Sagerian
Cadet
Title: The unexpected courting of Sydney Bristow.
Author: Sagerian
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters, etc, blah blah. Just playing.
A/N: My entry to the Worst of the Worst FanFiction Contest. Yay!
Rating: PG-13, probably for language, haven’t written it yet but I’m sure there’ll be filth.
Summary: A/U. Syd and Vaughn prepare to infiltrate a building… Then get ice cream and a beer, but perhaps not in that order.
The dimly lit windows of a building are all that can be seen on this dark, rainy night. Two people dart from the shadows and run across the muddy ground. Mud splashes on the camera, which the cameraman wipes off while mumbling under his breath.
The two people reach the nearest wall of the building and stop. The male, who is called many names but generally answers to ‘Vaughn’, whispers to his partner, “Heeeey Syd, I tought after dis we could have a tink about gone dawn and havin a quick pint at paddy’s.” Vaughn suffered brain damage after a nasty incident involving the script of one hour photo, a freakishly large amount of hair product and a cattle prod, now he suffers from a severe form of split personality disorder which causes him to think he’s either Irish, English (c***ney of course, like there’s any other kind), or Australian. It can be quite bad, although he’s the best at telling jokes that begin, “Ok, so there was this Englishman, Irishman and an Aussie in a bar, right…”
His partner, Sydney Bristow, who was still trying to come to terms with this “Random personality” Vaughn, replied, “No Vaughn, we have a job to do. We’ve got to steal the top secret plans, are you with me? Cos if you’re not you can wait in the car,” Syd looks seriously at Vaughn before continuing, “Windows up!”
Vaughn’s lower lip starts to tremble and he’s on the verge of tears, “Nooooo, Vaughn no like sitting in brom brom.” Oh, we should mention Vaughn also sometimes acts like he’s five years old, with the giggling and the odd drooling, the doctor’s say that will pass in time. Sydney holds Vaughn close and gives him a hug. “Aww it’s ok,” she says, “You know I’d never really do that. Now how bout we get these plans and then you can have ice cream?” Vaughn’s expression changes to one of excitement, his hands wave around wildly and he screams, “Too right you! Lets do i' quickly so we can get down da nuclear sub fer a pint. Err, or ice cream ‘ey?”
So they break into the building, some stuff happens, they get the plans which no one really knows what they’re for (hey this is almost like a REAL episode of Alias), and get out without killing more than 18 people (cos killing more than 18 people is bad).
They then head down to the pub, Sydney doesn’t really want to be there but tags along as she did promise Vaughn they’d go. Vaughn is carrying on a bit and Sydney doesn’t really want to be there any more. “Come on Vaughn, lets go. I don’t really want to be here any more.” She said this to re-iterate that she didn’t really want to be there anymore.
Out of nowhere Vaughn yells, “Hey you! Come and have a drink with us!” No one has any clue who he’s talking to. “You, I’m talking to you!” Still no one knows. “You! Mr. Guy who’s talking”… There was a long pause… Is… Is he talking to me? “Yes you, Mr. Narrator sir, come and pull up a stool. All that… erm, Narratoring but be making you a bit thirsty.” Well, yeah it is actually, thanks.
“So what will you have to drink?” Vaughn asked me, I replied that I’ll have a pint of Guinness thanks. “He’ll have a pint of Guinness thanks, I’ll have one as well” said Vaughn to the bartender.
The drinks arrive after they’ve settled and been topped up. I start to drink mine but Vaughn is just staring at his drink. “You’re so puuuurty”, he says… To the beer. “If I wasn't already in a relashunship I'd go aaaht wiv yew in a second., innit.”
“You might not be in a relationship much longer if you keep lusting over your beer.” Replied Sydney.
“Why’s that, love?” asked Vaughn, this time in an Australian accent. Before Syd could answer, Vaughn was off chatting to a bunch of people crowded around a pool table.
“…and then she’s all like, "we need ter take i' slow", an' I'm like, "Slow? Stuff that woman."
“Stuff this a***hole,” said Sydney, “I’m outta here!” I ask if she’s ok, she said she is, just upset at Vaughn, all the time upset with him.
“Well there’s few things that can come between a man and his beer, sometimes you just have to let go”, I tell her.
“Yeah it seems to be the way it’s heading. He just hasn’t been the same after there was an accident involving him and the movie one hour photo.”
“Oh god was anyone the same after that movie? I went out and bought a digital camera the next day so I wouldn’t have to get my film developed.”
“Seriously?” asked Sydney.
“No, I lied. Well I do have a digital camera, but it had nothing to do with one hour photo. But that movie certainly sucks arse.”
“You’re not wrong, did you ever see that Pearl Harbour?”
I laughed and replied, “Oh don’t get me started on that piece of felgercarb. Affleck, man that guy can’t act. Garner was pretty good in it though. She was the bomb in Dude where’s my car!”
“Oh hell yeah!” yelled Sydney before high-fiving the narrator.
Seeing as the happy-go-lucky narrator is off chatting Sydney Bristow up, I’ll continue the story… *sigh* Just my luck, stuck in a rubbish story.
I’m the manic-depressant narrator by the way… Can you tell?
Sydney and the Narrator continue to chat about boring things like movies, culture and parties. If it were me I’d be talking about exciting stuff like the weather, and what was on channel 7 last night. Not this cultural events nonsense.
“So you’re the happy-go-lucky narrator?” asked Sydney.
“That’s right, we all have brief descriptions as our codenames. There’s me, there’s Drunken-Skunk Narrator, Shifty-Eyes Narrator, Stinky-Poo Narrator, and finally… Manic-depressant Narrator. He’s a total pill.”
The thanks I get for doing my job. Anyway, Happy-Go-Lucky Narrator and Sydney talked the hours away until the sun started to shine through the windows of the pub. They left together to get a big breakfast and a coffee at the local café, leaving Vaughn in the pub, asleep on the pool table, the 8-ball covered in drool and half-hanging out of his mouth.
Author: Sagerian
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters, etc, blah blah. Just playing.
A/N: My entry to the Worst of the Worst FanFiction Contest. Yay!
Rating: PG-13, probably for language, haven’t written it yet but I’m sure there’ll be filth.
Summary: A/U. Syd and Vaughn prepare to infiltrate a building… Then get ice cream and a beer, but perhaps not in that order.
The dimly lit windows of a building are all that can be seen on this dark, rainy night. Two people dart from the shadows and run across the muddy ground. Mud splashes on the camera, which the cameraman wipes off while mumbling under his breath.
The two people reach the nearest wall of the building and stop. The male, who is called many names but generally answers to ‘Vaughn’, whispers to his partner, “Heeeey Syd, I tought after dis we could have a tink about gone dawn and havin a quick pint at paddy’s.” Vaughn suffered brain damage after a nasty incident involving the script of one hour photo, a freakishly large amount of hair product and a cattle prod, now he suffers from a severe form of split personality disorder which causes him to think he’s either Irish, English (c***ney of course, like there’s any other kind), or Australian. It can be quite bad, although he’s the best at telling jokes that begin, “Ok, so there was this Englishman, Irishman and an Aussie in a bar, right…”
His partner, Sydney Bristow, who was still trying to come to terms with this “Random personality” Vaughn, replied, “No Vaughn, we have a job to do. We’ve got to steal the top secret plans, are you with me? Cos if you’re not you can wait in the car,” Syd looks seriously at Vaughn before continuing, “Windows up!”
Vaughn’s lower lip starts to tremble and he’s on the verge of tears, “Nooooo, Vaughn no like sitting in brom brom.” Oh, we should mention Vaughn also sometimes acts like he’s five years old, with the giggling and the odd drooling, the doctor’s say that will pass in time. Sydney holds Vaughn close and gives him a hug. “Aww it’s ok,” she says, “You know I’d never really do that. Now how bout we get these plans and then you can have ice cream?” Vaughn’s expression changes to one of excitement, his hands wave around wildly and he screams, “Too right you! Lets do i' quickly so we can get down da nuclear sub fer a pint. Err, or ice cream ‘ey?”
So they break into the building, some stuff happens, they get the plans which no one really knows what they’re for (hey this is almost like a REAL episode of Alias), and get out without killing more than 18 people (cos killing more than 18 people is bad).
They then head down to the pub, Sydney doesn’t really want to be there but tags along as she did promise Vaughn they’d go. Vaughn is carrying on a bit and Sydney doesn’t really want to be there any more. “Come on Vaughn, lets go. I don’t really want to be here any more.” She said this to re-iterate that she didn’t really want to be there anymore.
Out of nowhere Vaughn yells, “Hey you! Come and have a drink with us!” No one has any clue who he’s talking to. “You, I’m talking to you!” Still no one knows. “You! Mr. Guy who’s talking”… There was a long pause… Is… Is he talking to me? “Yes you, Mr. Narrator sir, come and pull up a stool. All that… erm, Narratoring but be making you a bit thirsty.” Well, yeah it is actually, thanks.
“So what will you have to drink?” Vaughn asked me, I replied that I’ll have a pint of Guinness thanks. “He’ll have a pint of Guinness thanks, I’ll have one as well” said Vaughn to the bartender.
The drinks arrive after they’ve settled and been topped up. I start to drink mine but Vaughn is just staring at his drink. “You’re so puuuurty”, he says… To the beer. “If I wasn't already in a relashunship I'd go aaaht wiv yew in a second., innit.”
“You might not be in a relationship much longer if you keep lusting over your beer.” Replied Sydney.
“Why’s that, love?” asked Vaughn, this time in an Australian accent. Before Syd could answer, Vaughn was off chatting to a bunch of people crowded around a pool table.
“…and then she’s all like, "we need ter take i' slow", an' I'm like, "Slow? Stuff that woman."
“Stuff this a***hole,” said Sydney, “I’m outta here!” I ask if she’s ok, she said she is, just upset at Vaughn, all the time upset with him.
“Well there’s few things that can come between a man and his beer, sometimes you just have to let go”, I tell her.
“Yeah it seems to be the way it’s heading. He just hasn’t been the same after there was an accident involving him and the movie one hour photo.”
“Oh god was anyone the same after that movie? I went out and bought a digital camera the next day so I wouldn’t have to get my film developed.”
“Seriously?” asked Sydney.
“No, I lied. Well I do have a digital camera, but it had nothing to do with one hour photo. But that movie certainly sucks arse.”
“You’re not wrong, did you ever see that Pearl Harbour?”
I laughed and replied, “Oh don’t get me started on that piece of felgercarb. Affleck, man that guy can’t act. Garner was pretty good in it though. She was the bomb in Dude where’s my car!”
“Oh hell yeah!” yelled Sydney before high-fiving the narrator.
Seeing as the happy-go-lucky narrator is off chatting Sydney Bristow up, I’ll continue the story… *sigh* Just my luck, stuck in a rubbish story.
I’m the manic-depressant narrator by the way… Can you tell?
Sydney and the Narrator continue to chat about boring things like movies, culture and parties. If it were me I’d be talking about exciting stuff like the weather, and what was on channel 7 last night. Not this cultural events nonsense.
“So you’re the happy-go-lucky narrator?” asked Sydney.
“That’s right, we all have brief descriptions as our codenames. There’s me, there’s Drunken-Skunk Narrator, Shifty-Eyes Narrator, Stinky-Poo Narrator, and finally… Manic-depressant Narrator. He’s a total pill.”
The thanks I get for doing my job. Anyway, Happy-Go-Lucky Narrator and Sydney talked the hours away until the sun started to shine through the windows of the pub. They left together to get a big breakfast and a coffee at the local café, leaving Vaughn in the pub, asleep on the pool table, the 8-ball covered in drool and half-hanging out of his mouth.
Erm, The End.
