DISCLAIMER: The characters mentioned belong to Marvel, and are used without permission for entertainment purposes only, but the critters belong to me. :) To give credit where credit is due, the name of Sinister's poodle was Ramiel's idea, and I have to credit Duey, Falstaff, and the rest of the #plotting crew for various names, bits of dialogue, and other important ideas. This is a SERIOUSLY silly fic,written at an ungodly hour of the morning, so keep that in mind when you read it. ;)
There was a certain amount of dignity involved in being the canine familiar of the world's foremost mad geneticist. An image to be maintained, for lack of a better word.
Having a furious gun-toting clone chasing one around the lab did not suit that image, Mr. Fluffy decided imperiously. As a matter of fact, it was quite enormously annoying, and as soon as he figured out how, he would turn the tables and have his revenge. . .
"You pissed on my boots again!" his pursuer shouted. "You little rat!"
Rat? Mr. Fluffy thought disgustedly as he squirmed underneath one of the cabinets. He was not a rat, or anything of the rodent variety! He was a purebred! The clone would pay for that, oh, yes. . .he wriggled around and snapped at the fingers that reached in after him.
"Hey! You bite me, I'm going to have you neutered, dog!"
"Excuse me?" asked a cold, familiar voice from farther away. Mr. Fluffy bared his teeth in delight. "The possibility of aural hallucinations aside, Scalphunter, I do believe I just heard you threaten to neuter my dog."
"Umm. . .I'm sorry, boss, I just. . ."
"Enough." Mr. Fluffy did SO love it when his master got peremptory. Hearing a familiar snapping of fingers, he wiggled out from under the cabinet and ran to sit at his master's feet, staring up at him adoringly. Burning red eyes studied him, intently. "Have you been tormenting Scalphunter, Mr. Fluffy?"
Mr. Fluffy wagged his tail ecstatically, panting.
"Excellent." Sinister picked something up off the table and knelt down. "I have selected you an appropriate item from the leisure section of our local pet store. You may have the afternoon to amuse yourself."
Delirious with joy at the sight of the fluorescent green plastic bone, Mr. Fluffy nevertheless managed to reach out and close his jaws around it in a mannerly fashion. Nipping at your master's fingers was generally inadvisable when one's master was prone to genetic experimentation on a whim. Mr. Fluffy liked being a black toy poodle. Being a black toy poodle with three eyes or gills might be a little disorienting.
"Scalphunter, I'll expect you to bring Mr. Fluffy back at five this afternoon. I'm having my portrait painted, and I want my faithful dog sitting on my knee. It's a wonderful idea, aesthetically speaking, wouldn't you say?"
"Yes, boss."
Sinister waved a hand at him dismissively, and Mr. Fluffy trotted out of the lab, head held high. Perhaps Vertigo would be in the mood to play fetch. She was a very nice clone, really. . .
The bone hit the floor with a squeak as Mr. Fluffy stared, gape-jawed, at the vortex that opened up in the middle of the hall, right in front of him.
He didn't even have time to yip a protest as hands reached out and pulled him through.
***
A continent away, in a run-down flat in London, a thin tabby cat with a torn ear sniffed irritably at the burned remnants of his person's dinner from last night. Tuna? He debated, uncertain, and then shrugged narrow shoulders. To hell with it. It was better than nothing.
Bloody smelly bastard, the cat thought resentfully, glaring at the sprawled form of his person, over on the couch. Can't even feed me on a regular basis. I wonder why I bloody well hang around, sometimes. On the bright side, he had warm feet, the cat reflected. Very warm feet. A lot could be forgiven, for warm feet. . .and as much of a pigsty as this place was, it was better than the street.
A groan came from the couch, and the cat stiffened slightly as his person cracked open one bleary eye and swore. "Stupid. . .wanker of a cat," he croaked. "Get down."
Well. If that didn't just take the bloody cake, the cat thought snippily. As if HE'D been going to eat it! His person pushed himself up to a sitting position, running a hand through unkempt black hair. The cat hissed at him.
"Fuck you too. Wanker."
The cat flopped over onto his side and started to lick his privates, shooting the occasional, defiant look at his person. Drunken sot. He could smell the alcohol fumes from here.
"I said get off the bloody table!" His person got up, brandishing a shoe at him, and the cat bolted.
That was it. He was going to spray every piece of furniture in the place, or die trying.
While his person was rummaging through the fridge, searching for food, the cat flounced into the bedroom, noticing the trenchcoat flung haphazardly across a chair. The cat purred happily. He felt a great big hairball coming on. . .
Something closed around his tail and the cat whirled, ready to claw his person's hand to shreds. And he didn't really care if he got one of those hotknife thingies right between the eyes, this was war, stupid person yanking on his sodding TAIL!
Only it wasn't his person, it was an arm reaching out from under the bed, dragging him under. . .
The cat let out an almighty shriek before the bedroom vanished around him.
***
"Ooh, pretty lady!"
"Nick, either you shut that damned bird up or I stop coming over to your place."
"Polly want a cracker from the foxy lady," the parrot known as Apollo entreated loudly as Valentina di Fontaine sat down at the dining room table, shooting him a disgusted look before she turned her attention to the wine bottle. "Polly GOOD bird. Polly want a cracker, pretty lady. . ." She rolled her eyes, and Apollo cooed encouragingly. She was just playing hard to get.
"Aw, Val, just ignore him," Nick Fury pleaded. Apollo glared at him. Interfering human. "He's been home alone all day, he's just lonely. . ."
Lonely? Lonely was one way of putting it. Try deprived, Apollo thought balefully. When was the last time you brought me home some female company, huh? I liked you better when you were dead. "Woo-woo!" he tried again, turning back to the lovely Contessa. "Check out the cleavage!"
"Home alone my aristocratic HINEY, Nicholas. You gave him to Dum-Dum, didn't you?"
"He likes him, Val."
"Well, I don't. Put him in the other room, Nick, all right? This isn't going to be much of a dinner if. . ."
She was still talking about him like he wasn't there, Apollo noticed disappointedly. He thought back, and seized upon a way of getting her attention. "Oh, Vaaaaaaaaaaaaal!" he called out, in perfect mimicry of what he'd heard one night not so long ago. She was cute when she blushed, Apollo thought happily.
"Okay, Nick. The bird dies!"
Oh! She was coming over here! Oh, happy day! Apollo trilled blissfully.
"Val, c'mon. . ." Nick begged. "He's just a bird, darlin'. . .not worth getting upset over. . ."
That's what YOU think, Apollo thought smugly. But she was. . .stopping. Sighing. Glaring at Nick. Not paying attention to him!!!
Apollo thought hard. Nick had been practicing his Italian phrases. . .now, if only he could. . .yes! That was it! "Ni volio madoon!" he called out joyfully.
She stopped dead, going white, and whirled on Nick. "NICHOLAS! Your damned bird just propositioned me! When the fuck did it learn Italian?????"
"Umm. . ."
"Somebody's in trouble," Apollo crooned.
He really didn't like the closet, Apollo decided snippily as the door slammed behind Nick. Spoil my fun, will you. . . he thought balefully, hearing the sounds of conversation resume outside. We'll see about that. . .
"Oh, Vaaaaaal!" he tried again.
The door stayed shut.
"Oh, yes! Yes! Oh, baby!"
The door was still shut, but the conversation had stopped. Encouraged, Apollo continued.
"Yes! YES! Oooh! Val! If you think the feather's erotic, let's try the whole bird. . .I'll make you CRRRRRROW, baby!"
"That's it!" he heard Val shout. "I'm killing that bird and having it for dinner with a nice wine sauce!"
Oh, Apollo thought blissfully. What a way to go. . .If only I could sing, the whole world would know she loves me. . .
Something clamped down on his beak before he could squawk. By the time his beloved Val opened the closet door, he was gone.
***
Bun-Bun sat on a crimson-upholstered pillow, chewing alfalfa thoughtfully and reflecting that life was indeed good. It wasn't every rabbit that had servants to see to her every beck and call. Or a Master that would come and scratch behind her ears and say "YES, BUN-BUN, YOU ARE OF THE STRONG", and occasionally read Watership Down to her on the cold desert nights.
It was a good life. A full life. Rather a dull life, at times, but she was only a rabbit, and didn't really have issues with that.
Bun-Bun heard footsteps and lifted her head, ears twitching. Perhaps that was the servant with the carrots she'd ordered? It was about time, in any case. . .
She was picked up and thrust roughly into a sack before she could even begin to struggle. Two things occurred to her, as she was carried through to someplace much colder than her room in the fortress. One, that her Master would be quite displeased, and two, that whatever she'd gotten herself into, she'd have to get herself back OUT of it on her own.
Her Master was, after all, something of a stickler for personal responsibility.
***
No food on the ground, the chipmunk called She Who Prepares For Winter thought in disappointment, creeping back into the bushes so that the larger squirrels wouldn't see it. The Man had been gone for a very long time, it seemed like. Prepares For Winter missed the Man. The Man had fed her, and talked to her - inside her head, no less, in the language of chipmunks! - and called her 'little furred sister'. Even when she'd eaten the good-tasting plants out of the garden, last winter, the Man had just smiled at her and said 'what is, is,' and then thrown out a double-handful of peanuts.
She lashed her tail a few times, irritably. She was lonely. No one came to the house anymore. . .but he wouldn't have forgotten her, surely? Not with all the time he'd spent out in the garden, talking to her.
Maybe she should go and look for him. But he'd always had the air of long-distances about him, and she wasn't so sure she wanted to cross the Big Road and go hunting for him. After all, there were Winged Chipmunk-Eaters out there, and Hoo-Hoos that came out at night and so many other things that ate little chipmunks like her. . .not to mention the other Men, the ones who didn't take the time to talk, and all their machines.
Climbing up the tree beside her, Prepares For Winter sat on one of the branches, grooming her tail. Why hadn't the Man taken her with him? She would have gone. Maybe the world beyond the Big World was scary, but she'd been able to sit right out there in the open with him, even in the dark, and nothing had tried to have her as a meal. He'd scared all the bad things away. . she would have gone with him happily. Hadn't he known that? Silly Man. No wonder he didn't have a mate. . .
Prepares For Winter stood up straight on her back feet, her nose twitching as the air changed. Now, THAT felt familiar. The air had always gotten strange when the Man disappeared. Was he coming back? She scanned the ground below, looking for him eagerly.
She didn't see the Man anywhere, not even the outline of him, but there was something happening to the air right below the tree. It was all swirly, and glowing.
Well, he'd vanished into things like that before, Prepares For Winter reasoned. Not as often, but enough. . .
'Be brave, little furred sister,' he'd said to her the first time she'd peered at him from the bushes, wondering if he would eat her or not.
Be brave, Prepares For Winter repeated to herself, and jumped into the vortex.
***
He considered his collection, most pleased.
The poodle was pacing the confines of its cubicle, almost measuringly. The cat was jumping at shadows, fur standing straight up, and the parrot was screeching rather impressive profanities at the top of its lungs. The rabbit was huddled in a corner, and the chipmunk sat in the middle of her cell, nose twitching incessantly.
Yes, he decided. Now he had his Heroes.
Now, it was time to give them their Quest.
To be continued...