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Valkyrie IV - A Whole Lotta Rosie!
1st Runner Up for Best Round Robin in the 2001 Farscape Fanfic Awards
Part Four of Nine in this Round Robin Series
Valkyrie IV - A Whole Lotta Rosie!, by Blind_Dentist
Silly Ficlet - Valkyrie IV: A Whole Lotta Rosie!, by Blind_Dentist
****************************** Disclaimer *******************************
The Jim Henson company owns "Farscape" and related characters concerning Farscape. Channel 9 Australia and the Sci-Fi channel do whatever, for whatever, but they feel they need mentioning so here is saying their names. Bask in it.
I certainly do not own the characters, nor am I trying to turn a profit off someone else's work, as a lawyer would. I am simply borrowing the characters, as one tries on clothes. When I am finished enlightening, entertaining, and/or simply droning, I will return them to the shelves where I found them. They will be returned unbent, unmolested, and un-perverted, a condition unlike a lawyer.
In most cases, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, a validation of success, or at least an ego boost. Nevertheless, if this is not the case and one feels they lack sense of the humor, the heart, or creativity to enjoy mere differences of opinion, then that individual should have became a lawyer. However, if the need arises where one feels that litigation is the answer, one should have wisdom enough to realize a dren-sucking lawyer must have asked the question.
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Location: Gammak Base
Grid Coordinates: CLASSIFIED
The Aurora Chair, the pinnacle of interrogation and the primary tool of Scorpius' interrogation, lay in charred ruin. Sitting in his quarters, elbows firmly on his desk as his interlaced fingers supported his head, Scorpius violently shook in fear. Never had terror gripped him, been so complete, and all consuming. Living for cycles upon cycles feeling nothing but revenge, Scorpius was unaccustomed to feeling any other emotion. Vengeance was his life and his blood; it was his heart and his mind. Without the thought or feeling of revenge, Scorpius was naked, he was exposed, he was vulnerable, and he was afraid.
Quietly whimpering Scorpius remembered all to well what had happened. The prisoner, known as G437739-A48 destroyed the chair. It was not a simple process. It was long, and it was grueling. The female's resistance of the chair proved to be absolute. Scorpius, motivating as in his own inimitable fashion, rode on the back of the chair, taunting, tormenting, and torturing.
For arns, the plump subject remained silent. The vid-screen revealed no information, with Scorpius patiently motivating. The process was futile in retrospect. Testing Scorpius to his limits of patients, endurance, and experience, the chair revealed nothing from the mind of the subject.
Recognizing the complete ineffectiveness of his creation, Scorpius halted the process, turned to Lieutenant Braca, and admitted defeat as he observed the reaction of the subject, "Have the lifeform terminated, it is of no use to me."
The subject heard the words, and Scorpius watched the panic explode from the otherwise fleshy but stoic countenance of the subject. The flabby subject then opened her mouth. Scorpius, puzzled at this reaction, approached the chair to observe this reaction. He turned began soliciting advice from Lieutenant Braca as he realized he was making no sound.
Oddly, all within the room began understanding they were unable to emit sounds as well. The subject with its mouth still open sat rigidly in the chair. Entering the mind of Scorpius was the thought that it was possible the subject was making a sound. He then wondered if they were unable to hear it. Noticing the cuffs of his chair, Scorpius watched the metal beginning to ripple and smear, as circuitry silently sparked and fizzled. As he thought to cover his ears quickly, the undetected but ever present tone became recognized.
All within the room fell to their knees, writhing and screaming in agony from the shriek blast omitting from the subject. As the rotund subject ceased the emanation, the Peacekeepers lay deafened and in pain from the blast. The now brittle cuffs from the chair snapped readily to the surplus wrists of the subject.
Wearing the face of anger and pain, the freed economy sized subject stalked the writhing Scorpius who lay helplessly on the floor. The subject grabbed the aware, yet impotent Scorpius by his arm. Hanging by his shoulder, she effortlessly lifted the fetal commander to eye level.
Was it the pain of feeling his arm separating from its socket? Was it a flaw in his tormented and piecemeal brain? Was it the fear that his life easily could end? Was his genetic tailoring to blame? Might this have altered his otherwise reasonable perceptions? Was it the memory of their two bodies, crushing together on the floor as earlier he subdued her? Simply to spite the neural clone's taunting, Scorpius denied any emotions concerning the subject. However, as he dangled off the ground, like a frail pup by the nap of the neck, dominated by the husky female, shadowed in her girth, it happened.
"!BOING!" the sound effect furnished by the neural demon confirmed his own sexual arousal. Then John added, in a deep caricaturish voice, "Oh Mom-Ma!"
Submissive and helpless, the naughty Peacekeeper commander craved the punishment of the voluptuous goddess. His body ached to be abused her, controlled by her, dominated. Consumed by this totalitarian hunger, Scorpius looked deep into her eyes, awaiting her correction.
"Oh dear god," The neural clone heaved, succumbing to the nausea he felt. Vomiting, the clone gagged "Oh god! She Tarzan - you Jane! She's the greasy mechanic and you're the naive tourist!" Heaving further, John pleaded, "Please make it stop. This is just plain wrong!"
The super-sized vixen looked deep into the eyes of Scorpius and recognized the language of his black heart. Her expression changed. The once rage carved scowl melted into a soft and giggling shy flower. Grabbing Scorpius by the back of the head, she firmly thrust his face to her bosom, as she beamed with joy.
Buried in the soft, milky, sweet smelling flesh of her cleavage, Scorpius melted as his yearning consumed him. As if following the steps of some distant forgotten dance, the object of his affection casually hurled Scorpius to the wall. Crumbling in pile, the captivated Scorpius looked up to see the Valkyrie beam in a silent, internal giggle. The rubenesque angel then turned and gently thundered from the room, pausing briefly at the entrance to return a smile to Scorpius to insure his pursuit. She then disappeared from view, as Scorpius lay shaken against the wall.
Soon after, guards poured into the chamber alerted that the security camera became un-operational. As the nurses then arrived, healing the fallen, they attended to Scorpius. After a small amount of observation and injections, Scorpius returned to his quarters to sort out what happened.
Sitting there, still violently shaking, he desperately fought for an explanation of what he felt and why it dwarfed his revenge.
Confused and afraid Scorpius wrung his hands, as neural demon piped in, "Well, you know what they say... 'The looser the waist band, the deeper the quicksand'... and judging from the size of that cushion, you're just beggin' for some sweet pushin'!"
Seized with sheer terror, Scorpius cringed, desperately wondering what his next step would be.
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