Birthday Fic: Cliches Are Forever

[rusty_armour]

Title: Clichés Are Forever
Author: Rusty Armour
Summary: Only one man can save us from the machinations of an evil mastermind set on world domination! Well…maybe not world domination, but I think my balcony might be under threat.
Category: Like, duh! Action Figure fic, of course. As usual, it’s mostly gen with unsubtle slash overtones. Crossover of Enterprise, Stargate Atlantis, Primeval, Doctor Who (very slightly), and, at the risk of giving the game away, James Bond – that is, if you hadn’t already guessed that by the title.
Rating: PG-13ish
Word Count: 3,074
Spoilers: Not really. There’s a very slight one for “Miller’s Crossing” (Stargate Atlantis), but, otherwise, it’s basically just mild spoilers for the James Bond franchise in general.
Disclaimer: With a few exceptions, these characters aren’t mine. They’re owned by smarter, richer people. It’s totally not worth it to sue me. I’m just an editor...and an occasional fanfic writer.
Notes: Another crazy Action Figure fic for jackycomelately on her birthday! Hope she enjoys it…or at least gets through it okay. *g*

---

Mayweather gaped at rusty_armour incredulously. “You want to write an action figure fic about me? Me? What’s the catch?”

rusty_armour pouted. “There’s no catch. It’s just that when I started brainstorming for jackycomelately’s birthday fic, I remembered your rant from the end of last year’s story and realized that you were right. I have underrepresented visible minorities, and with all that discussion about the possibility of a black James Bond – ”

“You want to write a James Bond story with me starring in the title role?” Mayweather cried.

“Oh, uh…”

Mayweather’s face lit up. “You don’t know what this means to me. I’m a huge Bond fan, but I never dreamed…Hot damn! I get to be James Bond!”

rusty_armour sighed. “Okay, fine. It’s not as if I’ve been able to come up with anything better.















“Now we just have to figure out who’s going to be the Bond girl,” Mayweather said. “Fortunately, I have three ideal candidates in mind.”














“MALCOLM?”

“rusty_armour said she was writing a James Bond story and would need a Bond girl.”

“Well, I doubt she meant you, Lieutenant, as you aren’t a girl!”

“Oh, but she did, Travis. She wants a transgender Bond girl.”

“I’m sorry,” Mayweather said. “A what?”





“Well, rusty_armour thought that the story shouldn’t just have a hero of colour, but a transgender character as well.” Reed crossed his arms over his chest and regarded Mayweather sternly. “Given your passionate speech from last year, I assume you don’t have a problem with that.”

“What? Oh! No! No, of course not.” Mayweather cleared his throat. “So what’s your Bond girl name? It should be something really cool, possibly a pun, like ‘Pussy Galore’.”

Reed nodded. “Ah, yes, I see. Kitty Litter.”

Mayweather stared at him. “What?”

“Kitty Litter. That’s my Bond girl name.”

Mayweather groaned. “You can’t use that as your Bond girl name! It’s terrible, sir!”





Reed glared at Mayweather. “You said it should be a name like ‘Pussy Galore’.”

Mayweather ran a hand over his face. “No, I said a name as cool as ‘Pussy Galore’. I should have also said that a good Bond girl name has a strong hint of sexual innuendo.”

“Then ‘Kitty Litter’ should be perfect,” Reed said.

“Lieutenant, there’s nothing sexy about kitty litter!”

“Perhaps not where you come from…”





Mayweather threw up his hands in frustration. “Oh, come on! Not even cats find kitty litter sexy!”

“Well, I do,” Reed said, “and if you want a Bond girl, Ensign, you’d better re-evaluate your opinion of kitty litter.”

Mayweather sighed. “Fine. Have it your way. But you’d better not expect me to kiss Kitty Litter.”

Reed sniffed. “I expect you to act like a gentleman.”

Mayweather snorted. “Sir, it’s a James Bond story.”

“Oh, right. Well, in that case, you can place a hand on my arse.”

Mayweather’s eyes widened. “I’m frightened. Someone please help me.”





Tucker poked his head around the corner of the blanket box/coffee table. “Oh, James. M will see you now.”

“What?” Mayweather said. “Oh! M! Yeah, okay. Thanks, Commander.”

Tucker tsked loudly. “Silly boy. It’s Moneypenny.”

Mayweather looked confused. “But shouldn’t Moneypenny be a woman?”

“Like your Bond girl?” Tucker shook his head. “Nah. rusty_armour thought that if James Bond was black and the Bond girl was transgender then Moneypenny should be a man.”

“Dare I even ask about M?”

Tucker smiled. “You’ll see.”

Mayweather grimaced. “I can’t wait.” He turned to Reed. “I’ll meet up with you later, Kitty Litter. As this is a James Bond story, I can only assume that I’ll be seeing you at a ski resort, some millionaire’s mansion, or – ”

“Uh, we don’t have a $250,000,000 budget,” Tucker said. “I doubt we even have a $5 budget. I think you’re more likely to meet up on a table or chair, maybe rusty_armour’s bed…”

“No, not rusty_armour’s bed!” Mayweather shouted. “NEVER rusty_armour’s bed!” He shuddered and was careful not to make eye contact with Reed. “I’d better not keep M waiting.” Without paying any heed to either Reed or Tucker, Mayweather rushed to M’s “office”. Then he stood staring at a Vancouver Island Marmot.





Craning his neck, Mayweather gazed around the marmot, trying to find M. When Tucker came to stand beside him, Mayweather whispered, “Where’s M?”





“You’re looking at him,” Tucker said.

“But he’s – ”

“An animal? Yeah, I know. rusty_armour felt that it was only fair that at least one animal be cast in the story.”

“Oh, I figured that,” Mayweather said. “What I was trying to say is that I thought the marmot was acting as Giant Radioactive Sherlock Holmes’s Watson.”

“Giant Radioactive Sherlock Holmes didn’t have an issue with it once he realized that we didn’t expect him to participate in the story.”

“Okay, that’s fine, but how is the marmot supposed to play M if he can’t speak?” Mayweather asked.

“Don’t worry,” Tucker said. “rusty_armour has already thought of that.”

“What do you mean?”





“Oh, I see. Uh, good morning, M.”





“I’m sorry,” Mayweather said. “The what mafia?”





“And T’Pol will hold the whole planet hostage unless all the world leaders agree to pay her gazillions of dollars!”





“But that’s crazy!” Mayweather cried.





Mayweather nodded. “Can’t argue with that. Anything else, M?”








“Where’s Q?” Mayweather asked Tucker after they had left M’s office. “I’m going to need the usual 007 toys before I head off on my mission.”

“I’ll take you to him, James,” Tucker said.





Mayweather walked cautiously beside Tucker. “Is there anything I should know about Q? I mean, is he going to turn out to be a mineral or a piece of fruit?”

“No, it’s Lester.”

“Lester as in Lester? Really? A funny little Englishman is going to play Q? Well, that doesn’t seem like much of a stretch to me.”

“Actually, the first Q was a funny little Welshman, but I see what you mean. I would have chosen Lester for M myself – or maybe even the villain.”





“I would have loved to play the villain, but rusty_armour wouldn’t hear of it,” Lester said as Mayweather and Tucker approached.

“Why the hell not?” Tucker asked.

Lester sighed. “She says she’s seen too many Brits cast as villains and that it’s become too much of a stereotype, especially in American films and TV shows. I told her I honestly didn’t care.”

Tucker shook his head. “How is casting an alien any better? If anything that’s even worse, isn’t it?”

“I would have thought so, yes, but rusty_armour pointed out that there had only ever been one main Bond villain who was a woman and that sexual equality trumped xenophobia for once.” Lester sighed again. “Oh, well. If we all have to be in this story, it’s probably best to get it over with.” He tossed a glance at Mayweather and forced a smile that more closely resembled a wince. “We’d better start off by getting you kitted up, 007.” Lester walked behind his table and gestured to the items in front of him.




Mayweather moved to the table, studying its contents eagerly.

“I’m sure it’s all pretty self-evident, but I’ll go through everything just the same,” Lester said. “First of all, there’s the radio.”

“Cool.”

“Then there’s the gun.”

“Awesome.”

“Lastly, an extra pair of hands in case you should lose one or both of your current pair.”

“Holy shit!”

“Of course, if either of these hands should prove insufficient, there’s always Giant Hand.”





“Hello!”

“I think I’ll let you keep what’s on the table and just take Giant Hand,” Mayweather said.

Lester gazed down at his table forlornly. “Very well. I can’t really say I blame you.”

Giant Hand, practically vibrating with excitement, said, “I think you’ll find that I’ll be the one taking you places, James.”

“Starting now?” Mayweather asked.

“Yes, climb aboard, James. There’s an old friend who’d like to see you.”





About five seconds later, Mayweather had landed beside the glider. Sheppard was lounging at its base.

“Why, hello, James!” Sheppard said. “Great to see you, pal!” He grabbed Mayweather’s hand and shook it warmly.

Mayweather raised an eyebrow. “Felix Leiter?”

Sheppard grinned. “At your service, James. The CIA is just as interested in nailing T’Pol as MI6, so our bosses thought it would be a swell idea if we worked together.”

“Sounds good to me,” Mayweather said. “M didn’t really provide a lot of details – probably because there’s a limit to how much text can be included in a speech bubble. Has the CIA been able to gather any useful intel?”

Sheppard laughed. “Has the CIA been able to gather any useful intel? We’re the CIA – of course we’ve been able to gather useful intel. We’ve located T’Pol’s super top secret base of operations.”

Mayweather’s face lit up. “Is it on a tropical island or a floating complex in the middle of the ocean?”

Sheppard frowned. “Uh, you know we have no budget, right? The villain’s lair is where it always is in these stories: out on the balcony.”

Mayweather’s face fell. “Double dang with lots of syrup on top! My showdown with T’Pol is going to take place on one of rusty_armour’s balcony chairs?”

“Are you kidding? Of course not. We’re using the table.”

Mayweather rolled his eyes. “Oh, that’s so much better.”

“Well, no, actually, it’s not. The table is higher than the chairs, so it’s going to be harder to climb. I mean, it beats trying to scale the kitchen counter, but it’s still going to be a bitch.”

“Au contraire, Felix,” Mayweather said. “I have something up my sleeve that should make the trip to T’Pol’s lair a whole lot easier. Giant Hand? Giant Hand, would you mind giving us a hand.”

“Oh, James!” Giant Hand gasped in breathless anticipation. “Do you really mean it, James? Oh, James!”

While Mayweather blushed and looked away uncomfortably, Sheppard gaped at Giant Hand in disbelief. “This isn’t something up your sleeve, but rusty_armour’s! And…and…Jesus! What are you wearing, Giant Hand?”





“I wanted something special for my very first James Bond story,” Giant Hand said. “Do you like it?”

Sheppard nodded vigorously. “Oh, yeah. You look, uh, very special. Doesn’t she, James? James!” Sheppard elbowed Mayweather sharply in the ribs.

“Yes,” Mayweather said. “It’s certainly…unique. Just love the bracelet.”

Giant Hand squirmed in handish delight. “Oh, James, you know just what to say to a girl! How can I help you? You know I’d do anything to help you, James. Anything.”

Mayweather cleared his throat and loosened the collar of his uniform. “You know what? Never mind. I think Felix and I can handle things just fine. After all, it’s a James Bond story. We should be getting some exercise – the, uh, kind that involves walking and climbing, but nothing else.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sheppard said. “Giant Hand, could you give us a lift to T’Pol’s hideout? It’s on the balcony table.”

“You should have said that in the first place, darling! Hop on!”








“Well, this is interesting, Sheppard said after Giant Hand had set them down on the balcony table. “Of course, what I really mean is boring. Where’s all the crap that’s usually on this table?”





Mayweather shrugged. “Maybe the two clay owls, flower pot and candles weren’t setting the right atmosphere. I think T’Pol favours the minimalist look.” He walked over to the objects that remained on the table. “Hey, she left the neato giant ant and the glass barometer.”




“How very observant of you, Mr. Bond.”

Mayweather whipped around in surprise. “How did you get up here without us seeing you?”

T’Pol raised an eyebrow. “Come now, Mr. Bond. Surely, you do not expect me to share all my secrets, do you?”

“We’d settle for some of them, T’Pol,” Sheppard said. “How about you start by telling us what the ant and barometer are for? Are they part of your quest for world domination?”

“No, the ant merely serves as a distraction. As for the barometer, I like the pretty colours. However, if you desire something a little more…diverting, I can easily arrange it. Giant Hand!”





“Kitty!” cried Mayweather.

“Giant Hand, how could you?” Sheppard shouted.

Giant Hand set down the cage and preened. “Like, duh! Double agent!”

“Damn,” Mayweather muttered. “Practically every Bond film has one. I totally should have seen this coming.”

“Hey, I just thought of something,” Sheppard whispered. “Doesn’t every Bond villain have a henchman?”

T’Pol inclined her head graciously. “That would be correct, Mr. Leiter. I do, indeed, have a henchman. Giant Hand, would you be kind enough to fetch McJaws?”

Sheppard’s mouth fell open. “I’m sorry. Did you say McJaws…? Holy crap!”





“Hwamayaseru?” McJaws asked.

“He said ‘How may I serve you?’” T’pol said. “The metal teeth make it difficult for him to speak.”

Sheppard barked out a laugh. “Metal teeth? They’re made out of aluminum foil!”

“Vrahurdawoonumfull. Vrasherptu.”

“It’s very hard aluminum foil,” T’Pol said.





“Ad vrasherptu.”

“And very sharp too.”

Mayweather raised a hand. “Is all the remaining dialogue going to be like this because I think we’re going to lose the two or three people who were kind enough to read this story, including the birthday girl, if it continues.”

“Besides,” Sheppard said, “Richard Kiel wore the metal teeth better.”

T’Pol crossed her arms. “It was either the teeth or the convoluted backstory rusty_armour created for him.”

“I don’t know,” Mayweather said. “I think at this point, I’d prefer the convoluted backstory.”

T’Pol might have sighed if she hadn’t been a Vulcan. “Very well. Rodney McJaws is a former CSIS agent who – ”

Sheppard burst out laughing again. “CSIS? Are you serious?”

McKay tore the aluminum foil from his mouth. “What is it with you and CSIS? It’s an organization responsible for ensuring Canada’s national security! It’s not funny, John!”

“Well, actually, even Canadians can’t take CSIS seriously,” rusty_armour said. “When I went to see Quantum of Solace, half the audience laughed when the CSIS line came up.”





Sheppard tried to conceal a snigger, but it was too late. McKay was already in attack mode.

“Well, T’Pol, it looks like it’s just you and me now,” Mayweather said. “Perhaps you’d like to share the location of your deadly weapon with me.”

T’Pol stared at Mayweather in puzzlement. “It is right here, Mr. Bond. I am wielding the phase pistol in my hand.”

Mayweather snorted. “No, I mean the super weapon you’ve been developing, the one that is capable of penetrating the earth’s core. Where is that weapon?” T’Pol glanced away, unable to meet Mayweather’s eyes. “There isn’t a super weapon, is there? I bet there isn’t even a prop that resembles a super weapon. What materials did rusty_armour give you to work with? Some aluminum foil, a few paper clips, some Q-tips, an elastic band?”

“It was a twist tie instead of an elastic band,” T’Pol said, “but, yes, you are essentially correct, Ensign.”





Mayweather smiled. “You don’t really want to be here, do you, Sub-Commander? I bet you’d much rather be working your shift on Enterprise. Why don’t we head back there?”

T’Pol gave an uncharacteristic frown. “But this is your story, your chance to be the hero for once, to be a black James Bond.”

“I’ve had my moment in the spotlight and I’m happy now,” Mayweather said. “We can go back to Enterprise. Giant Hand, wherever you are, can you take us home?”

Giant Hand instantly popped up. “Sure thing, sexy man.”

Mayweather winced, but climbed on the palm all the same.





Meanwhile, back in her cage, Kitty Litter watched Giant Hand sail away in horror and disgust. “Hey, what about me? I’m the Bond girl! I’m supposed to be rescued in the end – unless it’s On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, Casino Royale, or Skyfall – and James Bond is supposed to kiss me, and we go off together, and-and…where’s my happy ending?”





Giant Hand swooped down and gently extricated Reed from the cage. “Oh, sweetie, men are complete bastards. Didn’t you know that?”

Reed gritted his teeth. “Why are you helping me? I thought you were a double agent?”

“No, triple agent. It’s a lot more fun. Can I take you anywhere, honey? Back to Enterprise maybe?”

“No, just set me on the ground again. I could use the walk. I need some time to think.”





After Reed was deposited on terra firma, he didn’t start walking, but leaned heavily and unhappily against the balcony wall instead.

“Are you all right, miss?”

Reed spun around, startled, then relaxed when he saw who it was. “Oh, yes. Yes, I think so, Captain.”

“Oh, you know who I am?” Archer said.

“Well, yes, of course I do, sir.”

“Then you have the advantage of me, Miss…?”





Reed stared at Archer for a second before extending his hand. “Litter. Kitty Litter.”

“What a beautiful name for a beautiful lady.” Archer bent forward and kissed Reed’s hand. “Enchanté, Mademoiselle Litter.”

“Merci. But call me Kitty, s'il vous plaît.”

“Only if you call me Jonathan,” Archer said. “Could I have the honour of escorting you somewhere, Kitty?”

“Oh, back to the ship would be lovely, sir.”

“Jonathan.”

“Right. Sorry. Jonathan.”

“I would be very happy to give you a tour of my ship, Kitty.”

“Thank you, Jonathan.”





“Perhaps we could begin with a visit to your cabin,” Reed said.

JAMES BOND WILL RETURN IN DALEKRAKER…OR MAYBE NOT

Comments

[crimsoncorundum]

LOL. That's very cool, though I have to admit I'm not all that familiar with most of the fandoms (except for Doctor Who).

[rusty_armour]

Oh, thank you! :-) I would have completely understood if you'd used the adjective "weird" or "insane" instead of "cool," so thank you for that. *g* This is part of a long line of bizarre action figure birthday fics that I write for jackycomelately each year.

[grondfic]

ROFLMAO!

*applauds wildly, with an extra hand for Giant Hand's posh getup*

[rusty_armour]

Oh, that's so kind of you, grondfic! Thank you! :-D I'm happy this insane fic gave you a laugh and I'm sure Giant Hand will be thrilled to know that you approve of her posh getup!