Eerie, Indiana fanfiction: Underwater

[froodle]

Written for Day 9 of the 31daysoffandom October challenge. The prompt I used for this one was "gone (horribly) wrong"



The security system which protected the Eerie, Indiana branch of Things, Incorporated's headquarters was said to be the finest in existence. It was certainly one of the noisiest. Lillian unclipped the heavy fishbowl-style diver's helmet and fixed her earmuffs more securely in place. The klaxons scream immediately diminished to a more bearable level, although the tight-packed bundles of blessed lambswool was unable to cancel it out entirely. Nor could they do anything about the pulsing red lights that flashed off her spectacles, forcing her to squint against their brightness.

Her son-in-law was staring at her over the blood-splattered hatch of the specimen tank. He was wearing a black cape and a twiddly black moustache that did not match his natural hair-colour at all, and his dramatic widow's peak was drawn on in black marker pen.

"I thought I killed you!" he said.

Lillian was still encumbered by the crush-proof metal diving suit, but she gestured as best she could to her ears, then to the speakers set near the laboratory's high ceiling. She tried to shrug, but it wasn't possible with all that armor weighing her down, so she mouthed "WHAT?" as clearly as she could and made what she hoped was an uncomprehending face.

Edgar scrabbled at a high-tech control panel with his black-gloved hands. Lillian thought they might be silk, and could not possibly represent good laboratory hygiene. The klaxons shut off. A moment later the red strobe lights went out too, and was replaced by a sickly but steady yellow-green fluorescence.

When the ringing in her ears faded, Lillian said, "Sorry dear, what?"

"I said I thought you were dead!" said Edgar. "I threw you into the bear-sloth pit three days ago."

"Oh," said Lillian. "Well, no, actually that was just this reality's version of me. And as it happens, she's still alive and well, although none to pleased with you." She tugged one of her unwieldy gloves off with her teeth, then removed her glasses, blinking as she did so. "You may want to reconsider using the world's laziest animal as an ingredient to your ferocious murder-beasts, by the way."

"It was what I had to work with," Edgar muttered sulkily.

"Uh-huh," said Lillian. "Look, I'm not here to pick a fight with you. We've always had our differences when it comes to meddling with the fabric of reality, and I don't see that changing, at least not in this part of the multi-verse. But on my timeline, Atlantis never rose from the sea bed and mankind wasn't reduced to hiding out in the underwater lairs of a mad scientist conglomerate. Which is nice, honestly; you don't appreciate sweater weather until you've seen a future where all the sheep are wiped out in a race war with evil dolphins."

"Uh..." said Edgar.

"Sorry," said Lillian. "It took me a long time to find you, and I'm very tired. You'll have to excuse an old woman her ramblings. My point is, in my world Marilyn and Marshall are both still alive, and I'd like to keep them that way, and you have something I need."

"Dream-eating tapir thing?" said Edgar. "Storm of nightmares made flesh? That one dybbuk box that nobody who's not on the Board of Directors is allowed to open?"

"The dybbuk box sounds lovely," said Lillian. "I'll take that too, if you're sure you can spare it. But actually, no. You see, in your world Milton Hershey never sailed on the Titanic, and the Hershey Chocolate Company still operates. But in my timeline, he took that trip, and he died, and the company folded the same year. I need a bag of Hersey's kisses. I need, specifically, the bag of Hershey's kisses you bought Marilyn on your first date, the one she kept in a shoebox under every bed the two of you ever slept in."

Edgar went very pale. He struggled to speak, made a great show of removing his glasses and polishing them on his villainous black opera cape. Lillian waited. Finally, without saying a word, he turned and strode out of the room, his patent leather shoes gleaming in the greasy underwater light, the soles clicking against the cold concrete.

Lillian stood for a long time, listening to the muffled detonations coming from deep inside the bunker. She hummed a little tune beneath her breath, and counted bullet holes in the white-tiled walls.

At last, Edgar returned. The kisses, still in their red and silver Valentines wrapper, their paper plumes yellowing with age, rustled faintly inside the clear cellophane bag as he handed them over. Lillian stowed them carefully away inside her diving suit, tucked the heavy wooden dybbuk box under one arm, and stomped her way back over to the airlock.

As the outer door began to open, she glimpsed Edgar through the porthole that led back to the dry interior. He was back at his workbench, head bowed over something cradled in his lap. A small recessed door swung open, and Syndi in all her power-suited, domino-masked evil super-villain glory tottered in on stiletto heels. She kicked them into a dark corner and stood with her hands on her father's shoulders, her long blonde hair hiding her face. Her shoulders hitched as she cried.





Teller Family History

First Date by froodle, in which a young Edgar Teller shows off one of his earlier inventions

Popcorn by froodle. Friday night is always movie night in the Teller household.

The Teller Home for Displaced Youth by froodle, in which Edgar harbours some doubts about his new home town

Lawn by froodle, in which Marilyn Teller contemplaces some yardwork

Tornado Day, Revisited by froodle, in which Syndi learns exactly what it means to be Miss Tornado Day

Wildlife by froodle, in which Simon and Marshall go to the beach

Culinary Delights by froodle, in which Syndi's terrible cooking may or may not have been an accident

Camping by froodle, in which Syndi cannot sleep

Artist in the Family by froodle, in which an immortal creature takes a liking to Syndi

Without Due Care and Attention by froodle, in which Syndi finally becomes mobile

Waiting In by froodle, in which there is an ice-storm and a handyman does not arrive

Brunch by froodle, in which Marilyn does not appreciate Edgar's help in the kitchen

Handmade by froodle, in which the Tellers receive a Christmas package from Marilyn's mother

Poor Life Choices by froodle, in which Syndi loves her brother anyway

Lillian by froodle, in which Marilyn's mother has concerns

Visitor by froodle, in which Marshall's grandma comes to stay

Nap by froodle, in which Marshall has a quiet moment in the Secret Spot

Fresh Sheets by froodle

Tradition by froodle, in which Dash and Marshall decorate a Christmas tree

Hometown by froodle, in which Mars and Syndi visit New Jersey





Milkman Series

Milk by froodle, in which Marshall develops a completely cromulent fear of milk trucks

Reanimator by froodle, in which the Milkman returns

Multiplicity by froodle, in which Marshall must once again confront parallel realities, diverging timelines and public speaking

Lillian by froodle, in which Marilyn's mother has concerns

Hound by froodle, in which Simon makes a friend

Slyboots by froodle, in which a certain corporal of the infernal regions comes to Eerie. Crossover with Johannes Cabal the Necromancer.

Strawberry by froodle, in which there is unauthorised hubbub in Eerie

Nap by froodle, in which Marshall has a quiet moment in the Secret Spot