Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Our heroine recovers despite bad medical jokes and devises a plan to capture her attackers that gets her a reputation with the budding inventors on campus. Pinky's nefarious plan continues to fester.

Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not match the timeline, characters, and continuity, but since it's fan fiction, who cares? To see the canon Whateley Stories, check out either Sapphire's Place,

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

This is still sort of first my attempt a TG/sci-fi piece, thought I’m getting better, honest. Constructive criticism and advice is welcome. This is for fun and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Take it in that spirit. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents is for purposes of humor or parody, which saves my butt. I love the fair use doctrine. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. See my agents new agents 86 and 99 of Control.
“Facing danger for our clients and loving it.”

Adult content warning: this chapter contains adult sexual themes or acts. Nothing all that graphic but still not suitable for underage readers. Mind you if you’re at this site, you know this already but still, you were warned.

Timeout 2

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter7-Fade to Black- conclusion, MacGyver, Pinky part2

Whateley Academy — February 01-07, 2007

8:36pm EST

“Luther here, send EMT’s stat. Officer down, pulse weak and thready, multiple injuries and possible broken neck. Compound fracture left arm, breathing irregular, hurry!”

The radio went silent for what seemed ages. The CCTV showed the EMTs arriving.

“Code blue, cardiac arrest, attempting cardiac shock. Clear! ... Sinus rhythm, breathing shallow, alert medical.”

* * * *
Medical wing, Siegel Hall 8:45pm EST

“Dr. Bruce, how is she?” asked an exhausted Chief Delarose.

“Joanie is stable but critical. We have her on IV’s and are preparing to transfuse, but there’s a catch. She’s AB+, normally that’s the universal recipient, but her blood has some unusual components, possibly related to her warper powers, so AB+ is all she’ll tolerate. We don’t carry much on hand; it’s a rare type. I have to go assist Dr. Pollard, excuse me.”

Even after several months, Delarose still was struck by how similar Dr. Bruce Polland was to Dr. Pollard. If it wasn’t for his strong Australian accent and different first name, they could be twins. Thankfully he didn’t mind being referred to by his first name.

“Why me?” he said quietly. “Why was she patrolling alone -- she should have been paired with an experienced officer?” the chief asked.

“My fault,” answered Lt. Forsyth. “She said she wanted to solo tonight to, as she put it, ‘prove to myself I’m ready.’ You know how stubborn she is, and could you say no to those copper eyes of hers? Ghod I hope she makes it.”

~Damn and I was going to ask her for a date, ~ he thought to himself.

“Do we have the perps?”

“Got them on tape, Chief, a speedster codenamed The Blue Flame, if you can believe it, and a brick code named Rampage, how original,” radioed Harris at dispatch.

“That tears it, locate them and set a perimeter. Get The Peacemakers too. I want them arrested and restrained ASAP; no one harms my officers.”

An odd expression formed on Luther’s face, a cross between anger and regret.

“I sympathize, Chief, believe me I know the feeling.” The Chief nodded discretely.

* * * *

Medical wing, Siegel Hall 8:55pm EST

Dr. Bruce came up to the officers, his face displaying shock and was it relief? The Chief wasn’t sure,

“She’s awake and furious,” announced Dr. Bruce.

“What?” exclaimed the Chief.

“We knew she’s a regen; but this you need to see for yourself.” Bruce was almost smiling.

“Joanie’s going to make it?” asked the Chief.

“Make it? She’s almost fully recovered, and I mean fully. She’s sore, ravenously hungry, tired and spitting furry. We’re doing everything we can to keep her in bed, Chief.”

“Spitting furry?”

“Sorry I meant spitting fury, it’s the other patient who’s spitting furry.”

“Come again?”

“Bad case of hairballs, she’s a cat girl.” Dr. Bruce broke out in a roaring laugh.

“Doctor!”

“You have to have a sense of humor in my job or you go crazy. Ms. Robinson or Calico is a were-cat and is being treated for strep throat.”

* * * *

I’ve seen the CCTV images of my attack, and they’re not pleasant viewing. From interviewing the suspects -- they were both in the PE class I substituted for -- “The Blue Flame”, a speedster, was pissed at falling victim to my simple tree at end of sharp turn trick. “Rampage”, the brick, — there has got to be a copyright on that name somewhere — had his manhood challenged by his defeat to a girl, the same girl he’d expected to get his rocks off with on Saturday had he won.

-- Where do they get these code names? I thought that was the name of a land-speed record car? -- They decided to teach me a lesson, a permanent one and watched me for several days, waiting for a good opportunity. The Blue Flame hit me hard and fast from behind, knocking me cold then Rampage pounded me until most of my bones were broken, according to the campus doctors. They fled at the sight of Officer Luther running up, linear accelerator gun drawn.

Quick work on her part and that of the EMTs got me stabilized after a few scares, and I was transported to our medical unit, which is better equipped than most major hospitals. With Whateley’s diverse population it’s a necessity but an expensive one. They’d run IVs and just finished x-raying me when they saw my body begin to heal rapidly. The bleeding stopped, then my broken limbs realigned themselves and my skin re-grew.

The pain was bad, that’s the best I can describe it. I truly don’t remember much of it, for as soon as I began to wake, I kept passing out. Less than twenty minutes after it started I was awake and furious. If I’d been able to leave my bed, I might have killed the bastards. The doctors and staff managed to calm me; I wonder if one or more weren’t empaths? I was as good as new except for being very tired and hungry and had a few lingering deep aches as my new bone tissue finished calcifying. They remove my IVs, as they x-rayed and ultra sounded me to be certain. I was given high energy sports bars and other supplements to eat to replace what my regeneration had consumed. I ate the energy bars washed down with a chalky calcium rich drink to replenish what I’d lost. A handful of iron pills were my desert. My doctors wanted me to stay the night, but I was mad. Crying could wait.

“Did we catch them on the CCTV, Chief Delarose?” I asked.

He’d been called to the infirmary when they were afraid I might die. It’s rare but possible to trigger a secondary burnout under the right circumstances, and my temperature did get very high for a short while as my regen kicked into high gear.

“They thought they were clever by spray painting the lenses of the more obvious CCTV cameras, but they missed our backups, mini-cams, high mounted telephoto cameras and the various special sensors. We know who they are and where they’ve gone.”

“I want to see them now!”

“I don’t advise it, not until you talked with Dr. Bellows. You need to decompress,” said Dr. Bruce.

“They’re under tight surveillance; once the team is assembled, we’ll get them, Joanie,” the Chief said.

“No, I will get them, or I will never be respected as an officer. Don’t worry, I’m not an idiot, I’ll wait for backup, um, this time.” I worked hard to keep calm. An idea formed. “I need a few quarts of bb’s or the like, a gallon or two of light oil, preferably silicone and something to spread it, some rubber cleated sport shoes and two high power Tazers. Be veyry, veyry quiet, I’m hunting wabbits, he he he he he!” I said in a fair Elmer Fudd.

When I explained my plan, Chief Delarose agreed but insisted I wait for the whole team. I had no problem with that request not after... you know. Physical Plant came through with a backpack garden pump sprayer filled with canola oil, heart healthy and biodegradable, how considerate. They also brought me several quart containers of bb’s they got from the robotics lab. Why they had those I didn’t want to know, I keep imagining a linear accelerator Gatling gun, euh!

We got to Hawthorn Hall -- the trap was ready to set and bait. I snuck in and sprayed the door frame, nearby walls and floor with canola oil, I then carefully scatted the bb’s all along the corridor, which I also sprayed. The rubber-cleated shoes allowed me some traction. As the Peacekeepers and Security guarded the doors, windows and fire escapes, I signaled I was ready and gave the go ahead.

“Blue Streak and Rampage, this is Whateley security. Come out slowly with your hands raised, you’re under arrest,” I shouted.

From what I could make out through the closed door, they sounded surprised I was there, let alone alive. They didn’t say much else; they looked out the windows, saw Security and the Peacekeepers waiting and decided to flee my way. Friction is your friend when you’re fast, strong and stupid; I deigned them that. The reinforced walls of Hawthorne Hall knocked them flat, my Tazers kept them down.

“They resisted arrest, honest!” I told the first officers on the scene.

~It’s amazing what a Tazer will do to even a brick when shot in the... ~

“Oh, that has got to hurt!” said one of the Peacekeepers who came to restrain them; Blue Streak was lucky my aim was off and got it in the upper thigh.

“Reminds me of those two lab techs we used the stunners on outside range three in area 77 last fall, uncomfortably so. Did you have to shoot him there, Timeout?” asked Officer Willkinson.

“I was hungry so I decided to have a, um... wienie roast?” I said with a straight face.

“That is bad girl, remind me never to piss you off,” replied the Peacekeeper.

“Joanie, don’t you think you could have shot him somewhere else?” asked the Chief.

“Call it a target of opportunity.” The men near me winced. “I shot him as soon as I had a clear line of fire as they were clearly trying to resist arrest. Would I do anything unnecessarily cruel and painful to someone merely because they tried to beat me to death, heaven forbid?”

Publicly the Chief chewed me out for taking unnecessary risks, but privately he commended me for minimizing property damage and the risk to others. The Blue Streak and Rampage might be in pain for a while, but I done them no long-term injury, that is if you don’t count the fact that the brick was in no condition to get laid for the next month or two. He’d be in jail all that time, so what was the problem? I must be recovered; my warped sense of humor is back, though I am a warper come to think of it.

My rapid recovery triggered another round of tests by my doctors, who jokingly suggested cutting off a limb to see if it would reattach or re-grow. They even joked of dividing me in two lengthwise like a plant, so they could grow two of me. I came up with a similar suggestion involving splitting parts of their male anatomy, so they might have two of those. My male doctors decided that this was no longer a subject to joke about for some strange reason. Maybe they heard about all the target practice I was putting in at the shooting range.

Tina and Chris were concerned about my attack and surprised how unscathed I was physically. It was only when I woke them screaming one night during a weekend sleepover — I stayed with them at their insistence - they knew all was not well. It will likely be weeks before the nightmares end, Dr. Bellows says. I hope I’m better by the time of the dance; I do want to enjoy it. My inner child badly needs to shake it on the dance floor. I hear they have a ballroom dance course; maybe I should sign up for some lessons and learn the foxtrot, polka, waltz, tango, and rumba. Considering it’s just a middle school dance, the funky chicken, the froog and the monkey should do. Hell I’ll just let it go and see what happens.

* * * *
Whateley Academy — February 04, 2007, 9:45pm EST

Dear d/j/w, idiot does not do justice to describe what I did the other night. Chief Delarose has long adhered to a buddy system for his officers. I violated two cardinal rules of police work; never go into a potentially dangerous situation without back up, and night is always more dangerous than the day. A combination of good procedure by my fellow officers and the extensive network of CCTV cameras and sensors got help to me in time. Being a high level regen didn’t hurt, but I’m not sure if they’d damaged my brain that my memories would have returned or they might have but as they were on July 03, 2006. Dr. Polland thinks the latter would happen; Dr. Pollard, Bruce, is not sure.

Dr. Bruce Pollard is a new hire like my self, been here since the first of the year. Seems they had a bad incident last Halloween and several alumni, alumna and parents felt better if another physician was on hand. Bruce came highly recommended, traveling from the University of Walamaloo in Australia, the leading center for mutant research downunder. His supervisor and mentor Dr. Bender was sorry to see him go, but we offered to pool some of our research data, so he agreed. The final deal sweetener was Ms. Carson having an older flyer friend she knew “hand” deliver a 24 pack of ice cold Fosters. Amazing what people will agree to when half bombed out of their gourd.

I got a big shock today when some of the students kept calling me MacGyver, and I hadn’t a clue why. I mentioned it this evening to one of Poe’s resident devisor/gadgeters, a girl named Bunny. She laughed then said it was probably due to how I helped capture my attackers. Apparently they got a good chuckle out of it, something about it being so low tech, it was brilliant. She said it reminded them of the eccentric genius/junkyard tinkerer methods the character used to get out of tough situations.

* * * *

February 07, 2007 the Crystal Hall, 12:30pm

“Joanie, how’s my favorite staff member doing?” said Tina. She was glad I’d recovered from my assault unscarred but feared for my mental state. We regularly met for lunch each day at 12:30.

“Not the best, listen to this.” I took a digital recorder from my backpack and played it.

“WARS back on the air after far to long with a tasty tidbit about our sexy new staff member, Joanie, It seems her run in with Rampage and the Blue Streak was not as reported. Our source says the tall temptress is one stone cold bitch when crossed. Her supposed assault was justifiable panic by the boys after she threatened them with rape charges after they refused her unreasonable demands for sex. The innocent looking songbird is quite vengeful when she doesn’t get her way. At least she’s as easy on the eyes as she is with her virtue. More as this story develops.”

“What do you make of that? I recorded it off the radio this morning, it repeated for several minutes then stopped, like it was a cheap digital memo recorder,” I asked Tina.

“That’s very odd. Peeper and Greasy were put off the air, their equipment confiscated after a nasty stunt they pulled last fall. Technically it would be easy to build a replacement transmitter; a hopped-up Mr. Microphone would be enough to cover the campus. Even one of those intercoms that transmit an FM signal through household wires would do if you adjusted the frequency right -- the entire Whateley electric grid would be the antenna. What doesn’t make sense is that they did it. They’ll likely be expelled, and I can’t believe Peeper or Greasy want that or are that stupid -- something’s not right here,” Tina suggested.

“Who hates me enough to do something like this?” I sniffled. Tina gave me a warm hug as I cried on her shoulder. I saw a flash of light and turned in time to get another in the face.

“Run out of boys, so you’re seducing lesbians, Joanie? Have you no shame?” said the student paparazzo as he ran off. I tried to rise, but Tina held me tight and projected calm at me.

“Settle down, girl; he’s trying to provoke you. The moment you’d confront him, Peeper, Greasy or whoever’s behind this, would snap your picture and tweak it to make you a fool or worse. Being in Administration, I saw the memo on last fall’s incident. They were told in no uncertain terms that future action anything like what they did to Team Kimba and Sara Waite would result in expulsion. Somebody is pulling the strings here, question is who?”

“Well who then, my learned master?” Tina smiled and I relaxed. If her information was right, somebody was using Peeper as a scapegoat.

“Anyone with access to a photo copier can do posters and flyers, Peeper’s done a few these last months, but this isn’t his style. He’s into titillation not expose’. He sold some posters made from racy photos taken of Team Kimba and made a tidy sum from them. I know he tried an Internet newspaper, but the Whateley network is unreliable due to of all the energizers on campus. I remember them once saying we’re lucky to have electric lights most of the time, and that’s with an electric grid that an EMP bomb would have a hard time frying. Lastly, it’s one thing to smear a student. Such rivalries are expected, but to do it to faculty is suicide,” Tina explained.

I gave her firm hug back and a loving kiss on the lips. I always felt better after I did that, guess I’m all touchy-feely now days.

“When did you get so smart and worldly, ‘Doctor’ Anderson?” she giggled and I felt better. “I wonder who ‘persuaded’ Peeper to do this; from what I’ve heard he’s a sleaze but an honest sleaze?”

~Why did they do this? ~

“I don’t know anyone who could hate me this much; I’ve only been here a few weeks. It’s not like I go out deliberately provoking people. I know I give Amelia a hard time, but it’s in fun, and I’m polite and discrete about it. Maybe Chief Delarose or Sam has a clue?”

* * * *

I got back to my room after supper and was sickened by the sight. One of those ubiquitous Joanie posters was tacked to my door, altered in a very unflattering way; a sign attached said, “Joanie’s Lair -- only those with dicks over 12 inches or dykes may apply.”

I resisted the urge to tear it down or burst into my room and cry, radioing security instead. A female officer arrived soon after, took photos, dusted for finger prints, checked for booby-traps, then entered my room in front of me. She detected no signs of forced entry or disturbance to my room, packed the offending materials in evidence bags, then left.

February 07, 2007, Poe Hall, 8:00pm

Dear d/j/w had a strange day, rather the norm for Whateley. Student taught an early morning mutant history course I’m auditing, more on that another time, and spent the rest of the day training with Security, PE and self-defense taking the remainder of the morning. I was sore by the end, sparring with Samantha, um Sam, was not the best idea. I did learn a lot but ouch! I’ve hear she was a commander of Navy Seals before her change, and I can believe it. After lunch, we reviewed radio and other telecommunication protocols and how to use the Security radio/cell phone system.

I was curious if they’d word on who was behind the smear campaign, as I’d played them my copy of the broadcast from my digital recorder. They had it recorded too, part of increased surveillance since the Halloween assault. I was not completely surprised that earlier today Peeper and Greasy came into Security and confessed to the broadcast claiming that an unknown person had threatened to expose a secret of theirs if they didn’t do as ordered. The investigators wouldn’t tell anyone else what it was, but the rumor was they had photos of the female members of Team Kimba in the shower. How they got them — if they actually had them -- I don’t know, I thought the dorms were protected from that, but just a story leaking that they had them would do. I know what I would have done if this happened to me, revenge first, questions later.

Apparently Team Kimba is a mixed group of Poe freshmen and women; many are supers, one is that half demon that pops up in my dreams. They have a reputation for being good eggs but not ones to turn the other cheek when sufficiently provoked. Sound like my kind of people, I’ll have to meet them someday. We do share the same dorm.

The modified Mr. Microphone and mini digital voice recorder were hidden at a drop, the items concealed in a dark plastic bag in the bottom of a trash can outside a men’s room in the Crystal Hall. The included script was recorded per instructions, and the device was turned on and hung out a particular upper floor bathroom window in Twain Hall at the appointed time. As far as Peeper and Greasy knew, it was still there. Security had looked but only found the remains of the rope. The act of turning on the transmitter must have activated a timer, which released some clamping device, causing the transmitter/recorder to fall into a conveniently open storm drain. Where it was now was anyone’s guess. They’d sent robotic probes down the narrow pipe, but that emptied into a buried creek, and it had likely washed away.

I asked if there was CCTV footage of the poster being tacked to my door.

“Are you nuts, cameras in the dorms? Beyond any privacy issues, the temptation to tap into the system to say, peek in the showers would be overwhelming. We have sensors for fire, flood, gas, teleportation, entry through emergency exits or the roof, underground tunneling, and the like, but no cameras,” said the watch commander.

“Could hidden cameras watch my door on a temporary basis?”

“Beat you to it; cameras are concealed in a smoke detector and a fire alarm strobe/horn unit. They’re actual working fire-protection units we modified, so they are well concealed. We linked them to a touch/proximity, sensor so that anyone near your door turns them on but only then. The moment someone tries to tamper with your door, we’re notified, and we have a great view of your door and the approach down the hallway. If they’re stupid enough to try it again, we have them. Conflict between students is expected and tolerated to a point -- between student and staff, verboten!”

“I feel better; I just wish I knew who I pissed off. I’ve only been here less than a month.”

“Time has little to do with it, lust for power, class politics, intimidation, avarice, prejudice, envy and pure dumb luck do. Sometimes there is no reason, ” explained the officer.

“Gee doesn’t that make me feel warm and fuzzy all over.”

* * * *

February 07, 2007, Hawthorn Hall, 10:00pm

“Very good, Peeper, you’ve served your purpose, now while the heat‘s on you, what’s my next step? Anonymous flyers in the student mailboxes or a tap into the PA system might do.” Pinky thought; her loathing now channeled at another rather than herself. “I’ll let Joanie stew for a bit,then turn up the heat. There’s got to be something with this Meridian Chair I can use, imply she slept her way into it or blackmailed them? That record contract of hers should be even easier; they’d believe a hot looking girl sleeping and muff-munching her way to the top. Show business is rife with such rumors. And her ties to the Iowa Governor’s family, suggest she’s more than friends with the budding Lolita? That should piss her off but good, make her do something stupid. I know a few telepaths I could influence if I’m careful. A telepathic whispering campaign could be devastating.”

Pinky lay naked on her bed, fresh from the showers, subconsciously stroking her swollen and aching maleness. She stopped in shock and wonder, angry with her fate as hot, thick liquid splashed on her chest, her groin pulsing in release, her brain’s pleasure center awash in ecstasy.

“Ewh how gross!” she said out loud. “Ghod I got off as a boy, never again! It’s that damn Joanie’s fault; she’ll pay for ruining my self-control,” she said to herself smiling.

* * * *

To be continued.

Revised 10/04/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance