Dr Avgi

So, i thought i would dip my toe back into the boardfic writing stakes. as creator of the genre, I suppose I should keep my hand in

I once made a animated tripod about a time travelling doctor.

This is story is basically along the same lines.....

[b:e62260952a]Dr Avgi[/b:e62260952a]

Amelia Plaid looked in the mirror, and was rewarded with a tangle of unruly hair peering back at her. At 20 years old, she sometimes thought that she’d have managed to tame it by now, but the hair seemed determined to crush any attempts by it’s owner to take some control.

She sighed and reached for her industrial strength hairbrush, initiating her daily battle of wits with the tresses. It was at times like this that she really wondered where she was going, what she was doing with her life.

After all, if she couldn’t even get her hair to do what she wanted, what hope did she have with anything more taxing?

Not that her life presented her with much difficulty at present. Every day was the same slog of work, sleep and hair fighting. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d enjoyed herself much. Everything seemed so boring these days. Mundane.

She frowned, momentarily pausing in her epic struggle.

“I just wish” she said to herself, “that something would happen.”

***************************

The rain was lashing down hard. The man didn’t even notice as he ran full pelt through the puddles that had pooled in the dark streets.

He knew was going to die, and a realisation like that tended to put things like bad weather on the back burner.

They were coming for him.

He skidded round a corner and knew this was going to be the place where he would breathe his last.

“Fucking dead end!” he spat, “who the fuck thought it’d be a good idea to put a wall there!?”

“I don’t know”, came a voice from behind him, “but I might well send a letter to the council planning department to thank them for their good work”

The man didn’t turn round, instead staring fixedly at the wall that had brought about his undoing.

”Just get it over with”, he said, the rain running down his face.

“As you wish”, said the voice. The rain was now mixing with tears on the mans face. It was funny, he considered, that his whole life had been leading up to being killed in a back alley on some shitty council estate. It wasn’t the way he’d have picked to go out.

“Oh Christ” he mumbled to himself, as he was suddenly gripped with the terror that there was going to be no tomorrow.

He heard a low electronic whirring and then there was nothing but pain.

His scream filled the night air for a second, and then there was silence.

***************************

“Police have identified the body of a man found dead on the White chapel housing estate as that of 45 year old bio-physicist Adam Mclaren…” droned the radio news report, as Plaid dashed around in blind panic.

Where were her keys!? She was already running late for work, and Mr Jackal was breathing down her neck about time keeping as it was.

Finally locating the errant keys on the unlikely location of the key rack, she ran out of the flat.

”In other news, police are appealing for any information on the suspected arson attack at the GarnerTech factory…” continued the radio

A police siren blared its way past Plaid on route to some emergency. Probably running low on coffee, Plaid thought sardonically. A quick check of her watch revealed that she should have been at work ten minutes ago.

”Crap” she said, wishing not for the first occasion that she could have just a bit more time.

She made her way through the crowds of people, all of which seemed to be in no hurry to get anywhere. Finally, an exasperated Plaid reached the shop where she was doomed to spend her working life, telling middle-aged woman that, yes, the dress was flattering. And wouldn’t these shoes just make the outfit?

She made a beeline for the staff room, hoping to try and avoid the store manager. Mr Jackal was one of those people that had only a small amount of power, but was determined to make people’s lives as miserable as possible with it.

“Amelia!” called a female voice. She stopped and turned to face the concerned face of her co-worker, Lora.

“You’re late again!” Lora exclaimed, “Jackal’s on the warpath about it! You know how much he hates lateness!”

“I couldn’t find my keys, and then the bus got caught up in traffic” explained Plaid, “I got here as soon as I could”

”But not soon enough” said a rumbling voice behind her.

“I’m very sorry Mr Jackal”, she said, turning around, “I promise it won’t happen again!”

“Too fucking right it won’t!” snapped the manager, “I’ve had enough of you and your tardiness! You’re fired!”

“What!?” exclaimed a shocked Plaid, “you can’t fire me!”. A smirk spread across Jackals face.

“I just did. Now get lost”

***************************

Detective Sergeant Steven Doors was not having a good day.

“What do you mean, he was electrocuted?” he asked in a Scottish growl

“Well”, replied the coroner, “he was killed by a massive electric current being sent through him”. Doors stared hard at him.

“And how the fuck does a man get electrocuted in the middle of the night, in the pishing rain, in a back alley?” he asked, somewhat sarcastically, “Are you sure you’re not making some sort of mistake?” The coroner bridled at this.

“Sergeant, I know my business. I’m not here to solve crimes for you, if you want that I suggest you’ve been watching too much Quincy. I’m sure a man of your abilities can solve this particular mystery”. Doors shot him an evil look.

“Aye, thanks for that doctor. You’ve been most helpful”. As he left the morgue he cursed the coroner for providing him with more questions that answers. Strange things were afoot. He could feel it in his bones. First there had been that spate of body snatching from the local hospitals a few months previously. They were still no closer to solving that one than they were when it had happened. The lack of a motive was proving a major stumbling block if nothing else. Then there had been the massive upsurge in disappearances lately. People just vanishing. He frowned as he thought about it.

It just made no sense at all. He exited the building and made his way over to a lanky man leaning on a car.

“All done here then, sarge?” asked the man.

“For now, Ben, for now” replied Doors. DC Ben Mann was a young man on the force. An up and coming detective. He had prospects, Doors had noted sourly on more than one occasion. Doors himself was into his forties and had long since given up on any chance of further promotion, and that had made him bitter. Still, Mann was a good cop and Doors liked him well enough.

As they drove, Doors filled Mann in on what the coroner had told him.

”What I don’t understand though, is why someone would want to kill a scientist”, said Mann, “By all accounts he was a quiet enough guy, kept himself to himself. No enemies”

“Everyone has enemies”, replied Doors, “Especially people that turn up dead in alleyways. We just need to find out who they were.” Mann shuffled through some pieces of paper, looking for inspiration.

“Well, he worked for GarnerTech, didn’t he? Wasn’t there some sort of arson attack or something there the other night?” Mann asked. Doors nodded.

“Even better than that, Ben, the attack happened on the same night our friend Mclaren was fried.”

“I’d say a visit to GarnerTech might be in order then”, said Mann. Doors gave a wane smile.

“Well done, Ben, we’ll make a copper out of yet. Fucking traffic lights”, he snarled at some signals that had the audacity to change to red. He turned to his colleague, “Aye, we’ll pay the good folks of GarnerTech a visit, see what they’ve got to say for themselves”

[quote:4596ba31b7="chrisjordan"] A bitter, middle-aged Doors?! I'd like to point out the IMMENSE difficulty I had imagining this. Oh yes.

[/quote:4596ba31b7]

I am glaring at you. Not in a bitter or middle aged way though

Touche, Cj, touche.

If Doors were a Timelord, he would get his time-traveling apparatus second-hand. It would be a re-tardis.

That said, good stuff so far. Write more, thrall!

Plaid sighed as she made her way home. Fired? How could she be fired? She needed that job. Still, she reasoned, there were other jobs out there. Somewhere. No good moping about the place. Filled with a new resolve to turn her life around, she picked up her pace, quickly arriving home. She turned the kettle on and fired up her laptop.

“Job sites”, she said to herself, “lets see what we’ve got here” After a fruitless few minutes of searching, she was about ready to give up. Then, something caught her eye.

“Are you young, motivated and intelligent? Unlock your potential with a career at GarnerTech”, she read, “Well, the pays decent enough… and the benefits seem pretty good”, she paused in thought for a couple of seconds, “yeah, I think I’ll give them a call”

***************************

Doors and Mann entered the reception area of the GarnerTech building, and made their way over to the harassed looking woman that was on duty.

“DS Doors”, he introduced himself, “and DC Mann”, indicating his colleague, “We’d like to speak to Mr Garner”

“Do you have an appointment?” asked the woman.

“No, we do not have an appointment”, Doors explained patiently, “We are here on police business. We are investigating the death of one of your employees and would very much like to speak to Mr Garner”

The receptionist stared at the policemen as if they were something she’d recently regurgitated.

“You don’t have an appointment?” she said acidly, “Well, I’m afraid that without an appointment there’s no way you can speak to Mr Garner. He’s a very busy man”

Doors took a deep inhalation of breath, and started to look a bit red in the face. Mann, realising that he was about to witness a somewhat angry explosion from his superior, quickly seized control of the conversation.

”I’m not sure you understand”, he said, “We are investigating a murder. That means someone has died”, he added helpfully.

“I’m not an idiot!” snapped the woman, “I know what a murder is! Whereas you two seem to have difficulty grasping the concept of an appointment!”

“Madam, I am well aware of the ins and outs of an appointment system, but this is a murder investigation!” Doors shouted, “And if you don’t tell Mr Garner that we’re here to see him, then I’ll have you up on a charge of obstruction quicker than you can shove an appointment card up your uptight arse!”

The receptionist bridled at the force of Doors anger.

”Nicely done, sarge, very smooth”, said Mann. Doors shot him A Look.

“I’ll see if Mr Garner is available,” hissed the woman, reaching for an intercom.

“Thank you” smiled Doors.

“Yes, Mrs Dragon, what is it?” came an American voice from the intercom.

“Sorry to disturb you, sir, but there are two policemen here to see you. They don’t have an appointment”, she replied making sure that the policemen were aware that people that didn’t have appointments were probably on a par with Hitler.

“More policemen? I thought that they had all the information about the fire they needed. Well, send them up anyway”.

Mrs Dragon smiled at the policemen. It was not friendly.

“You may go up. The office is on the top floor. The lifts are over there”, she said icily.

Doors rewarded her with a grin of victory.

”See, Mrs Dragon, that wasn’t so hard was it? And you can now go home and have that happy inner glow of someone that’s done their civic duty and helped the police with their enquiries. Perhaps the unfortunate Mr Dragon can hear all about it?” he said in a pleasant voice, sarcasm dripping from every word, “Come on Ben”, he said gesturing DC Mann to follow him to the lifts.

“You know, sarge, you really need to work on your people skills”, Mann said as they made their way to the lifts.

“And what the fuck is wrong with my people skills?”

“Well, you don’t have any, sarge. I’m amazed you don’t get more complaints made against you”

Doors jabbed the lift call button.

“I get the job done, Ben, that’s all that matters”

“Maybe once, sarge, but not these days”, pointed out Mann.

“Aye, and that’s the fucking problem”, sighed Doors, “Tell you what, I’ll try my absolute best not to make Garner cry like a woman, eh?”

Mann smiled wanly.

”Thanks, sarge, I knew you’d understand”

The lift doors opened.

The lift doors opened and the policemen stepped out and into a large office. A giant window dominated one wall, in front of which sat an impressively large desk. The chair behind the desk was facing the window.

A large man was walking towards the cops.

“Mr Garner, I presume?” ventured Doors.

“No.” came the curt reply. Doors sighed. Why couldn’t he ever meet nice people?

“Who are you then?” he thought for a split second, “Actually, no, I don’t care who you are. Where’s Garner?”

The large man glared at him. Standing at an improbably large height, he towered over both of the detectives, his scarred face and dark eyes hinting that this mans natural career was that of bouncer.

“Didn’t your mother not teach you no manners?” he rumbled.

“My mother taught me a lot of things. Manners were certainly on the Maternal Curriculum.”

“You what?” snapped the confused man.

“Don’t try thinking sunshine, I can’t stand the noise” came the retort from Doors, “Now, as much as I enjoy a bit of intelligent banter with the hired help, where’s yer boss?”

“Right here”, boomed an American voice. The chair swivelled round to face Doors, revealing a balding man with a goatee. “Now, if you’ve quite finished insulting Mr Jackson, I believe you wanted to speak to me?”

“Ah, yes”, Doors said brightly, “We’re just itching to get some help with our enquiries”

“I’ve already told your colleagues all I can think of about the fire. I’m not sure what else I can tell you”

“Ah, now, you’re in luck there. We’re not here about the fire”, said Doors, searching Garners face for any signs of a reaction. It remained impassive.

“Oh?”

“Aye, well, it seems that a body that was recovered from a local housing estate a few days ago is that of one of your employees, A doctor…” he paused, apparently forgetting the name.

“Mclaren” chipped in DC Mann.

“Mclaren. That’s the one. Thank you Ben”, he smiled. Still nothing showed on Garners face.

“Dr Mclaren? Hmm, the name doesn’t ring any bells”, said Garner, steepling his hands, remaining as impassive as ever.

“Of course not, sir, a big company like this? Must be hard to keep track of every employee, mustn’t it Ben?”

“Undoubtedly, sarge”, replied Mann dutifully. He had to hand it to Doors; he was a master at this. He’d watched the sergeant do this with countless people. The earnest yet limited cop routine. Forgetting the dead mans name was a nice touch. Let people underestimate you, was what he always said.

Well, strictly speaking Doors tended to use more colourful language, but that was the gist of it. This seemed slightly different though. There was a strange atmosphere. This wasn’t how the conversations usually felt.

He felt like he was watching a game.

Garner smiled.

“Yes, quite so… I don’t think you introduced yourself?” Garner said

“How remiss of me!” exclaimed Doors, “I’m DS Doors, this is DC Mann. He’s just about to start shaving”, he added.

“Ahahah”, laughed Garner dutifully. It was a laugh devoid of mirth and about as dry as the Sahara.

The two men looked at each other, each appearing to be sizing up the next move in the game of conversational chess.

“I’d like to have a look around, if that’s ok?” asked Doors, meaning that he would be looking round regardless of what Garner thought was ok.

“Of course”, came the reply, meaning that Garner would be damned if he was going to let some idiot policeman blunder about his factory.

“I’d like to see where Dr Mclaren worked. Speak to his colleagues”

“That would certainly appear to be the logical move”, agreed Garner, “Mr Jackson can chaperone you. Wouldn’t want you to get lost”

“Indeed! Very thoughtful of you, sir. After all, I sometimes get lost in my own police station.”

Garner didn’t bother to laugh this time.

“Just one thing more thing, Mr Garner”, began Doors, “It’s a wee bit of a funny coincidence that your factory is attacked the same night that Dr Mclaren turns up dead, isn’t it?”

“I suppose it is. A rather unfortunate night all round”

“Especially for Dr Mclaren”, observed Doors.

“A tragedy. Now, if you excuse me, I am a very busy man, and you don’t have an appointment. Mr Jackson will take care of you”

“I’m sure he will”, said Doors, “Thank you for you… help”

“Always a pleasure to aid the police with their enquiries.”

The two men stared at each other for a few seconds, before Doors turned to leave. Garner watched the policemen and the bulk of Mr Jackson enter the lift and start the descent to the factory floor. He sighed slightly.

“We may have a problem”

“Do you want me to deal with them?” replied a voice from the shadows.

”Not yet, Mr Largey, but I think we shall keep an eye on them”

“Here is where Dr Mclaren worked”, rumbled Mr Jackson, coming to a stop in the middle of a corridor.

“He worked in the middle of a corridor?” asked Doors, “What was he? A fucking janitor?”

“No, he worked down the end there,” replied Mr Jackson, gesturing with a large finger, “In the research lab”

“That would be where the sign that says ‘Research Lab’ is, then, aye?” he sighed, “Well, after you Mr Jackson, unless we’re just going to wait here all day?”

Mr Jackson scowled, but led the policemen to the lab. Doors was impressed. The place was huge, with white-coated scientists and technicians scurrying about the place like parts of a giant machine.

“Not a bad set up, eh sarge?” observed Mann

“Aye, it’s alright I suppose,” in a tone that implied that he had personally seen much more impressive looking labs every day, “Ah, here comes someone now,” he said, spotting a tall woman making her way over towards them.

“Mr Jackson, who are these men?” she snapped.

“The police. They want to ask about Dr Mclaren. Mr Garner says it’s ok”

The woman threw her arms up in the air.

“It’s simply not convenient right now! We are very busy, and certainly don’t have time for chit chat with people like them!”

“A man’s dead. You’ll fucking well make time,” Doors growled, “Ma’am”. The woman shot him a look of pure poison.

“Death isn’t what it used to be,” she said coldly, “And if you speak to me like that again, I’ll have your job, [i:d4a5ce5064]policeman[/i:d4a5ce5064],” she spat the last word. Doors stared at her, probably best not to antagonise her anymore, he considered. He wasn’t worried about her threats, but if she wasn’t going to co-operate then it could make the investigation a lot more difficult.

“I’m DS Doors, this is DC Mann,” he said, “And you are?” The woman sighed.

“Dr Turnbull. Dr Ella Turnbull, the head of GarnerTech’s research department, and I don’t really have time for this.” She scowled, “Dr Mclaren was a loner, kept himself to himself. He came into work, and then he left and went home. One day, he didn’t come back. That’s about all there is to know about the good Doctor”

Charming woman, thought Doors, if she ever tires of the science then she’d have a lovely career as a professional arsehole.

“Did he have any enemies? Or friends?”

“Not that I know of. On either account.”

“I see. What was he working on?”

“That’s classified.”

“Of course it is,” sighed Doors, “He was a loner with no enemies and no friends working on some unspecified thing? Oh dear. It’s amazing how many people like that turn up dead in alleyways, isn’t it Ben?”

“It is sarge. I believe that the statistics indicate that about 90% of corpses that appear in mysterious circumstances are convenient loners”

“Not that we’re saying it’s at all convenient though, are we Ben?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it sarge”

“We’d like to ask some other people some questions. I mean, you’ve been more help than I could possibly say, but we’d still like to try and find out as much as we can about Mclaren.” A look of anger flashed across her face.

“I already told you, it’s not a convenient time!”

“It never is for a murder.” Said Doors impassively, “I promise we’ll be in and out before you know it.”

“I don’t suppose I have much choice really. Conduct your little investigation, sergeant. Then get the fuck out of my lab.”