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whatif_au2024-07-26 07:12 pm
but_can_i_be_trusted) wrote in whatif_au2024-07-26 07:12 pm
[Multiple Challenges] Doctor Who: 'Misdirection'
Title: 'Misdirection'
Author:but_can_i_be_trusted
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Notes: Using Challenges #3: Soulmate AU; #12: Lost/Stranded AU; #21: Food Service AU/#25: Party Hardy AU/#39: Politics AU; #50: Espionage AU; #55: The Staff AU; and #56: Treasure Hunters AU. Crossposted togenprompt_bingo.
Summary: "Well, well. You're a spy, and I'm a thief."
"I really think you need to be a bit more subtle," he heard Rory warn through the comm device in his right ear. "All this skulking about that you're doing...it'll get someone's attention."
The spy--code name: Doctor Smith, though his colleagues settled for calling him the Doctor--chuckled softly. "Relax, Rory. The whole reason why you're disguised as security is to deflect attention from me. It's called 'misdirection'. Whenever someone begins to show signs of suspicion, you're supposed to draw their notice to someone else."
"Well, there's a limit to how many people I can draw their attention to, before I start to look suspicious. At least Amy got the easy job."
"Right. Easy," Amy chimed in, this time in the Doctor's left ear. "By all means, Rory, take my place as the caterer's assistant. Listen to fancy idiots complain about the champagne being too flat, or the crudité platter going warm. And don't get me started on how many people have kicked up a fuss about the stale water crackers. I can only work with what this Saxon bloke shelled out for. God knows he didn't spend enough on the catering!"
"That's because he's clearly banked more pounds in his would-be political career than in this party he's throwing to drum up support," the Doctor reminded the pair. "I need to find out just where he's invested that money, and why."
Hence their presence in the Harold Saxon home. It had taken a lot of persuasion and trickery to get Amy and Rory placed with their respective teams. The man who called himself Doctor Smith, meanwhile, had arrived posing as an allegedly wealthy man with an eye to back Saxon's candidacy. A young, eccentric man with pounds to burn on a number of random whims had easily earned an invitation.
"That's why you two," he added, his eyes scanning the crowd, "need to keep everyone else distracted while I try to find Saxon's office. Anyone who's after this much power has to have something unsavory lurking under the surface. I've got to uncover it. Just keep your eyes peeled, and let me know if someone comes after me."
Satisfied that no one was watching, the Doctor slipped into a nearby stairwell. He cautiously made his way upstairs, finding himself in a short corridor, lined with doors.
"Eeny, meeny, miney, mo," he murmured. "If I were a secret, where would I go?"
That being too chaotic a method, he settled for choosing the nearest door to him. The first door led into a linen closet. Directly across was another closet, of the utility variety. On he went, turning past door after door, down a virtual labyrinth of halls.
"Blimey," he muttered, wishing that elegant mansions came with maps. "A chap could get lost in a place like this."
At last, he reached a door that was locked with a deadbolt. Where there was a will, however, there was usually a way. A bit of fancy jiggery-pokery, and the door swung open.
"Hello, hello," the Doctor grinned, rubbing his hands together. "What have we, here...?" He slipped inside, closing the door behind him.
On the surface, it appeared to be an ordinary guest bedroom. At one side, French windows opened out onto a balcony, the view partially concealed by heavy drapes that were opened by about an inch. Another door led to what the Doctor presumed was a walk-in closet.
It was the large painting hanging on the opposite wall, however, that caught is eye.
"Oh, don't tell me it could ever be this easy," he purred, hurrying across. "Don't even tell me."
He hardly dared to hope as he lifted the portrait away from the wall. There it was: A large wall safe.
"So much for the notion of subtlety," he muttered, making short work of the combination.
As he swung the safe door open, he felt something brush the back of his neck.
"I'd certainly like to know what the hell you think you're doing," a stern female voice scolded.
Raising his hands, the Doctor slowly turned around. "Just a handy bit of breaking and entering. And you?"
Because the troublingly attractive curly-haired woman who now had him at gunpoint hardly looked like a party guest who'd gotten lost on the way to the loo. Nor was her all-black ensemble quite in keeping with the uniforms of the security outfit that he'd managed to finagle Rory into. And, to judge from the now widely open French windows, she'd emerged from a rather convenient hiding place.
"Doctor," he suddenly heard Rory hiss over the comm device.
"To be frank," the woman admitted. "I'm fairly sure that we're here for the same reason. I cased Saxon's mansion when he hired me for the decorating for tonight. That safe caught my eye when I...got lost."
"So you're here to steal whatever isn't nailed down?" The Doctor folded his arms across his chest, smiling. "Then we're not quite here for the same reason. I've been assigned to acquire vital information that can stop Saxon's political career in its tracks. They call me the Doctor, by the way."
"River Song," the woman introduced, putting her gun away. She looked the Doctor up and down appraisingly, making him wonder if she liked what she was seeing. "Well, well. You're a spy, and I'm a thief." She grinned widely, her eyes atwinkle. "We must be soulmates."
Now it was Amy's voice that came over. "Doctor!"
"Budge over," River continued, nudging him aside. "Before curiosity kills two cats, for the price of one." Reaching in, she swore suddenly as she pulled out a massive green-gray orb that was built into a base that looked like ebony. "I thought so."
"And just what's that," the Doctor wondered. "And why do you seem to recognize it?"
She quickly stuffed the item into a rucksack. "When I'm not breaking the law, I'm busy studying archaeology. I've written a few papers on the influence of alien technology on human civilizations. This device is a Chelonian Influencer."
"Which would be what, exactly?"
"It invades and overrides the brain waves of weaker-willed individuals, to persuade them of anything that the user wants. It's probable that this Harold Saxon fellow has been using the Influencer to gain supporters."
Eyes wide, the Doctor gaped at the device. "You don't say? This may be just the evidence of corruption that I was aft--"
"Doctor," he heard both Amy and Rory calling, their voices frantic. "Code red!"
The Doctor smacked his forehead. Damn. Between discovering the safe, and the intrigue of meeting River, he'd let himself get distracted, ignoring his partners' calls. Now, he could hear a series of footsteps pounding toward the room.
"We've got company," River needlessly announced. She grabbed the Doctor's hand, pulling him out through the French window, and almost shoving him down the rope ladder that she'd hooked to the balcony. "You must've triggered a silent alarm when you broke into that safe. And where the hell are you going," she demanded.
He was heading for the nearest door. "I have some assistants in there! I need to get them out before they're compromised!"
Something collided with his back, forcing him to the ground.
"Ouch!" The Doctor sat up, nursing aching muscles. "Where did you learn to tackle like that?!"
"Hush, sweetie; I'm busy." She pulled out some sort of remote control. Pressing a button, she clapped her hands over her ears.
The Doctor barely had time to do the same before a series of explosions rocked the air. When River lowered her hands, he followed suit.
"That should take care of things," she told him.
"What the hell was that about," he demanded.
She winked, pocketing the remote. "Just a series of itty-bitty flash-bang grenades, implanted in some of the lighting fixtures. Perfectly harmless, but guaranteed to disorient anyone in the vicinity. With the added bonus of distracting whoever was chasing us, by diverting their attention to a bigger emergency. Where were your helpers?"
"One of them was working in the catering crew," the Doctor responded. "The other one's with the security detail."
"Then they're fine. None of the grenades were near the food. And the security detail is probably busily scouring the grounds for the source of the explosions. We should get going," River advised, rising, "before they move their investigation out of the house, and onto the grounds."
The Doctor gazed up at her, shaking his head. She was good, this River Song. Clever.
He stood, dusting himself off. "Misdirection. That's beautiful. Care to join my crew," he offered.
She leaned in, kissing him tenderly. "I can be persuaded."
Author:
but_can_i_be_trustedFandom: Doctor Who
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Notes: Using Challenges #3: Soulmate AU; #12: Lost/Stranded AU; #21: Food Service AU/#25: Party Hardy AU/#39: Politics AU; #50: Espionage AU; #55: The Staff AU; and #56: Treasure Hunters AU. Crossposted to
genprompt_bingo.Summary: "Well, well. You're a spy, and I'm a thief."
"I really think you need to be a bit more subtle," he heard Rory warn through the comm device in his right ear. "All this skulking about that you're doing...it'll get someone's attention."
The spy--code name: Doctor Smith, though his colleagues settled for calling him the Doctor--chuckled softly. "Relax, Rory. The whole reason why you're disguised as security is to deflect attention from me. It's called 'misdirection'. Whenever someone begins to show signs of suspicion, you're supposed to draw their notice to someone else."
"Well, there's a limit to how many people I can draw their attention to, before I start to look suspicious. At least Amy got the easy job."
"Right. Easy," Amy chimed in, this time in the Doctor's left ear. "By all means, Rory, take my place as the caterer's assistant. Listen to fancy idiots complain about the champagne being too flat, or the crudité platter going warm. And don't get me started on how many people have kicked up a fuss about the stale water crackers. I can only work with what this Saxon bloke shelled out for. God knows he didn't spend enough on the catering!"
"That's because he's clearly banked more pounds in his would-be political career than in this party he's throwing to drum up support," the Doctor reminded the pair. "I need to find out just where he's invested that money, and why."
Hence their presence in the Harold Saxon home. It had taken a lot of persuasion and trickery to get Amy and Rory placed with their respective teams. The man who called himself Doctor Smith, meanwhile, had arrived posing as an allegedly wealthy man with an eye to back Saxon's candidacy. A young, eccentric man with pounds to burn on a number of random whims had easily earned an invitation.
"That's why you two," he added, his eyes scanning the crowd, "need to keep everyone else distracted while I try to find Saxon's office. Anyone who's after this much power has to have something unsavory lurking under the surface. I've got to uncover it. Just keep your eyes peeled, and let me know if someone comes after me."
Satisfied that no one was watching, the Doctor slipped into a nearby stairwell. He cautiously made his way upstairs, finding himself in a short corridor, lined with doors.
"Eeny, meeny, miney, mo," he murmured. "If I were a secret, where would I go?"
That being too chaotic a method, he settled for choosing the nearest door to him. The first door led into a linen closet. Directly across was another closet, of the utility variety. On he went, turning past door after door, down a virtual labyrinth of halls.
"Blimey," he muttered, wishing that elegant mansions came with maps. "A chap could get lost in a place like this."
At last, he reached a door that was locked with a deadbolt. Where there was a will, however, there was usually a way. A bit of fancy jiggery-pokery, and the door swung open.
"Hello, hello," the Doctor grinned, rubbing his hands together. "What have we, here...?" He slipped inside, closing the door behind him.
On the surface, it appeared to be an ordinary guest bedroom. At one side, French windows opened out onto a balcony, the view partially concealed by heavy drapes that were opened by about an inch. Another door led to what the Doctor presumed was a walk-in closet.
It was the large painting hanging on the opposite wall, however, that caught is eye.
"Oh, don't tell me it could ever be this easy," he purred, hurrying across. "Don't even tell me."
He hardly dared to hope as he lifted the portrait away from the wall. There it was: A large wall safe.
"So much for the notion of subtlety," he muttered, making short work of the combination.
As he swung the safe door open, he felt something brush the back of his neck.
"I'd certainly like to know what the hell you think you're doing," a stern female voice scolded.
Raising his hands, the Doctor slowly turned around. "Just a handy bit of breaking and entering. And you?"
Because the troublingly attractive curly-haired woman who now had him at gunpoint hardly looked like a party guest who'd gotten lost on the way to the loo. Nor was her all-black ensemble quite in keeping with the uniforms of the security outfit that he'd managed to finagle Rory into. And, to judge from the now widely open French windows, she'd emerged from a rather convenient hiding place.
"Doctor," he suddenly heard Rory hiss over the comm device.
"To be frank," the woman admitted. "I'm fairly sure that we're here for the same reason. I cased Saxon's mansion when he hired me for the decorating for tonight. That safe caught my eye when I...got lost."
"So you're here to steal whatever isn't nailed down?" The Doctor folded his arms across his chest, smiling. "Then we're not quite here for the same reason. I've been assigned to acquire vital information that can stop Saxon's political career in its tracks. They call me the Doctor, by the way."
"River Song," the woman introduced, putting her gun away. She looked the Doctor up and down appraisingly, making him wonder if she liked what she was seeing. "Well, well. You're a spy, and I'm a thief." She grinned widely, her eyes atwinkle. "We must be soulmates."
Now it was Amy's voice that came over. "Doctor!"
"Budge over," River continued, nudging him aside. "Before curiosity kills two cats, for the price of one." Reaching in, she swore suddenly as she pulled out a massive green-gray orb that was built into a base that looked like ebony. "I thought so."
"And just what's that," the Doctor wondered. "And why do you seem to recognize it?"
She quickly stuffed the item into a rucksack. "When I'm not breaking the law, I'm busy studying archaeology. I've written a few papers on the influence of alien technology on human civilizations. This device is a Chelonian Influencer."
"Which would be what, exactly?"
"It invades and overrides the brain waves of weaker-willed individuals, to persuade them of anything that the user wants. It's probable that this Harold Saxon fellow has been using the Influencer to gain supporters."
Eyes wide, the Doctor gaped at the device. "You don't say? This may be just the evidence of corruption that I was aft--"
"Doctor," he heard both Amy and Rory calling, their voices frantic. "Code red!"
The Doctor smacked his forehead. Damn. Between discovering the safe, and the intrigue of meeting River, he'd let himself get distracted, ignoring his partners' calls. Now, he could hear a series of footsteps pounding toward the room.
"We've got company," River needlessly announced. She grabbed the Doctor's hand, pulling him out through the French window, and almost shoving him down the rope ladder that she'd hooked to the balcony. "You must've triggered a silent alarm when you broke into that safe. And where the hell are you going," she demanded.
He was heading for the nearest door. "I have some assistants in there! I need to get them out before they're compromised!"
Something collided with his back, forcing him to the ground.
"Ouch!" The Doctor sat up, nursing aching muscles. "Where did you learn to tackle like that?!"
"Hush, sweetie; I'm busy." She pulled out some sort of remote control. Pressing a button, she clapped her hands over her ears.
The Doctor barely had time to do the same before a series of explosions rocked the air. When River lowered her hands, he followed suit.
"That should take care of things," she told him.
"What the hell was that about," he demanded.
She winked, pocketing the remote. "Just a series of itty-bitty flash-bang grenades, implanted in some of the lighting fixtures. Perfectly harmless, but guaranteed to disorient anyone in the vicinity. With the added bonus of distracting whoever was chasing us, by diverting their attention to a bigger emergency. Where were your helpers?"
"One of them was working in the catering crew," the Doctor responded. "The other one's with the security detail."
"Then they're fine. None of the grenades were near the food. And the security detail is probably busily scouring the grounds for the source of the explosions. We should get going," River advised, rising, "before they move their investigation out of the house, and onto the grounds."
The Doctor gazed up at her, shaking his head. She was good, this River Song. Clever.
He stood, dusting himself off. "Misdirection. That's beautiful. Care to join my crew," he offered.
She leaned in, kissing him tenderly. "I can be persuaded."
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