Fic, Man's Long Shadow, Claudia, Team, 15
Feb. 9th, 2016 07:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fredbassettTitle : Man’s Long Shadow
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Claudia, Ryan, Nick, Stephen, Abby, Connor
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Word Count : 1,715
Summary : The team are called out to an anomaly in a pole-dancing club.
A/N : Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
primeval_denial monthly challenge for February, using the poetry prompt.
Claudia really disliked it when the police got to the scene of an anomaly before the response team. It just made life that little bit harder.
Under normal circumstances, people were only too willing to be told what to do by men in black carrying big guns, even if it did mean she had to deal with the occasional teenager mouthing off about police states and police brutality. But when the police were actually present, she couldn’t get away with deflecting the blame onto them for whatever inconveniences she had to inflict on any bystanders in the name of public order.
On this occasion, the anomaly detection device had pin-pointed the site of the anomaly in a backstreet dive called The Paradise Club on the edge of Beckenham town centre. Litter blew down the street like tumbleweed: old newspapers, plastic milk bottles, carrier bags (someone clearly had no money sense) and junk mail spewing out of the letterbox of the boarded up shop across the road.
When the response team had arrived, the club’s clientele had been hanging around outside, arguing with a slim, crop-haired bloke in his early 30s who had been telling them, in a bored voice, that he didn’t give a monkey’s toss whether they’d paid their entry fees or not, he wasn’t letting them back inside.
“Claudia Brown, Home Office,” she said. “We’ll take it from here, thank you.”
The man gave her an appraising look tinged with amusement. “You can argue with the cops, lady. They beat you to it.”
“Confiscate everyone’s phones,” Claudia ordered, sweeping past the man into the darkened interior and wondering who the hell went to this sort of place in the middle of the afternoon.
The nature of the club quickly became apparent when Claudia saw the raised stage complete with four poles. But instead of dancers, the star of the stage was the fractured light of the anomaly, spinning slowly in the air, lit by a bewildering array of multi-coloured lights in an ever-changing combination.
“Someone turn those lights off, they’re giving me a sodding headache,” ordered a woman standing by the bar. From her authoritative tone of voice, Claudia presumed the woman was a police officer. She was dressed casually in jeans and a black leather jacket, her short, unruly dark hair pushed back behind her ears. She gave Claudia an even more appraising glance than the bouncer. “I was wondering when you lot would turn up.”
“Claudia Brown, Home Office,” Claudia said, pretending not to know that Ryan’s men were, as usual, taking bets on how often she said that on a call out.
“D.S. Franklin. I signed the Official Secrets last time, so don’t bother sticking another copy under my nose.”
In response to Claudia’s look of surprise, Abby said quietly, “The raptors in the garden centre. You were at home with flu.”
“So bring me up to speed,” Claudia said tersely and probably ungraciously, while Stephen climbed up on the stage and started to look around for signs of anything having come through.
“This appeared. The dancers thought the management had put a new light show together and not bothered to tell them so they just carried on. Then one of the blokes in the audience started sounding off about how he’d seen this sort of thing on a website and the government were trying to hush it up…” She shot Claudia an amused glance before continuing, “So according to the barman, the bloke gets up on the stage, takes a run at the thing and…. doesn’t come out the other side.”
“Bet that went down well,” Connor said cheerfully.
“Apparently it did,” D.S Frankin said. “But then people started taking photos and several mobile phones got sucked in. That didn’t go down quite so well. At that point, the management had the sense call us and to start to clear the place.”
The strobe lights abruptly cut off, replaced by even bright lights that showed up every unappealing stain on the threadbare carpet.
“I’m the management,” a woman in her 50s with a low cut top displaying more front than Sainsburys announced. “I don’t know what that fucking thing is, but I didn’t invite it to join the party, and I’d appreciate it if someone would get my punter back in one piece. He might have a brain the size of a gnat’s left ball, but his dad’s fucking loaded.”
“We’ll do our best, Jeannie,” Franklin said. “The little twat’s dad plays golf with the Chief Constable, so I can do without the grief I’ll get from him as well.”
“You’re staying here,” Nick Cutter announced.
Claudia winced. The man had all the subtlety of an ankylosaur in a china shop.
D.S. Franklin eyed him up and down and then grinned. “Sez who?” she challenged.
Connor snorted a laugh and nearly choked himself trying to turn it into a cough. Ryan demonstrated that a million pounds of taxpayers’ money had been well-spent when he maintained an impressive poker face.
The pissing contest was broken by Frankin turning on her heel, marching up to the anomaly and stepping through it without hesitation. Fortunately for Claudia’s sanity, Ryan was no more than a pace behind her. Claudia threw Nick a look of exasperation and hurried after them.
The anomaly ghosted over her skin like electric silk and in less time than it took her to draw breath, Claudia had swapped the harsh artificial light of the pole-dancing club for warm sunlight and the scent of flowers. She stared around at a lush, verdant landscape of low-growing shrubs interspersed with the occasional taller tree that reminded her of the umbrella pines she always associated with Rome. The air was warm, redolent with the scent of the blossoms decking the bushes, and in the sudden heat, Claudia could feel sweat pricking at her skin.
“No sign of anything hostile,” Ryan said, but the captain was not a man to relax his vigilance and for that, Claudia was grateful.
Behind them, four of Ryan’s men fanned out, assuming a defensive half-moon formation around the civilians.
“Mr Ames!” D.S Frankin yelled. “Time to go home!”
“Be quiet!” Nick exclaimed.
Franklin gave him a withering look. “You won’t get him back by whispering, sunshine.” The woman strode forward, calling out again.
Despite the heavy blooms hanging from the bushes and the thick, green grass under foot, the area was strangely devoid of any animal or bird life. No sound broke the silence, not even the drone of an insect.
Franklin strode on, still calling out for The Paradise Club’s missing punter. For want of anything more constructive to do, Claudia and the anomaly response team followed her. Claudia strongly suspected that the memo handing control of his operation to the Home Office had got lost in transit.
“Grass,” Connor commented. “So no earlier than the late Cretaceous.”
Their walk through the opulent landscape came to an abrupt halt when the trees and shrubs opened out to reveal a wide swathe of grass shot with abundant wild flowers surrounding a wide-spreading tree of a type that Claudia had never seen before. Smooth grey bark decked with pale, silver-green leaves branched out like a churchyard yew, but in the place of poisonous red berries, the tree was hung with luscious fruit, shining a deep red; the most beautiful apples Claudia had ever seen.
Standing in front of the tree was a young man in his early twenties dressed in a pair of faded black jeans topped with an open necked pale blue shirt. He was good-looking in a bland sort of way. Definitely not Claudia’s type. A well-manicured hand was reaching up to pluck one of the apples from the nearest branch.
Claudia had been brought up by two very no-nonsense parents who had instilled in her the mantra that if something looked too good to be true then it was a safe bet that it was too good to be true, but before she had chance to shout out a warning, D.I Franklin barked, in a commanding tone that even drew an admiring glance from Ryan, “Leave it, Adam!”
The young man turned, looking faintly bemused.
“I said leave it,” Franklin repeated. “The sodding thing could be poisonous for all you know, and I’ve no intention of explaining what happened to your old man if you’re daft enough to cark it through here.”
She stepped forward hand raised to grab him by the arm when she froze abruptly, her eyes fixed on the bottom of the tree.
“Step back, slowly, both of you,” Ryan said, his rifle trained on something nestled in the long grass around the silver-grey trunk.
The red dot of his laser sight shone in the middle of the wedge-shaped head of possibly the largest snake Claudia had ever seen. The creature stared back, unblinking, as its long, forked tongue flickered out, tasting the air.
“Back up!” Ryan’s spoke in a tone of voice that anyone who had ever been to school was pre-programmed to obey.
Adam Ames obligingly took a step backwards. D.S Franklin grabbed his arm and pulled him back another two paces.
The snake hissed and Claudia thought she detected a hint of annoyance in the sibilant sound.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Ryan said quietly. “No argument, just do it!”
For once, even Nick Cutter did as he was told.
In a matter of moments, they were surrounded by the bright electric light of The Paradise Club, smelling stale sweat, cheap wine and even cheaper beer instead of the perfume of exotic flowers and the lush scent of warm grass. Claudia inhaled deeply, grounding herself back in the 21st century.
She had no idea where – or when – they had been, but she’d take the memory of that snake’s malevolent gaze to her grave.
The young man they’d gone to retrieve turned to the club’s owner and said shakily, “Can I have a drink, Jeannie?”
A heartbeat later, the anomaly shimmered and then vanished.
“Drinks on the house,” Jeannie said. She turned to D.S. Franklin and said, “Thanks, Eve.”
A shiver danced lightly up and down Claudia’s spine and she knocked back the glass of brandy she’d just been handed in one.
As far as she was concerned, Nick could write this one up.
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Claudia, Ryan, Nick, Stephen, Abby, Connor
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Word Count : 1,715
Summary : The team are called out to an anomaly in a pole-dancing club.
A/N : Written for the
primeval_denial monthly challenge for February, using the poetry prompt.Claudia really disliked it when the police got to the scene of an anomaly before the response team. It just made life that little bit harder.
Under normal circumstances, people were only too willing to be told what to do by men in black carrying big guns, even if it did mean she had to deal with the occasional teenager mouthing off about police states and police brutality. But when the police were actually present, she couldn’t get away with deflecting the blame onto them for whatever inconveniences she had to inflict on any bystanders in the name of public order.
On this occasion, the anomaly detection device had pin-pointed the site of the anomaly in a backstreet dive called The Paradise Club on the edge of Beckenham town centre. Litter blew down the street like tumbleweed: old newspapers, plastic milk bottles, carrier bags (someone clearly had no money sense) and junk mail spewing out of the letterbox of the boarded up shop across the road.
When the response team had arrived, the club’s clientele had been hanging around outside, arguing with a slim, crop-haired bloke in his early 30s who had been telling them, in a bored voice, that he didn’t give a monkey’s toss whether they’d paid their entry fees or not, he wasn’t letting them back inside.
“Claudia Brown, Home Office,” she said. “We’ll take it from here, thank you.”
The man gave her an appraising look tinged with amusement. “You can argue with the cops, lady. They beat you to it.”
“Confiscate everyone’s phones,” Claudia ordered, sweeping past the man into the darkened interior and wondering who the hell went to this sort of place in the middle of the afternoon.
The nature of the club quickly became apparent when Claudia saw the raised stage complete with four poles. But instead of dancers, the star of the stage was the fractured light of the anomaly, spinning slowly in the air, lit by a bewildering array of multi-coloured lights in an ever-changing combination.
“Someone turn those lights off, they’re giving me a sodding headache,” ordered a woman standing by the bar. From her authoritative tone of voice, Claudia presumed the woman was a police officer. She was dressed casually in jeans and a black leather jacket, her short, unruly dark hair pushed back behind her ears. She gave Claudia an even more appraising glance than the bouncer. “I was wondering when you lot would turn up.”
“Claudia Brown, Home Office,” Claudia said, pretending not to know that Ryan’s men were, as usual, taking bets on how often she said that on a call out.
“D.S. Franklin. I signed the Official Secrets last time, so don’t bother sticking another copy under my nose.”
In response to Claudia’s look of surprise, Abby said quietly, “The raptors in the garden centre. You were at home with flu.”
“So bring me up to speed,” Claudia said tersely and probably ungraciously, while Stephen climbed up on the stage and started to look around for signs of anything having come through.
“This appeared. The dancers thought the management had put a new light show together and not bothered to tell them so they just carried on. Then one of the blokes in the audience started sounding off about how he’d seen this sort of thing on a website and the government were trying to hush it up…” She shot Claudia an amused glance before continuing, “So according to the barman, the bloke gets up on the stage, takes a run at the thing and…. doesn’t come out the other side.”
“Bet that went down well,” Connor said cheerfully.
“Apparently it did,” D.S Frankin said. “But then people started taking photos and several mobile phones got sucked in. That didn’t go down quite so well. At that point, the management had the sense call us and to start to clear the place.”
The strobe lights abruptly cut off, replaced by even bright lights that showed up every unappealing stain on the threadbare carpet.
“I’m the management,” a woman in her 50s with a low cut top displaying more front than Sainsburys announced. “I don’t know what that fucking thing is, but I didn’t invite it to join the party, and I’d appreciate it if someone would get my punter back in one piece. He might have a brain the size of a gnat’s left ball, but his dad’s fucking loaded.”
“We’ll do our best, Jeannie,” Franklin said. “The little twat’s dad plays golf with the Chief Constable, so I can do without the grief I’ll get from him as well.”
“You’re staying here,” Nick Cutter announced.
Claudia winced. The man had all the subtlety of an ankylosaur in a china shop.
D.S. Franklin eyed him up and down and then grinned. “Sez who?” she challenged.
Connor snorted a laugh and nearly choked himself trying to turn it into a cough. Ryan demonstrated that a million pounds of taxpayers’ money had been well-spent when he maintained an impressive poker face.
The pissing contest was broken by Frankin turning on her heel, marching up to the anomaly and stepping through it without hesitation. Fortunately for Claudia’s sanity, Ryan was no more than a pace behind her. Claudia threw Nick a look of exasperation and hurried after them.
The anomaly ghosted over her skin like electric silk and in less time than it took her to draw breath, Claudia had swapped the harsh artificial light of the pole-dancing club for warm sunlight and the scent of flowers. She stared around at a lush, verdant landscape of low-growing shrubs interspersed with the occasional taller tree that reminded her of the umbrella pines she always associated with Rome. The air was warm, redolent with the scent of the blossoms decking the bushes, and in the sudden heat, Claudia could feel sweat pricking at her skin.
“No sign of anything hostile,” Ryan said, but the captain was not a man to relax his vigilance and for that, Claudia was grateful.
Behind them, four of Ryan’s men fanned out, assuming a defensive half-moon formation around the civilians.
“Mr Ames!” D.S Frankin yelled. “Time to go home!”
“Be quiet!” Nick exclaimed.
Franklin gave him a withering look. “You won’t get him back by whispering, sunshine.” The woman strode forward, calling out again.
Despite the heavy blooms hanging from the bushes and the thick, green grass under foot, the area was strangely devoid of any animal or bird life. No sound broke the silence, not even the drone of an insect.
Franklin strode on, still calling out for The Paradise Club’s missing punter. For want of anything more constructive to do, Claudia and the anomaly response team followed her. Claudia strongly suspected that the memo handing control of his operation to the Home Office had got lost in transit.
“Grass,” Connor commented. “So no earlier than the late Cretaceous.”
Their walk through the opulent landscape came to an abrupt halt when the trees and shrubs opened out to reveal a wide swathe of grass shot with abundant wild flowers surrounding a wide-spreading tree of a type that Claudia had never seen before. Smooth grey bark decked with pale, silver-green leaves branched out like a churchyard yew, but in the place of poisonous red berries, the tree was hung with luscious fruit, shining a deep red; the most beautiful apples Claudia had ever seen.
Standing in front of the tree was a young man in his early twenties dressed in a pair of faded black jeans topped with an open necked pale blue shirt. He was good-looking in a bland sort of way. Definitely not Claudia’s type. A well-manicured hand was reaching up to pluck one of the apples from the nearest branch.
Claudia had been brought up by two very no-nonsense parents who had instilled in her the mantra that if something looked too good to be true then it was a safe bet that it was too good to be true, but before she had chance to shout out a warning, D.I Franklin barked, in a commanding tone that even drew an admiring glance from Ryan, “Leave it, Adam!”
The young man turned, looking faintly bemused.
“I said leave it,” Franklin repeated. “The sodding thing could be poisonous for all you know, and I’ve no intention of explaining what happened to your old man if you’re daft enough to cark it through here.”
She stepped forward hand raised to grab him by the arm when she froze abruptly, her eyes fixed on the bottom of the tree.
“Step back, slowly, both of you,” Ryan said, his rifle trained on something nestled in the long grass around the silver-grey trunk.
The red dot of his laser sight shone in the middle of the wedge-shaped head of possibly the largest snake Claudia had ever seen. The creature stared back, unblinking, as its long, forked tongue flickered out, tasting the air.
“Back up!” Ryan’s spoke in a tone of voice that anyone who had ever been to school was pre-programmed to obey.
Adam Ames obligingly took a step backwards. D.S Franklin grabbed his arm and pulled him back another two paces.
The snake hissed and Claudia thought she detected a hint of annoyance in the sibilant sound.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Ryan said quietly. “No argument, just do it!”
For once, even Nick Cutter did as he was told.
In a matter of moments, they were surrounded by the bright electric light of The Paradise Club, smelling stale sweat, cheap wine and even cheaper beer instead of the perfume of exotic flowers and the lush scent of warm grass. Claudia inhaled deeply, grounding herself back in the 21st century.
She had no idea where – or when – they had been, but she’d take the memory of that snake’s malevolent gaze to her grave.
The young man they’d gone to retrieve turned to the club’s owner and said shakily, “Can I have a drink, Jeannie?”
A heartbeat later, the anomaly shimmered and then vanished.
“Drinks on the house,” Jeannie said. She turned to D.S. Franklin and said, “Thanks, Eve.”
A shiver danced lightly up and down Claudia’s spine and she knocked back the glass of brandy she’d just been handed in one.
As far as she was concerned, Nick could write this one up.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2016-02-09 08:44 pm (UTC)Scary snake as well!
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Date: 2016-02-09 08:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-02-09 09:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-02-10 11:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-02-09 10:17 pm (UTC)This is brilliant - very clever. And I do like DS Franklin. Some great one-liners, as always, and everyone ignoring Nick's advice!
no subject
Date: 2016-02-10 11:49 am (UTC)Thanks. It was rather an off the wall idea, but I couldn't resist it.
no subject
Date: 2016-02-10 07:25 am (UTC)Poor Nick being ignored, D.S. Franklin's attitude, Claudia refusing to write this one up!
I was giggling all the way through - the name of the club, Adam, the apple and the snake, they all built up to the last line. *snorfle*
no subject
Date: 2016-02-10 11:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-02-10 04:00 pm (UTC)Awesome use of the prompt.
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Date: 2016-02-10 05:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-02-11 07:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-02-11 07:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-02-13 02:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-02-13 02:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-02 08:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-03 01:05 pm (UTC)