A few words of explanation are in order:
Firstly, this story contains several real people on this group. Some of
them asked for it, some were smarter than that. This is all in good fun
and no offense is intended to anyone.
Secondly, though members of the 'To Die For' cast appear in this story,
it is not a part of TDF continuity.
Thirdly, it will really help if you've read 'TDF: Like Water for
Adric'. The events of that story bear on this one very strongly.
THIS TIME ROUND: AUTHOR AVATAR NIGHT
THE FANDOM MENACE
"It right here in Union Handbook. Francois entitled to double-overtime
pay. Article 22, Clause 7, Section E."
"Let me see that." The Proprietor gingerly took the proferred book from
the Ogron's massive paw and skimmed to the appropriate paragraph.
"Francois, this is the hazard pay section."
"That right, bossman."
The Proprietor sighed and collected his patience. "What that means," he
said carefully, "is that this section relates to pay for working in
toxic environments or around dangerous or volatile substances."
"Francois know that." The Ogron scowled as though he'd been slighted.
"Francois been to college, after all. Did well in all except English
"Well, then, how can you say this section applies to you? All I'm
asking is for you to work a late shift in the bar on Saturday. It's not
as if I'm asking you to handle explosives."
"Volatile substances," Francois growled. "Bossman want Francois work
with such, bossman pay right."
"But I'm _not_ asking you to work with volatile--"
Francois cut his employer off with an angry gesture. "Bossman forget
what happen Saturday night. That night Author Avatar Night." He
lightly tapped on the desk to emphasize his point, causing the wood to
split in several places. "Bossman name Francois even _one_ substance
worse volatile than author's ego..."
"It's _obvious_ who's going to win this." The speaker, a short, brawny
man in his late twenties, downed a gulp of Dos Equis Amber with a smug
and very punchable smirk.
"You're absolutely right," replied his tablemate, a taller, thinner man
with a short ponytail. "_I_ am."
The shorter man shook his head. "No way, Doug. I've got this contest
sewed up." He paused to watch a group of female author-avatars make
their way across the pub, one eyebrow arching appreciatively behind his
Doug laughed, much to his companion's annoyance. "You? Oh, please! No
way are you going to get voted 'Coolest Male Avatar'. At least, not when
_I'm_ in the running."
"How can you say that? I'm the badass of the 'To Die For' stories. Mad,
bad, and dangerous. Chicks go wild for my bad-boy image."
"Which is why you're dateless tonight, eh Number One?" Doug replied
"Hey! That's just-- Oooh. Hang on." Number One perked up and stared
intently at something across the room.
"What?" Doug asked.
"Mistress Helen in a catsuit."
"Ah." Both took a rather longer-than-tactful look toward the bar.
"Anyway," said Number One after both had gotten an eyeful, "you're just
ticked because even _your_ author makes me look good." He flicked an
imaginary speck of dust from the toe of his boot.
"He makes you look like the loser you are," Doug responded casually.
"You're the villain and this is 'Doctor Who'. Ergo, you are a loser,
whereas I am a hero, and therefore the eventual winner of our little
conflict. _Everybody_ loves a hero, and everybody loves a winner, too.
There is a 0.00% statistical likelihood that the other avatars will
prefer you over me."
"Well, it looks like we're fixin' to find out, because here comes
Francois with the results." The pub went quiet as the glowering Ogron
climbed onto a table to read out the voting results.
"Ooh. Looks like Saint Erin beat out Di for 'Coolest Female' this
time," Number One said as the votes were announced.
"Not by much, though," Doug replied. Both went silent as Francois read
off the next results.
"What?!" Number One yelled indignantly. "Who the Hell is this 'Jovial
Julian', and how could he beat _me_?"
"_Us_, you mean," said Doug sadly. "We both tied for last place."
"I just want to know who this 'Julian' joker is," the Southerner
snarled. "I want to know how _anybody_ could find him cooler than
Doug sighed and shrugged fatalistically. As a follower of Adric, he had
long since learned to deal with defeat and rejection. They just went
with the territory. There would be other chances. You just had to make
the best of each setback. So thinking, he turned to the still-seething
Number One, a mischievous gleam in his eye.
"You know," he said casually, picking up his glass, "there's still a
chance for you."
"Oh, what?" His Brethren counterpart was glaring at the cheering throng
that surrounded Jovial Julian.
Fast as a snake, Doug threw his rum-and-Coke onto the startled Number
One, triggering his Jusenkyou Curse. Within the blink of an eye, the
short, infuriated young man was transformed into a short, busty,
dripping wet and totally enraged young girl.
Doug smirked. "You can still win the Wet T-Shirt Contest... Heh heh
heh... Hey! Put down that table...!"
It took 36 hours and two regiments of Royal Marines, but eventually a
semblance of order was restored and the casualties removed for treatment
at local hospitals. Coincidentally, the management of This Time Round
announced the indefinite cancellation of all future Author Avatar
Nights, citing excessive costs in insurance premiums, hazard pay, and
medical expenses. This announcement was greeted with weary enthusiasm
by the pub's few remaining neighbors.
Doctor Who belongs to the BBC, who will probably lock me away for this sort of thing.
This Time Round created by Tyler Dion, after Kielle.
Francois and Number One created by me.
Doug and Di of the ADF created by Douglas Killings.
Jusenkyou Curse created by Rumiko Takahashi.
Other characters property of their respective creators.