “Mr. Freeze can’t do puppy dog eyes.” You’re WRONG, I’m telling you) “That’s the first time I’ve ever said that out loud, I think... I d-don’t...I don’t know what to do…” and Bruce is like, darn, I can’t take this fool to jail. So he brings him back to his chilly lair instead and sits him down and talks him through it a little. Leaves him with a phone number to call if it gets real bad again, but makes the first call to check up on him later anyway. This one is a sloooow burn, it takes Vic MONTHS to get over Nora, couple weeks to realize he MIGHT? be developing feelings for Bruce, couple more weeks to wrestle with the guilt of that. Learning Bruce’s identity is the thing that really brings all of it to a head. Maybe there’s an attempt on Bruce Wayne’s life and later that day Batman shows up with the same pattern of lacerations on his cheek, or broken leg, or whatever. Vic’s not an idiot. He can put two and two together. When Bruce finally takes off the helmet in front of him, it’s a huge relief. To be able to say “I know what it’s like to lose people” and for Vic to know he’s not just talking about heroing. They get closer and closer from there. Their relationship is a weird one, with a lot of compromises to make, but they do the best they can.

The kids don’t particularly mind Bruce going out with Vic. He’s not so much a villain as he is just a guy who’s been dealt a bad hand in life and done the best he could with it. But having around makes the already-cool cave soooo much colder, which isn’t so fun.

Clayface: There hasn’t been an incident with Clayface in years. He’s older, little calmer, little more mature (I like the New 52 plotline of him joining Kate’s crime busting team, but this little scenario works even without that part thrown in). Still, when Bruce hears he’s back in town, he figures he should probably pay him a visit anyway. Just in case he’s planning something. But he goes to the address he was given, some apartment building in Kingston, opens the door, and finds Basil. Not Clayface, Basil Karlo, sitting in a chair by the window reading a paper. “Haven’t seen that face on you in a while,” he says, still unsure if it’s a trick or not. “Oh,” Basil shrugs, unsure if he should be worried about being tossed in jail again or not. “Well, it’s my face. The one I’m most familiar with, takes the least amount of concentration to keep up with. I did make some changes, though, see? Few gray hairs, few lines on my face. Do I look older?” “Yes. It’s a good look.” He keeps checking in with him, cause you can never be too careful, and then because he actually starts to enjoy Basil’s company. Their relationship is one of the more light-hearted ones on this list. They get wine drunk and make out on the roof of the apartment building, very giggly.

“If I learned anything at Arkham, it’s that there are some things that you know are wrong with you, but there are also things that are wrong with you that you aren’t even aware of, and that you couldn’t identify or fix even if you tried.” “One of the psychologists told you that?” “No. I shared a cell with Tetch for a few weeks. That dude is so much more messed up than you realize.”

Superman: Clark calls him up saying something about a mystery in Metropolis that has everyone stumped, and maybe the World’s Greatest Detective wouldn’t mind helping him out? So Bruce drops by to lend him a hand. The ‘mystery’ turns out to be a group of unfamiliar aliens who’re out to get Superman (I don’t care why. Maybe they’re holding some kind of grudge, maybe they’re bounty hunters, maybe they want to sell him off into space-gladiator slavery, whatever). These antagonistic aliens have been very careful in their preparations- they’ve done all the math, and come up with special weapons specifically designed to hit Superman hard enough to knock him out. But they didn’t plan on Batman being there with him, which throws them off just enough that Superman is able to chase them off successfully. In the midst of that fight, though, Bruce takes a hit. A hit calculated for Superman. It breaks several of his ribs and punctures a lung. Clark panics, scoops him up and flies him to the nearest hospital at record speeds. They’re able to stabilize him at Metropolis, and then they send him back to the Watchtower for further treatment. When he wakes up he’s pretty disoriented and confused, but Clark (who had been listening for a change in his breathing and heartbeat from a couple rooms away) comes rushing in, ushering him back to bed and promising to explain everything. Bruce is woozy and wonky enough from whatever drugs they gave him that he lays back down and lets Clark hold his hand protectively without argument. He listens to Clark’s explanation, mumbles something about calling Alfred, and promptly falls back asleep. Clark feels so guilty about his injury that he won’t leave his side for weeks, even following him back to Gotham once he’s well enough to leave the Watchtower.

“God, when will they finally just kiss already,” Jason says, taking cover with the rest of the family in the cave. “I know, right,” says Steph while Tim, Cass, and Duke (and Alfred) all nod in agreement. “SHUT UP,” yells Damian, having a hard time adapting to the idea of his dad and his best friend’s dad getting together

Any Superbat is good Superbat but I enjoy it best in the context of ‘they’re old enough by now to be embarrassed about how angsty and competitive they were when they first met, and they both have huge extended families, and the rest of the JL has been watching them dance around each other for YEARS, JUST KISS ALREADY DAMMIT’

Wonder Woman: I don’t usually imagine Bruce as a flustered kind of guy, but Wonder Woman is everything he wants to be when he grows up and he can’t help it. She’s so effortlessly cool, calm, and collected. And she’s a natural charmer, the public loves her. She always manages to come at things with a fresh perspective that has helped unstick his too-logical train of thought numerous times. She paid him a compliment once and he sat in the batmobile in the parking lot thinking about it for like twenty minutes. One day they get assigned to a League PR thing together that turns into an assassination attempt (surprising no one), but everything turns out ok. Minor damage to the surrounding buildings, a few people injured in the mass chaos, that’s all. She goes looking for him after returning from talking to the local cops, and finds him with a toddler girl on his hip, holding hands with her six yo sister, helping them look for their parents. And she just has to stop and marvel for a minute at how soft his voice is??? How the toddler isn’t even crying??? He bends down to hug the little girl bye after returning her to her fam and Diana almost has a heart attack. “I see that the gods have blessed you with an affinity for children of all ages,” she says. By the time he straightens back up he’s Batman again. “What do you mean by that?” “I can never get kids to warm up to me like that in situations like these...I always thought it was because I was just too big and imposing. How did you do it?” “Oh. Well. You know. *gestures vaguely* You just gotta give them what they want.” “And what is that?” “Security. A promise of safety from an adult that they can trust.” She doesn’t quite get it but she watches him, and talks to his sidekicks sometimes. It amazes her how much kindness and love are hidden under that mask of his. When he smiles from the heart he could melt glaciers. So she starts to press, just a little, just to see how he’ll respond. And once she figures out exactly how flustered he can get, too, it’s all downhill from there.

Martian Manhunter: This one is literally one of the sweetest, most pure relationship dynamics I think I’ve ever written, which really caught me by surprise! The way I think of it is like this: When they first meet, Bruce is really, really uncomfortable with the idea of having J’onn in his head, so J’onn tries to keep telecommunication with him to a minimum. So when Bruce gets his attention during like a meeting or something and subtly lets him know he needs to talk, J’onn knows it must be important. So he opens up a private channel and helps Bruce deal with whatever it is (I don’t know exactly what that would be, only that it’d be some kind of sensitive topic best kept between the two of them). And over the course of that, all those one-on-one mind convos, Bruce starts to get used to talking like that with J’onn. In return, while they’re working together, he helps J’onn get used to human physical contact. It starts with small things- handshakes, little pats on the shoulder- until J’onn is comfortable returning them. One day J’onn has a bad day and it’s Bruce that comes to find him, to comfort him. He doesn’t really say anything, just puts his arms around J’onn and holds him close. Most humans- and hell, even most Martians- wouldn’t have done that for him. What else was J’onn supposed to do but fall in love with him?

I really liked the scene in JL8 where J’onn was trying to, like, share a memory with Bruce or something, and instead he ended up unintentionally stumbling into some of Bruce’s trauma memories, which freaked both of them out pretty badly. I think that little scene would fit quite nicely into this scenario. Bonus, if it happens in the really early days of the League, it doubles as the moment when J’onn first learns Bruce’s secret identity.

Flash: It’s been a longtime headcanon of mine that Barry is very active in the Central City community, not just as Flash, but as himself, too. Namely, he spends a good deal of his free time volunteering with the local homeless shelter slash food bank. I mean, come on, just by the very nature of his powers, is it any surprise that he has a vested interest in ending hunger in his community? One day he stops Bruce in the hall in the Watchtower, and clumsily explains that he needs to ask a favor. The shelter has been looking to expand their operations for some time, but right at the last second one of their backers pulled out. They’re short 7k for the payment on the property they needed to make tomorrow, and Barry didn’t know where else to turn to get that much money that quickly. He promises to pay him back, somehow, eventually. Bruce cuts him a check right there for 10k, and tells him to consider it a gift. Later he even publicly endorses the program on social media, saying he thinks Gotham should implement something similar. Barry invites him down to see the building he paid for, so Bruce rolls up his sleeves and spends the day volunteering with him. It’s a chance for both of them to see a side of the other that they’ve never seen before. Bruce watches Barry shine like a ray of sunshine, bringing light and laughter to a room full of people at their very lowest. Barry watches Bruce inspire trust and confidence in complete strangers, like magic. Not to mention, that smile- Barry tries not to use his powers out in the open if he can avoid it, but he discreetly flashes over to stop a tray or something from falling, and of course it doesn’t escape Bruce’s notice. He grins at Barry from across the room and Barry’s heart fully stops for a second.

I like to think of Bruce as a little older than Barry. Just a little, just a few years. Just enough that Barry always feels like an inexperienced, incompetent baby in the face of The Batman

This one throws the kids for such a loop once they find out about it. “THIS is what you’re attracted to, Bruce? THIS???”

Green Lantern: what I know about Hal is that he’s sassy. And what I know about Bruce is that if anyone he doesn’t have the ability to tell to go to their room is sassy with him, he gets snippy. So he and Hal butt heads a lot. One day Hal is venting to Superman in like, an elevator or something about how Bruce just Doesn’t Get It, Clark, He Doesn’t Understand Me, and Clark says, “well, Hal, can you honestly say that you understand him, either?” And suggests that maybe he should spend some more time actually getting to know Bruce before passing judgement. Hal takes that to mean ‘maybe I should go to Gotham and spy on Batman for a day’. When he spots him doing his best to hide inconspicuously on a nearby rooftop, Bruce rolls his eyes and ignores him. Dick spots him too, though, and invites him to the cave in hopes that maybe they’ll be able to settle whatever their argument was about (Jason, Tim, and Steph break out the popcorn and get themselves front row seats for the Drama). But in the end, an up-close perspective was exactly what Hal needed to realize that there was more to Batman than had been meeting his eye. He watches Bruce juggle ten different comm feeds while giving a press conference AND directing his kids’ efforts in the field at the same time, and he earns a new respect for Bruce. He gets where he’s coming from now, and why he’s always so cautious all the time. The guy has a lot to lose. So he mans up and apologizes. Bruce accepts the apology graciously, says he realizes that they’re fundamentally different people but that he values Hal as a comrade and respects his prowess with the ring, and Hal is like, ‘ah. We Are Friends Now.’ He spends more of his time on Earth with Bruce, and along the way he trips and falls headlong into a debilitating crush on him. Like, a visibly obvious crush. Bruce finds it adorable.

Green Arrow: Bruce and Ollie get invited to the same billionaire shindig one day and neither of them can think of a good enough reason to not go. Ollie’s recovering from a bad ankle sprain, and Bruce hasn’t slept in days, so instead of socializing with anyone else there they just sit in the corner and hang out with each other. Midway through the event Bruce closes his eyes and does this forceful little sigh through his nose. Ollie knows him well enough by now to know that small outward signs indicate big amounts of internal emotions with Bruce, and this is about as frustrated as he’s ever seen him out of mask. Normally his act is impenetrable. “What,” he asks, imagination running full speed ahead thinking about what might have happened, “what’s wrong?” “Firefly just broke out of prison,” Bruce growls, reaching for a refill of whatever he’s drinking. “Wh- Wait, who?” “Pyromaniac, serial arsonist in Gotham.” “How exactly did you learn this?” (read: do you have some kind of spider sense I don’t know about?) Bruce just gestures to his microscopic earpiece. Ollie offers, probably against his better judgement, to take a trip to Gotham and help catch Firefly. Bruce, barely able to see straight at that point (bad combination of sleeplessness and alcohol), accepts. So Ollie gets the full treatment, a trip to the cave and tea from Alfred and a haranguing from the kids and a trip to Blackgate with Firefly, even. In return he offers to have Bruce over in Star City sometime. Ollie is usually a little on edge around Bruce, but then he starts to see the real him and finds out that he does, in fact have a sense of humor. They have goofy adventures together and it’s all very cute

Aquaman: Arthur is hotheaded and when he gets in a Mood, the sight of Bruce and his stupid unmovable face just makes him angrier. But once during a mission, when Arthur is busy working himself into a panic, not knowing what to do, it’s Bruce that snaps him out of it. Grabs him by the shoulders and demands that he get a hold of himself. And it’s enough of a shock that it actually works- Bruce tells Arthur the plan, and Arthur does it without argument. No one is more surprised when it works than he is. He is SHOOK. Eventually he swallows his pride enough to go up to Batman and admit, “I think I’m still too emotionally invested in this, can you help me?” Bruce agrees, of course. He does his best to explain how he always keeps his emotions in check, especially when lives are on the line. It occurs to Arthur to wonder what kind of toll that takes on a person. He decides that Bruce could probably use a little vacation of sorts, and invites him to spend a day with him in Atlantis. A day in the life of a king, if you will. Bruce rolls his eyes and agrees, just to play along, but he ends up really enjoying it. Yes, there are a dozen-odd irons in the fire waiting for him when he gets home, but this time he finds that he actually has the energy to deal with them for once. Which is a good enough excuse to go back and do it again, and spend more time with Arthur in the process.

Dami is usually super resistant to Bruce dating anyone, but he would be ok with Arthur, I think. Like, “you bagged a king? Ok, respect”

Extra notes:

I feel like a lot of my thoughts about Clayface and Martian Manhunter specifically could also apply to Killer Croc, too, in a way. I mean, he’s not EVIL. He’s just never really been treated like a person, and so he embraced his image as Killer Croc instead of continuing to face that rejection. But if anyone can look past his exterior and see the needs of the man within, Bruce could. Feels a little weird to think about but maybe there’s something there.

Polyshipping is GREAT may I interest you in some ot3s??? SuperWonderBat is one of the more obvious ones, and I love it (cause Diana gets to play with TWO flustered boys) but BatLanternFlash is also top tier. And then there’s the villains! RiddleBatCat is one of my favorites! Also TwoRiddleBat and BruHarlIvy. The possibilities are endless!

I considered adding Lex and Slade to this post, but in the end I left them off. Cause it’s hard for me to see those as anything but weird, inherently unhealthy relationships. They’d make great black ships though : o

When talking about Bruce dating someone else from the JL, there’s DOUBLE the kids to embarrass. Can you imagine you’re like, Roy Harper or something, somebody’s sidekick, and you walk in and find BATMAN in bed with your mentor???? WILD

This post really got away from me, haha. Thanks for reading! Hit me up if you ever need someone to talk about Batshipping with (especially rarepairs, I got you fam)!

[mistylane059-blog]

Practice Challenge 2

((Heya! So figured out how to put it on Tumblr!! Thanks to @avalyn-cadly and @ladyaadamaier for the RP!! Sorry if there are any mistakes. Also, this is a long one (sorry Grace and Claire)))

I take my stance, knock my bronze arrow and aim. “It's time for me to buy new arrows. All of these are bent in one way or another.”

“They're fine, at least they don’t swerve like mine do,” Amber says knocking her arrow. I pull my hand back from the string letting the arrow fly. 10 pointer!“ I say lowering my bow. The report was playing in the back. I start to hear names and provinces being said by Harvey Steve. There is no way I'm going to be a selected, I think. There were at least 50 girls there when I turned in my application.

I knock another arrow onto my wooden bow and take aim still listening to the report in the background. “From Waverly, Miss Misty Lane!” Harvey Steve says on the TV. I accidentally fire and my arrow hits the wood below the target. I get startled by the sound of the arrow hitting the wood. I look up at the TV behind us. It shows my picture, a bad one in my opinion. “ I’M A SELECTED,” I say in pure shock (And maybe yelling a little too loud). All the heads turn. I can feel it. All the parents watching their kids, the people in my class shooting, and our coach, Aidan.

I turn to Amber who was shooting next to me. “Congrats ‘Lady Misty’” Amber says in a teasing way. “You know you could be Queen.” She says as we put our bows on the rack.

“Shut up Amber,” I say nudging her. But that thought hit me. “I could be queen”, and that thought scared me.

“Are your parents in the shop ?” Amber says.

“I believe so. Wait, do you think they're watching the report on the TV in the back?” “Probably, call your Mom or something,” she says. Since we live upstairs from the shop, it's easy getting in and out so our parents are probably there.

I dial my mom's number as Amber and I step outside. I hear the ring that I somewhat hated. She picked up.  “Mom, are you in the shop?”

“Yes.”

“Where exactly?”

“Whereby the counter with Amber’s parents.” I hear Dad say. I must be on speaker.  “Are you watching the report?”

“No, why?” Mom says.

“Are you recording it?” “Yes, but why.” “Go to the back and skip to the part where they announce the selected.”

“Why can't we watch it later?”

“Just watch it, ok.”

“Alright, Love you.”

“Love you too,” I say as I hang up.

My phone vibrates in my coat pocket a minute later. I look to see it Mom calling. “Can you put me on speaker so Amber can hear,” she says, so I put her on speaker “WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST TELL US THAT YOU WERE A SELECTED!” Mom yelled through the phone. For a second I thought I was in trouble. “I wanted you to find out on your own,” I say. Congrats Misty,” Mrs. Katie and Mr. Noah said. “Thanks,” I say back.

“So how did you find out you were a selected?” I hear Dad say on the phone. I give a nervous laugh. “Umm, well, the report was playing in the background and when I was aiming I heard Harvey Steve say my name. I accidentally fired my arrow into the wood below the targets. I don’t think my arrow is damaged but yeah,” I say and let out a big sigh. “Alright, we’re proud of you but we have to go close the shop. We will see both of you at home,” Mom says to me after my rant. “Alright, see you then!” I said then I hung up.

Amber and I head inside. It was cold out. 37 degrees Fahrenheit, which is cold. Once inside I grabbed my arrow from the floor. I headed back when I heard Simon say my name. God, I hated him. He was always so annoying during class. “Congrats on being a selected,” he said with a sheepish grin. I looked at him dead in the eye. “Thanks, and don’t go bragging that you know the selected girl from Waverly.”

“Fine,” He said with disappointment. I always knew how to crack him.

The class finally ended. It was time to go home. Out of Amber and I, I was the better driver, so I drove. The range wasn’t that far, only 15 ish minutes away. Those 15 minutes felt like forever. Once we arrived at home I grabbed a cup of water and was surprised with a hug from the waist down. I turn to look who that would be. “Yusuf! I didn’t see you there!” I turn around and pick him up. Yusuf was my 5-year-old cousin. “Wow, your getting big!”

“Mom says I’m becoming a big boy!”

“You definitely are! Have you seen anyone else?”

“Noo,” He said shaking his head. “I wanted to see you first!” I was dying of cuteness. What a perfect way to end this crazy day.

------

The next couple weeks were a blur. We had A LOT more customers come in once the province-newspaper mentioned that I was the daughter of Waverly’s Jewels owner and that I help make jewelry for them. Then we had the people from the palace come talk to us about the selection. That part was weird. Literally every time one of the people from the palace came to talk to me and my parents, I would be at my desk, with my left earbud in listening to the radio, making a ring, but I rolled with it. All the officials from the palace were really sweet.

After that, I started packing. “T- minus 3 days,” I say to myself in my bedroom. I pack enough to fit in my crossbody bag. I call it my ‘Mary Poppins bag’. It can fit just about anything. I put in my contacts and glasses (I'm severely nearsighted so I need contacts or glasses), my e-reader, earbuds, my phone, camera, and my travel jewelry making supplies. I also pack my travel ukulele in its case. It's nice because its called a ‘peanut ukulele’ because it's the shape of a peanut (that makes it small), but it's also quiet and there's a place to plug in an amp or headphones.

3 days later it's time for my send off. I hear my alarm go off. 7:15 AM it says once I turn it off. I get out of bed, rub my eyes and put on my glasses. I walk over to my closet. I put on our Selection Uniform that they provided when they came to measure me. We also had to wear our province flower. For me, that was a rose. I chose a yellowish-pink rose that they also provided me.  I also grab a pink jacket because it’s cold in Waverly now. Plus I can easily get cold. For jewelry I put on a crystal necklace that I wear just about every day; I also put on studded earrings and a simple bangle with a piece of amber encasing a tiny shell. The bracelet, of course, reminds me of Amber. I brush my teeth, wash my face and put on a little bit of mascara and lipstick, and finally brush my hair out.

I grab my crossbody bag and my peanut ukulele. By this time it was 8:25 AM. I take one last gander at my room. “I’m gonna miss this room,” I say to myself in the doorway. I turn off my lights and start to head to the kitchen. The kitchen was also in the ‘back’ of the store where the TV was.

On my way downstairs I knocked on Amber's door to see if she was there. Amber is an early bird so she’s usually out of bed by now. “Come in,” she says. I turn the doorknob and step inside. “Heya it me, are you ready to go downstairs?” She’s in her bathroom putting in an earring. She looks about ready. “Yeah, hold on.” I walk over to where she was and planted my arm on one of her shoulders. “Hey, don’t rub it in!”

“Who’s going to do it in when I’m gone!” She laughs. “Ok fine, I’ll let you do it this once.” I’ve always been on the taller side. I’m currently 5’7 ish and she’s 5’5.

We start to head downstairs. “I can’t believe you're going to be gone all the way on the west coast!”

“ I know! Hard to believe quite honestly. I’m going to miss all of y’all here at the shop.”

“I’ll make sure that our parents are watching the report every week.”

“Thanks,” I say grinning.

After 20 ish steps, we are in the kitchen. “Hi Mom, Hi Dad.”

“Good morning,” Amber says. Dads reading the newspaper and Mom’s making tea for herself. I’m a coffee gal and so is Amber, so I make some for each of us. I grind the coffee beans, put them into the French Press and pour the leftover hot water Mom made. I put ice in two cups, press all the coffee beans down and pour some for both of us. We both like ice coffee more than hot coffee, but in the winter we will have it warm.

“Big day,” Mom says finally. “Yup, do you know when they're going to pick me up to go to time square?”

“I think at 10.” It was 9:45. I put on my shoes, tan-suede boots with pink laces.

Amber and I finish our coffee so we go open the shop. Maybe for a while. I don't know to be honest how long I’ll stay in Angeles. But I think everyone thinks that. We turn on all the lights, including the lights inside of the showcases,” open the drapes, unlock the door and turn the sign over. By that time the car to pick me up arrives.

I give everyone a hug. I give Amber the biggest hug. “Now try not to die when I’m away,” I say to her looking straight into her eyes. “I won’t, don’t worry you have to call me every day though.” Our parents both have the hugest grins on their face. I think they think things like that are adorable. I give Amber one last hug as I say “I will.”

She decided to come with me in the car to my send off, even though it was literally 5 minutes away by walking. We arrived in Town Square where it looks like EVERYONE who lived in that part of Waverly came. I got out the car, and got on the stage they set up in the middle. There stood the Mayor. Below the stage were news reporters. I put on a smile and start to wave. “Please welcome, Our wonderful daughter of Illea, Lady Misty Lane!” The mayor said. I walked up the stairs to greet him in the middle.”Thank you to everyone who took time out of their day to come see my send off! I will be making sure I make Waverly proud!” I said projecting my voice. My send off was short because I needed to be at the airport at a certain time.

I give Amber one last hug before we go our separate ways. I was going to the airport and she was going to go get food then head back to the store. I was escorted by my driver Ben. I took a deep breath and glanced at Waverly for one last time (for a while I hope). I step into the car taking off my bags and placing them next to me.

“Ben,” I said once he was in the car. “What’s the drive time?”

“Hour and a half to two hours miss.”

“Ok, thank you,” I said and Ben smiled. I got out my phone and put on my headphones. I had a road trip playlist from a while back and lucky for me it was 2 hours long. I hit the first song, which was called ‘We Came to Party’. I pulled out my camera just in case there was a pretty shot. I ended up reading Carry On by Rainbow Rowell instead.

I got thro a good 30 chapters before I arrived at Labrador Airport. I was the first one there. “Lady Misty for your safety you will have to wait for the others inside,” Ben said. “Alright,” I say ad I am handed my bags. I look around. “Guess Waverly is closer than I thought,” I say as I give a small shrug. It wasn't too long till I saw another car pulls up. I turn to the sound of the doors opening. “That must be Avalyn,” I say as I recall the list of names and pictures we were provided. Then another girl follows her. “I think that Aada,” I say as the two girls approach me. “Hello, I'm Avalyn,” she says as she approaches me. “Hello, I'm Aada,” the other girl says. So I was right. I extended my hand to Avalyn first. “Hey, I'm Misty of Waverly.” I don't why I said ‘of Waverly’.

“Nice to meet you both,” Avalyn says as she shakes my hand back. I extended my hand toward Aada. She extends her hand to meet mine. “Nice to meet y’all,” I say.

“Nice to meet you too,” Aada says back.

I see a figure coming our way. “Who's that?” I say as Aada goes to sit in the corner. I join Aada in the corner with Avalyn following me. “I'm guessing that's Juliette,” Avalyn says as I sit down next to Aada. “I'm pretty sure you're right,” I say as Aada shifts to look out the window. Avalyn sits next to me. “Oh, sorry Aada.”

“It's fine, I just don't like flying.”

“It’ll be ok. The winds going across aren't that bad actually.”

“It's not as bad as it seems, trust me,” Avalyn said.

We tried to comfort her. “I’ve flown before,” Aada said. That made me feel a little weird.

“Have y’all been to Angeles?” I said. Avalyn nor Aada has been to Angeles, but Avalyn said that her brother had been there. I have been before for work. “How old is your brother?” Aada asked. “23, Misty do you have siblings?” Avalyn responded. “I have my unrelated sister Amber,” I said giving a small laugh. They both responded with an “Ah”. “I have a good friend like that,” Aada said.

“Is Juliette ok?” Aada adds. We all notice that she's sitting alone. I start to stand. “I'll go check,” I offer. “Hey, I'm Misty, do you want to sit with us?” I say gesturing to Avalyn and Aada as they give small waves. “No, I'm good. Thanks though.” Juliette said turning her head away from me. “Oh, Ok,” I say walking back. “Well, that didn't work,” I say sitting back down.

We finally see a palace officer. “I'm guessing its time to get on the plane,” Avalyn says. “Ladies, please come with me,” the officer says. “Oh thank god,” I say. He led us through a gated pathway surrounded by people. I put on a smile and waved. We finally make it to the plane. “Well this is it,” I say to Avalyn and Aada since Juliette didn't really want to talk. We all give one last smile before boarding.

I start to board. I look back to see the 3 other girls behind me still at the entry point. “Are yall coming?” I say. “Right behind you,” Avalyn says with Aada. I reach the plane and I'm greeted by a young woman. “Welcome Lady Misty,” she says. “Thank you,” I respond walking to the middle of the plane and sitting down. I take out my jewelry making supplies, camera, phone, and earbuds. I set all of this objects on the table and put my bags down. Avalyn takes a seat across from me pulling out a book. Aada also takes a seat. Juliette is somewhere in the back of the plane.

“Does anyone know how long the flight it?” Aada asks. “I’ll go check,” I say. I stand and walk over to the front of the plane. “Excuse me, how long is the flight?” I ask one of the flight attendants. “Little over 2 hours.” She said. “Ok, Thank you,” I say turning back to Avalyn and Aada.”2 ish hours,” I say sitting back down. “Only 2?” Aada asks. “Yup, Only 2 ish,” I respond.

I doze off a bit till I hear Aada say “I'm from the German Federation.”

“Really! I've only lived in Waverly!” I say giving a small laugh. We talk about Aada living in the German Federation for a good 5 minutes till our conversation dies down. I end up putting in an earbud to listen to music and start to make a bracelet. Whenever something big happens I make a bracelet commemorating it. I will probably be making a few during this journey.

-----------

When we arrived in Angeles, there was a lot of people there. I just smiled and waved. I saw a couple people who were cheering me on. I recognized a 2 who I make jewelry for. That was sweet of her for coming. We made our way to the cars to go to the palace. It was only little ways from the palace.

Once we got there we got our before pictures and started our makeovers in the women’s room. I sat in a chair that they set up. The stylist started to brush out my straight, black hair and complimented me on how well I treat it.  I think we shouldn’t do too much to your hair because it's a good length and looks very good.  Would you be ok if I put in red highlight? They would look like your normal hair inside, but it would have a reddish tint to your hair.”

“That sounds good. I actually really like that idea!”

They put my hair in segments wrapping them in tin foil. The stylist took a brush and dipped into the bowl full of dye. He started to paint the dye into my hair,

While the dye was drying I got my nails done. They were painted in a deep pink-magenta color. Once that was done my hair was just about ready. My stylist took me to a washing bowl to rinse out my hair. They wrapped my hair in a towel and took me back to my station.

They blow dried my hair and brushed it out. I could see a little bit of a red tint to my hair already. The stylist curled my hair and put into a simple half up, half down. After the hair and nails, another stylist came. I’m pretty sure the stylist was the makeup artist.

She didn’t do much. I told her that my skin was sensitive so she didn’t do much. She put on a little bit of foundation, eyeliner, mascara and magenta lip. Apparently, I suit magenta because I'm covered in it. I look at myself with all the makeup on. “Thank you,”I say to the stylist.

I'm taken to a rack of dresses. I pick out navy blue dress with lace on the top. Its knee length and suits this blazing weather.I put on gold heels that I can surprising walk in. I did do ice skating till I was 12. Maybe that's why. It weird to think I'll have dresses that are custom fit. The women helping me told me that this was day dress and my evening dresses were in my room. I pin on a silvery name tag onto my chest. It read ‘Lady Misty Lane’. “What a beautiful name you have.” the young women said.

“Thanks!” I said back.

I'm lead to another backdrop with a camera. “Smile,” the photographer said. I did as told. “You look beautiful Lady Misty,” the photographer said. “Thank you,” I say back with a polite smile.

I go to find my room. Grace Hall, room 32. I eventually found it. I step inside to see my things hung onto a chair. I immediately go over to the balcony. I open the door to be greeted by the ocean. I took a deep breath and was greeted by the sweet smell of the ocean. It was beautiful. The sound, the blue waters. “What a day it's been” I mumble to myself feeling the breeze. This is going to be one heck of an adventure.

Archery Terms:

Knock: placing an arrow on the string of a bow

Shoot/Fired: To release the arrow letting it fly

[writingwitharlo]

Speak Your Language Day

A/N: So I saw that it was speak your language day this week and this little idea popped into my head idk, i didn’t end up being what i wanted i to but here it is anyway @sour--strawberries hope i could make you proud cause lifegoals and stuff

Summary: It’s hard to differentiate between the good at the bad when you don’t understand a single word. (Steve, Natasha, Clint; ticklish!Steve, mention of ticklish!Clint)

2431 words

“Он похож на щенка. “ (He looks like a puppy.) Giggling. “Yeah, he does.” More giggling. Steve lowered his newspaper to glance at the two assassins across the room, leaning against the kitchen counter. Each of them was still dressed in their PJs with a fresh cup of coffee in their hands, their gazes fixed on their captain sitting at the dining table by himself. Mind you, they were trying to talk in hushed voices, and for all Steve knew, they were. However, his heightened hearing let him understand every word they muttered between each other. Well, I say understand... You see, unlike Clint, Steve did not understand Russian. He had picked up a few single words that Natasha has mumbled under her breath over a million times in the time they have known each other, and after asking for a translation finally caught on that they were merely insults. Clint didn't speak any Russian. But after living with Natasha for over a decade, it would have been a surprise if he didn't understand every single word coming out of his best friend's mouth.

“Morning, Captain.” Clint grinned, raising his cup at him. Steve rolled his eyes again and disappeared back behind his newspaper. “Теперь он дуется. ” (Now he's pouting.) Clint snorted into his cup.

It had been a slow morning at the Avengers Tower. Especially for Steve. Last night's meeting took a lot longer than anyone had expected. And a lot longer meant not being in bed before 1 am. However, Steve was awake again at 8, which was actually pretty late for an early bird like him. Usually, the captain went for a run once he was up, take a shower, have breakfast and then start his day. This morning he had decided to skip the first part and head straight for the shower. Once he was convinced that he wasn't going to become more awake than he was, he got dressed... back into the same pair of sweatpants he had slept with and a somewhat crumpled but otherwise clean t-shirt from the floor.

Now, two cups of coffee and some cereal later Steve was headed to the living room to catch up on the news and maybe get those irritating assassins out of his head. He slumped down on the couch with a tired groan and flicked through the channels until he found the news, his head rolling back against the backrest as he slipped down the couch a little. “And in other news, biologists have found a new type of plant that could hold the secret to curing cancer in children. Here's Harvey Davids with more details.” It wasn't necessarily an interesting news report but it was news.

He glanced away from the TV when Bruce walked past the living area. He had a phone clamped between his ear and shoulder and a focused frown on his face, creating the usual crease on his forehead. “Si yo entiendo. Hablaré con Tony y le devolveré la llamada tan pronto como pueda.” (Yeah, I understand. I'll talk to Tony about it and call you back as soon as I can.) His arms were filled with folders and papers which he probably just brought from the lab. Or he was heading to the lab. Either way, Steve thought, he looked busy. Bruce wasn't even aware of the captain's presence as he rushed past. After the news, Steve walked back to the kitchen to get himself another cup of coffee. To his surprise, Bruce was there with Tony, both on the phone with the folders Bruce had previously been carrying, now spread out on the dining room table in an uncoordinated mess. Although, for the two scientists there was probably some sort of order. Steve leaned against the kitchen counter as he waited for the coffee machine, folding his arms over his chest as he watched them, letting his thoughts wander a little. He tried to catch up with what they were talking about, out of curiosity, but it was a lot more difficult than usual. “Hemos probado las ecuaciones que nos envió, pero ninguna de ellas se suma. Tendremos que revisarlos de nuevo para asegurarnos. ” (We have tried the equations you sent us but none of them are adding up. We'll have to go over them again to make sure.) “Je ne sais pas pourquoi vous discutez avec moi. Je veux que ce projet soit terminé d'ici la fin de la semaine et que votre équipe le rend très difficile. ” (I don't know why you're arguing with me. I want this project finished by the end of the week and your team in making it very difficult.) “Tony, hand me those equations.” No chance. Steve was complete lost. They had to be talking about science stuff because they were both ecstatic but even when they were talking English Steve hardly ever knew what they were talking about. For all he knew they could be talking complete jibberish. He poured himself a cup of coffee and left them to their business.

The day progressed and things didn't speed up at all. After a walk through Central Park and a small lunch by himself, Steve decided to do some working out. He changed into his workout clothes before heading down to the gym. Once he pushed the door open he was greeted by aggressive Russian yelling. He set his duffle bag down by a bench and watched the two assassins spar on the mats in the middle of the room. Clint grunted as he was tackled down again quickly and it didn't take too long for him to tap out. The redhead stood up swiftly, grinning down at the blond who just groaned and let his head fall back against the matt. She looked over at Steve and gave him a quick wave which was returned by a short nod. After wrapping his knuckles up in tape tightly, the captain headed over to the punching bag. “Думаю, в его голове что-то есть. ” (I think there might be something on his mind.) “What makes you say that?” “Просто посмотри на него. ” (Just look at him.) Steve could feel the two pairs of eyes burning into the side of his head and it only added to the irritation of the day. The assassins had decided to take a break after few more rounds of basically Clint getting his ass kicked and were now resting on the mats, each sipping at their own bottles of water. Steve furrowed his brows as he continued punching the bag. He knew they were talking about him. If they had a problem with him why wouldn't they just say it to his face? Didn't they trust him or did they really just hate him that much? After a few more minutes of hushed, incoherent muttering in his ear, Steve couldn't take it anymore. He turned around and headed straight to the door, a frustrated frown on his face. “Done already?” Those were the first words the redhead had directed at Steve all day and made said Avenger stop dead in his tracks. He sighed, letting his head hang for a moment before turning to face them. “I'm not an idiot, you know? I'm aware that you're talking about me.” he let out, his voice quiet and defeated. The two assassins exchanged glances before looking back at their captain. “If you have a problem with me you can tell me, you know? I'm not going to rip your heads off or anything.” Natasha chuckled:. The image of him even trying, amused her. “But there's not fun in that.” Clint grinned, being his usual playful self. Natasha rolled her eyes and slapped him up the back of her, eliciting a surprised yelp from her partner. The redhead got up and walked over to Steve. “You've been looking very... introverted today. Like there's something on your mind. And I wasn't sure if you wanted to talk about it or not.” She told him honestly. The tall blond shook his head slowly as he thought about his behaviour all day. “No, just exhausted, I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, suddenly feeling very stupid for reacting so hot-headed. Clint also stood up, stretching his back with a groan. “Hey, Cap. How about me getting my ass kicked for the rest of the day, you give Nat here a real challenge?” Steve smiled softly. For him, the Widow had always just been Natasha. So seeing that she was actually 'Nat' in Clint's world was sort of endearing. The redhead grabbed his wrist before he could decline and dragged him into the center of the mats. “You wouldn't have gotten your ass beaten if you had actually tried, Barton.” She called over to the arched who had flopped down on the floor again to watch the two. He just stuck his tongue out at her, laughing when she threw her water bottle at him. “Don't go easy on me, Captain. Or I might actually break something of yours.”  Steve knew better than to laugh at the assassin's orders. She was a trained killer, meaning she could easily keep up with his height and build, maybe not quite with the serum but definitely with some of his strength. “Yes, ma'am.” he nodded, getting into a sparring position. Before he could even blink, he was already flat on the ground, face mushed into the matt. “I wasn't ready,” he mumbled, feeling slightly embarrassed about his quick defeat. Even Clint had lasted longer than that. “You know, that's what they all say.” Nat chuckled and released Steve, getting off his back and offering him a hand, which he gladly accepted. It didn't take any longer than two minutes until Steve was back on the ground. But this time he wasn't going to give up without a fight. Natasha had one of his arms locked behind his back while she put all her weight on her knee that was jammed into his back. “Oh come on, just tap out already.” She huffed, some strain in her voice from keeping Steve's arm in place. “Not this time,” Steve muttered before shifting his weight, managing to roll onto his back, throwing the redhead off balance and trapping her underneath him. He grinned and just stayed draped on top of her, hearing her grunt and squirm behind him. “Very funny, Steve. That isn't even fighting, that's just being fat.” she huffed, shoving at his shoulder, refusing to tap out. “It seems to be doing a pretty good job if you ask me.” he smirked, folding his arms behind his head. “Well, with all due respect, captain. But I didn't.” And without another word she spidered her slender fingers into his armpits, getting an immediate reaction. Steve yelled in surprise, his arms coming straight back down to his sides as he rolled off of her. Unlucky for him, Nat was already one step ahead and followed his every move, always staying glued to his back. “This isn't faahahaaaaair!” he screamed through his laughter, kicking out his legs to drum against the mats. “All is fair in love and war.” The assassin smirked, straddling his lower back. He fingers scribbled down his ribs and to his sides, the thin shirt giving Steve absolutely no protection. “Thihihis is neihihighthereheheher! Wahahahahait- Naaaaaahahahaha!” Natasha grinned, the screech as good as music to her ears. Her fingers had managed to wiggle underneath the squirming body and were now scratching at the sensitive skin on his lower stomach. She gave him enough room to roll onto his back, but never lifted her fingers off of him. Steve pushed at her wrists blindly, his head thrown back in ticklish agony. He didn't even notice the other assassin joining them, only as a pair of roughed hands started squeezing at his knees did he know that he was not getting out of this anytime soon. “Он хуже тебя. ” (He's worse than you.) “Not sure if I should be happy or offended by that,” Clint replied with a chuckle. “Guhuhuhuys! I'm stihihihill hehehehe-Ahhh!” Steve whined, jumping when Natasha's fingers found his hip bones. He cried out as he tried to curl up, almost kneeing Clint in the face. He rolled onto his side, pulling his legs up as far as he could with Natasha still straddling him. Although Steve had his arms folded over his stomach she still managed to find that one inch of skin that wasn't covered. His neck, his back, his thigh. Steve reached out eventually and tapped Natasha on the knee, tapping out of the fight. She stilled her finger immediately and climbed off of him, sitting next to Clint as she watched him closely, making sure she hadn't gone too far. The captain stayed in his fetal position for quite some time, his residual giggles eventually dying down to even breaths. “Good job, Nat. I think you killed our captain.” Clint muttered, nudging Steve's leg with his foot. The next thing Steve heard was a slap and the familiar mutter of “Идиот.” (Idiot.), making him chuckle softly. He rolled onto his other side to face them, his hair a mess and his face for the first time that day truly relaxed. “Now that I understood.” he grinned, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He rubbed at his side, not able to stop smiling as he shook his head. “We didn't go too far, did we?” Natasha asked, a smile playing on her lips. “No, no. I definitely needed that.” he chuckled, looking at her reassuringly. “But how did you even know?” That Steve Rogers was ticklish wasn't really a well-guarded secret, but nobody ever bothered to find out. Not that he had expected any of them to. After all, they were still getting used to living in the same building and figuring each other out. But this had definitely taken him by surprise. The redhead shrugged and stood up slowly. “I'm an assassin, Steve. I know everything,” she smirked. Clint also stood up. “Yeah, but you told her in your sleep.” he chuckled. “Oh...wait, what?” Before he had even processed what he had said both of the assassins had sprinted out of the room, leaving a trail of excited laughter behind. Things at the tower would definitely become a lot more personal from now on.

[doublesidedcoin]

So, You’re Being Stalked by the Church of Scientology

After three years of Googling whether or not I might be getting stalked by the Church of Scientology, I am pretty sure I might be getting stalked by the Church of Scientology. 

If you or a friend thinks the Church is stalking you, these links and unsolicited commentary may help. They were passed to me by others, and with as much care as I can manage, I now lovingly pass them on to you. As with all forms of abuse, validation that you are not crazy or imagining things can be a lifeline. 

This material can be triggering so take care of yourself and read what helps you when it helps you. May this blog post lead you to further, better resources.

1.) “The Golden Suicides” 

Vanity Fair Magazine, Nancy Jo Sales, December 11 2007, 12:00AM https://www.vanityfair.com/news/2008/01/suicides200801

This article illustrates the true capacity for doubt and discrediting to which anyone who claims they are being stalked by the Church is subject. I took special note of the fact that some sources claim this couple offered to help Beck leave Scientology. That right there may have been enough to put them on the Church’s drone strike list.

Yes, stalking and abuse can make someone lose touch with reality and act in odd ways, but always go from the basis that their behavior and reactions are grounded in a perceived reality.

Scientology spies sometimes pose as fake Scientology victims, while real Scientology victims, as with all cult victims, run the risk of re-joining the Church and ratting out the people who tried to help them. 

2.) The Aftermath Foundation http://theaftermathfoundation.org

The Aftermath Foundation is currently the only official organization committed to helping people leave Scientology. Assuming you’re not a spy, many thanks for an interest in helping. It's also good to know you put yourself at risk and might be getting stalked by the Church now too.

Getting stalked can drive anyone crazy, even if you aren’t dealing with cult recovery. Scientology may even send spies who test someone's willingness to speak against Scientology, and then sabotage that person if they fail. 

I’m not saying Jeremy Piven’s food poisoning at that Sushi restaurant when he was on Broadway with Elisabeth Moss was anything but coincidence. I’m just saying that hiring a food taster when collaborating with Scientology celebrities, whose handlers are always near, might not be a frivolous cost.

If you don’t want to be Jeremy Piven’s professional food taster, but still want to do something:

http://theaftermathfoundation.org/volunteers/how-you-can-help/

If you even place one card on the bulletin board at your daily coffee jaunt and make sure it’s always there, you’re making a huge contribution. I bought my ~$9 cardstock at STAPLES and am going to place some myself, once I’m less busy with writing about Scientology, getting stalked by Scientology, and writing about getting stalked by Scientology. I also don’t want Scientology spies harvesting my DNA samples from the cards and planting them on forged threats to the Pentagon. Speaking of which

3.) ”The Unbreakable Miss Lovely", Tony Ortega, Paperback Available on Amazon 

Paulette Cooper is an adopted holocaust survivor who recognized the importance of monitoring authoritarian movements and became one of the first major Scientology whistleblowers. She was ruthlessly subjected to Church sponsored espionage. 

People were hired to live with her, date her, sort through her garbage, and even use suggestion tactics in the attempt to drive her to suicide. She was never a Scientologist, just a highly intelligent writer who became successful very early in her career, and even she was almost destroyed by the stalking. Nevertheless she is alive today. 

If the Church’s tactics were this obsessive in the 1970’s, imagine how they’ve evolved since. Sometimes I wonder if Scientology hasn’t developed a smartphone app able to monitor and sabotage it’s targets via GPS and hacked accounts in videogame-like format.

(For more on Paulette Cooper see Wikipedia: Operation Freakout)

4.) “Harvey Weinstein's Army of Spies” New Yorker Magazine, Ronan Farrow, November 6th 2017 https://www.newyorker.com/news/news-desk/harvey-weinsteins-army-of-spies New Yorker Magazine

This article draws attention to contract stalking and spying that anyone with enough money can hire against victims, whistleblowers, journalists, writers and other PR disasters.  It’s an illuminating read for anyone being stalked by Scientology and other shady organizations/individuals (corporations are people too) who keep a hefty budget, tax-deductible or otherwise, for spying purposes.

Scientology stalking targets should be aware that not all church spies are in-house, but contracted. They are not subject to the religious doctrine, only the paycheck.

Some other organizations whose members have been spied on include Anonymous, The Black Panthers, and even the Church of Scientology itself. Save that clickhole for another time, at your own discretion.

Spying is a business just like any other, so let’s all please try to be professional.

5.) Guided Meditation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T_nRslK0Nn0 

Like Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible, you may be prone to unprecedented stress levels due to your involvement in the world of espionage. 

Anyone getting stalked by Scientology in real time probably doesn’t have a lot of bandwidth--which is pretty much the goal of any stalker. Don’t let this crash your mental hard drive so that you implode or react and accuse all your friends of being spies. Even if they are (they totally could be) you will just be giving the spies license to hurt your credibility, or putting off people who care about and want to help you for real. 

Read these articles for validation and to share with your therapist, or trusted authorities, activist organizations, lawyers, or law enforcement down the line. Let these articles help inform the process of navigating weird interactions or signs you’ve been hacked. Don’t spend eight hours every night ruminating over these articles, and certainly try to make friends other than people like me who write blog posts like this. Intellectual diversity is healthy and counter-fascist, I feel. 

If possible, do the best to be immediately safe, calm, housed, employed, and well fed. Socialize, go to work, exercise every day to blow off the rage of being hacked.

Don’t lock yourself in your bedroom and start setting makeshift booby traps for your roommates-who-might-be-spies. That’s how that dude who went to Harvard became the uni-bomber. If you decide to become a spy, do it through a credible agency. 

A conspiracy theory can be a quick way for the mind to cope with an absurd reality. Moreso if you have actually been subjected to internalizing Scientology’s closed system of indoctrination, as your mind seeks to regain Scientology Doctrine’s perfectly computable sense of control, even at the price of cognitive dissonance. 

I’m not saying you are wrong to claim that all of your friends and family are spying on you in exchange for career promotion from the Church, or the Government, or the Government posing as the Church. 

I’m just saying that when you stand on the White House lawn with a mega phone ready to non-violently present your bag of evidence to the President of the United States, I want you to be your best self. 

Careful! This post could be written by a Scientology spy logging the IP address and identity of every single person who visits this page. 

By the way, here’s the real story of Jeremy Piven’s food poisoning: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9kfJpWrXyCk

See how easy it was for me to go for the joke and conspiracy theory? Be your own best devil’s advocate.

Further Reference:

"Why I left Scientology" by Carmen Llewelyn, Gawker Online, June 23, 2015 10:10AM

I reference this article as a Scientology spying resource simply because towards the end it mentions that the target’s phone was hacked and turned into a 24-hour surveillance device. Validation. This, like many Scientology spying stories, comes from someone with a career that afforded them existing visibility and resources, but general finding and consensus is that Scientology does this equally to people who not only don’t get to tell their story, but never even know they’re being spied on or sabotaged.  

"Recovery from Cults” by Michael D. Langone (Editor), Paperback I would say this book is so smart, I see it as not just of use to cult survivors and their loved ones, but as an aid to understanding toxic social influence. It also has a great index targeting specific topics if you don’t read it straight through. It is built around case studies that identify traits and symptoms shared by cults and cult members. Among many things, I like that cult survivors might benefit from being able to recognize cult patterns so that they can begin to see their experience take shape, and so that they do not attribute their traumatic experience to a unique flaw in themselves, and see what powerful social influences and repeat offenders cultic formation has been in our society. Or whatever keeps you sane while being stalked by the Church. 

[aromatickindling-blog]

Hmm, I’ll sort this out into the Stardew Valley Farmer as villager prompt with visuals and less words one day...

Green

Appearance:

    Green's an average sized young woman with minty hair tied up into a messy ponytail, part of her side swept bangs awning her sharp aquamarine eyes. If you're observant, you can see slight bags under eyes, covered with foundation powder to avoid questions from people. Her wardrobe's quite functional, filled with different boots for all occasions, thick working gloves, shade hats, winter fur caps, and cargo pants in different neutral colors, working well with her cotton button jackets. Her favorite happens to be the dark green formal jacket with a popped collar. The equipment she carries on her hip belt is well-taken care of, polished to the nines before being covered in all sorts of filth. She does have a strong liking for long scarves, goggles, and small, subtle hair pins, though.

    For some reason, her freckles tend to appear in curves and triangles; she has one that looks similar to Orion's Belt that she brings up as a conversation piece if she has to do small talk. Of course, she does take pains to cover up the scars she's gotten from her spelunking adventures in the mines and the Skull Dungeon. A Serpent pack left a particularly nasty one stretching down her left calf to her ankle. She prays to Yoba no one notices.

Summary:

    An ambivert erring on the side of introverted behavior, Green's the one of the twin grandchildren of Stardew Valley's previous farmer, come to take over Smaug farm. Thanks to years of neglect and her grandfather's 'brilliant' idea of staking land in a wilderness full of monsters, she's got her work cut out for her. Worse yet, with the Gotoran-Ferngill Republic conflict in full swing, she's especially reluctant to open up to anyone in the Valley. However, with the Adventurer's Guild and the Museum in town, she'll be able to settle in. Yet if anyone bothers getting to know her well enough, they might detect a hint of loneliness in her eyes.

At her Grandfather's grave, Green has planted an orange tree and told him:

    "If I can't see myself becoming part of the community here, Grandpa, I'll at least keep my part of the deal. I'll make sure the farm is up and running smoothly by the end of the second year. If the war continues...if Sage isn't back home here at that time, and I'm still unable to find someone I can trust here...I'll come after him. I'm sorry Grandpa, but I hope you can understand me on this. Mayor Lewis can take over the farm; it'll be a great source of revenue for Pelican Town...they'll need it more than I do. But thank you...for giving me an out from my former job. It was suffocating."

...For some reason, every Friday and Sunday Green never fails to greet the traveling cart merchant. Apparently, the two exchange letters; strangely, the writing doesn't match the merchant's personal chicken-scratch. After the bus has been repaired, you might even catch a glimpse of her with a strange bodyguard speaking about a "Mr. Qi." Who is this Mr. Qi, anyway?

Love: coffee, hazelnuts, goat cheese, poppy, fairy rose, dinosaur egg, all fossils and bone artifacts, duck feather, thunder egg, all soups, bone flute, mead

Likes: all flowers, all fruit, dried starfish, ornamental fan, ancient sword, fiddlehead fern, all dwarf scrolls, iron bar, copper bar, maple bar, lava eel, void salmon, honey, garlic, hot pepper, cloth, arrowhead, wine

 Dislikes: truffles, truffle oil (don't ask), super cucumber (once again, don't ask), beer, pale ale, morel mushroom (she's reminded of that one frog with all the holes in its back. And bot flies, the spawn of the underworld)

Hated: wicked statue, skull brazier, elvish jewelry, prehistoric hand axe, golden mask, Robin's axe

Personality:

    Green's the quiet observer of the twins, almost akin to a shade behind her brother's bombastic front. She's not the type to normally initiate conversation either, so only when she is required to, when she wants to give advice, or when she needs information will she, reluctantly, start one with a person. She's very polite about it too. But, you may have found her committing a social faux pas during the first year when she climbed on everyone's houses for a bird feather or little critter. Mayor Lewis chewed her out harshly for it. From then on out, it was only natural cliffs, rock faces, and trees she would climb onto, if not her own farm buildings.

    She is often found doing work on the farm, at the museum with Gunther, or training with Marlon at the Adventurer's Guild during the day, almost always with a cup of coffee and the occasional maple bar. Once Smaug farm is up and running, she does build a small training arena in front of the greenhouse. Don't ask why. When evening arrives, she disappears into the mountains and doesn't return home until 1:00 am in the morning. Some days may involve her leaving for Calico Desert early in the morning until 1:00 am. Shane often swears he would see blood leaking out of her when she was returning home at night. No one believes him thanks to how well Green dresses her wounds. This can only last so long with how she's burning the candle on both ends. On the weekends, no one is capable of tracking her down while she's out on her foraging hikes, much to her relief. Even better is during those evenings when everyone is at Gus's Saloon, when she can sneak into the Community Center to repair it with the Junimos before going home to refine sketches, put away gathered inventory, and generally wind down for the night with a tune from her harp, a nice hot soak, and a quick gaming session. Only on Sundays does she dare oversleep to offset the lack of it during the weekdays.

      Once more comfortable with people, she becomes more straightforward with her answers, although any questions regarding her family or her spelunking episodes are deflected or redirected to another topic. Outgoing villagers are more likely to get to this point. Snarky jokes will be made about the topic at hand, light teasing may occur if she is addressed directly, and, if it pops into her head, a few puns. Don't ask about her hikes or finds, she will become quite detailed with the scientific basis for everything she came across.

    Yoba help her if any of the single townsfolk become interested in her. Poor Green won't know what to do with herself, all her secrets might be spilled into the public square with that kind of relationship. What should she do now, how much of her activities should she cut back to spend time with them, what will they think of her once they find out what she's been trying to hide from the villagers, will their relatives approve of her, how long before they find out about her hiding her wounds from plain sight, do they like mint breath or coffee breath, are they allergic to poppies and fairy roses, will they mind her fossil collection, should she pick up cooking again, video game nights or movie nights, are they up for hiking, are they not okay with PDA, do they like cuddling, will they not mind her wrapping her arms around them as a greeting, do they like nuzzles, nape kisses, why her, and why are they even interested at all?! THESE ARE ALL IMPORTANT QUESTIONS...at least in her mind, they are. This is why she comes off as aloof, not only as a deterrent for anyone interested, but also as a result of her trying to strangle any feelings of affection that might develop for anyone else. Also, Yoba help the poor sap that does start to develop a crush on her; her lack of self-care and time during the weekdays is sure to wear on them.

    But, she is more than willing to make adjustments for them should they accept her, all of her. Green's probably going to ask them to come out to the beach at night near the solitary rock to spill her heritage as a half-Gotoran, half-Fergillan to them, mental escape routes calculating in her head but another part of her pleading this will be okay and she's just paranoid. From there, if accepted, she will tell about her brother and her parents, how Sage left for the army after a nasty spat with her regarding the Gotoran conflict, how her Gotoran Father died for helping the Ferngillan side, and how her Ferngillan Mother's MIA, probably in an underground resistance movement against the Gotoran government. She's only had her brother as a social crutch before he left, and it's the main reason why she bottled herself up. Why bother with people if all they're going to do is break your heart once you're close with them? But, she'll admit she was wrong, and then apologize for unloading all of this onto to them, and for not trusting them as much before. From there, she'll become more and more honest to them about her activities.

    The letters she was swapping with the merchant happened to be correspondences with her brother, usually curt and to the point. She makes it a priority to leave out any bitterness from his leaving her since he's in danger and needs all the help he can get. As for Mr. Qi...money is great and so is spelunking. That's all I'm going to say, other than it's a dangerous profession that has left her with a number of gashes...all of which she's refused to go to Harvey's for, much to her partner's dismay. As for the music drifting near the railroad tracks at night, it was her playing a couple tunes her father taught her on her mini-harp. She might even offer to serenade them from time to time.

    Despite her insecurities about herself, Green's quite the affectionate lover, offering sweet words in their ear, leaving small gifts for them after she visits their house, engaging in conversations more often with them, and giving out subtle public displays of affection, whether it be the joining of their hands, brushing their shoulders clean, a lingering look, or a soft caress on the back of their hand if they're slightly agitated. It's still quite confusing to her what to do and she'll hesitate early on about it, but she'll slowly ease into it...and wonder how the hell did this happen??? Then not care and nestle in close to them at night after pressing a kiss to their neck. Grandpa works wonders in keeping his grandchild in Stardew Valley. What a magnificent bastard he is.

Inventory:

·         Mini-harp

(You can hear the notes of a melody off near the mountaintops during the night, drifting down onto the railroad tracks...)

·         Obsidian knife

(A memento of her brother, before he left for Gotoro. Held closely to the hip, sometimes the chest whenever she thinks of him. It's as though the essence of the sea has imprinted onto this knife.)

·         Lava katana

(Can't go wrong with cauterizing deliberate wounds on monsters. Makes it less messy! Smells horrific...)

·         Herb satchel

(Most remedies have plant-based compounds to thank for their use. After trips to the mines or the Skull Dungeon, its strangely lighter. Smells strongly of mint.)

·         Pack

(Contains most essentials, from food to water to tools and, of course, a loaded first-aid kit. Got to be prepared for all sorts of insanity the spirits bring about when they're angry. For some reason, the pack smells of pine needles.)

·         Sketchbook

(Contains all sorts of colored sketches of landscapes, plants, monsters, rocks, animals, and even pressed flowers...wait...some of the villagers are sketched in here too? Has a light floral scent.)

[erickmalpicaflores]

Erik Malpica Flores Erik Malpica Flores recommends: How (Not) To Support Your Family

Photo by: USA Network

If SUITS has had one consistent theme throughout its eight seasons, it’s been that of Insert Firm Name Here as a family unit. In “Stalking Horse,” one of the so-called family’s longtime members (in)conveniently forgot what it meant to have faith in the guy who has always come through for her, regardless of how many times it meant risking his own neck. On the opposite side of the spectrum, the newest addition to the family was willing to go the extra mile to make sure one of her own would never have to live in fear again.

How not to be an “empowered woman.” At this point, there’s probably not much that can be said to make sense of Donna Paulsen’s arc in SUITS’ eighth season. In fact, ever since viewers asked for more background for the character, the writing has become inconsistent to the point of madness, turning Donna into a parody of all the things that made folks fall in love with her in the first place. Donna used to be wise; now, she offers up relationship advice while being completely incapable of anything resembling intelligence in her own. She used to care about her family; now, she puts men she’s been on a few dates with ahead of the very same people who would rather die than see her in danger.

And, once upon a time, she was a woman of her word. But now, it seems, she’s perfectly fine with making promises she doesn’t intend to keep.

When Harvey Specter’s client, Simon Lowe, expressed interest in having Donna’s instant “great love,” Thomas Kessler, as an anchor for his 20 new malls, Harvey immediately saw the conflict of interest. Through Alex Williams, the firm had already negotiated a solid deal for Kessler; and representing both sides of this kind of litigation was a terrible idea.

Further complicating the issue was, of course, Donna’s morning announcement that she was seeing Thomas. But clearly, that stunted conversation was just about letting a name partner at Insert Firm Name Here know that the COO was involved with a client and not, you know, Donna playing some sort of game with the feelings that she and Harvey totally don’t have for each other.

Since Lowe was offering better terms, though, Harvey was able to get Alex and Thomas on board; so, seemed like everything was going to work out, conflict of interest or not. Two lawyers, two clients, a handshake, done deal. Right? Wrong.

It turned out that Simon was just using Thomas as a stalking horse to woo Restoration, and that whole rookie mistake of “oh, we don’t need contracts. Let’s just shake hands” (or whatever the line was) came back to bite everyone — especially Harvey. His skeevy client threatened him with retaliation if he shared the privileged information of his screwjob with anyone. Which, of course, Harvey did: first with Alex and, later, with Donna.

…can we not with the “I want to take my boyfriend of five minutes out to celebrate his new deal, so I’m demanding you give me privileged information,” though? No? Ok. Thought I’d ask.

Once she learned what she had demanded to know, Donna berated Harvey for putting her in a “shitty position,” to which he had an actually accurate assessment of the situation as a comeback: “No, Donna. Simon put us all in a shitty position. I’m busting my ass to get us out of this. I just need you to trust me.” Donna said she’d trust Harvey, but as soon as she’d had a few sips of wine and listened to Thomas boast about business on a date — so much for the whole separating work and pleasure idea, yet again — she ran out of that trust.

One secret phone call, a promise to have faith, and cuddle time with Mr. Right Now later, and Donna forgot about said promise. She told Thomas everything, and the diarrhea hit the fan. Big time. Forget the fact that Harvey had sabotaged Simon’s deal with Restoration, and he had Alex work on a better deal for Thomas from his original landlord. Thomas felt the need to throw his weight around via a press release, and Simon found out.

Lowe confronted Harvey and Alex, fired Mr. Best Closer In The City, and — here’s the fun part! — enlisted Daniel Hardman to sue the firm on his behalf. But everything’s fine here because Donna’s now looking out for herself and, like, totally has it all now. If “it all” means breaking the trust (and the heart) of someone who has repeatedly put everything on the line for her, that is.

But I’ll let Harvey close us out here on this one because, quite frankly, the writers had him say everything remotely important on the matter: “Then, don’t feel bad about it Donna. Get out of my office.” Wait. That’s not it. “Because you didn’t give me a chance to fix it when you said you would. You lost faith in me! For all of the time that we have been together, that has never happened.”

And there you have it. But sure, Donna, it was just that Harvey was jealous because you chose Thomas over him — unlike, you know, how he chose you keeping the job you “love” over his own relationship.

And now, the hero of SUITS season 8, Samantha Wheeler. While Harvey was busy being victimized by someone who used to care about him, Sam proved herself a worthy new member of the “What’s This Firm’s Name This Week?” family by helping Louis move past his mugging.

Louis and Sheila were shopping for expensive baby stuff for their rich friends to buy them as gifts, when Louis received a mood-killing phone call. There was finally a lead on the guy who had stolen his wallet back in the (now-forgotten, as far as most of the plot goes) first half of SUITS season 8. All Louis had to do was identify the mugger in a lineup — or so he thought. After making a positive identification, Louis learned that he would be called upon to testify against the suspect in court.

Not really sure why this was surprising to a lawyer but ok.

Because he’d had such a difficult time looking at his attacker through two-way glass, Louis couldn’t deal with even the thought of having to face the guy in a courtroom. Off he went to get Sam to validate his feelings on the matter…only to be told that avoiding court was completely out of the question. She did, however, promise Louis that she’d be with him “every step of the way,” if only he’d trust her.

Unlike certain other folks, everyone was honest here. Sam did stay by Louis’ side, right up until the very end, and Louis trusted her to do so. Because family sticks together. (Usually.)

The road to Louis’ freedom from fear wasn’t exactly smooth. The first bump in the road came when, during trial preparation, Louis couldn’t share his feelings. In an emotionally-charged scene, he finally broke down when pushed; and Louis’ mock testimony transferred seamlessly to the real, in-court version. But the case was thrown out, regardless of how gut-wrenching Louis’ courtroom confession was, because the defense was able to prove that the incriminating evidence was obtained via an illegal search.

Although it should have been, all hope was not lost. Because Samantha Wheeler doesn’t give up on the people she cares about, she came to Louis with an offer of a way to make sure that the trial wasn’t the end of this story. Initially, Louis just wanted to drop everything because he was so afraid that the mugger would want revenge; but after a particularly vivid nightmare, he decided he wanted in on Samantha’s plan to plant new evidence, after all.

Robert showed up at just the right time to talk Sam out of getting herself into trouble, though, so she found another way: slightly-less-illegal blackmail. Once again, Louis was hesitant — this plan meant potentially forcing a child out of her home — but when Sam reminded Louis that his own family’s safety was on the line, he was back in. Off SUITS’ newest Batman and Robin (Sam is clearly Batman here) went to save the day. Louis stood up to his attacker, and Sam pinned the guy down long enough to force him to turn himself in.

Robert knew something less-than-legitimate went down and, yet again, he confronted Samantha about her willingness to do the wrong thing for the right reasons. For her part, Sam was just happy that Louis was now safe and couldn’t figure out why Robert saw that as a bad thing. Robert’s answer? He was afraid it would become a bad thing for Sam.

To be continued, I suppose. Something tells me that, regardless of his reservations with regards to how she handled her business, Robert will be there to back Sam up if and when she needs his help, though. Because, you know, family.

Thoughts and prayers.

Can’t believe someone finally wrote a scene with Donna’s mom for…this.

Farewell, Craig from Degrassi. Please let us know what it feels like to be a ghost when you get a chance.

I know SUITS is all about baiting viewers with too-real dreams that never come true, but I was honestly afraid for Louis’ life during his nightmare. Oops.

“You got me over here at eight, and I don’t even like to be up at eight, so…” Harvey is me, and I am Harvey.

No, really. I, too, would die for Donna, even though I don’t know who the hell she is right now and have been victimized by her idiotic behavior. I am absolutely Harvey.

“This thing isn’t over. I just need you to have faith.” Harvey, honey, I have so much faith in you. Your creator and your whatever-she-is, on the other hand…

“That’s one of the things that I admire about you: You’re a man of your world.” Are we even sure about that?

“You don’t know because you’ve never had to let someone see what he did to you — how he made you helpless and scared, like a child.” If anyone wants to know why women rarely come forward about sexual assault, here’s reason #298739, straight from a man’s mouth and about a completely different type of crime.

Is Thomas Kessler the dumbest guy ever or what? Donna was drinking wine, perfectly fine, and then suddenly needed a ginger ale. And he questioned nothing. Strong relationship!

Harvey instantly fell in love with Donna’s coffee recipe; Thomas took a while to warm up to it. That is all.

“Then, you don’t know anything. Because the only reason I was breaking my back to save this deal is because I know how much he means to you. If it was anyone else, I never would’ve told you or Alex in the first place.” I just want to hold him. The great irony here is that, while Scottie told Donna that she hoped Harvey would one day see “what everyone else sees,” it’s Donna who’s blind right now.

“Trust me. No one understands sacrificing for their family more than me. I’m proud of you.” Coming from Louis Litt, I actually believe this line. If certain other characters had delivered it, though…

“If you don’t put him away, he will haunt you for the rest of your life. You are doing this so you won’t ever have to be afraid again, so do not be afraid of your emotions now.” Heigl’s delivery here was about as perfect as you could get. If anyone, or anything, is the saving grace of SUITS’ eighth season, it’s her.

The SUITS season finale airs on Wednesday, February 27, at 10/9c on USA.

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[little-miss-carol-stott]

Doctor Who/Phillip K. Dick Adaptation Part 1: Make The Moon My Home

So a few months ago I decided to start adapting Philip K. Dick’s Ubik, but as a Doctor Who episode, and then expanding from there. I hope to make about ten parts altogether, but I’ll see how it goes. I am about a quarter of the way through part 2, so that should be up in a few weeks to a few months, depending on school and work, etc. Enjoy.

NOTE: Desk with an upper-case 'D' is the device, and     desk with a lower-case 'd' is the usual meaning of the     word.

EXT. - RIVER SONG'S HOUSE; GARDEN

River and the Doctor are sitting outside in a small suburban garden on a sunny day. It is covered with a variety of plants, along with a small table and chairs. Both the Doctor and River are smoking cigarettes. The Doctor is also drinking a cup of coffee, River a glass of red wine. There is also a small bowl of potato chips and a plate with a sliced cake on it on the table.

                     RIVER          Thin air?

                     DOCTOR          Yup.

                     RIVER          A corpse? Just like that? Gone?

                     DOCTOR          Yup.

                     RIVER          Fuck off!

                     DOCTOR          If it's of any consolation, I am          just as confused as you are.

                     RIVER          So tell me the story. What          happened?

                     DOCTOR          I already told you.

                     RIVER          From the very beginning. Context          and all.

INT. - TARDIS

                     DOCTOR                (VO)          Well, I was in my TARDIS, and I got          a strange reading.

Something starts bleeping on the console. The Doctor goes over to the source of the noise and looks at it, confused.

                     DOCTOR                (VO)          And so I followed it.

EXT. - RIVER SONG'S HOUSE; GARDEN

                     RIVER          Very you. No surprises there.          Curiosity killed the cat, as they          say. Anyway, continue.

EXT. - SCUNTHORPE; TERRACES

The TARDIS materializes and the Doctor steps out. She looks rather bemused, but wanders off.

                     DOCTOR                (VO)          Anyway, I tracked it to this county          fair in Scunthorpe in the early          twenty-first century.          Twenty-thirty, I'd say.

EXT. - SCUNTHORPE; COUNTY FAIR

A field with a number of stalls, with people buying various items from it. The Doctor goes up to one selling various cakes and the like, and has a realisation.

                     DOCTOR                (VO)(Cont'd)          And I saw this stall with cakes and          brownies and shit, and went up to          it. Noticed a microwave. And I've          just gotten a new console, so I          just put it up to that.

We see the Doctor buying a few brownies and a slice of cake, and chatting to the saleswoman.

                     DOCTOR                (VO)(Cont'd)          Plus, microwaves fuck with my          sonic.

EXT. - RIVER SONG'S HOUSE; GARDEN

                     RIVER          So what has this got to do with the          dead body?

                     DOCTOR          Well, the level of the alert in the          TARDIS did seem a bit high for just          a microwave.

EXT. - SCUNTHORPE; HIGH STREET

We see the Doctor walking around the middle of Scunthorpe, scanning the odd building.

                     DOCTOR                (VO)(Cont'd)          So I decided to have a little nosey          around, but found nothing too          special.

EXT. - SCUNTHORPE; GARAGES

A small back street, with closed garages either side. We see the Doctor gleefully walking down the street, eating a slice of cake.

                     DOCTOR                (VO)(Cont'd)          But then, as I was walking through          some garages back to my TARDIS, I          smelled something off.

She wrinkles her forehead in confusion, looks up, and sniffs.

                     DOCTOR                (VO)(Cont'd)          Like rotting meat.

She walks further down the street, eventually covering her mouth from the smell.

                     DOCTOR                (VO)(Cont'd)          And I got to this one that smelled          so bad I just had to open it.

She sonics a garage door and lifts it.

EXT. - RIVER SONG'S HOUSE; GARDEN

                     RIVER          And you found this vanishing dead          body? Are you sure it was a body? A          human body?

                     DOCTOR          All I got was where it teleported          off to. Whatever it was--

INT. - SCUNTHORPE; GARAGE

We see the Doctor slowly walking towards the body, with her hand over her mouth.

                     DOCTOR                (VO)(Cont'd)          It was certainly off.

The body is shrouded in smoke, and then disappears in a flash of light.

Opening credits.

INT. - LONDON; LECTURE HALL

Commodore Travers (Harvey Keitel?) is standing on a clear podium in a futuristic lecture hall, facing a large, seated audience.

                     TRAVERS          Friends, this is clean-up time and          we're discounting all out silent,          electric Ubiks by this much money.

Travers points to a screen, and a slide comes up, with several facts and figures.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)          Yes, we're throwing away the          bluebook. And remember; every Ubik          on our lot has been used only as          directed.

We turn to see The Master in a large tank, with a metal cap on her head, floating. Applause.

INT. - MOONBASE; TRAVER'S OFFICES.

A small beige office with no windows, and nothing too exciting, apart from a plant in the corner of the room, and a cheap metal desk with an old PC on top, and Travers sitting behind it. Joseph (Peter Wight?), the chief security guard knocks on the ajar door.

                     JOSEPH          Commodore? Sorry to bother you.

                     TRAVERS          What? I have rather enough work to          do as it is. All those fire alarms          are usually just glitches. You do          realise that you don't have to          report them to me every time, don't          you?

                     JOSEPH          No, it's not that. Let me show you.

Joseph turns on the video screen on the other side of the room.

                     JOSEPH                (Cont'd)          We have this news from one of our          inertials.

                     TRAVERS          Let me look.

Travers turns and faces a large screen behind him, while Joseph fiddles with the remote.

                     JOSEPH          Our Ms Dorn reported it; as you may          recall, she had followed him to          Green River, Utah, where -

                     TRAVERS                (sleepy)          Who? I can't keep in mind at all          times which inertials are following          what telepath or precognicient.

He smooths down his grey hair.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)          Skip the rest and tell me which of          Hollis' people is missing now.

                     JOSEPH          S. Dole Melipone.

                     TRAVERS          What? Melipone's gone? You're          shitting me!

                     JOSEPH          I shit you not. Edie Dorn and two          other inertials followed him to a          motel named the Bonds of Erotic          Polymorphic Experience.

                     TRAVERS                (Scoffs)          I'm sorry, come again?

Joseph laughs nervously, and takes a sharp intake of breath.

                     JOSEPH          It's a subsurface structure          catering to businessmen and their          hookers who don't want to be          entertained. Edie and her          colleagues didn't think he was          active, but just to be on the safe          side we had one of our own          surveillance agents, Mrs. G. G.          Anderson go in and track him.          Anderson found a found a scramble          pattern surrounding all of          Melipone's activity, so she          couldn't do anything; he therefore          went back to Topeka, Kansas, where          she's currently scouting out a new          possibility.

Travers lights a cigarette, and is clearly now more awake and attentive.

                     TRAVERS          You're sure it was Melipone? By          what I've heard, nobody seems to          know what he looks like; he must          use a different physiognomic          template every month. What about          his field?

                     JOSEPH          We asked Sandra Archer to go in          there and run tests on the          magnitude and minitude of the field          being generated there at the Bonds          of Erotic Polymorphic Experience          Motel. Archer says it registered,          at its height, 68.2 units of          telepathic aura, which only          Melipone, among all the known          telepaths, can produce. So that's          where we stuck Melipone's          ident-flag on the map. And now he -          it - is gone.

                     TRAVERS          Did you look on the floor? Behind          the map?

                     JOSEPH          It's gone electronically. The man          it represents is no longer on Earth          or, as far as we can make out, on a          colony world either.

                     TRAVERS          I'll consult my wife.

                     JOSEPH          It's the middle of the night. The          moratoriums are closed now.

                     TRAVERS                (With a grimacing smile)          Not in Switzerland. Goodnight.

INT. - MORATORIUM LOUNGE

A late middle-aged man (David Sedaris?) in nearly opaque round glasses, a tabby-fur blazer, and pointed yellow shoes; Herbert Schoenheit von Vogelsang; sits down behind a clerical desk at the beginning of his shift. A young woman (Zoë Sugg?) walks up to the desk with a small piece of paper in his hand.

                     HERB          Yes, ma'am, I'll take your stub          personally.

                     ZOË          It's an elderly lady, about eighty,          very small and wizened. My          grandmother.

                     HERB          Your code is 3054039-B. I will only          be a moment.

Herb walks off into one of the corridors.

INT. - RIVER SONG'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM

River is playing with the front camera of her smartphone with the Doctor.

                     RIVER          So if you just press that...

She presses a button...

                     RIVER                (Cont'd)          And you open your mouth...

The Doctor opens her mouth. We now see things from the camera's perspective - River has turned on the rainbow-mouth filter, and a cartoon rainbow is coming out of the Doctor's mouth. The Doctor lets out a quick scream, cups her mouth with her hands, and along with River, starts to laugh hysterically.

                     RIVER                (Cont'd)          And look at this one!

River changes the filter.

                     DOCTOR          Awwh. Hon, before I forget, that          dead body story.

                     RIVER          Oh, must we?

                     DOCTOR          The whole reason I told you that is          because I need you to do me a          favor.

The Doctor starts writing on a piece of paper.

                     DOCTOR                (Cont'd)          I need you to go over to the Time          Lords.

                     RIVER          You're asking me to go all the way          to Gallifrey?

                     DOCTOR          No. A bunch of time lords set up          camp in an office in Shoreditch. I          need you to go over there and ask          them to keep an eye on me. I traced          that body to a prudence          organization, which is an          unbelievably high risk. If anything          goes wrong, which it probably will,          I need them to step in.

                     RIVER          Are you sure you want to do this?

                     DOCTOR          I need to.

The Doctor hands River the piece of paper.

                     DOCTOR                (Cont'd)          This is the address. As far as I          know, a few of my mates are there,          so they'll know who I am.

                     RIVER          All Time Lords know who YOU are,          Doctor.

The Doctor turns to leave.

                     RIVER                (Cont'd)          Doctor?

                     DOCTOR          Yes?

                     RIVER          Stay safe. You know how risky this          is.

                     DOCTOR          I'll try.

The Doctor runs up to River and hugs her.

INT. - MORATORIUM CORRIDOR

Herb finds a tank with a withered elderly lady (Helen Mirren?) - it's her. He opens a panel to the right of the tank. The small screen says '15 days'.

                     HERB          Shit.

Herb turns on his portable radio.

                     HERB                (Cont'd)          Dave, patient 3054039-B. She only          has 15 days left of her half-life,          should I give permission for          visitors?

                     DAVE                (OC)          Yeah, sure. Go ahead. She hasn't          had any yet, no?

                     HERB          No, this one's the first. Her          grandchild.

                     DAVE                (OC)          Took their time. Have you checked          her cephalic?

                     HERB          About to do that now. See you          around, okay?

                     DAVE                (OC)          Yeah, see ya.

Herb takes out his smartphone and puts it up against the glass of the tank. He then taps a certain point of the screen several times and in quick succession. From the speaker of the smartphone, a faint voice;

                     GRANDMOTHER          ...and then Tillie sprained her          ankle and we never thought it'd          heal; she was so foolish about it,          wanting to start walking          immediately...

The smartphone lights up green. Herb takes his it off of the tank, closes the app, and puts it back in his pocket.

                     HERB          Good, good.

INT. - MORATORIUM LOUNGE

Herb enters, and walks over to Zoë.

                     HERB                (Cont'd)          She's ready

INT. - MORATORIUM CORRIDOR

Herb and Zoe walk up to the Grandmother's tank.

                     ZOË          You checked her out, did you?

                     HERB          Personally. Functioning perfectly.

Herb flicks a series of switches, then steps back.                    

                     HERB                (Cont'd)          Happy Resurrection Day, Sir. Do you          know how to work the tank?

                     ZOË          Yes, thank you.

Herbert walks off. Zoe seats herself in front of the tank.

                     ZOË                (Cont'd)          Flora, dear, can you hear me? I          think I can hear you already.          Flora?

INT. - MORATORIUM CORRIDOR 2

The TARDIS lands in the corridor. The Doctor exits the TARDIS, and looks around. She then walks down the corridor, and sees the tanks, full of a water-like jelly, all with different bodies inside them. We get to the end of the corridor, and see Missy, unconscious, floating.

                     DOCTOR          Oh, I am so sorry.

The Doctor puts her hand on the tank, as if to comfort her. She tears up.

INT. - MORATORIUM LOUNGE

The Doctor covertly enters the moratorium, and takes a seat in the waiting area. She then notices Herbert behind the desk, and strides up to him.

                     DOCTOR          Hi I - what does this place do,          exactly?

Herbert looks at her, confused.

                     DOCTOR                (Cont'd)          Stupid question, I know. Just want          to be absolutely clear.

                     HERB          No question is a stupid question,          madam. We revive the... dearly          departed, to the point where you          can talk to them, in a state of          half-life. A way for friends and          relatives to say goodbye, if they          haven't already had the chance.

                     DOCTOR          Oh, I see. Thank you. I believe an          old friend of mine is here. She's          lived a while, so might be a little          frail. I wonder if you could take a          moment to check her over. I'd          really appreciate it. Maybe even          allowing me to talk to her.

                     HERB          Certainly. What's her name?

                     DOCTOR          Missy. Or the Master. Could be down          as either.

                     HERB          I'll be with you in a moment. Take          a seat.

                     DOCTOR          May I come with you, if it isn't          too much trouble?

                     HERB          Of course.

                     DOCTOR          I'll try not to get in the way.

INT. - MORATORIUM CORRIDOR 2

Herbert and The Doctor walk to the end of the corridor. He checks the half-life - 50 days.

                     HERB          Came just in time. Less than two          months of her half-life to go.

He gets out the smartphone, and repeats the earlier action. We start to hear Missy's voice.

                     MASTER          ...you know as well as I do that          this man does not fear death. I          want him to suffer a much worse          punishment. Look, my skill and          cunning has brought about this war          which will make you the masters of          the galaxy. Leave him with me, and          let him see the result of that war.          Let him see the galaxy in ruins.          Let him see the planet Earth, that          he loves so much, in ruins, then          exterminate him...

As with last time, the smartphone lights up green. The Doctor chuckles, while Herbert has gone sheet white. She puts her hands on his shoulders to comfort him.

                     DOCTOR          Draconia. Years ago, that.          Surprised she remembers it at all.          I can only barely. That's all in          the past now, I guess. She has a          good heart, really. May not seem          like it, I know. Where did you find          her?

                     HERB          She was found on the doomed Mondas          colony ship. Brought in by someone          only known to us as Nardole.

                     DOCTOR          Well of course it was.

                     HERB          Nice chap. Said that he would have          sent her to Testimony, but here at          the Beloved Brethren Moratorium          seemed more - fitting.

                     DOCTOR          May I have a few minutes?

                     HERB          Of course. Take a seat. Just put          these headphones on -

He points to a pair of large headphones hanging from a small metal rod. The Doctor sits.

                     HERB                (Cont'd)          And speak into this microphone, so          she can hear you.

He then points to a small microphone sticking out from under the window of the tank, reaching to the mouth of the now seated Doctor.

                     DOCTOR          Thank you.

                     SALLY                (OC)          Mr. Von Vogelsang; sorry to break          in to your meditation, but a          customer wishes you to assist him          in revving up his relative.

                     HERB          I'm almost done dealing with one          right now, Sally. Who is it?

                     SALLY                (OC)          The customer is Commodore Travers,          all the way here from the North          American Confederation.

                     HERB          Thank you Sally. I'll  be with you          soon.                (To Doctor)          I'll leave you two alone. Happy          Resurrection Day, Ma'am.

                     DOCTOR          Thank you. Happy Resurrection Day          to you too.                (Aside to herself,                 unheard to Herb)          Whatever that means.

She puts the headphones on, and prepares to speak.

                     DOCTOR                (Cont'd)          Missy, it's me. The Doctor.                (A lump in her throat)

Missy's voice slowly fades in.

                     MASTER          ...once the great empires destroy          each other, I ask... Doctor?

A teary-eyed smile comes across the Doctor's face.

INT. - MORATORIUM LOUNGE

Herb enters to Travers standing, waiting in the lounge.

                     TRAVERS          How is Ella? Ready to be cranked up          for a talk? She's only twenty; she          ought to be in better shape than          you or me.

Travers chuckles, and then places his hand on Herb's back, and guides him to the corridor.

INT. - MORATORIUM CORRIDOR

                     HERB          You have not been here for a while,          Commodore.

                     TRAVERS          This is a moment of importance, Mr.          von Vogelsang. We, my associates          and myself, are in a line of          business that surpasses all          rational understanding. I'm not at          liberty to make disclosures at this          time, but we consider matters at          present to be ominous but not          however hopeless. Despair is not          indicated - not by any means.          Where's Ella?

Travers halts, and glances rapidly about.

                     HERB          I'll bring her from the corridors          to the consultation lounge for you.          Do you have your numbered          claim-check, Commodore Travers?

                     TRAVERS          God, no, I lost it months ago. But          you know who my wife is; you can          find her. Ella Runciter, about          twenty. Brown hair and eyes.

He looks around him, impatiently.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)          Where did you put the lounge? It          used to be located where I could          find it.

Herb gets on his radio.

                     HERB          Sally, show the Commodore to the          consultation lounge. We're in          Corridor 20, near tank 398.

                     SALLY                (OC)          I'm 'round the corner. I'll be          there in a sec.

A short while later, a young American girl (Selena Gomez?), in square glasses, a sweater and slacks, with a brunette bob, comes round the corner.

                     SALLY                (Cont'd)          Commodore, how very nice to meet          you. With me.

                     TRAVERS          Thank you.

                     SALLY          Just over here, sir.

Travers looks into the lounge.

                     TRAVERS          It's gotten full. I can't talk to          Ella in there.

Travers walks up to Herbert, and again puts his hand on his shoulder.

                     TRAVERS          Isn't there a more private sanctum          for confidential communications?          What I have to discuss with Ella my          wife is not a matter which we at          Runciter Associates are ready at          this time to reveal to the world

                     HERB          We could do it in these corridors,          and if that isn't confidential          enough, we can possibly bring her          to our offices. Sally?

                     SALLY          With me, sir.

She looks wearily at Herb as she leads Travers away.

                     HERB                (Mutters)          Don't!

Sally puts her hands up while she scoffs.

INT. - MORATORIUM CORRIDOR 2

The Doctor is still sitting in front of the Master's tank.

                     DOCTOR          So where exactly are we?

                     MASTER          Switzerland. Near a sweet little          village about two hours outside of          Geneva. Gruyères, I think it's          called.

                     DOCTOR          Oh, yes, I remember reading about          this place. It looks more          innovative than I first thought.          Although, there is one thing that I          haven't quite worked out about this          place. Yes, moratorium, converting          brain waves into speech, humans          kept in a state of half-life, all          expected from this time period. My          question is this - how did they          manage to keep a Time Lord in          half-life? Especially with this          technology, by the looks of it,          it's only capable of supporting          human life.

                     MASTER          It keeps me going. They give me a          nice little shock in one of my          hearts every so often.

                     DOCTOR          But what about the other heart?          Must be uncomfortable, and that's          understatement.

                     MASTER          Yes, it is rather claustrophobic.          But the  Wi-Fi's good. Keeps my          mind off of it all. I'm actually          binge watching Call The Midwife at          the moment. You'd like it, Ms          Optimist.

                     DOCTOR          Watched every season. Loved it.          Hold on - if I just...

                     MASTER          You've worked it out, haven't you?

                     DOCTOR                (together with the                 Master)          Reverse the polarity of the neutron          flow.

                     DOCTOR                (Cont'd)          Exactly.

She sonics a panel on the side of the tank, and then one of the edges. The front of the tank opens like a door. The Master exits the tank via a clear forcefield. The Master stumbles a little, and they gently take hold of each other by the shoulders.

                     DOCTOR                (Cont'd)          Easy, now. There we go. Good as          new.

                     MASTER          Alarms?

                     DOCTOR          Bitch - you really think I am that          stupid?

                     MASTER          Yes. Anyway, what now?

                     DOCTOR          I want to have a look around this          place...

INT. - TRAVERS' OFFICES; ZÜRICH

A dark, wooden room with an old desk opposite to a pair of large double door. Light seeps in through some dusty windows. In the corner of the room sits a vintage TV, which Travers passively watches from his desk.

                     TELEVISION                (OC)          The best way to ask for beer is to          sing out Ubik. Made from select          hops, choice water, slow-aged for          perfect flavour, Ubik is the          nation's number-one choice in beer.          Made only in Cleveland.

Armed security guards dressed fully in dark armour open the doors, and hold them open while Herbert wheels in a tank, similar to the ones seen in the corridor earlier. Ella Runciter is in this one, a thin twenty-year-old woman with long black hair, and black mascara and lipstick, and dark clothing. Travers grumbles as he fiddles around with the earphones.

                     TRAVERS          Isn't there are a more comfortable          or more natural version of this?

                     HERB          No, that is the only model we have.

Travers glares at Herbert.

                     HERB                (Cont'd)          It seems everything is set up. Are          you familiar with the system,          Commodore?

                     TRAVERS          Yes, of course I am. Now, I'd          rather you'd leave. All of what me          and Ella are about to discuss is          confidential.

                     HERB          Of course, sir.

Herbert leaves the room. Travers now speaks into the microphone.

                     TRAVERS          Hi, Ella.

                     ELLA                (OC)          Oh, hello, Glen. What - how much          time has passed?

                     TRAVERS          Couple years.

                     ELLA                (OC)          Tell me what's going on.

                     TRAVERS          Aw, Christ, everything's going to          pieces, the whole organization.          That's why I'm here; you wanted to          be brought into major          policy-planning decisions, and God          knows we need that now, a new          policy, or anyhow a revamping of          our scout structure.

                     ELLA                (OC)          I was dreaming, I saw a smoky red          light, a horrible light. And yet I          kept moving toward it. I couldn't          stop.

                     TRAVERS          Yeah, the Bardo Thödol, the Tibetan          Book of the Dead, tells about that.          You remember reading that; the          doctors made you read it when you          were - well - dying.

                     ELLA                (OC)          The red light is bad, isn't it?

                     TRAVERS          Yeah, you want to avoid it.

Travers clears his throat.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)          Listen, Ella, we've got problems.          You feel up to hearing about it? I          mean, I don't want to overtax you          or anything; just say if you're too          tired or if there's something else          you want to discuss.

                     ELLA                (OC)          It's so weird. I think I've been          dreaming all this time, since you          last talked to me. Is it really two          years? Do you know, Glen, what I          think? I think that other people          who are around me - we seem to be          progressively growing together. A          lot of my dreams aren't about me at          all. Sometimes I'm a man and          sometimes I'm a little boy;          sometimes I'm an old fat woman with          varicose veins...and I'm in places          I've never seen, doing things that          make no sense.

                     TRAVERS          Well, like they say, you're heading          for a new womb to be born out of.          And that smoky red light - that's a          bad womb; you don't want to go that          way. That's a humiliating, low sort          of womb. You're probably          anticipating your next life, or          whatever it is.

He puts his head in his hands and groans.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)          Oh, I feel foolish talking like          that. You should know - normally I          have no theological conventions,          but this whole system has made          theologians out of all of us. Hey,          let me tell you what's happened,          what made me come here and bother          you. S. Dole Melipone has dropped          out of sight.

                     ELLA                (OC)          Who or what is an S. Dole Melipone?          There can't be any such thing.

Ella laughs warmly. Travers' spine trembles. He hasn't heard that laugh in over ten years.

                     TRAVERS          Maybe you've forgotten.

                     ELLA                (OC)          I haven't forgotten; I wouldn't          forget an S. Dole Melipone. Is it          like a hobbit?

                     TRAVERS          It's Raymond Hollis' top telepath.          We've has at least one inertial          sticking close to him ever since G.          G. Ashwood first scouted him, a          year and a half ago. We never lose          Melipone; we can't afford to.          Melipone can, when necessary,          generate twice the psychic field of          any other Hollis employee. And          Melipone is only one of a whole          string of Hollis people who've          disappeared - anyhow, disappeared          as far as we're concerned. As far          as all prudence organizations in          the Society can make out. So I          thought, Hell, I'll go ask Ella          what's up and what we should do.          Like you specified in your will -          remember?

                     ELLA                (OC)          I remember. Step up your ads on TV.          Warn people. Tell them...

                     TRAVERS          This bores you.

                     ELLA                (OC)          No. I - are they all telepaths?

                     TRAVERS          Telepaths and precognicients          mostly. They're nowhere on Earth; I          know that. We've got a dozen          inactive inertials with nothing to          do because the Psychics they've          been nullifying aren't around, and          what worries me even more, a lot          more, is that requests for          anti-psychics have dropped - which          you would expect, given that so          many Psychics are missing. But I          know they're on one single project;          I mean, I believe. Anyhow, I'm sure          of it; somebody's hired the bunch          of them, but only Hollis knows who          it is or where it is. Or that's          what it's all about.

Silence. Travers leans back in his chair and runs his fingers through his hair.

                     ELLA                (OC)          Tell me what this Melipone person          is like.

                     TRAVERS          A screwball.

                     ELLA                (OC)          Working for money? Or out of          conviction? I always feel wary          about that, when they have that          psychic mystique, that sense of          purpose and cosmic identity. Like          that awful Sarapis had; remember          him?

                     TRAVERS          Sarapis isn't around anymore.          Hollis allegedly bumped him off          because he connived to set up his          own outfit in competition with          Hollis. One of his precogs tipped          Hollis off. Melipone is much          tougher on us than Sarapis was.          When he's hot it takes three          inertials to balance his field, and          there's no profit in that; we          collect - or did collect - the same          fee we get with one inertial.          Because the Society has a rate          schedule now which we're bound by.          As near as we can tell, Melipone is          a money-Psychic. Does that make you          feel better? Is that less bad?          Ella?

Silence

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)          Hey, hello there, Ella, can you          hear me? Is something wrong?

A young boy's voice (Cameron Boyce?) comes on the line.

                     JORY                (OC)          My name is Jory.

Travers starts to panic.

                     TRAVERS          Get off the line, I was talking to          my wife Ella; where'd you come          from?

                     JORY                (OC)          I am Jory, and no one talks to me.          I'd like to visit with you for a          while, mister, if that's okay with          you. What's your name?

                     TRAVERS          I want my wife, Mrs Ella Runciter;          I paid to talk to her, and that's          who I want to talk to, not you.

                     JORY                (OC)          I know Mrs Runciter, she talks to          me, but it isn't the same as          somebody like you talking to me,          somebody in the world. Mrs Runciter          is here where we are; it doesn't          count because she doesn't know any          more than we do. What year is it,          mister? Did they send that big ship          to Proxima? I'm very interested in          that; maybe you can tell me. And if          you want, I can tell Mrs Rincoter          later on. Okay?

Travers removes the pair of headphones, and runs out of his office.

INT. - CORRIDOR

Travers eventually finds Herbert, stops running, and starts to pant.

                     HERB          Is something the matter, Commodore?          Can I assist you?

                     TRAVERS          I've got something coming in over          the wire, instead of Ella. Damn you          guys and your shoddy business          practices; this shouldn't happen,          and what does it mean?

Herbert starts to walk toward Travers' offices, and Travers follows.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)          If I ran my business this way...

INT. - TRAVERS' OFFICES; ZÜRICH

                     HERB          Did the individual identify          himself?

                     TRAVERS          Yeah, he called himself Jory

Herbert frowns.

                     HERB          That would be Jory Miller. I          believe he's located next to your          wife. In the bin.

                     TRAVERS          But I can see it's Ella!

                     HERB          After prolonged proximity, there is          occasionally a mutual osmosis, a          suffusion between the mentalities          of half-lifers. Jory Miller's          cephalic activity is particularly          good; your wife's is not. That          makes for an unfortunately one-way          passage of passage of protophasons.

                     TRAVERS          Can you correct it? Get that thing          out of my wife's mind and get her          back - that's your job!

                     HERB          If this condition persists your          money will be returned to you.

                     TRAVERS          Who cares about the money? Fuck the          money! If you don't get this Jory          person off the line, I'll sue you!

Herbert places his smartphone against the glass of the tank and put the pair of headphones on.

                     HERB                (To Jory)          Phase out Jory, that's a good boy.                (To Travers)          Jory passed at fifteen; that's why          he has so much vitality. Actually          this has happened before; Jory has          shown up several times where he          shouldn't be.                (To Jory)          This is very unfair of you, Jory;          Mr Runciter has come a long way to          talk to his wife. Don't dim her          signal, Jory; that's not nice                (Pause)           I know her signal is weak.

                     TRAVERS          What'd he say? Will he get out of          there and let me talk to Ella?

                     HERB          There is nothing Jory can do. Think          of two AM radio transmitters, one          close by but limited to only          five-hundred watts of operating          power. Then another far off, but on          the same or nearly the same          frequency, and utilizing          five-thousand watts. When night          comes -

                     TRAVERS          And night has come. At least for          Ella.

                     HERB          When we return her to the bin, we          won't install her near Jory again.          In fact, if you're agreeable as to          paying the somewhat larger monthly          fee, we can place her in a          high-grade isolated chamber with          walls coated and reinforced with          Teflon-26 so as to inhibit any          hetero-psychic infusion - from Jory          or anyone else.

                     TRAVERS          Isn't it too late?

                     HERB          She may return. Once Jory phases          out. Plus anyone else who may have          gotten into her because of her          weakened state. She's accessible to          almost anyone. She may not like          being isolated, Commodore. We keep          the containers - the caskets, as          they're called by the lay public -          close together for a reason.          Wandering through one another's          mind those in half-life the only -

                     TRAVERS          Put her in solitary right now.          Better she be isolated than not          exist at all.

                     HERB          She exists, she merely can't          contact you. There's a difference.

                     TRAVERS          A metaphysical difference which          means nothing to me.

                     HERB          I will put her in isolation, but I          think you're right; it's too late.          Jory has permeated her permanently,          to some extent at least. I'm sorry.

                     TRAVERS          So am I.

INT. - MORATORIUM CORRIDOR 2

                     MASTER          I also want to see how in hell they          could support a Time Lord.

An alarm starts to sound.

                     MASTER                (Cont'd)          I thought you disabled the alarm.

                     DOCTOR          So did I!

Two armed guards run in and point guns at the Doctor and Master.

                     GUARD 1          Oi! You! Hands in the air!

                     GUARD 2          Which one of you is the half-life?

The first guard is holding a small round device in his free hand.

                     DOCTOR          What the fuck are you two on about?

                     GUARD 2       ��  Language!

                     GUARD 1          It's the ugly bitch in the          victorian dress.

                     MASTER          How dare you!

                     GUARD 1          Should I?

                     GUARD 2          Best thing to do.

The first guard shoots the Master point-blank. He then speaks into his radio.

                     GUARD 1          All right, call off the alarm.          All's been dealt with.

The second guard point his gun at the Doctor.

                     GUARD 2          Did you let the halfer out?

The Doctor is speechless.

                     GUARD 1          Nah, she's too pretty to do          something like that!

The guards walk away, joking and laughing. The Doctor cries out in pain.

                     DOCTOR          Shit, shit, shit.                (Shouting)          Someone call an ambulance! Please!

                     MASTER          Here we go again.

                     DOCTOR          Regenerate, come on, how hard can          it be?

The Master attempts to get up again, but is clearly struggling to even sit up straight.

                     MASTER          It isn't a matter of refusal. No,          not this time.

She coughs and splutters.

                     DOCTOR          Focus on yourself. Try and stay          calm.

The Master laughs.

                     MASTER          Like you.

                     DOCTOR          You're gonna be alright.

Both the Doctor and the Master start to cry.

                     DOCTOR                (Cont'd)          I know, I know.

Sandra (Reese Blutstein?) walks by and stops.

                     SANDRA          Oh, god...

                     DOCTOR          Call an ambulance, please.

Sandra takes out her phone and dials.

                     SANDRA          I have someone here. I think a          half-life. Must have gotten out of          her tank.

The Master looks at the Doctor, and smiles, while Sandra is still on the phone.

                     MASTER          Hey, you.

She starts to sob.

                     DOCTOR          Hey.

                     MASTER          Sorry for everything I must've put          you through.

She starts to hyperventilate.

                     MASTER                (Cont'd)          Don't blame you. For hating me. If          Susan or Jenny had brought someone          like me home I'd be well          disappointed.

                     DOCTOR          That's ridiculous. You're my best          friend and I couldn't be more glad.          And you care, you care and that's          all that matters.

                     MASTER          I do care.

                     DOCTOR          Love you. You're going to be fine.

                     SANDRA          You will. Hang in there.

                     MASTER          You know what this reminds me of?

                     DOCTOR          What?

                     MASTER          San Francisco.

                     DOCTOR          Wait - I thought that was New York!

                     MASTER          No, no, that was when the Monk put          that bull on the top floor of the          Chrysler building. What a fun day.

                     DOCTOR          You can talk. I was hungover for a          week. But yes, it was fun. When          were you thinking of?

                     MASTER          1999. New Years Eve. You got shot          by that gang.

                     DOCTOR          Got to know the bloke they meant to          kill. Nice guy. Made a killer          burger.

                     MASTER          I used the body of some financial          executive. Poor human. Might try          that again. See what I can do

                     DOCTOR          I don't think that'll work a third          time, sweetie.

                     MASTER          Used up my nine lives. In all          honesty, if I was to lose one of          us, I'm glad it was me.

                     DOCTOR          Don't say that. You're not gonna          leave me. Not now.

                     MASTER          Not now, not ever. I've never seen          you cry like this since our rabbit          died. You can put me in the garden.

                     DOCTOR          You're good. How can you joke?

                     MASTER          Yeah, you're right. I am good.

She gasps for air, then sighs. We then see her eyes roll back into her head, foams at the mouth, skin goes pale, and her eyelids flutter and close. Glowing regeneration energy slowly seeps out of her open mouth.

                     SANDRA                (To operator)          I think she's gone.

                     DOCTOR          No. No. No, no, no, no, no!

INT. - SANDRA'S APARTMENT - KITCHEN

Late at night. A small and pathetic kitchen, only with the essentials -fridge, countertop, and stove, with a small table in the middle of it all, with a few old chairs surrounding it. Sandra wearily walks into her kitchen in a pinstripe pyjama top and underwear, and sits at her kitchen table. She is clearly hungover. Sandra then opens up a holographic screen on her desk - known as a 'Desk', and brings up a video.

                     FIONA BRUCE          What could Stanton Mick, the          reclusive, interplanetary known          speculator and financer, be up to?          This is what the business community          asked itself as rumour leaked out          of Whitehall that the dashing but          peculiar industrial magnate, who          once offered to build free of          charge a fleet by which Israel          could colonize and make fertile          otherwise desert areas of Mars, had          asked for and may possibly receive          a staggering and unprecedented loan          of -

Sandra leans forward and starts to fiddle with her Desk.

                     SANDRA          Stupid Desk. This isn't gossip.          Today I want to hear about which TV          star is sleeping with whose          drug-addicted wife.

While Sandra was talking, another young woman (Chloë Grace Moretz?) walks in. She is around the same age as Sandra, and in similar clothing. Except she is taller, and has long, flowing, blonde hair. She is clearly lethargic, but still has the energy to warmly wrap her arms around Sandra.

                     ALICE          Sandy, hon, what are you doing up?          It's three in the fucking morning.

                     SANDRA          Had a bit too much to drink with          the boys. Can't get a wink.

                     ALICE          Why can't you take a soporific?

                     SANDRA          I'm out.

Alice sits down next to her.

                     ALICE          Didn't you just get a new pack?

                     SANDRA          They're out due to 'my own oral          greed', as Dr. Daniels puts it.

                     ALICE          But out nevertheless. And by law          you can't get more until Tuesday.

                     SANDRA          Tuesday. Two more long days.

                     DESK                (OC)          Setting filter for - 'Low gossip'

                     LORRAINE                (OC)          Accosted by a cutpurse in a fancy          New New York after-hours mole the          other night -

Sandra lies down and puts her head on Alice's lap.

                     LORRAINE                (OC)(Cont'd)          Lola Herzberg-Wright bounced a          swift right jab off the chops of          the do-badder which sent him          reeling on to the table where King          Egon Groat of Sweden and an          unidentified woman with          astonishingly large -

The Desk lights up green, with a message saying 'DOOR ALERT'. Underneath, three options - 'Accept', 'Talk', and 'Decline'. Sandra groans and presses 'Talk'. The screen goes from green to a glowing white dot, the size of a tennis ball.

                     SANDRA          Who is it?

                     ANDERSON                (OC)(Middle-aged, female)          I know it's early, Sandra, but I          just hit town. Major Anderson here;          I've got a firm prospect that I          snared in Topeka - I read this one          as magnificent and I want your          confirmation before I lay the pitch          in Travers' lap. Anyhow, he's in          Switzerland.

                     SANDRA          I don't have my test equipment in          the apartment.

                     ANDERSON                (OC)          I'll shoot over to the shop and          pick it up for you.

                     ALICE          It's not at the shop. It's in my          car. I didn't get around to          unloading it last night.

Sandra shoots Alice a dirty look

                     ALICE                (Cont'd)          Can't it wait until after nine?

                     ANDERSON                (OC)          Dearie, this is a sweet number, a          walking symposium of miracles          that'll curl the needles of your          gauges and, in addition, give new          life to the firm, which it badly          needs. And furthermore -

                     SANDRA          It's an anti what? Telepath?

                     ANDERSON                (OC)          I'll lay it on you right out in          front, I don't know. Listen,          Sandra. This is confidential, this          particular one. I can't stand down          here at the gate gum-flapping away          out loud; somebody might overhear.          In fact I'm already picking up the          thoughts of some nosey shit in a          ground level apartment; he -

                     SANDRA          Okay. Once started, your relentless          monologues can't be aborted anyhow;          I might as well listen. Give me          five minutes to get dressed and          find out if I've got any coffee in          the apartment anywhere.                (to Alice)          Let her in while I'm making myself          up.

                     ALICE          If I must.

                     SANDRA                (Sarcastically)          Yes. You must.                (Laughing)          Love you.

Sandra kisses Alice on the cheek and walks off. Alice fiddles around with the screen, and Anderson walks in soon afterwards. Anderson (Pam St. Clement?) is an average-height woman, in her late sixties or early seventies, with white hair, a pink velvet shirt-dress, large earrings, and heavy mascara and eyeshadow. She sits down at the kitchen table, and turns to Alice.

                     ANDERSON          You'll like her. Although, as it          happens, she's the daughter of a -

                     ALICE          Her? Our apartment's unfit to be          seen; we're behind in our payments          to the clean-up robots - they          haven't been inside here in two          weeks -

                     ANDERSON          I'll ask her if she cares.

                     ALICE          Don't ask her. I - we care. I'll          ask Sandy to test her out down at          the shop, on Traver's time.

                     ANDERSON          I checked her thought processes.          She doesn't care.

Sandra walks into the kitchen in a black and white jumpsuit.

                     SANDRA          I've heard what you two were          talking about from the next room.          How old is this woman? She's likely          to be only a child, knowing you          lot.

                     ALICE          I heard a lot of new inertials are          children. Makes sense.

                     ANDERSON          How old are you dear? You're          nineteen, Sandra. And you, Alice          you're - twenty.

                     ALICE          Well, that shot that.

                     SANDRA          Give me until nine.

                     ANDERSON          Too late.

                     SANDRA          Okay, eight.                (Pause and a sigh.)          If I work fast, and if I miss both          coffee and breakfast, I could          probably effect a tidy apartment by          then.

                     ALICE          At least it seems worth trying.

                     SANDRA          Do we have a vacuum cleaner?

Alice gets up and checks the cupboard.

                     ALICE          Uh - no.

                     SANDRA          A broom?

                     ALICE          No, again.

Anderson smirks.

                     ANDERSON          Oh, dear. I'll give you some          privacy.

She then stands up and leaves the apartment.

                     ALICE          Well, that's me off to bed, if          that's okay with you.

                     SANDRA          Sure, go ahead. See you tomorrow.

Alice goes back into the bedroom. Sandra opens her desk again, and pulls up a keypad. She dials in the number 214, and a scruffy looking man (Woody Harrelson?) soon appears.

                     SANDRA          Listen, I'm now in a position to          divert some of my funds in the          direction of settling my bill          vis-à-vis your clean-up robots. I'd          like them up here right now to go          over my apartment. I'll pay the          full and entire bill when they're          finished.

                     MAINTENANCE DEP.          Ma'am, you'll pay your full and          entire bill before they start.

                     SANDRA          I'll charge my overdue bill against          my Triangular Magic Key. That will          transfer the obligation out of your          jurisdiction; on your books it'll          show as total restitution.

                     MAINTENANCE DEP.          Plus fines, plus penalties.

                     SANDRA          I'll charge those against my          Heart-Shaped -

                     MAINTENANCE DEP.          Ms Archer, the Ferris and Brockman          Retail Credit Auditing and Analysis          Agency has published a special          flyer on you. Our receptor slot          received it yesterday and it          remains fresh in our minds. Since          July you've dropped from a triple G          status creditwise to quadruple G.          Our department - in fact this          entire conapt building - is now          programmed against an extension of          services and/or credit to such          pathetic anomalies such as          yourself, ma'am. Regarding you,          everything must be handled on a          basic-cash subfloor. In fact,          you'll be on a basic-cash subfloor          for the rest of your life. In fact          -

Sandra hangs up. We then cut to her running around her apartment, putting away unnecessary items such as dirty dishes and old magazines. We then cut to her sitting on a windowsill with a cup of coffee, as the sun is rising. Out of the window is the skyline of a city; skyscrapers, office buildings, and the like. Alice comes into the room in a green dress.

                     ALICE          Hey, you.

                     SANDRA          Hey.                (Pause)          I might get a second job;          part-time. Just for a while. I need          to catch up on some bills.

                     ALICE          Honey, no. I barely get to see you          with you at that job with Travers,          with an extra job -

                     SANDRA          Alice, it's only for a couple of          weeks. Just to raise my credit          score.

                     ALICE          That maintenance shit is a cheat.

                     SANDRA          Tell me something new.

There's a pause. Alice puts her arms around Sandra, and rests her chin on Sandra's shoulder.

                     ALICE          Look, honey, I need to get to work.          It's the day of the kids' assembly          at the school, so I can't take the          day off. You going to work?

Sandra shakes her head.

                     SANDRA          Travers gave me the day off to deal          with Anderson's inertial. I'll do          some job searching after if I have          time.

                     ALICE          Okay. I'll see you this evening,          then?

                     SANDRA          Yeah. See you. Bye.

                     ALICE          Bye.

Alice kisses Sandra on the cheek, and leaves. Anderson and the girl (Ariana Grande?) enters soon afterwards.

                     ANDERSON          This is Pat. Never mind her last          name. Pat, this is the company's          highly skilled, first-line          electrical type tester.

                     PATRICIA          Is it you that's electrical? Or          your tests?

                     SANDRA          We trade off. Sit down, have a cup          of actual coffee.

Patricia sits down at the kitchen table.

                     PATRICIA          Such luxury. How can you afford          real coffee, Ms Archer?

                     ANDERSON          Sandra gets paid a hell of a lot.          The firm couldn't operate without          her.

Anderson takes a cigarette out of Sandra's dispenser.

                     SANDRA          Put it back. I'm almost out and I          used up my last green ration stamp          on the coffee.

                     ANDERSON          I paid for the door.

Anderson offers one to Patricia. She refuses.

                     ANDERSON                (Cont'd)          Sandra puts on an act, pay no          attention. Like look how she keeps          her place. Shows she's creative,          all geniuses live like this.          Where's your test equipment,          Sandra? We're wasting time.

                     SANDRA          You're dressed oddly.

                     PATRICIA          I maintain the subsurface vidphones          lines at the Topeka Kibbutz. Only          women can hold jobs involving          manual labor at that particular          kibbutz.

                     SANDRA          That inscription on your arm, that          tattoo; is that Hebrew?

                     PATRICIA          Latin.

Patricia gets up and looks around the apartment.

                     PATRICIA                (Cont'd)          I've never seen an apartment so          cluttered with rubbish. Don't you          have a mistress?

                     ANDERSON          These electrical-expert types have          no time for tarra-tiddle. Listen,          Archer, this girl's parents work          for Ray Hollis. Is they knew she          was here they'd give her a frontal          lobotomy.

                     SANDRA                (To Patricia)          They don't know you have a          counter-talent?

Patricia shakes her head.

                     PATRICIA          No. I didn't really understand it          either until your scout sat me down          in the kibbutz cafeteria and told          me. Maybe it's true.

She shrugs.

                     PATRICIA                (Cont'd)          Maybe not. She said you could show          me objective proof of it, with your          testing battery.

                     SANDRA          How would you feel if the tests          show that you have it?

                     PATRICIA          It seems so - negative. I don't do          anything; I don't move objects or          turn stones into bread or give          birth without impregnation or          reverse the illness process in sick          people. Or read minds. Or look into          the future - not even common          talents like that. I just negate          someone else's ability. It seems -          stultifying.

                     SANDRA          As a survival factor for the human          race, it's as useful as the psychic          factors. Especially for us norms.

With a sharpie, Sandra draws the following on the wooden table.

                     SANDRA                (Cont'd)          The anti-psychic factor is a          natural restoration of ecological          balance. An insect learns to fly,          so another builds a web to trap          him. Is that the same as no flight?          Clams developed hard hard shells to          protect them; therefore, birds          learn to fly the clam up high in          the air and drop him on a rock. In          a sense, you're a life form preying          on the psychics, and the psychics          are life forms that prey on the          norms. That makes you a friend of          the so-called 'Norm class'.          Balance, the full circle, predator          and prey. It appears to be an          eternal system; and, frankly, I          can't see how it could be improved.

                     PATRICIA          I might be considered a traitor.

                     SANDRA          Does it bother you?

                     PATRICIA          It bothers me that people will feel          hostile toward me. But I guess you          can't live very long without          arousing hostility; you can't          please everybody, because people          want different things. Please one          and you displease another.

                     SANDRA          What is your anti-talent?

                     PATRICIA          It's hard to explain.

                     ANDERSON          Like I say, it's unique; I've never          heard of it before.

                     SANDRA          Which psychic talent does it          contract?

                     PATRICIA          Precognicient, I guess.

Patricia looks to Anderson, who still has a smirk of enthusiasm.

                     PATRICIA                (Cont'd)          Your scout Ms Anderson explained it          to me. I knew I did something          funny; I've always had these          strange periods in my life,          starting in my sixth year. I never          told my parents, because I sensed          that it would displease them.

                     SANDRA          Are they precogs?

                     PATRICIA          Yes.

                     SANDRA          Yes, it would have displeased them.          But if you used it around them even          once - they would have known.          Didn't they suspect? Didn't you          interfere with their ability?

                     PATRICIA          I - I think I did interfere but          they didn't know it.

                     SANDRA          Let me explain how the anti-precog          generally functions.

She gets her sharpie out again.

                     SANDRA                (Cont'd)          Functions, in fact, in every case          we know of. The precog sees a          variety of futures, laid out side          by side like cells in a beehive.

                     ANDERSON          For him one has greater luminosity,          and this he picks. Once he has          picked it the anti-precog can do          nothing.

                     SANDRA          The anti-precog has to be present          when the precog is in the process          of deciding, not after. The          anti-precog makes all futures seem          equally real to the precog; he          aborts all his talent to choose at          all. A precog is instantly aware          when an anti-precog is nearby          because his entire relationship to          the future is altered. In the case          of telepaths a similar impairment -

Anderson sits down.

                     ANDERSON          She goes back in time.

Sandra glares at Anderson, while Anderson savours the moment.

                     ANDERSON                (Cont'd)          Back in time, the precog affected          by her still sees one predominant          future; like I said, the one          luminous possibility. And he          chooses it, and he's right. But why          is it right? Why is it luminous?          Because this girl -

She shrugs in Patricia's direction.

                     ANDERSON                (Cont'd)          Pat controls the future; that one          luminous possibility is luminous          because she's gone into the past          and changed the precog; he's          affected without knowing it and his          talent seems to work, whereas it          really doesn't. So that's one          advantage of her anti-talent over          other anti-precog talents. The          other - and greater - is that she          can cancel out the precog's          decision after he's made it. She          can enter the situation later on,          and this problem has always hung us          up, as you know; if we didn't get          in there from the start we couldn't          do anything. In a way, we never          could truly abort the precog          ability as we've done with the          others; right? Hasn't that been a          weak link in our services?

                     SANDRA          Interesting.

                     ANDERSON          Hell - 'interesting'? This is the          greatest anti-talent to emerge thus          far!

                     PATRICIA                (In a low voice,                 apologetically)          I don't go back in time. I do          something, but Ms Anderson has          built it all up out of proportion          to reality.

                     ANDERSON          I can read your mind. I know you          can change the past; you've done          it.

                     PATRICIA          I can change the past but I don't          go into the past; I don't          time-travel, as you want your          tester to think.

                     SANDRA          How do you change the past?

                     PATRICIA          I think about it. One specific          aspect of it, such as one incident,          or something somebody said. Or a          little thing that happened that I          wish hadn't happened. The first          time I did it, as a child -

Anderson sighs

                     ANDERSON          When she was six years old, living          in Detroit, with her parents of          course, she broke a ceramic antique          statue that her father treasured.

                     SANDRA          Didn't your father foresee it, with          his precog ability?

                     PATRICIA          He foresaw it, and he punished me a          week before I broke the statue. But          he said it was inevitable; you know          the precog talent. They can foresee          but they can't change anything.          Then after the statue did break -          after I broke it, I should say - I          brooded about it, and I thought          about that week before it broke          when I didn't get any dessert at          dinner and had to go to bed before          five p.m. I thought, Christ - or          whatever a kid says - isn't there          some way these unfortunate events          can be averted?

                     ANDERSON          Your father's precog ability didn't          seem very spectacular to you, did          it?

                     PATRICIA          Not really, since he couldn't alter          events; I still feel that way, a          sort of contempt. I spent a month          trying to will the damn statue back          into one piece; in my mind I kept          going back to before it broke,          imagining what it had looked like          ... which was awful. And then one          morning when I got up - I even          dreamed about it at night - there          it stood. At it used to be.

Patricia leans towards Sandra.

                     PATRICIA                (Cont'd)          But neither of my parents noticed          anything. It seemed perfectly          normal to them that the statue was          in one piece; they thought it had          always been in one piece. I was the          only one who remembered.

Sandra offers a cigarette to Patricia, who accepts it, and lights up.

                     SANDRA          I'll go get my test equipment from          the car.

Anderson tries to open the door.

                     HOUSE                (OC)          Five cents, please.

                     SANDRA                (To Anderson)          Pay the door.

                     ANDERSON          What? But I found her, the bounty          is mine. I spent almost ten days          tracing the field to her; I -

                     SANDRA          I can't test her with your field          present, as you well know. Talent          and anti-talent fields deform each          other; if they didn't we wouldn't          be in this line of business.

She leans out her hand waiting for change as Anderson gets to her feet.

                     SANDRA                (Cont'd)          And you can leave me a couple of          nickles, too. So she and I can get          out of here.

                     PATRICIA          I have change in my purse.

                     SANDRA          This is different.

She hands a nickel to Sandra, and the door opens.

                     ANDERSON          I don't have any more nickles, I          can't get out.

Sandra and Patricia turn around and look at Anderson. She sighs and storms out.

                     ANDERSON                (Cont'd)          You sure shot me down. Both of you.          I discovered her. This is a          cutthroat business when -

The door slams shut behind her.

                     PATRICIA          When her enthusiasm goes, there          isn't much left of her.

                     SANDRA          She's okay. Anyhow, she did her          part. Now -

                     PATRICIA          Now it's your turn, so to speak.          May I take off my boots?

                     SANDRA          Sure.

                     PATRICIA          A shower?

                     SANDRA          A quarter.                (Pause)          It costs a quarter.

                     PATRICIA          At the kibbutz everything is free.

Sandra is shocked.

                     SANDRA          Free? That's not economically          feasible. How can it operate on          that basis? For more than a month?

                     PATRICIA          Our salaries are paid in and we're          credited with having done our job.          The aggregate of our earnings          underwrites the kibbutz as a whole.          Actually, the Topeka Kibbutz has          shown a profit for several years;          we, as a group, are putting in more          than we're taking out.

Her shirt is suddenly off, however we do not see her taking it off.

                     SANDRA          Are you sure you want to do that?          Take off your clothes, I mean?

                     PATRICIA          You don't remember?

                     SANDRA          Remember what?

                     PATRICIA          My not taking off my clothes. In          another present, you didn't like          that very much, and so I eradicated          that; hence this.

Patricia stands up.

                     SANDRA          What did I do when you didn't take          off your clothes? Refuse to test          you?

                     PATRICIA          You mumbled something about Ms          Anderson having overrated my          anti-talent.

                     SANDRA          I don't work that way; I don't do          that.

Patricia bends down and rummages through her blouse and hands Sandra a folded piece of paper.

                     PATRICIA          Here. From the previous present;          the one I abolished.

                     SANDRA          Anti-psychic field generated -          inadequate. Below standard          throughout. No value against precog          ratings now in existence.

We now see the sheet of paper - a stamp mark underneath the analysis saying 'DO NOT HIRE'. She refolds it and returns it to Patricia, who returns it to her blouse.

                     PATRICIA          Do you need to test me? After          seeing that?

                     SANDRA          I have a regular procedure, six          indices which -

                     PATRICIA          You're a little, debt-stricken,          ineffective bureaucrat who can't          even scrape together enough coins          to pay her door to let her out of          her apartment.

                     SANDRA          This is a bad spot right now. I'll          be back on my feet financially any          day now. I can get a loan. From the          firm, if necessary.

She walks over to the coffee machine.

                     SANDRA                (Cont'd)          Cream? Sugar?

                     PATRICIA          Cream.

Sandra tries to open the fridge.

                     HOUSE          Ten cents, please. Five cents for          opening my door; five cents for the          cream.

                     SANDRA          It isn't cream; it's plain milk.          Just this one time, I swear to God          I'll pay you back. Tonight.

                     PATRICIA          Here.

She slides a dime across the table toward Sandra.

                     PATRICIA                (Cont'd)          At least you have your partner. You          really have failed, haven't you? I          knew it when Ms Anderson -

                     SANDRA          It isn't always like this.

                     PATRICIA          Do you want me to bail you out of          your problems?

She puts her hands in the pockets of her jeans.

                     PATRICIA                (Cont'd)          You know I can. Sit down and write          out your evaluation report on me.          Forget the tests. My talent is          unique anyway; you can't measure          the field I produce - it's in the          past and you're testing me in the          present, which simply takes place          as an automatic consequence. Do you          agree?

                     SANDRA          Let me see that evaluation sheet          you have in your blouse. I want to          look at it one more time. Before I          decide.

Patricia brings Sandra the piece of paper, and Sandra sits down.

                     SANDRA                (Cont'd)          My writing, yes, it's true.

She returns the piece of paper, then takes a fresh piece of similar paper. Sandra then writes 'Has unbelievable power. Anti-psychic field unique in scope. Can probably negate any assembly of precogs imaginable'. She then writes two crosses underneath, and underlines both of them. Patricia is standing behind Sandra.

                     PATRICIA          What do the two underlined crosses          mean?

                     SANDRA          Hire her. At whatever cost          required.

                     PATRICIA          Thank you.

Patricia picks up a bag, takes out a stuffed envelope, and hands it to Sandra.

                     PATRICIA                (Cont'd)          This will help you with expenses. I          couldn't give it to you earlier,          before you made your official          evaluation of me. You would have          cancelled very nearly everything          and you would have gone to your          grave thinking I had bribed you.          Ultimately you would have even          decided I had no counter-talent.

Patricia carries on undressing, while Sandra, without noticing Patricia, signs the paper. Patricia then makes her way to the bathroom.

                     PATRICIA                (Cont'd)          When can I move my things in here?          I consider it mine as of now, since          I've already paid you what must be          virtually the entire month's rent.

                     SANDRA          Anytime.

Patricia enters the bathroom. Sandra then quickly writes in the bottom right-hand corner of the page 'PTO', flips over the piece of paper, and writes in small writing 'Watch this person. She is a hazard to the firm. She is dangerous'. She then folds it up, puts the piece of paper in an envelope, and puts it in Patricia's bag.

                     HOUSE                (OC)          Fifty cents, please. Before turning          on the water.

Patricia runs back into the kitchen and reaches fifty cents out of her purse, and then runs back to the bathroom. Afterwards, Sandra opens up her Desk, opens her contact list, selects Alice, and turns the volume down to 25%.

INT. - LIMOUSINE, NEW YORK CITY

Travers is sitting in a limousine, driving through a rainy New York City, with a small television playing in the background.

                     TELEVISION          Wild new Ubik salad dressing, not          Italian, not French, but an          entirely new and different taste          treat that's waking up the world.          Wake up to Ubik and be wild! Safe          when taken as directed.

Travers looks out of the rain splattered window.

INT. - TRAVERS' OFFICES; NEW YORK

The next day.

An office very similar to Travers' office in Zurich. In this office, however, there is a large flat screen television in the left hand corner of the room. A call comes in on the television, the call ID reading 'Public Relations'. Tamish (Turk Pipkin?)

                     TRAVERS          Tamish - I've only just got back          from Zürich. I conferred with Ella          there.

                     TAMISH          Very good, Commodore Travers. Look          we -

A knock at the door.

                     TRAVERS          Hold on. Come in.

A man (Rory Cochrane?) with stubble and black, stringy hair knocks on the door, and cautiosly enters - Charles Freck.

                     FRECK          Commodore.

                     TRAVERS          What do you want, Freck?

Freck itches his arms and what little beard he has.

                     FRECK          Apologies, sir. I had no other          choice but to bother you.

                     TRAVERS          Okay, Freck, what is it?

                     FRECK          A new client, Commodore. I think          you should see her.

Travers gestures toward the television.

                     TRAVERS          As soon as I'm off the phone.

He turns to the television.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)(to Tamish)          How often do our ads run on          prime-time TV planetwide? Still          once every third hour?

                     TAMISH          Not quite that, Commodore. Over the          course of a full day, prudence ads          apppear on an average of once every          third hour per UHF channel, but the          cost of prime time -

                     TRAVERS          I want them to appear every hour.          Ella thinks that would be better.                (To Freck)          Freck, sit down.

Freck does so.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd) (To Freck)          You know that recent Supreme Court          ruling where one spouse can legally          murder the other if they can prove          that the other wouldn't under any          circumstances give the first a          divorce?

                     FRECK          Yes, the so called -

                     TRAVERS          I don't care what it's called.                (To Tamish)          What matters is that we have a TV          ad made up on that already.                (To Freck)          How does that go? I'm trying to          remember it.

                     FRECK          There's this man, an ex-husband,          being tried. First comes a shot of          the jury, then the judge,  then a          pan-up on the prosecuting attorney          cross-examining the ex-husband. He          says 'It would seem, sir, that your          wife -'

                     TRAVERS          That's right.

                     TAMISH          Is it not the assumption, however,          that the missing Psychics are at          work, as a group, for one of the          large investment houses? Seeing as          how this is probably so, perhaps we          should stress one of our          business-establishment comercials.          Do you perhaps recall this one,          Commodore? It shows a husband home          from his job at the end of the day;          he still is suited up. He seats          himself wearily on the living room          couch, next to his wife, starts to          take off one of his gauntlets, then          hunches over, frowns and says          'Gosh, Jill, I wish I knew what's          been wrong with me lately.          Sometimes, with greater frequency          almost every day, the least little          remark at the office makes me think          that, well, somebody's reading my          mind!'. Then she says, 'If you're          worried about that, why don't we          contact our nearest prudence          organisation? They'll lease us an          intertial at prices easy on our          budget, and then you'll feel like          your old self again!'. Then this          great smile appears on his face and          he says 'Why, this nagging feeling          is already -'

                     FRECK          Please, Commodore Travers.

                     TRAVERS                (To Tamish)          I'll talk to you later, Tamish.          Anyhow, get hold of the networks          and start our material on the          hourbasis I outlined.

He hangs up the phone, and turns to Freck.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)          I went all the way to Switzerland,          and had Ella roused, to get that          information, that advice.

Freck walks to the door, and pops his head outside.

                     FRECK                (To Wright)          Commodore Travers is free, Ms          Wright.

Freck leaves, while a tall, blonde woman (Robin Wright?) in her mid-late forties enters.

                     TRAVERS          Ah, Ms Wright. I can't give you too          much time; maybe you should just          get to the point. What's the          problem?

                     WRIGHT          We're having a little trouble with          telepaths. We think so but we're          not sure. We maintain a telepath of          our own - one we know about and          who's supposed to circulate among          our employees. If he comes across          any Psychics, telepaths or precogs          of any kind, he's supposed to          report to my principal. Late last          week he made such a report. We have          an evaluation, done by a private          firm, on the capacities of the          various prudence agencies. Yours is          rated foremost.

                     TRAVERS          I know that.

We see a folder labelled 'Evaluation' on Travers' desk.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)          How many telepaths did your man          pick up? More than one?

                     WRIGHT          Two at least.

                     TRAVERS          Possibly more?

                     WRIGHT          Possibly.

                     TRAVERS          Here is how we operate. First we          measure the psychic field          objectively, so we can tell what          we're dealing with. That generally          takes from one week to ten days,          depending on -

                     WRIGHT          My employer wants you to move in          your intertials right away, without          the time-consuming and expensive          formality of making tests.

                     TRAVERS          We wouldn't know how many inertials          to bring in. Or what kind. Or where          to station them. Defusing a psychic          operation has to be done on a          systematic basis; we can't wave a          magic wand or spray toxic fumes          into corners. We have to balance          Hollis' people individual by          individual, an anti-talent for          every talent. If Hollis has gotten          into your operation he's done it          the same way; psychic by psychic.          One gets into the personnel          department, hires another; that          person sets up a department or          takes charge of a department and          requisitions a couple          more...sometimes it takes them          months. We can't undo in          twenty-four hours what they've          constructed over a long period of          time. Big-time psychic activity is          like a mosaic; they can't afford to          be impatient, and neither can we.

                     WRIGHT          My employer is impatient.

                     TRAVERS          I'll talk to him. Who is he and          what's his his number?

                     WRIGHT          You'll deal through me.

                     TRAVERS          Maybe I won't deal at all. Why          won't you tell me who you          represent?

He presses a covert button on the bottom of his desk, and Nina (Jen Brister?) comes in through a rear door, nods to Travers, and then goes back in to the back room.

                     WRIGHT          You're hidebound; all we are asking          for is speed. And we're only asking          for that because we have to have          it. I can tell you this much; our          operation which they've infested          isn't on Earth. From the standpoint          of potential yield, as well as from          an investment standpoint, it's our          primary project. My principal has          put all his negotiable assets in to          it. Nobody is supposed to know          about it. The greatest shock to us,          in finding telepaths on this site -

                     TRAVERS          Excuse me.

Travers gets up, and walks to the office door.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)          I'll find out how many people we          have about the place who are          available for use in this          connection.

Travers exits, shutting the office door behind him.

INT. - NINA'S OFFICE

A modern office; modern pastel-coloured fabrics chairs, sofas and beanbags dotted around, with wooden coffee tables next to them, and with Apple Macs on top of the coffee tables. Nina is alone, sitting on one of the beanbags, working on one of the Macs. Travers enters, and wearily sits down on one of the chairs, with a heavy sigh.

                     TRAVERS          Find out who she represents, and          then find out how high they'll go.

                     NINA          Sure thing. Anything else?

                     TRAVERS          Reserve a place for us at a café or          restaurant once you're done. A nice          one.

                     NINA          I recently went to a nice place on          Lafayette Street.

                     TRAVERS          Is it cheap?

                     NINA          Compared to everything else in          Manhattan, I'd say so.

                     TRAVERS          Screaming babies?

                     NINA          Not when I was there.

                     TRAVERS          Great, give them a call.

He turns to a desk sticking out of the wall, with a coffee machine, mini milk cartons, sugar and sweetener sachets, a pot of ready-made coffee, teabags, porcelain mugs, and a kettle. He lazily points to it, and turns to Nina.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)          Do you mind?

                     NINA          Sure, help yourself. You are my          boss, mind.

                     TRAVERS          That's true.

He boils the kettle, makes himself a coffee with milk and sugar. Travers then carries the cup over to a window, and sits on the windowsill. He looks out of the window at the New York skyline, and lets out a sigh.

EXT. - MONTAGUE STREET

Golden regeneration energy comes down from the sky, and gathers in to a translucent cobra on the outer wall of one of the apartments, and slips through one of the windows.

INT. - BEDROOM

A regular teenagers/young person's bedroom. A young woman (Lily Collins?) is lying on a bed, fast asleep. The translucent cobra slides across the wall, nearer and nearer to the girl. The girl's mouth is forced open, and the cobra goes through. As this happens, she starts seizing. After a few seconds, she calms down, and eventually sits up - her eyes are black. She looks to the side a little bit, and smirks. She is now the new Master.

EXT. - FRANKLIN STREET, EARLY EVENING

Travers and Wright are walking down Franklin Street. Travers is in a trenchcoat and fedora, and Wright is in a jumpsuit. Wright is also wearing a removable cast around his wrist.

                     TRAVERS          Does it still hurt?

Wright nods.

                     WRIGHT          It can't be that bad, though, as it          hurt right away. If it is really          bad, it doesn't hurt. The          adrenaline, and all.

                     TRAVERS          You should see my wife's cooking.          That hurts right away.

                     WRIGHT          I'll be sure to avoid it like the          plague.

                     TRAVERS          You do surprise me, Miss Wright.

                     WRIGHT          Robin, please.

                     TRAVERS          Robin, sorry. Usually you are too          cautious. The Catholics know of          only one way to settle their          differences.

                     WRIGHT          Times are difficult enough for them          here, without you provoking further          quarrels.

We see the Master, in her new body, looking at Travers and Wright, eventually following them. She is wearing a classic victorian night gown.

                     TRAVERS          I? Oh, come, be fair. Paris hates          our kind. It would do anything it          can to provoke us.

                     WRIGHT          You must control your temper,          Travers. As Locke says, it is          imperative that we keep the peace          at this time.

                     TRAVERS          Back to business, if telepaths have          gotten in to our operation, then          you have to face up to and accept          the realization that the operation          per se is no longer secret.          Independent of any specific          technical info they've picked up.          So why not tell me what the project          is?

Wright hesitates.

                     WRIGHT          I don't know what the project is.

                     TRAVERS          Or where it is?

                     WRIGHT                (Shake of the head)          No.

                     TRAVERS          Do you know who your employer is?

                     WRIGHT          I work for a subsidiary firm which          he financially controls; I know who          my imediate employer is - that's a          Mr Shepard Howard - but I've never          been told whom Mr Howard          represents.

EXT. - LAFAYETTE STREET, EARLY EVENING

They turn on to Lafayette Street. Travers glances behind him, and the Master dashes in to the Canal Street (6) subway station. He brushes it off.

                     TRAVERS          If we supply you with the inertials          you need, will we know where they          are being sent?

                     WRIGHT          Probably not.

                     TRAVERS          Suppose we never get them back.

                     WRIGHT          Why wouldn't you get them back?          After they've decontaminated our          operation -

                     TRAVERS          Hollis' men have been known to kill          inertials sent out to negate them.          It's my responsibility to see that          my people are protected; I can't do          that if I don't know where they          are.

EXT. - BALTHAZAR RESTAURANT

Travers and Wright start to enter the restaurant. Wright enters, but Travers pauses outside, as Nina's voice comes over the earpiece.

                     NINA                (OC)          Travers? It's Nina.

                     TRAVERS          Took your time. Sit rep?

                     NINA                (OC)          Miss Wright represents Stanton          Mick. She is his confidential          assisstant.

INT. - NINA'S OFFICE

Nina is sitting on one of the beanbags, sitting in front of a coffee table and a laptop, with a headset on her heat.

                     NINA                (Cont'd)          There is no one named Shepard          Howard. The project under          discussion exists primarily on          Luna; it has to do with Techprise,          Mick's research facilities, the          controlling stock of which Miss          Wright keeps her name.

EXT. - BALTHAZAR RESTAURANT

                     NINA                (Cont'd)(OC)          She does not know any technical          details; no scientific evaluations          or memos or progress reports are          ever available to her by Mr Mick,          and she resents this enormously.          From Mick's staff, however, she has          picked up a general idea of the          nature of the project.

INT. - NINA'S OFFICE

                     NINA                (Cont'd)          Assuming that her second-hand          knowledge is accurate, the Lunar          project involves a radical, new,          low-cost interstellar drive system,          approaching the velocity of light,          which could be leased to every          moderately affluent political or          ethnological group. Mick's idea          seems to be that the drive system          will make colonization feasible on          a mass basic understructure.

EXT. - BALTHAZAR RESTAURANT

                     NINA                (Cont'd)(OC)          And hence no longer a monopoly of          specific governments.

Nina clicks off. Travers enters the restaurant.

INT. - BALTHAZAR RESTAURANT

Travers enters and sits down across from Wright, who has already sat down. He pauses, in thought.

                     WRIGHT          What are you thinking?

                     TRAVERS          I'm wondering if you can afford our          services. Since I have no test data          to go on, I can only estimate how          many inertials you'll need... but          it may run as high as forty.

                     WRIGHT          Forty? That's quite a few...

                     TRAVERS          The more we make use of, the sooner          we can get the job done. Since          you're in a hurry, we'll move them          all in at one time. If you are          authorized to sign a work contract          in the name of your employer, and          you can come up with a retainer          now, we could probably accomplish          this within seventy-two hours.

INT. - NINA'S OFFICE

                     NINA                (Speaking in to                 microphone)          As owner of Techprise she is fully          bonded. She can legally obligate          her firm up to and including its          total worth. Right now she is          calculating how much this would be,          if converted on today's market...                (Pause)          Several billion postcreds, she has          decided. But she doesn't want to do          this; she doesn't like the ides of          committing herself to both a          contract and a retainer.

INT. - BALTHAZAR RESTAURANT

                     NINA                (Cont'd)(OC)          She would prefer Mick's attorneys          do that, even if it means several          day's delay.

Pause. Travers looks uncomfortable.

                     NINA                (Cont'd)(OC)          She has an intuition that you know          - or have guessed - whom she          represents. And she's afraid you'll          up your fee accordingly.

INT. - NINA'S OFFICE

                     NINA                (Cont'd)          Mick knows his reputation. He          considers himself the world's          greatest mark. So he negotiates in          this manner: through someone and          some firm as a front. On the other          hand, they want as many inertials          as they can get. And they're          resigned to that being enormously          expensive.

INT. - BALTHAZAR RESTAURANT

Travers takes out a pad of paper and a sharpie, and starts writing.

                     TRAVERS          Forty inertials. Let's see. Six          times fifty times three. Times          forty. I wonder who paid to put his          employees in the middle of your          project.

                     WRIGHT          It really doesn't really matter,          does it? What matters is that          they're there.

                     TRAVERS          Sometimes one never finds out. But          as you say - it's the same as when          ants find their way in to your          kitchen. You don't ask why they're          there; you just begin the job of          getting them back out.

He finishes his calculations and breathes a sigh of despair. Wright also takes a look, and looks up in shock. She stands, up, ready to leave.

                     WRIGHT          I'll - have to think it over. Do          you know if there is a payphone          near here? Where I can possibly          call Mr Howard?

                     TRAVERS          It's rare for any prudence          organization to have that many          inertials available at one time. If          you wait, the situation will          change. So if you want them you          better act.

                     WRIGHT          And you really think that it would          take that many inertials?

                     TRAVERS          Take a look at this.

He takes out an iPad, and Wright sits back down. Travers fiddles around with the iPad, and then hands it over to Wright.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)          This shows the location of our          inertials plus the inertials from          other prudence organizations. In          addition to that it shows - or          tries to show - the location of all          of Hollis' psychics. I know now          where they are. I'll send this to          you over the nets. You can stay          here and meditate. There is a          vidphone over there -

He points to a corner of the restaurant, and stands up.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)          Hopefully, no one will bother you.          I'll be back in my office.

Travers makes his way out of the restaurant, and Wright makes her way to the vidphone.

INT. - TRAVERS' OFFICES; NEW YORK - OUTER OFFICE

Back in Traver's offices, Freck is sitting behind a curved mahogany desk. Across from the desk, there are a series of magazines on top of wooden coffee tables, next to leather chairs, and sitting in two of them is Patricia and a hungover Sandra. Patricia is dressed in a long black dress, and Sandra is in a loose-fitting tee shirt and dungarees, while holding a large cup of coffee. Travers enters, having just come back from his dinner with Wright.

                     TRAVERS          Freck, type up a work contract          specifying forty -

He notices Patricia and Sandra.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)          I gather Anderson is back from          Topeka.

                     SANDRA          This is Patricia. Dunno her last          name.

Travers sits next to Patricia.

                     TRAVERS          Anti-what?

                     PATRICIA          Anti-Ketogenesis.

                     TRAVERS          What's that mean?

                     PATRICIA          The prevention of ketosis as by the          the administration of glucose.

                     TRAVERS                (To Sandra)          Explain.

                     SANDRA          Give Travers your test sheet.

Patricia hands over the yellow A4 sheet to Travers, who duly reads it.

                     TRAVERS          Amazing score. Is she really this          good?

He glances at the back, and then up to Sandra.

                     SANDRA          She's the best so far.

                     TRAVERS          Come in to my office.

INT. - TRAVERS' OFFICES; NEW YORK

Travers enters his office, where the vidphone is ringing.

                     TRAVERS                (To Sandra and Patricia)          Sit down. Gimme a minute while I          answer this.

He takes a seat behind his desk, and Sandra and Patricia sit across from him. Travers then presses a button on his desk, and Wright's face appears on the TV screen.

                     WRIGHT          I phoned Mr Howard. He has now          given me my instructions. Mr Howard          would like the formal arrangments          made right away.

INT. - TRAVERS' OFFICES; NEW YORK - OUTER OFFICE

Back in the waiting room, muffles voices bleeds from Travers' offices. We see the Master has already sat down on one of the leather seats, reading one of the magazines. The Doctor enters, and leans her elbows on Freck's desk.

                     DOCTOR                (To Freck)          Hi, can I make an appointemt with          the manager here?

                     FRECK          Travers?

                     DOCTOR          Yes, thank you.

                     FRECK          He'll be free in about an hour or          so. Take a seat.

The Doctor sits down next to the Master, and starts reading a magazine. The Master turns to the Doctor, eyes still jet black. The Doctor looks up, and notices the Masters eyes. The Master puts her fingers up to the Doctor's temples. A small stream of regeneration energy flows from the Master's eyes to the Doctor's. The Master then presses her lips up against the Doctor.

INT. - TRAVERS' OFFICES; NEW YORK

                     WRIGHT          So may we go ahead now? I've          already acquainted you with the          urgency, the time factor.                (To Sandra and Patricia)          Do you two mind waiting? My          business with Travers is of a          priority nature.

                     TRAVERS          You'll have to wait, Wright.

                     WRIGHT          I can tell you exactly, Commodore          Travers, how many inertials we          intend to take. Mr Howard feels he          can make an adequate determination          of our needs, of our problems.

                     TRAVERS          How many?

                     WRIGHT          Eleven.

                     TRAVERS          I'll sign the contract in a little          while. As soon as I'm free.

Travers hangs up.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)(To Sandra and                 Patricia)          They'll never make it. With eleven.          Or fifteen. Or twenty. Especially          with S. Dole Melipone on the other          side. This is, as I assumed, the          potential trainee that Anderson          scouted in Topeka? And you believe          we should hire her? Both you and          Anderson agree? Then we'll hire          her, naturally. Nobody has managed          to tell me yet, which of the          psychic talents she counters.

                     SANDRA          Freck says you flew to Zürich. What          did Ella suggest?

                     TRAVERS          More ads on TV. Every hour.                (He speaks into a                 dictaphone)          Draw up an agreement of employment          between ourselves and a Jane Doe;          specify the starting salary that we          and the union agreed on last          December; specify -

                     PATRICIA          What is the starting salary?

                     TRAVERS          I don't even know what you can do.

                     SANDRA          It's precognicient. But in a          different way.

                     TRAVERS                (To Sandra)          Is she ready to go to work? Or is          this one we have to train and work          with and wait for? We've got almost          forty idle inertials and  and we're          hiring another; forty less, I          suppose, eleven. Thirty idle          employees, all drawing ful scale          while they sit around with their          thumbs in their thumbs in their          noses. I don't know, Sandy; I          really don't. Maybe we ought to          fire our scouts. Anyway, I think          I've found the rest if Hollis'          psychics. I'll tell you about it          later.                (Into dictaphone)          Specify that we can discharge this          Jane Doe without notice, without          severance pay or compensation of          any kind; nor is she elegible, for          the first ninety days, for pension,          health, or sick-pay benifits.                (To Pat)          Starting salary, in all cases,          begins at four hundred credits per          month, figuring on twenty hours a          week. And you'll have to join a          union. The Mine, Mill, and          Smelter-workers Union; they're the          one that signed up all the          prudence-organization employees          three years ago. I have no control          over that.

                     PATRICIA          I get more maintaining vidphone          relays at the Topeka Kibbutz. Your          scout Major Anderson said -

                     TRAVERS          Our scouts lie, and, in addition,          we're mot legally bound by anything          they say. No prudence organization          is.

Freck walks in with the typed out agreement.

                     FRECK          Here you go, sir.

                     TRAVERS          Thank you, Freck.                (To Sandra and Patricia)          I have a twenty-year old wife in          cold-pac. A beautiful woman who          when she talks to me gets pushed          out of the way by some kid named          Jory, and then I'm talking to him,          not her. Ella frozen in half-life          and dimming out - and that battered          crone for my secretary that I have          to look at all day long.

                     PATRICIA          I'll sign.

INT. - ASHILDR'S HOUSE - BEDROOM

A bedroom on the large side, red-maroon walls, littered with retro furniture. Ashildr is lying in her bed, with a metal skull cap on her head. Wires are coming out of the metal cap, leading in to the wall. A small, old, television is leaking muffled voices from the corner of the room.

                     TELEVISION                (OC)          Can't make the frug contest          because||your stomach is upset? Fix          yourself some Ubik! Ubik drops you          back in the thick of things fast.          Taken as directed, Ubik speeds          relief to head and stomach.          Remember; Ubik is only seconds          away. Avoid prolonged use. The          voices from the television starts          to glitch as we fade in to the next          scene.

DREAM STATE

Ashildr is walking across a white, desolate plane in a black suit, with a red shirt under her jacket. A man, Matt, in an three-piece suit is standing a few yards in front of her, at a slight angle, so we can just see a hateful expression on his face. He speaks with a distorted female child's voice.

                     MATT          I can't be myself while you're          around.

                     ASHILDR          Perhaps your definition of your          self-system lacks authentic          boundaries. You've erected a          precarious structure of personality          on unconscious factors over which          you have no control. That's why you          feel threatened by me. This clearly          makes the man nervous.

                     MATT          Aren't you an employee of a          prudence organization?

                     ASHILDR          And you work for Hollis. If you're          the stupendous talent you claim to          be, you can tell that by reading my          mind.

                     MATT          I can't read anybody's mind, my          talent is gone. I'll let you talk          to my brother, Bill. Here, Bill;          talk to this lady. Do you like this          lady?

A man with puffy grey hair, in a olive t-shirt and khaki shorts materialises. He also speaks with a distorted child's voice.

                     BILL          I like her fine because I'm a          precognicient and she doesn't          postscript me. 'I, that am          curtailed of this fair proportion,          cheated of feature by dissembling          nature' - how does it go, Matt?

                     MATT          'Deformed, unfinished, sent before          my time into this breathing world,          scarce half made up'

                     BILL          Oh, yes. I remember. 'And that so          lamely and unfashionable that dogs          bark at me as I halt by them.' From          Richard the Third.

                     ASHILDR          What does all of this mean?

Both the brothers give wide grins, and now speak in even more distorted voices.

                     MATT          It means that we are going to kill          you.

INT. - ASHILDR'S HOUSE - BEDROOM

A distant ringing of Ashildr's desk wakes her up. She gets up, lethargic, and slowly walks from her bedroom in to her living room.

INT. - ASHILDR'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM

The hologram-screen says 'Travers' in clear text, with green and red phone logos underneath. She presses the green.

                     ASHILDR          Travers. Has a job turned up for          me?

                     TRAVERS                (OC)          Ash, I'm glad I caught you. A group          is forming under Sandra Archer's          and my direction; eleven in all, a          major work assignment for those we          choose. We've been examining          everyone's history. Sandra thinks          yours looks good, and I tend to          agree. How long will it take you to          get down here?

                     ASHILDR          For this one will I be living -

                     TRAVERS          Yes, you'll have to pack. We're          supposed to be packed and ready to          go at all times; that's a rule I          don't ever want broken, especially          in a case like this where there's a          time factor.

                     ASHILDR          I am packed. I'll be at the New          York office in fifteen minutes. All          I have to do is leave a note for my          husband, who's at work.

                     TRAVERS          Well, okay. I'll see you soon.

Ashildr hangs up, and sits down on her bed. We see flashbacks of the dream she had.

                     ASHILDR          But I've never read Richard the          Third. How would I know poetry I've          never read?

Uneasy, she hurriedly gets dressed.

INT. - TRAVERS OFFICES; NEW YORK

Travers is still sitting behind his desk. He presses a button on his intercom.

                     TRAVERS          Make a bounty check, Freck. Payable          to Major Anderson, for one-hundred          postcreds.

                     FRECK                (OC)          Yes, Mr. Travers.

Anderson enters, and starts pacing around the office.

                     TRAVERS          Sandra Archer can't seem to tell me          what the Jane Doe does.

                     ANDERSON          Sandra can be a real cunt.

                     TRAVERS          How come she, this Pat, can travel          back in time, and no one else can?          I'll bet this talent isn't new; you          scouts probably just missed          noticing it up until now. Anyhow,          it's not logical for a prudence          organization to hire her; it's a          talent, not an anti-talent. We deal          in -

                     ANDERSON          As I explained, and as Sandra          indicated on the test report, it          aborts the precogs out of business.

                     TRAVERS          But that's only a side-effect.          Sandra thinks she's dangerous. I          don't know why.

                     ANDERSON          Did you ask her why?

                     TRAVERS          She mumbles, the way she always          does. Sandra never has reasons,          just hunches. On the other hand,          she wants to include her in the          Mick operation. Ask Sandra to come          in here so we can see if we've got          our group of eleven set up.

He rearranges paperwork on his desk, and checks his watch.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)          They should be arriving about now.          I'm going to tell Sandra to her          face she's crazy to include this          Pat Conley girl if she's so          dangerous. Wouldn't you say,          Anderson?

                     ANDERSON          She's got a thing going with Pat.

                     TRAVERS          What sort of thing?

                     ANDERSON          A sexual understanding.

                     TRAVERS          Sandra has no sexual understanding.          Nina read her mind the other day          and she's too poor even to -

Travers breaks off, as Freck walks in with a folder marked 'Bounty Check'.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)          I know why Sandra wants her along          on the Mick operation. So she can          keep an eye on her. She's going          too; Sandra's going to measure the          psychic field despite what the          client stipulated. We have to know          what we're up against. Thank you,          Freck.

He waves Freck away, and holds a check out to Anderson, who accepts it.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)          Supose we don't measure the psychic          field and it turns out to be too          intense for our inertials? Who gets          blamed?

                     ANDERSON          We do.

                     TRAVERS          I told them eleven wasn't enough.          We're supplying our best; we're          doing the best we can. After all,          getting Stanton Mick's patronage is          a matter of great importantce to          us. Amazing, that someone as          wealthy and powerful as Mick could          be so shortsighted, so goddamned          miserly. Freck, is Sandra out          there? Sandra Archer?

                     FRECK          Ms Archer is in the outer office          with a number of other people.

                     TRAVERS          How many other people, Freck? Ten          or eleven?

                     FRECK          I'd say about that many, sir. Give          or take one or two.

                     TRAVERS          That's the group. I want to see          them, all of them, before they          leave for Luna. Send them in.

Freck leaves.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)          We know that as individuals they          perform well. It's all down here on          paper. But how about together? How          great a polyencephalic          counter-field will they generate          together? Ask yourself that,          Anderson. That is the question to          ask.

                     ANDERSON          I guess time will tell.

                     TRAVERS          I've been in this business a long          time. This is my contribution to          conteporary civilization.

                     ANDERSON          That puts it well. You're a          policeman guarding human privacy.

                     TRAVERS          You know what Ray Hollis says about          us? He says that we are trying to          turn the clock back.

The inertials start to fill up the office. Travers spots Ashildr, as she walks in.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)          You made good time, Ash. You had          less time than anybody else, as I          notified you last. Some of you, I          know. You, Ms Dorn; Ms Archer and I          chose you because of your top-notch          activity vis-à-vis S. Dole          Melipone, whom you eventually lost          through no fault of your own.

                     DORN          Thank you, Travers. It is good to          be part of this new undertaking.

                     TRAVERS          Which one of you is Al Hammond?

A tall, black man in a leather jacket raises his hand.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)          I've never met you before. You rate          the highest among our anti-precogs.          I should, of course, have gotten          around to meeting you sooner. How          many of the rest of you are          anti-precog?

Three other hands go up.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)          The four of you will undoubtedly          get a great bloop out of meeting          and working with Major Anderson's          most recent discovery, who aborts          precogs on a new basis. Perhaps          Miss Conley herself will describe          it to us.

EXT. - FIFTH AVENUE

Travers is standing outside a rare-coin store, looking through a window. He then suddenly shakes his head, as if he is waking up from a trance.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)          What the fuck?

He then comes to a realization, and clenches his eyes shut.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)          Oh, shit. It's gone. Everything I          built up.

INT. - TRAVERS' OFFICES; NEW YORK

Travers opens his eyes again. He is sitting across from Sandra and Pat, and Anderson is sitting  Other than those four, the office is empty. Travers looks around, dazed and confused.

                     SANDRA          Travers, I'd like you to meet          Patricia Conley.

                     PATRICIA          How nice to be introduced to you at          last, Commodore.

Sandra pauses, and looks down at the floor for a moment.

                     SANDRA          I can't put my finger on it but          things are different.

                     PATRICIA          Nothing is different.

                     SANDRA          Everything is different. You must          have gone back in time and put us          on a different track; of course I          can't prove it and I can't really          specify the changes - at least not          yet--

                     TRAVERS          Please, no domestic quarreling on          my time.

                     SANDRA          'Domestic Quarreling'?

                     TRAVERS          Anyhow, to continue, we must each          ask ourselves why Stanton Mick took          his business to a prudence          organization other than ours.          Logically, we should have gotten          the contract; we're the finest in          the business and we're located in          New York, where Mick generally          prefers to deal. Do you have any          theory, Mrs Conley?

                     PATRICIA          Do you really want to know, Mr          Runciter?

                     TRAVERS          Ye, I'd very much like to know.

                     PATRICIA          I did it.

                     TRAVERS          How?

                     PATRICIA          With my talent.

                     TRAVERS          What talent? You don't have a          talent; you're Sandra Archer's          wife.

                     ANDERSON          Pat, you only came in to here to          meet Sandra, Travers, and me for          lunch.

                     TRAVERS          Have you measured it? I mean,          that's your job. You sound as if          you have; you sound sure of          yourself.

                     SANDRA          I'm not sure of myself. Something's          wrong. I'll get my test gear.

                     TRAVERS          Oh, come on Sandy. If your wife has          a talent or an anti-talent you          would have measured it by now.

He presses a button on his desk.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)          Nina, do we have a file on Mrs          Patricia Archer?

                     PATRICIA          Conley. Patricia Conley.

                     SANDRA          What is wrong with you?

Pat turns to Sandra, and smirks.

                     SANDRA                (Cont'd)          Oh, no. Fuck you.

                     NINA                (OC)          On a Miss Patricia Conley we have          two items; an initial report by          Major Anderson, and then test          findings by Ms Archer.

Travers Desk pops up with the two mentioned documents shown.

                     TRAVERS          Sandra, you better look at this;          come here.

                     PATRICIA          I know what it reads, "Unbelievable          power Anti-psi field unique in          scope." Can probably -

                     TRAVERS          We did get the Mick contract. I had          a group if eleven inertials in          here, and then I suggested to her -

                     SANDRA          That she show the group what she          could do. So she did. She did          exactly that. And my evaluation was          right.

Sandra smirks, and laughs.

                     SANDRA                (Cont'd)          My own wife.

                     PATRICIA          Yeah, I'm not your wife. Changed          that, too. Do you want it back the          way it was? With no changes, not          even in details? That won't show          your inertials much. On the other          hand, they're unaware...unless some          of them have retaines a vestigial          memory has Sandra has. By now,          though, it should have phased out.

                     TRAVERS          I'd like the Mick contract back;          that much, at least.

Anderson puffs on a cigarette.

                     ANDERSON          When I scout them, I scout them.

                     TRAVERS          Yes, you really bring in the          talent.

                     FRECK                (OC)          A group of your inertials are          waiting to see you, Commodore; they          say you sent for them in connection          with a new joint work project. Are          you free to see them?

                     TRAVERS          Send them in.

Patricia holds the back of her hand up to Sandra.

                     PATRICIA          I'll keep the ring.

                     SANDRA          I think you're forgetting.

                     PATRICIA          What, that you're taken by that          bitch, Alice? Give me a break.

                     SANDRA          How dare you!

                     PATRICIA          I'll have you know that on a          different time track you had me          pick this very ring out.

Sandra, speechless, turns to Travers, who is gathering paperwork.

                     SANDRA          Couldn't you just slap her          sometimes?

                     TRAVERS          I barely know her.

INT. - TARDIS

The Doctor wakes up on the floor of her TARDIS. She suddenly sits up with a sharp intake of breath.

                     DOCTOR          What the fuck? What the fuck? What          the fuck?

We have a flashback of the Master's recent quazi-regeneration. Another sharp intake of breath.

                     DOCTOR                (Cont'd)          Oh no you don't. No way.

She stands up and starts running around her console, pressing buttons, pushing levers.

                     DOCTOR                (Cont'd)          Don't you dare, mate. Don't you          fucking dare. Not under my watch.

INT. - TRAVERS' OFFICES; NEW YORK

The inertials have again filled up Travers' office, and are all talking, making a racket. Travers is looking at a clipboard and ticking off people's names with one of those yellow pencils.

                     TRAVERS          Edie Dorn; yes you're here.          Hammond? Okay, Hammond. Ashildr?

                     ASHILDR          I made it as quickly as I could.          You didn't give me much time,          Travers.

                     TRAVERS          Hmm. John Ild? Yes, good.          Francesca?

                     FRANCESCA          During the last few minutes,          Travers, while we waited in your          outer office, mysterious voices          appeared to me and told me things.

                     TRAVERS          You're Francesca?

                     FRANCESCA          I am; I have always been; I will          always be. May I tell you what the          voices revealed to me?

                     TRAVERS          Possibly later.

Traver goes on to the next document on his clipboard with a large sigh.

                     FRANCESCA          It must be said!

                     TRAVERS          All right, we'll take a break for a          couple of minutes.

Everyone, with the exception of Travers, Sandra, and Francesca spills in to the outer office. Travers opens a draw and swallows a pill with a glass of water. He then turns to Sandra and shrugs.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)          Let's hear what the voices revealed          to you, Francesca.

                     FRANCESCA          Someone, just now, moved us, all of          us, in to another world. We          inhabited it, lived in it, as          citizens of it, and then a vast,          all-encompassing spiritual angecy          restored us to this, our rightful          universe.

                     SANDRA          That would be Pat. Pat Conley. She          just joined the firm today.

Travers rolles his eyes and walks out in to the outer ofice.

INT. - TRAVERS' OFFICES; NEW YORK - OUTER OFFICE

All the intertials are in the outer offices, chatting. The Dotor enters, soon by the Master. The Doctor turns to the Master, shakes her head, mouthing the word 'No'. The Master promptly smirks. The Doctor walks up to the Master.

                     DOCTOR          Whatever you're thinking --

                     MASTER          Don't worry! I'll be such a good          girl.

                     DOCTOR          That sounded sarcastic.

                     MASTER          Whether or not that was sarcasm is          for me to know and for you to find          out.

                     DOCTOR          You still going with Missy?

                     MASTER          No. Too camp. This body is not          really the campy type.

Travers peeks his head through the door.

                     TRAVERS          Tito Apostos? You're here?

A bald man in gold lamé trousers and a handlebar moustache (Jamie Hyneman?) nods his head. Travers walks out further with a clipboard.

                     TITO          I'm an anti-animator.

                     TRAVERS                (to Sandra)          The only one we use. I wonder if          we'll need him; maybe we should          subsitute another anti-telepath -          the more of those the better.

                     SANDRA          We have to cover everything, since          we don't know what we're getting          ourselves into.

                     TRAVERS          I guess so. Okay, Wendy Wright? Goh          yes, good. Sammy Mundo?

A brief pause. The Doctor then runs up to Travers and flashes her psychic paper at Travers.

                     DOCTOR          That's me. Sammy Mundo. Short for          Samantha.

                     TRAVERS          Okay; that leaves Fred Zafsky.

                     MASTER          Right you are. How about that?

The Master takes out an object from her bra that looks similar to the Doctor's psychic paper, and shows it to Travers.

                     TRAVERS          Christ. Well, we have to include at          least one anti-parakineticist, to          be safe. And you're it, by the          looks of it.

The Doctor takes the Master to the side.

                     DOCTOR          What was that?

                     MASTER          What?

                     DOCTOR          The psychic paper! Where the fuck          did you get that from?

                     MASTER          I have my ways, sweetie. Come on,          let's watch the show.

                     DOCTOR          Don't you ever fucking call me          sweetie.

On the other side of the room...

                     TRAVERS          That's the group, plus you and me.          Any last minute changes you want to          make?

                     SANDRA          I'm satisfied.

                     TRAVERS          You suppose this bunch of inertials          is the best combination we can come          up with?

                     SANDRA          Yes

                     TRAVERS          And it's good enought to take on          Hollis' Psychics?

                     SANDRA          Yes.

Tito walks up to Travers and Sandra.

                     ASHILDR          Ms Archer, may I have a second of          your time?

                     TRAVERS          I'll leave you two alone.

Travers walks in to his main office.

                     SANDRA          May I help you, Tito?

                     ASHILDR          Could I discuss an experience I had          late last night?

                     SANDRA          If this is of a sexual nature, I          really can't help. My expertise is          better in the -- female department.          Sorry.

                     ASHILDR          No, it's not that. In a hypnagogic          state I seem to have contacted one,          or possibly two, of Mr Hollis'          people - a telepath evidently          operating in conjunction with one          of their precognicients. Do you          think I should tell Travers? Do you          think it is of impotance?

Sandra pauses, looks out in to the crowd, and sighs.

                     SANDRA          No. I'd let it go if I were you.

Travers enters the outer office again with a piece of paper. He puts his hand up in the air, and waves it.

                     TRAVERS                (With a raised voice)          Excuse me, everyone. Everyone?

The room quietens down.

                     TRAVERS                (Normal tone)(Cont'd)          Ladies and gentlemen, we're taking          for Luna, you eleven inertials,          Sandra Archer and myself, and our          client's representative, Miss Robin          Wright; fourteen of us in all.          We'll use our own ship.

Travers glances at his piece of paper. And then his watch.

                     TRAVERS                (Cont'd)          It's three-thirty now. Pratfall II          will take off from the main roof          field at four.

He snaps his watch shut, folds up the piece of paper, and returns it to his pocket. He then leads Sandra in to his office, and shuts the door behind him.

INT. - TRAVERS' OFFICES; NEW YORK

                     SANDRA          Well, Travers, we are in this for          better or worse. I wish we had a          resident precognicient who could          take a look ahead for us.

INT. - TRAVERS' OFFICES; NEW YORK - OUTER OFFICE

The Master looks out at the small crowd preparing, smirking; like she knows something more.