MST3K: The Masque of the Baron, Part Two

< Back to Part One . . Forward to Part Three >

{CONTINUED FROM PART ONE}

[SoL. MIKE, TOM, and CROW are standing behind the counter.]

CROW: Okay, Mike, I know last time I said it was the accents that were
 bugging me, but now I see that I was being too harsh.
MIKE: <incredulous> You mean you *like* the accents?
CROW: Of course not! It's not the fault of the accents....it's the
 fault of the characters themselves! Each character does
 nothing more than echo one trait over and over again. It's
 like watching "Dilbert!"
TOM: Only not as much fun.

 CROW: Exactly. We've got the Baron. Okay, he's the evil Immortal,
 so whenever we see him he's doing something to hint at his
 psychopathic personality. Like locking a drug addict up in
 a totally black room, wearing black, having black hair, or
 being dark and sinister.
MIKE: So his character trait is blackness, then.
CROW: Yes! And then we've got Terri. She's a Watcher, and obviously
 the foil for the Doctor and Methos. So she's cheerful,
 naive, and chock full of useless trivia that will only be
 remembered if and when it becomes significant to the plot.
 And yet her most significant character trait seems to be
 not knowing the true identity of Methos.
TOM: I get it, Crow! So the Doctor is in this too, as Doctor
 Identikit, the mish-mash of all Doctors. When we see him,
 he has an overdone Brit accent, says "Brave heart" a lot,
 and is suspected of a crime he didn't commit. Cliche
 city.
MIKE: And none of the usual elements of character are coming up.
 We're not seeing Terri's value system, we're not learning
 how Methos deals with the difficulty of an assumed
 identity, and we're not finding out about the Baron's
 penchant for Twinkie/hot dog sandwiches.
CROW: Ew.

[MOVIE SIGN goes off and all heck breaks loose.]

MIKE: Movie sign! Aaaaaaah!


[*...2...3...4...5...6]


[Theater. ALL enter and sit.]

>EPISODE FOUR: in which there is (finally) some violence

TOM: Huh. Maybe this'll get the plot going.

>
> The Doctor walked briskly down the streets of Paris, retracing his
>steps to the TARDIS.

CROW: Raytracing his steps? What, is he alpha-testing Bryce 4.0?

> It was vital that he get to the delicate scanning
>equipment on board. There was something very odd going on and there was no
>way the Doctor was going to let it simply happen.

MIKE: Doctor Who cliche #329: something undefinably odd going on, giving the
 scriptwriter another week to save his butt and come up with a script.

> --Ah, but it's not so simple, said a tiny voice in the back of the
>Doctor's mind.
> "No?" he replied, vaguely aware that he was talking to himself and
>not really caring.

CROW: <'Bones,' to self> If I'm not careful, I'll start talking to myself.

> --No. And you know it, replied the voice. --One death does not a
>villanous plot make.
> "True, but it was an odd death." The Doctor frowned into the
>darkening Parisian night. It was very late. Behind him, a lone car turned
>off the road, and the night was again silent.

TOM: A lone car.... Hey, Kirstin's rippin' off the beginning of the telemovie!

> --Not really. It may have been a crime of passion.

CROW: Cool, the Doctor's using common sense!

> "But on the other hand, it . . ." The Doctor broke off in the
>middle of retorting to himself.

MIKE: When you start retorting to yourself, it's a good time to get help.

> He'd heard a sound. The sound was
>repeated, and the Doctor recognized it as a the firing of a pistol fitted
>with a faulty silencer. And he heard it again. And again. He ran,
>searching the source of the sound. It had to be nearby.

CROW: Because plot devices are always nearby.

> He was not disappointed. Rounding a corner, he spotted three
>teenage boys huddled by a garbage bin. He shouted at them, and they looked
>up. "Merde!"

TOM: ...pardon my French!

> one of them shouted. "Allez!" And they scattered like
>frightened birds.
> There was a groaning sound from beyond the garbage bin. The Doctor
>stepped closer and saw a young man, bleeding heavily from wounds in his
>leg, arm, chest, and stomach. He'd be lucky if he lived ten minutes.

MIKE: No, in this fanfic he'd be luckier if he died.
CROW: Lucky stiff.

> "It's all right," said the Doctor, crouching by the young man. "I
>won't hurt you." He saw that the young man was tall and neatly dressed,
>possibly a student. But his eyes were glazed with pain, and his breath
>came in short, ragged bursts.
> "Monsieur . . . ," he gasped, painfully. "Ou est . . . ou est les
>. . ."

TOM: <rasping> Tell....Laura.....I love her.....

> "Where are your attackers?" the Doctor asked, mentally shifting
>into French. "Don't worry. They're gone now."
> "They . . . they have killed me, I think," said the young man.
> "Why?" asked the Doctor.

CROW: Why ask why?

> But the young man shook his head, causing himself to cough
>painfully. A trickle of blood ran down his chin. "I don't know. They
>took . . . they took my money . . . and . . ." He coughed again.

MIKE: <rasping> I am dead, Horatio....

> "They
>said . . . they said . . . I do not matter, I'm not . . . important to the
>Baron. . . but they took my money." A spasm went through the young man,
>causing him to gasp in agony. "And then . . . they killed me."

CROW: The William Shatner school of death scenes.

> The Doctor closed his eyes in sorrow, then took his head in his
>lap. "Don't worry," he said, stroking the dying man's brow in a vain
>effort to comfort him. "Brave heart."

TOM: If this turns into a Care Bears crossover, I'm leaving, okay?

> And then the man died.
> Slowly untangling himself from the dead man, the Doctor stood, a
>grim determination on his features. Whoever this Baron was that the
>killers mentioned to the young man, he had no right to decide who is
>important.

CROW: Yeah, *I* get to decide to who lives and who dies!

> "Everyone is important," muttered the Doctor, gazing off into the
>middle distance. As a consequence of his distraction, he started when he
>felt a tapping on his shoulder.

MIKE: ....a rapping, rapping on his jacket sleeve....

> He spun around, raising his umbrella defensively, only to find that
>it was the young lady who'd been following him around. "Well," he said,
>his voice tinged with barely veiled anger.

CROW: <Doctor> I am so angry. Can you tell I'm angry?

> "I really think you've got some
>explaning to do, Miss Johnson." And he rapped the ferrule of his umbrella
>on the pavement to emphasize his point.
> She looked extremely nervous, and kept glancing about. "I just . .
>. well, I was just wondering . . . can I help?" And she indicated the
>young man's corpse.

TOM: <falsetto> I've been thinking about risking my life and the life of my
 friend to break my oath talking to a psychopathic murderer.

> "Well," replied the Doctor, "there's not much anyone short of a
>Guardian could do. Can't you see he's dead?" He stared at her, astonished
>by her bald-faced play-acting.

CROW: Bald-faced play-acting?
MIKE: Well, it sure ain't RADA.

> "Just what do you think you're playing at,
>Miss Johnson?"

TOM: <Terri> Parchesi. Wanna join?

> She opened her mouth, but before she could answer, a voice called
>out. "Terri!" it said. "Are you all right?"
> The Doctor turned towards the source of the sound. Jogging from
>the corner was the young man who had identified himself as Adam Pierson.
>"Oh, bother," said the Doctor. There was no way he could go to his TARDIS
>now, not with these two meddlers around.

MIKE: Yep, it's Hartnell.
TOM: <Hartnell> Interfering, eh? Meddling in things you don't understand, eh?

> Meanwhile, Terri called out a
>greeting.
> The Doctor scowled. "Well, well, well," he said. "If it isn't
>Tweedledum and Tweedledee," he muttered, quite loud enough for both of the
>humans to hear.

CROW: Since they're both half-deaf, apparently.

> "I don't think that was called for," said Adam, annoyed.
> The Doctor scowled at him. "Well, what do you expect?" he said,
>indignant. "You've been following me around all day and refuse to explain
>why!"
> Terri looked sidelong at Adam. He returned the gaze. After
>several seconds of tense silence, Adam turned back to the Doctor. "We're
>curious about these murders as well."

MIKE: <Doctor> Well, you know what they say. Curiosity killed the cat.
CROW: Be curious! Be curious!

> "That hardly explains why you've been following me."
> "I know," replied Adam, curtly.

TOM: <Adam> Tough taco, Doc.

> The Doctor looked into Adam's eyes as he had before. But this time
>Adam did not shrink away but gazed intensely back. It was as though a mask
>had dropped from his formerly soft, warm features, revealing a cold
>hardness, as of a rocky shoreline, worn down to its unforgiving core by the
>weight of millenia.

MIKE: This paragraph dedicated to the Peter Wingfield Fan Club.

> The Doctor found himself startled. His brows knit
>together.

CROW: Then they purled together.

> All of a sudden, Adam reminded him of his own kind.
> But that was not possible. The Doctor would have known immediately
>if Adam bore the telepathic presence of a Time Lord.

TOM: <snort> Yeah, right. Just like in "Colony in Space," "Brain of Morbius,"
 "Keeper of Traken," "The King's Demons," "The Twin Dilemma," "Mark of
 the Rani" and every other episode where the Doctor met a Time Lord
 in disguise and didn't recognize them.

> Shaking himself
>back to reality, the Doctor turned away from Adam and looked instead at
>Terri, who was looking very worried. "Yes," said the Doctor. "Well. What
>was it you wanted, child?"

MIKE: <Hartnell> Yes, Susan, hmmm.

> Terri spluttered at this. "What? Child? I'm twenty-six, I'll
>have you know!" Adam poked her in the ribs, hissing at her to shut up.

CROW: <Adam> Stop it, you're embarrasing me!

>"What?" she said, looking up at him. After a few moments, she seemed to
>realize something and did shut up.

TOM: <Terri> I think I left the lights on in the car.

> Adam spoke. "Terri wanted to ask you what you might know about the
>murders."
> The Doctor frowned at Adam. "And why do you want to know?"
> "We're . . . private investigators."

MIKE: We....investigate stuff.

> "Very well," said the Doctor. "I suppose that nothing will
>dissuade you, so you might as well come along." With that, he spun around
>and began marching off in the direction of the TARDIS.

TOM: <drill sergeant> Left! Left! Left, right, left!

> After a few paces, he realized that Adam and Terri were not
>following. Pausing, he called back, "Well, come on!" He was gratified to
>see them catch up to him a moment later.
>
> Elsewhere in the darkening City of Light, two forces met.

CROW: Still elsewhere, one force met. They were supposed to be meeting
 the other two, but got lost and refused to stop and ask directions.

> In an underground chamber, the leaders of two adolescent gangs
>snarled at one another. Their followers (naturally) followed suit.

MIKE: Oh, I wish they'd unnaturally follow suit.

> But
>the tension in that vast, long-forgotten segment of the Paris sewer was
>unnatural. Ordinarily, such a meeting would have had an air of pride,
>rivalry, and powerful loyalty to one's own side. But tonight the air
>seethed with equal parts anticipation, thrill, and fear.

TOM: Most meetings between viciously antagonistic armed groups are quiet
 affairs, with open buffets and fresh coffee.

> A booming sound echoed through the chamber, and all was silent.

MIKE: <deep> The audience is listening.

> "Children, listen to me now!" called a voice. The voice was
>strong, stronger than it had been in seven years.

CROW: Now the voice could bench-press a Geo Metro!

> The teenaged gangs
>turned as one body to watch the speaker. It was Michel, standing proudly
>on a high stone catwalk. There was none of the earlier pain in his form.
>He had gotten his nepenthe. Indeed, he had gotten something infinitely
>better than his usual nepenthe.

TOM: <Danny> Trade: phenodihydrochloride benzelex.

> Purpose.

TOM: <Danny> Street: the embalmer.
MIKE: Nobody is going to get that, Tom.
TOM: <normal> The PMEB will.

> The bringer of his dark purpose stood quietly behind Michel,
>smiling quietly to himself. Yes!, thought the Baron. Things are moving
>perfectly, better than any masque before.

MIKE: Things going well: a sure sign the evil plot will fail.

> Michel had spoken to eight gangs
>thus far, and had roused each into a frenzy. They were each convinced that
>Michel was their prophet, come to bring the final reckoning of youthful
>might over conventional law and order.

TOM: What, is this the liberal arts gang?
MIKE: Hell's Paracollege!

> "Children of the night," called Michel. "Children of poverty and
>sorrow, despair no longer! For today is our day, our day of truth and
>unconquerable right!"

CROW: Doodly-doodly-doodly, it's been conquered!

> The dark Baron watched, pleased beyond words, as Michel roused the
>teenagers into a fighting frenzy. True, Michel, not being as expressive --
>or indeed as literate -- as Robespierre, had required extensive coaching on
>this speech. But the Baron enjoyed writing these words almost as much as
>he enjoyed watching their effect on the rabid crowd.

MIKE: The crowd is frothing at the mouth?
TOM: Remember folks, make sure your gang members get their rabies vaccines.

> He was less pleased when he saw the older, more experienced leaders
>step out of the crowd and challenge Michel. There was, however, a
>contingency plan to deal with this. All it required was to kill the
>leaders.

CROW: ...leaving the angry mob leaderless and destroying your only means of
 control.

> The Baron smiled, fingering the hilt of his broadsword. Tonight,
>another kill, another appetizer to whet his hunger for the main course, the
>sacrifice.

MIKE: <screeching demoness from "Army of Darkness"> I'll swallow your soul!!!

> He threw back his head and laughed. Loud, long peals of laughter
>bubbled up horribly from the dark Baron's lips.

TOM: Ew. Wipe your mouth off, Baron.

> When he lowered his head
>again at last, he saw that everyone had gone silent and was staring at him
>in fear. He bowed before Michel, giving the impression to the ignorant
>fools below that he was Michel's servant, and lept down from the catwalk.
> He fell ten yards, landed on his feet,

MIKE: Without breaking his legs? Spooky.
CROW: So he's a cat, then.

> and grinned at the two gang
>leaders. He licked his lips. The two boys were each over six feet tall
>and both were very strong. One pulled out a bowie knife. The other drew a
>black combat knife from his boot, not taking his eyes from the Baron. They
>were strong, experienced street fighters.

CROW: Two nameless walk-on characters approach the main villain, expecting to
 defeat him easily.
TOM: They're toast.

> They never stood a chance.
> In an instant, the Baron had drawn his broadsword and swung it
>across, grinning like a mad demon as the blade flickered faster than either
>of the boys could follow.

MIKE: One, two, one, two! And through and through! The vorpal blade went
 snicker-snack!

> The one with the bowie knife swept it up in a
>vicious arc that should have severed the dark man's windpipe, but that cut
>through air instead as the broadsword sliced unnoticed through the boy's
>gut. He gasped once, then fell to the ground, bleeding quickly to death.

TOM: <gang member> Give my love to....aaggghghh.....

> Meanwhile, the combat knife was moving lower, slashing at the dark
>man's midriff, taking advantage of the Baron's motion as he killed the
>other boy. But somehow the Baron's sword had already come clear of its
>first victim and lept out to parry. It struck the knife with such force
>that it was knocked clear out of the boy's hand.

MIKE: Whoops!

> The boy scarcely noticed
>it leave his hand before he felt cold steel sliding into his chest and
>through his heart. He spasmed once and died.
> The Baron's strange, bicolor eyes glittered madly.

ALL: <Baron> Muahahahahahehhaahahhaheahooohahaheeeha!

> He pulled his
>sword free, wiped it on the first boy's jacket, sheathed it, and then
>climbed up the sheer face of the wall to return to Michel's side.

CROW: He's not a cat, he's a bug!
TOM: It's a bug hunt, man, a bug hunt!

>There was no want of attention for Michel after that. The Baron's lunatic
>smile never once wavered.
>
>
>EPISODE FIVE: in which the Doctor gets in trouble as usual

MIKE: Ah yes....Doctor Who cliche #481: Doctor in trouble.

>
> "This is not possible," Terri stated, mainly to reassure herself of
>her own sanity.

TOM: And now Doctor Who cliche #124: the first visit to the TARDIS.
MIKE: <Jon Pertwee> Aren't you going to say that it's bigger on the inside
 than it is on the outside? Everybody else does.

> She and Adam had just followed the Doctor into an
>old-fashioned police box ( --So the rumors at UNIT were true, she thought)

CROW: <Terri> ....MacOS really does come from outer space.

>which was significantly larger within.
> "Oh, of course it's possible," said the Doctor, not turning as he
>strode across the room to a large, octagonal structure supported on a
>plinth in the center of the room, giving what Terri supposed was the
>console a fond pat.

CROW: Is there something about the Doctor's relationship with the TARDIS
 that we should know about?

> A glowing plexiglass column emerged from the center of
>the structure and was supported from above by four steel girders. As the
>Doctor began flipping switches, Terri looked around for Adam.

MIKE: <Terri> Oh, where is he? He's always wandering off....

> Her colleague was staring in open amazement at the interior of . .
>. what was it the Doctor had called it? The TARDIS. There was a
>pleasantly lit space to the left which was clearly a study, containing an
>impressive number of books, a worn overstuffed chair, and a very dusty
>phonograph.

TOM: Warning, warning! Fanwank alert! Kirstin is describing the set from
 the telemovie!
MIKE: Any minute now, somebody's going to flame her for supporting the movie
 in favor of "classic" Who.

> Everything was placed in exactly the right spot, right down to
>the individual dust motes, giving the place a very dream-like quality.
> "I'm dreaming," said Adam, echoing Terri's thoughts.

CROW: Nope, sorry, you really are caught in a bad crossover.

> The Doctor turned and fixed Adam with his peculiar gaze, grinning
>happily. "You most certainly are not dreaming, young man."
> Adam broke from his reverie and stared at the Doctor. "Where do
>you get off calling me 'young man?' You don't know how old I might be."

MIKE: <Doctor - whiny> Yeah, well I'm a thousand years old! So there! Nyaah!
CROW: <Adam - whiny> Yeah, so? I'm five thousand years old! Nanny-nanny
 boo-boo!
TOM: <sepulchral> And I'm evil.....eeeevil from the dawn of Time!

> Terri stared at Adam. The situation was rapidly moving beyond
>Terri's range of experience. "Uh, Doctor?" asked Terri.

MIKE: That was odd, Tom.
TOM: Thank you.

> "Yes?" he answered.
> "Who are you really?"
> The Doctor sighed fondly. "Always the same questions," he said,
>shaking his head. There was a peculiar, almost nostalgic smile on his
>face.

CROW: Like: what planet is this? Why does every evil fortress look like
 the same set dressed up? And what are you going to do about the
 Dalek that's standing behind you?

> "Who do you think I am?"
> This gave Terri pause. She looked to Adam for support, but he
>merely shrugged, his face creased with worry. She bit her lip, then turned
>back to face the Doctor. "I don't know," she said, honestly.

TOM: Ladies and gentlemen, the core premise of "Doctor Who."

> The Doctor raised an eyebrow at her, but did not comment. Instead,
>he returned to flipping switches on the central structure, which Terri took
>to be a control console of some kind. "Come here, both of you," he said.
>As they approached the console, he pulled a lever.

CROW: <flushing noise>

> Terri's attention was
>immediately drawn upwards by a peculiar sound. She gasped as the ceiling
>was replaced by a holographic representation of outer space.

ALL: Ooooooooooooh....

> "What . . . what is *that*?" she asked, awed.
> The Doctor chuckled. "Oh, just the Universe," he replied. "Look,"
>he said, pointing at a distant galactic cluster. "That's the Coma Cluster.
>My people call it Kasterborus."

TOM: So? My people call it Fuzzy Spot in the Middle of My Telescope.

> The two Watchers stared blankly at him. "So?" asked Adam.
> "That's my home."
> The coin finally dropped.

MIKE: So Terri bent down and picked it up.

> Terri's eyes widened. She was left
>speechless by the enormity of what the Doctor had just said.
> Adam was not so speechless. "You mean to tell us that you're . . .
>an alien?"

TOM: <singing> Whoa-oh, I'm an alien, I'm a legal alien, I'm a
 Prydonian in Paris.

> "Quite," said the Doctor. "I'm a Time Lord, from the planet
>Gallifrey. And there's something going on in this city that requires a
>Time Lord's attention."

MIKE: All the VCRs are blinking 12:00.

> Terri finally got her voice back.

CROW: ...from the dry cleaners.
TOM: But the ketchup stain had not come out.

> "But . . . it's just a couple of
>murders." She was very worried. If the Doctor was not an Immortal after
>all but an alien . . . well, it did explain an awful lot.

MIKE: Great. Can you explain it to us?

> But it was her
>duty to keep him from knowing about the Immortals. So she couldn't let him
>get involved in a murder in which the killer was very likely Immortal.
> The Doctor, meanwhile, had pulled down a monitor that was suspended
>from one of the girders.

CROW: <sniggers> Is that monitor attatched to an old-fashioned toilet chain?
MIKE: Yep, I'm afraid so.
TOM: And this was the set they spent a million dollars on. <shakes head>

> He was punching in values on the console and
>watching the results on the screen. "I felt a distinct temporal distortion
>at the scene of the first slaying."
> Terri frowned. The Doctor was speaking technobabble gibberish.
>"Say that in English, please," she said.

CROW: <Doctor> Sure: "I felt a distinct temporal distortion at the scene of
 the first slaying."

> He smiled apologetically, then sobered. "Someone has been altering
>Time," he said. "Look at this." And he indicated the monitor.

TOM: Nude .gifs of Chancellor Flavia?

> The two Watchers stepped around the console to stand behind the
>Doctor. Numbers were flowing across the screen, white on blue, totally
>incomprehensible. Terri looked up at Adam, who raised an eyebrow in
>response.

MIKE: <Spock> Fascinating, Captain.

> "Ah, Doctor," said Adam. "I'm afraid we don't understand."
> "There are several spikes in the artron energy levels in the Time
>Vortex," he replied.

CROW: Oh yeah, bring on the technobabble!
TOM: Mike, if the words "reverse," "polarity" and "neutron flow" appear in
 the same sentence, I'm outta here.

> "One of them coincides with the approximate
>space-time coordiantes of the first killing."
> "So?" asked Terri.
> "So, Miss Johnson," replied the Doctor, "there is no such thing as
>'coincidence' when you're dealing with Time."

MIKE: This is, of course, the same man who says, "Would you believe it's
 a complete coincidence?" at least five times a season.

> He turned back to the
>console and began setting controls, flipping switches, and turning dials.
> "What are you doing?" asked Terri.

TOM: <Doctor> Oh, just setting the self-destruct....

> With a melodramatic flourish, the Doctor flipped a final switch.
>The metallic spikes in the plexiglass column in the center of the console
>began to move, accompanied by a horrendous grating sound.

CROW: Ya might wanna put a little WD-40 on that, Doc....

> "We're leaving,"
>said the Doctor.
> "Where are we going?" asked Adam calmly.
> The Doctor turned to Adam, a curious look in his eyes. "Do I sense
>skepticism, Mr. Pierson?

MIKE: Because if I do, I'll turn this TARDIS right around, young man!

> We're going underground."
> "Why?" asked Adam, still calm as ever.

TOM: "Adam" is starting to sound like HAL.
CROW: <dead calm> I really think I'm entitled to an answer to that question,
 Doctor.

> "Just who . . . no, never mind," said the Doctor. "We're going to
>the location of the second time distortion."
> This made Terri worried. "Um, Doctor?" she said. "Isn't that
>dangerous? I mean, if the killings coincide with the temporal
>whatchamacallits, won't the killer still be there?"

MIKE: No, that would make sense.

> The Doctor smiled faintly. "Brave heart, Terri."

CROW: Braveheart Terri?
TOM: Mel Gibson in a role you won't believe!

> "Huh?" she asked, bewildered.
> The Doctor shook his head as though to clear it. "Oh, nothing.
>You just reminded me of someone I once knew," he said.

MIKE: Terri reminds him of Tegan?
TOM: <Edmund Blackadder> They're about as similar as two completely
 dissimilar things in a pod.

> "I'm taking us to
>four hours after the fact, anyway, so it should be safe."
> -- Famous last words, thought Terri.

CROW: Like: "They couldn't hit an elephant at this dist...."
MIKE: <Adric> "Now I'll never know if I was right."
TOM: <Castellan> "No! Not the mind probe!"

>
> The Baron smiled contentedly at Michel, the early morning sunlight
>slipping off his dark form like water off a duck's back. They stood
>together in the Baron's favorite place, the Place de la Concorde. "Well, my
>dear child, it seems you've made quite an impression," he said. "Even more
>of an impression than my old colleague Maximilien."

CROW: Maximilian? The robot from "The Black Hole"?
TOM: No, not that affront to 'bot-hood! Anything but that!
MIKE: What's wrong with Maximilian?
TOM: Disney's attempt at SF! Noooooooo!!!

> Michel did not know that the Baron meant Maximilien Robespierre.
>And even if he had known, he would not have cared.

CROW: <passer-by> Dumdeedumdumdum...he means Robespierre, dufus...dumdeedum...
TOM: <stoner> Hey, chill out, man....

> Michel loved the dark
>Baron more dearly than he loved his own life. For the Baron had brought
>surcease from the horrible pain that had plagued Michel for seven long
>years, filling the void with purpose.

MIKE: Purpose: the new, easy-to-use spackle. Available only at Menards.

> "It is all thanks to you, mon maitre," he replied modestly.
> "No!" replied the Baron, smoothly and effieciently. "I merely
>unlocked your destiny!"

CROW: <George McFly> I am your density!

> He faced Michel and gripped the boy's shoulders,
>reflecting momentarily that the boy was quickly becoming a man, although a
>man of the Baron's making. "All that strength, that power, that just
>vision! That, my friend, is yours, not mine."

TOM: <Michel> Great, now will you let go of my shoulders?
> Michel smiled happily. "You have great faith in me, mon Baron. I
>shall do my best to live up to that."

CROW: <Michel> Can I kiss your butt? Huh? Can I?

> The Baron gave a most convincing display of pride and joy, biting
>his lip and then boldly embracing Michel. He kissed the boy twice, then
>stood back.

'BOTS: Ewwwwww!
MIKE: What? That's how they say "hello" in France! There's nothing wrong
 with it!

> "There shall be justice in Paris, my friend. And you shall
>bring it. No more shall the bougeoisie crush their children beneath them."
> Michel took up the refrain with idealistic fervor. "No more shall
>they bind the masses up with drugs and television!

TOM: Instead they shall bind the masses with the World Wide Web!
CROW: Post dirty pictures on the web! E-mail the URLs to the world! Watch
 the Internet grind to a shuddering halt!

> No more shall we follow
>blindly to another man's future! No more shall we be oppressed by our
>elders! No more!" he cried out, startling a young woman and her poodle.

MIKE: Poor dog. It didn't ask to be in this fanfic.

>The dog growled at the Baron, who paid it no heed, but smiled happily.
> All was progressing perfectly.
>
> A loud, grating sound echoed through the old sewers of Paris as the
>TARDIS materialized,

CROW: What is with the "loud grating sound?"
TOM: Would you rather have "vworp, vworp?"

> causing the rats to squeal in fright as they scattered
>into the darkness. Two boys, scarcely above the age of consent,

MIKE: And exactly why is it important that they are above the age of consent?
 .....On second thoughts, don't answer that. I don't want to know.

> silently
>observed two men and a woman emerge from the blue police box. They met
>each other's gaze and nodded. One slipped silently into the murky shadows
>while the other remained to watch the strange newcomers.

CROW: ...silently.

>
> "I don't believe it," said Adam, staring at the high ceiling of the
>underground chamber. Terri picked her way around him, wrinkling her nose
>at the foul stench of the place.

TOM: <Terri -- valley girl> Peeyew, that is so grody, ew....

> "What's that smell?" she asked.
> "Death," replied the Doctor, mysteriously.

ALL: <spooky> Ooooooooooooo!

> "Oh, come off it," said Adam.
> The Doctor took no notice of Adam but immediately began poking
>around. Terri, meanwhile, grabbed Adam by the elbow and gave him a
>remonstrative stare. "Adam," she said, warningly. "Don't overstep
>yourself."

CROW: <Terri> I wouldn't want you to trip and get an owie.
MIKE: <little kid> Yes, Mommy.

> "What?" he asked, incredulous.
> "Just watch it," she hissed in his ear. "He's not what we thought.
>We need to learn from him." Adam replied with a warning glance of his
>own. -- Terrific, she thought. On top of everything, now Adam's acting
>wierd.

MIKE: With no noticable change in his behavior. Wow.
TOM: And it's spelled "w-e-i-r-d."

> "Come and have a look at this," called the Doctor from the other
>side of the impossible police box.

TOM: Somebody had painted "Escher was here" on the side of the TARDIS.

> "Go ahead," said Adam, turning away. Terri shot

CROW: ...herself, ending our misery. The end!
MIKE: Don't get bitter yet, Crow. There's still another five episodes
 to go.

> one last
>exasperated look at his back and trotted over to the Doctor. He was
>kneeling over a pair of motionless dark forms, a look of sorrow on his
>face. She gasped when she saw what he'd found.
> Two boys, probably in their late teens. Both were quite dead.

TOM: <singing> They're not only merely dead, they're really most sincerely
 dead!
CROW: <Billy Crystal> If they're all dead, there's only one thing you
 can do: go through their clothes and look for loose change.

> One
>boy, facing up, had a very nasty looking burn across the left side of his
>face and neck and a sticky mass of blood around his midsection. His coat,
>slashed open just above the waist, hung oddly, as though . . . as though .
>. . . Terri fought back nausea.

CROW: She failed miserably, spewing half-digested onion soup all over
 their mangled remains.
MIKE: Crow, that's digusting!

> The boy's abdomen had been slashed open.
> The other boy lay on his stomach. Terri did not know that the
>Doctor had rolled the boy over to prevent her seeing the boy's disfigured
>face. The sewer rats had already begun their work.

TOM: Ew. I'm starting to get nauseous myself. Thanks a lot, Crow.

> "This is clearly the work of the same murderer," said the Doctor,
>rising from the corpses. "Now all that remains . . ."

CROW: Is their remains! <rimshot>
TOM: Ergh...

> "Les voila!"

MIKE: Bus-ted!

> The voice rang out, echoing in the subterranean chamber. Terri and
>the Doctor looked up, startled, to see a teenaged boy pointing an assualt
>rifle at them. The boy was looking over his shoulder, calling to his
>comrades, a group of a dozen or so boys, all armed.

TOM: <boy> Comrades, we must destroy the imperialist, capitalist scum!

> "Oh, dear," said the Doctor. He sighed, putting his hands up in
>the air with the easy motion of long practise. Terri turned and looked
>behind for another escape route. But there was another boy behind them,
>keeping his pistol trained on them.

CROW: But is that pistol housetrained?

> "Hands in the air," said the first boy, apparently the leader.
>Terri wondered for a moment why the boy was speaking English, but did not
>dwell on the issue, as she felt the cold muzzle of a gun in her back.

MIKE: Doctor Who cliche #694: all characters being able to understand foreign
 or even alien languages as if they were English, once they've
 travelled in the TARDIS or had a passing acquaintance with the plot.

> She cast a despairing glance at the Doctor. He met her eyes as
>though to say not to worry, he had a plan.

CROW: <Baldric> I have a cunning plan....

> Not terribly reassured by this,

TOM: Heh, who would be?

>Terri looked for Adam.
> But Adam was gone.
> She didn't have time to wonder where he'd got to, for their captors
>were taking them away. For a brief moment, all Terri could think was "take
>us to your leader."

CROW: Time to take us to *our* leader.


[6...5...4...3...2...*]


 [SoL. MIKE, TOM and CROW are standing behind the desk as usual.
 GYPSY is in the back, behind a drum set. It is not clear how she
 plays drums. There is a MIDI keyboard on the counter, CROW is
 wearing a bass guitar, and TOM is wearing an electric guitar. 
 MIKE is speaking directly to CAMBOT.]

MIKE: We've seen bad monsters.
TOM: Yep.
MIKE: And we've seen bad villians.
CROW: Oh, yes.
MIKE: And we've seen bad space battles.
TOM: Definitely.
MIKE: But today's experiment doesn't stand out in any of those fields.
 Today's experiment has bad technobabble.
CROW: Worse than treknobabble?
MIKE: Maybe not, but it's still bad. Anyway, I wrote a little song a while
 back that kinda fits. It's called "Technobabble."

 [They launch into the song. It is a filk of "Psychobabble," by the
 Alan Parsons Project. If you want to hear "Psychobabble," get their
 "Eye in the Sky" album, or one of the following compilations: "Best
 of the Alan Parsons Project," "Alan Parsons: Live" and "Alan Parsons:
 the Definitive Collection." It starts off with a three-note rhythm
 on the bass guitar, joined by the drums after a couple of bars. MIKE
 cues all non-guitar music and SFX from his keyboard.]

MIKE: I hope you like it.
<singing>
 Tell you 'bout a dream that I have every night
 Tell you 'bout a dream that I have every night
 It's a bit like "Doctor Who" and it's a bit like "Star Trek"
 Take me for a fan if I feel that's all right

 Well, I'm working on an engine for an interstellar kite
 I don't know why the nacelles aren't lighting
 Trying to save us
 A temporal anomaly is tearing up the night
 It's too late to admit that I don't know what is right
 I spit out the words and it's technobabble rap to me

BOTS: <singing>
 Technobabble

MIKE: Tell you 'bout a dream that I have every night
 The TARDIS can't escape and everything is turning white
 Take me for a fan if I feel that's all right

 Well I see the alien spaceship and it's putting up a fight
 I don't know why the rotor isn't lighting
 Trying to save us
 Help me to talk my way out of this fix
 Reverse the polarity and alter the mix
 I spit out the words, it's all technobabble rap to me

BOTS: Technobabble, all technobabble
 Technobabble, all technobabble

MIKE: I don't know, it's all technobabble rap to me

 [Instrumental break. MIKE cues up lots of weird SF sound
 clips of blaster duels and space battles, interwoven with
 clips of different famous SF characters reciting
 increasingly ludicrous technobabble. Scotty, Laforge,
 K9, Nyssa, Ziggy, C3-PO, and Kryten are among them.]

MIKE: Dilithium's out and we need our Ziton ore
 The auto-calibrator isn't working anymore
 I spit out the words, but it's technobabble rap to me

BOTS: Technobabble, all technobabble
 Technobabble, all technobabble

MIKE: The Force isn't with us and Sam ain't getting back
 We've gotta find an answer 'fore we're fading to black
 So spit out the words, 'cuz it's technobabble rap...........


 [MIKE holds the final high note for some time and everybody else
 holds their last notes as well. He keeps holding the note. The
 guitars are fading already, unable to sustain the pitch. GYPSY
 is still drum rolling in the back. COMMERCIAL SIGN begins to
 blink. MIKE is still holding the note, although the pitch is
 beginning to suffer. Finally he keels over from lack of oxygen
 and hits the button on his way down. GYPSY does a final cymbal
 crash as he collapses.]



 [Spaghetti ball and commercials.]



[Theater. Everybody is in their seats.]

>EPISODE SIX: in which some secrets get revealed

TOM: Like what Kirstin was on when she wrote this.
MIKE: Oh, come on. It's not that bad.
CROW: Mike, it is.

>
> The sun shone a dirty yellow, its light sullied by the smog that
>overhung the city.

TOM: ...the smog that was a metaphor for the grimness in our souls.

> The Baron smiled happily, joyful at the prospect of the
>coming Masque. He looked forward to the terror. He always did.
> Michel was not so happy. "This," he said, pointing indignantly at
>the yellow haze obscuring Montmartre, "is yet another manifestation of the
>oppression of our people, is it not, mon maitre?"

CROW: Montmartre is a manifestation of oppression?
MIKE: Well, just you try and walk through there without having your
 portrait forcibly drawn!

> The dark Baron turned to Michel. He said nothing, but smiled all
>the more. Michel was an excellent pupil. Almost as good as Robespierre.

TOM: For those of you just joining the story, the Baron was responsible
 for the Reign of Terror.
MIKE: You mean he confiscated the BBC's archive reels?

>Of course, Robespierre had been a bright man to begin with. All he had
>needed was the flame. Michel required so much more tutoring. But then,
>Robespierre's independence had cost him his head.

CROW: <Austin Powers> Guess it really went to his head. He'll never be
 the head of a major corporation.
MIKE: <screechy, high-pitched Firey> Where you gonna *head* like that!
TOM: Yikes, Mike, don't *do* that!

> "What do you think?" asked Michel suddenly.
> The dark man regarded Michel solemnly. "The pollution of the air,"
>he said, "is merely a metaphor for the pollution of the mind."

CROW: But what's a meta for?

> Michel frowned. "What do you mean?"
> "Television, my friend," replied the Baron. "Newspapers. Radio.
>The World Wide Web.

MIKE: Usenet!
TOM: IRC!
CROW: Top ten lists!
MIKE: Stock quotes!
CROW: Online shopping!
TOM: Web Site Number Nine!

> Misinformation easily and subtly fed into the mind."
> Michel gasped in awe. "What would I do without you, mon maitre?"
> Outwardly, the Baron smiled fondly and modestly. Inwardly, he
>smirked. It was never this easy with Robespierre. It was almost this easy
>with Vlad "The Impaler" Dracula, but never was it so much fun.

MIKE: So the Baron inspired the Reign of Terror by encouraging Robespierre
 to mistrust his allies?
TOM: Gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "fear, uncertainty, doubt."

> He laughed
>happily and threw an arm around Michel. "Never fear, my friend," he said,
>smiling. "Never fear."
>
> "Never fear," said le Baron Lucien Noir, leaning back in his seat
>in Robespierre's sitting room, having just poured himself a fresh cup of
>tea.

MIKE: You know, if this were an actual "Highlander" episode, they would have
 zoomed into the Baron's eyeball to do the crossfade.
CROW: Yeah. If the world starts using retinal scans for identification, the
 whole cast of "Highlander" is gonna be in serious trouble!

> Robespierre himself was standing at the window, peering out at the
>citizens below. "Never fear? Is that all you can say?"

TOM: <Bit from "Tron"> NO
MIKE: <Flynn> Positive and negative, huh, you're a bit?
TOM: <Bit> YES

> The Baron did not answer immediately. Instead, he brought his
>teacup to his mouth and took a sip. It was very sweet. "Now, now, my
>friend. Hebert is dead."
> "But the bloodshed!" breathed Robespierre, turning from the window.

CROW: <Robespierre> Window, I turn my back to you!

>There was pain on his face. "We are making a poor example of ourselves."
> "You and I?" asked the Baron.
> "No, no, no," said Robespierre, shaking his head. "The Republic!
>And I still think it was a bad idea to outlaw Christianity."

TOM: Oh, so religion is the opiate of the masses now? Is this Robespierre
 or Karl Marx?

> The Baron raised an eyebrow at this. "But the Cult of the Supreme
>Being was your idea, Maximillien."
> "Religion is necessary for order," replied Robespierre, sinking
>into an armchair opposite the Baron. "The only problem with Christianity
>was it's insistence upon dichotomy.

TOM: That, plus the fact that it taxed people into poverty.

> All men are created equal, my friend."

MIKE: Women are on their own.

> "Who told you that?"
> "Lafayette, I think."
> "And look where it got him."

CROW: It got him a bridge in St Paul.

> Robespierre looked up. "Yes, I know." He sighed. It had been
>very distressing when Lafayette had been executed. "Even the best men can
>fall away from the truth."

TOM: Wait a second....wasn't Lafayette one of the great thinkers of the
 American *and* French Revolutions? Wasn't he one of Robespierre's
 greatest allies in the beginning?
MIKE: With friends like Robespierre, who needs enemies? Heck, with friends
 like him, you don't even have to stock the fridge; you won't be
 around to eat anyway!

> The Baron set his tea aside and looked into Robespierre's eyes. He
>saw a very tired man inside. Perhaps he'd been pushing the Frenchman too
>hard. "What's happened?" he asked, knowing full well the truth.
> Robespierre had become paranoid.

CROW: He'd started reading John_-_Winston posts.

> "There are still Hebertist factions," he replied. "But none are
>man enough to show themselves."
> --Small wonder, thought the Baron, thinking fondly of Madame
>Guillotine.

TOM: <John Cleese> In this picture we see an Hebertist faction. They cannot
 be seen. Hebertists, will you show yourselves, please?
MIKE: <Hebertist, waving> Here I am!
CROW: <Robespierre, maniacal> Off with his head!
MIKE: <Hebertist> Aaaaaaaigghh!
TOM: <John Cleese> This demonstrates the value of not being seen.

> "I think . . .," began Robespierre, choking back his words as
>though stricken with grief. "I think that Danton is one of them."

CROW: <whispering> Psst, Mike.... Who's Danton?
MIKE: <whispering> Robespierre's closest ally. He was beheaded during
 the Terror when he started having doubts about the whole thing.
CROW: <shocked, but still whispering> Just for having doubts?
MIKE: <whispering> Sort of. Robespierre thought he was a double agent.

> The Baron affected sympathy, knowing that Danton had always been a
>good friend and supporter of Robespierre. --All the better, he thought to
>himself. Danton was a known friend of Robespierre's and a stout defender
>of liberty. And there was no evidence of insurrection.

MIKE: There was evidence of "Insurrection" doing well in second-run
 theaters, however, but Robespierre dismissed this as rumor.

> "I am so sorry, my
>friend," he said.
> "It is the price we pay," replied Robespierre, a hardness growing
>in his voice. "When one crusades for virtue and liberty,

TOM: <Bishop of Nidaros> ...always remember to bring clean trousers.
MIKE: Tom!
TOM: What? It's from Ibsen!

> one can hold no
>quarter."

CROW: But one can hold dimes.

> The Baron nodded with determination. "As always, my friend, you
>are right." And he took his leave of Robespierre, content.
> A week later, Danton was dead. Over the next five months, over
>2,500 others followed his steps to the guillotine,

MIKE: Poorly framed history lesson or crappy crossover? You make the call!

> including the Baron's
>sacrifice. And the dark Baron was exceedingly pleased.
>
> "I am very pleased," said the Baron, patting Michel on the
>shoulder.

CROW: <doggie panting noises>
MIKE: Good boy, good Michel. Roll over.

> "You have done much, and will do much more, my friend."
> Michel actually blushed with gratitude. "Thank you, mon maitre,
>but I do not think I deserve such praise." He smiled. "It is you . . . ."

TOM: I'm beginning to get the idea that people keep getting interrupted
 because Kirstin can't think of a way to end the conversation.
MIKE: The Ed Wood, Jr style of writing: if you can't figure out how to
 do something, let the audience figure it out!
CROW: <Johnny Depp> Haven't you ever heard of "suspension of disbelief?"

>He broke off as his brand new pager went off. He unclipped it from his
>belt and read the LCD readout on the little device.
> "What is it?" asked the Baron.
> "Beta group has taken prisoners."

TOM: Alpha group is lost in the sewers. Gamma group went to pick up eggs
 and milk and lost track of the time.
MIKE: Omega group has become pure anti-matter and requests to be excused
 from handling matter.

>
> "Where are we going?" asked Terri. They'd been walking for ten
>minutes, along a convoluted maze of ancient sewer ways. She was now
>thoroughly lost.

CROW: ...a feeling she was very familiar with.

> She devoutly hoped the Doctor knew where they were.
> "You'll find out soon enough," replied one of her captors. He was
>a red-haired boy, probably about 17 or 18 years old. He seemed to be the
>leader of the group.

MIKE: <falsetto singing> Leader of the group.
BOTS: Vrooom! Vrooom!

> Terri looked to the Doctor for support. He looked across at her,
>seemingly at perfect ease. "Don't worry, Terri," he said. "When we get
>where we're going, we can talk about this reasonably. I'm sure it's all
>just a mistake."

CROW: <Doctor> And then we'll have tea and crumpets and we'll all be
 the best of friends....

> Terri stared at the Doctor, astonished by his cheerful attitude.
>"How can you be so calm?" she asked. "They probably think we killed those
>two boys."

TOM: But, as that would make sense, it's highly unlikely.

> "I'm not so sure about that," replied the Doctor. "Don't worry,
>though. I'll think of something!" Terri was about to reply when she
>noticed the Doctor's fingers drumming on his umbrella.

CROW: Wow. I've heard of euphemisms, but boy....

> He was worried.
> Terri bit her lip. She wondered if Adam had gotten away. She
>hoped so. He was a wonderful researcher, she reflected, but he wasn't
>really cut out for violent stuff.

TOM: <totally flat> Boy. That's ironic.

> Then she remembered the meeting with the strange Baron and wasn't
>quite so sure anymore.

MIKE: Then she remembered his collection of severed heads, exotic swords,
 and lifetime membership in the "Most Dangerous Game" club.
CROW: The way Kirstin's been layin' on the hints, a five-year-old would've
 figured out that Adam's an Immortal by now.

> "Ah, here we are!" said the Doctor, brightly. Terri looked up.
>They were entering another large chamber. This one showed signs of
>habitation,

MIKE: Like what, metal alloys and artificial energy sources?
CROW: <Data> Captain, I'm picking up signs of habitation on the surface
 below.
TOM: Crow, you do realize if you start singing the "lifesigns" song, I'm
 going to have to kill you.

> with lots of tables and chairs, and people scurrying
>everywhere. The walls wore so many layers of graffiti that it was
>impossible to tell what color they'd been originally. But the most recent
>layer of spray-paint had followed a clear pattern.

CROW: It said, "Mange mes briefs" and "Kilroy etait ici."

> "Where are we?" Terri asked the Doctor, whispering with awe.
> "Some kind of headquarters, I should think," he replied, gazing at
>his surroundings with a keen interest. As they progressed into the room, a
>large mound of stolen goods became visible. "On second thoughts, it looks
>more like a dragon's den."

MIKE: Could be worse. Could be a gamer's den. Twenty-sided dice, old pizza
 boxes, piles of underwear deep enough to ski in....
TOM: Eeeuchch.... <shiver>

> "So where's the dragon?" asked Terri.
> Suddenly, the group came to a halt. Terri felt a firm grip on her
>shoulder, restraining her from moving further. Somewhere in the distance
>(or perhaps only in her mind -- she was never afterwards sure) there was a
>deep thumping sound, not unlike a great heartbeat.

CROW: A low, quick sound, such a watch makes when enveloped in cotton....

> Not a single person
>made the slightest sound. Then she heard footsteps. She turned. And
>gasped at what she saw.

TOM: Terri sure gasps a lot.
MIKE: Maybe she has asthma.

> Striding proudly into the room were two men. One was a young man,
>younger than Terri, who walked with a spring in his step and fire in his
>eyes.

CROW: <young man> Owie, my eyes, ow, ow, owie, ow....

> But it was the man behind who stole all Terri's attention.

TOM: <affronted> Hey, somebody should tell him it's not nice to steal!

> It was the same dark stranger who'd accosted her and Adam in the cafe.

MIKE: Well, since he's the title character, this can't be much of a surprise.

> "I had to ask," she whispered to herself. Although the younger man
>walked in front and although the younger man seemed to carry the authority,
>it was the dark Baron who was the dragon. Terri was sure of it.
> She bit her lip, hard. She tasted blood, but did not let off.

CROW: The weird thing was that the blood wasn't hers.

> The two men drew near and halted in front of them. The red-headed
>teenager broke away, snapping his assault rifle up in something resembling
>a salute.

MIKE: <bored> Like, ten hutt, or whatever.

> "Comrade Michel," he said, addressing the younger man. "We
>found these two poking about the meeting hall. They found the bodies."
> The young man -- Michel -- turned to the Baron and whispered a
>question. The Baron whispered back. Michel turned back to the group and
>said, "Let the prisoners stand on their own, comrade Jean."

CROW: Billie Jean?
TOM: <singing> Billie Jean is...not my prisoner....she's just a girl who
 sez that...I am the one! This story's really dumb....

> Their captors
>backed off immediately, nevertheless keeping their guns at the ready.
>"They are civilized, and must be questioned in their own manner." He
>turned to the Doctor and Terri. "Who are you?" he asked.

 [All speak simultaneously.]
MIKE: The new Number Two!
CROW: I'm Batman!
TOM: They call me Mr. Tibbs!

> Without a moment's delay, the Doctor stepped forward, doffing his
>hat. He extended his hand to Michel, saying, "Allow me to introduce us.
>I'm the Doctor, and this is Terri Johnson."

MIKE: <Doctor> And this is my ridiculously futile attempt to defuse a
 hostile situation with random, uncontrolled civility.

> Michel stared at the Doctor's hand, but did not shake it.
> The Baron, meanwhile, stepped forward, interposing himself between
>the Doctor and Michel. The Doctor did not flinch in the face of the
>Baron's dread gaze.

TOM: The dread gaze Roberts?

> Terri found herself admiring his stamina. She
>remembered what it was like to be pinned in those strange eyes.
> "Interesting," said the Baron. "You are not like other men," he
>said.

CROW: <falsetto> You're like no man I've ever met! Oh, Doctor, let's
 leave it all behind!

> The Doctor smiled flippantly back. "Oh, I know," he said.
> "Do not provoke me, mortal," said the Baron, and turned away
>dismissively. The Doctor appeared quite crestfallen. Terri sympathized.

MIKE: Yeah, I can relate to being put down by a raving, psychopathic
 incarnation of evil.

> "What do you mean?" asked the Doctor, indignant at being dismissed
>so easily. But the Baron ignored him, swinging his terrible gaze over to
>Terri. She shrank back, but was pinned in his green and black stare.
> "Child," he said, "where is the old one?"

TOM: Waiting for the Dark to rise, I believe.

> Terri shuddered in the grip of the man's strange eyes. "I . . . I
>don't know . . ." she managed to say.
> "Your companion," he continued mercilessly.

CROW: The Immortal. Adam. The only member of your party not currently
 with you.

> "Who?" she asked, bewildered. The oldest person she'd talked to
>today was the Doctor. He couldn't mean Adam, since he was scarcely older
>than Terri herself.

TOM: Geez, are the Watchers all terminally stupid? It's so obvious a
 Microsoft defense attorney could figure it out!

> Unless . . . .
> But before she could pursue the thought, a blinding, searing agony
>shot through her temples.

MIKE: Hey, cool! She was blinded by the obvious!

> She gasped in pain. Bright bubbles of light
>exploded across her retinas and she felt her body recede, driven away by
>electric storms of terror. Or was it her mind that was fleeing?

TOM: Or was it a flea that was minding?

>She didn't know and couldn't think,

CROW: Nothing new there!

> except about the merciless pain that
>assaulted her disembodied mind. For a moment she perceived a brilliant
>viper, striking at her brow, and then felt the double stabs of its fangs,
>sinking deep into her consciousness.

TOM: It's the Mara! Quick, grab a mirror!

> And then she was falling, falling,
>falling down a deep spiraling well that went on forever and ever and ever
>and ever . . . .
> And then, mercifully, she passed out.

MIKE: Lucky her. We have to keep reading.

>
> "What have you done?" shouted the Doctor, watching Terri collapse
>to the stone floor. He flew to her side and lifted her head from the
>floor. None of the armed teenagers moved an inch to help.

CROW: One moved a mile and another moved an angstrom, but nobody moved
 an inch....

> "She will regain consciousness shortly," replied the strange, dark
>man.
> This response did not satisfy the Doctor. "Just who do you think
>you are?" he said, looking up at the man in fury.
> The dark man smirked. "I am the Baron, Doctor."

TOM: Yeah sure, and I'm Marie of Romania.

> The Doctor's eyes narrowed. "That's hardly an answer."
> "Then tell us who *you* are, Doctor," replied the Baron. The
>Doctor frowned at this, but bit his lip and kept his peace.

CROW: It's "Silver Nemesis" all over again.
TOM: Yeah, Lady Peinforte's gonna show up any minute now and threaten
 to reveal all the Doctor's secrets.
MIKE: Those that weren't mucked up by "Lungbarrow," anyway.

> "Oooooh," said Terri, stirring. "What happened?" she asked,
>sitting up, a hand on her head.

CROW: <Terri> It feels like there's a party in my head and everybody's
 invited.

> "I think the Baron made a forced entry into your mind," he replied.
>His soft blue eyes had gone as hard as stone.

TOM: Hey, the fanfic's turned into a contact-lens commercial.
CROW: <falsetto> I don't trust *these* baby blues to just anyone....

> "Very perceptive, Doctor," replied the Baron. The Doctor stood and
>helped Terri to her feet. He was very worried. He still didn't know who
>or what the Baron was, but he was developing

CROW: ...breasts.
TOM: <Jonathon Pryce> They're not breasts, okay? They're Dalek bumps!

> some very nasty suspicions.

MIKE: Way to go, Tom. About six people outside of Britain got that joke.

> Meanwhile, the Baron had returned to stand at Michel's side. "The
>woman lost track of her companion back in the meeting hall, comrade
>Michel."
> --And with any luck, thought the Doctor, he's far away from here by
>now.

TOM: Of course, that means he'll be captured instantly.

> "Jean!" called Michel. The red-headed teenager stepped forward.
>"Take some people back and search for . . ." He paused and conferred with
>the Baron. "Search for a twenty-five to thirty-five-year old man with dark
>hair. He'll answer to Adam Pierson."

CROW: Lost: one Watcher. Answers to Adam Pierson. Well tempered but does
 not trust strangers. If found, do not approach; contact owners
 immediately.

> The Doctor heard Terri gasp with surprise. He leaned across to her
>and whispered, "I was right. The Baron dragged that out of your head."

MIKE: <Doctor> Took him a long time to find it, too. Do you have any idea
 how much dust is in that head of yours?

> Her eyes widened. "But how?"
> The Doctor smiled ruefully. "I'm afraid our friend the Baron is a
>highly trained telepath." --But trained where?, he wondered to himself.
>And what did he want with Michel and all these lost children?

CROW: He wanted to stage a new production of "Peter Pan."

> Once again, the Doctor had some very nasty suspicions. He
>remembered

TOM: No!!! Not a flashback!!

> the Daleks on Nekros and shuddered.

TOM: Phew!
CROW: What happened on Nekros?
MIKE: Davros and his Daleks were converting people left in suspended
 animation into a new food supply for the human race.
CROW: Eeeuulch.
MIKE: Yeah. That was when the show was suspended for being too violent
 for children.

> Before he could dwell on the thought, there was a shout. Jean had
>already returned. "Comrade!" he shouted. "Luc's team found him not ten
>minutes ago!"

TOM: See? What did I tell ya? They jinxed it when they said "he should
 be far away by now."

> The Doctor turned to watch Jean and another group of heavily armed
>teenagers leading Adam into the room. He sighed.
> Adam was brought up to stand next to the Doctor and then released.
>"Well," he said, smiling ruefully at the Doctor, "this isn't what I had in
>mind when I slipped away."

CROW: <Doctor> Well, at least you could've *tried* to do something useful!

> "At last," said the Baron. The Doctor started. There was a
>curious pleased excitement in the Baron's voice. It reminded the Doctor
>eerily of Davros. "My sacrifice," he breathed, so quietly that even the
>Doctor barely heard.

TOM: Wha...huh?
MIKE: So *this* is why Kirstin decided to throw Methos and the "Highlander"
 continuity into the story?

> The Doctor's eyes widened. "No!" he said, outraged. "Whatever you
>plan, Baron, I will not allow it!"

CROW: I have no idea what you're planning, but you're the bad guy so by
 golly, I'll give you what for!

> The Baron turned to meet the Doctor's gaze. "And what do you know
>of it, little man?" He smirked. The Doctor found himself getting very
>tired of that smirk. "Every time, Doctor, I take my sacrifice."

TOM: <advertiser> But with new Extra-Strength Sacrifice, it lasts the
 whole day long!

> "What are you talking about?" asked the Doctor.
> "In all my travels, little mortal," said the Baron, "I have found
>no world with such . . . such tasty morsels as creatures such as your
>friend."

MIKE: ...the heck? So, the Baron isn't an Immortal after all, but some weird
 extra-terrestrial psychopath?

> The Doctor turned to look at Adam, whose eyes had grown very wide.
>"What's he talking about?" he asked Adam. But Adam merely stared past the
>Doctor in mute astonishment.

CROW: <Adam> Daaahhhh....huh?

> The Baron spoke. "His name is not Adam Pierson," he said.
> Suddenly Terri gasped. The Doctor turned to see her staring at
>Adam -- or whoever he really was -- with newfound fear. "Oh, no . . .
>don't tell me," she said.

TOM: <Terri> It's too obvious. I feel so silly now.
CROW: Finally.

> "You're . . . Immortal?" she breathed.

MIKE: Ladies and gentlemen, the penny has dropped!

> "Well, . . . yes," replied Adam.

CROW: <Adam> Well...no. Yes. Whatever you say.
TOM: Splunge!

> --Well, thought the Doctor. This certainly answers a lot of
>questions. "I rather thought you seemed a bit . . .,"
> ". . . older than my years?" Adam finished for him. "Yes. Sorry,
>Terri,"

MIKE: <Adam> ...but you are a complete moron.
TOM: <Doctor> Stop interrupting me!

> he said, casting an apologetic glance in her direction.
> Terri looked fit to be tied. But she had no chance to answer. The
>Baron began laughing.

TOM: <Ed McMahon> Yes! You are correct!

> The sound of his laughter chilled the Doctor,
>piercing his hearts with a twinge of icicle sharp fear.

CROW: Hey, if he's got two hearts wouldn't he feel *two* twinges of icicle
 sharp fear?
MIKE: Depends which way the icicle is going.

> For a moment, he
>wondered why he was afraid.

TOM: <Doctor> Hmmm....we're being held captive by a homicidal gang,
 there's a psychopathic alien about to kill us all for fun,
 I don't see what there is to worry about....

> "Lock them up," said Michel. Hands clasped around the Doctor's
>arms, dragging him away. There was no use resisting. Not yet.

CROW: So resistance is only temporarily futile?

 [ALL stand to leave.]



[Cut to Spaghetti Ball and commercials.]



 [SoL. TOM and CROW are behind the counter discussing the fanfic.]

CROW: This fanfic really bites.
TOM: I know what you mean, my friend.
CROW: I mean, it's gone from bad characterization to The Cliche That
 Time Forgot. Not to mention all the "Doctor Who" cliches you
 and Mike keep spotting.
TOM: Well, fanfic cliches and "Doctor Who" cliches are all well and good,
 but what gets *me*....

 [MIKE enters, reading a magazine. He trips as he comes in and
 stumbles right into TOM, dropping the magazine.]

MIKE: Sorry, Tom. I didn't see you there.
TOM: It's all right.
MIKE: What are you two doing?
CROW: We're talking about how bad the fanfic is.
MIKE: Ah.
TOM: Anyway, as I was saying, what gets me about this fanfic is....

 [CROW's eyes fall out.]

CROW: AAAAAAAAAAH!
MIKE: <startled> Yaaah! <recovers> Wow. I'd better fix that.

 [MIKE starts putting CROW's eyes back in over the next line.]

MIKE: You were saying, Tom?
TOM: I was just saying that what gets me about this fanfic is the
 way everyb....


 [GYPSY enters.]

GYPSY: Hi guys!
ALL: Hi Gypsy.
GYPSY: Just thought I'd let you know I've upgraded the life support
 systems on board. We've got brand new CO2 scrubbers.
MIKE: Thanks, Gyps.

 [GYPSY leaves. MIKE gets CROW's eyes back in finally.]

CROW: That was unexpected.
TOM: <annoyed> *Anyway*, what gets me about this fanfic is the way
 everybody keeps getting interrupt....

 [MOVIE SIGN goes off.]

MIKE: No time, Tom, 'cuz we've got Movie Sign!
CROW: Movie sign! Aaaaah!
TOM: Aw, geez....

 [Mayhem ensues as we zoom into the Door Sequence.]


 {CONTINUED IN PART THREE}
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1 Comment

Filed under Doctor Who, Fanfiction, MST3K

One response to “MST3K: The Masque of the Baron, Part Two

  1. Pingback: MST3K: The Masque of the Baron, Part Three | Calli Arcale's Fractal Wonder

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