Fandom: Attack of the Show
Characters: Murdoc, two OC
Prompt: 096-Writer's Choice
Word Count: 947
Summary: Just how did Murdoc come to work with McGunner?
Author's Notes: I had this idea after watching this spoof of MacGyver from Attack of the Show. There's three of them. I wrote it without even looking at the prompts, so I just made it one of my five choices. Written for fanfic100
He sat staring out the window, images from the dreams he couldn't quite remember distracting him from the annoying doctor. The doctor that couldn't seem to understand that asking the same questions over and over again wasn't going to change the answers.
"Do you know what your name is?"
Tearing his gaze from the window, he fixed the physician with a glare, willing the man's gelled hair to burst into flame. Unfortunately, his head injury hadn't given him psychic powers. Just partial amnesia.
There it was again. That annoying sound that couldn't even be described as a word, and used each and every time they reached this question.
"Hm? What is that supposed to mean?" Couldn't you be just a little more forthcoming? I'm hardly an idiot--which is more than can be said for you.
For a moment, Murdoc allowed himself to envision tying the man to one of the ventilators and lighting a match...
"Well, you know where you are, who you are, but not how you got here?"
It almost seemed as though the questions were more to make certain the answers remained the same, as if it were important that he didn't remember. He eyed the doctor, whose name he still hadn't managed to discover, with suspicion.
"You said I got hit on the head."
"You did have a rather large contusion..."
Contusion, not concussion. Not necessarily mutually exclusive, but Murdoc noticed that the doctor refused to meet his eyes every time they got to this part. The part where he, not the doctor, had questions.
"Well. Couldn't that explain it?"
And of course, this was the part where the subject would be changed, turning the direction from what Murdoc wanted to know about himself, to something completely different. The weather, or how the doctor had other patients to see.
"What did you do for a living?"
This threw Murdoc for a loop, and he repeated dumbly, "For a living...?" What was he up to now?
"Yes." There was impatience in the younger man's voice. "What was your job?"
Murdoc stared at the doctor, his face blank as he struggled to remember. Flashes of the dreams flitted through his mind. A man. Guns. Explosives. "I was...something. I did something...important?"
"That's what I thought," the doctor said, trying to sound concerned, but Murdoc could detect the relief underlying his tone. "You worked for a PR firm. Wonderful employee. It's perfectly natural for you not to remember, and I'll warn your employer so he can inform everyone else."
"What? But I remember guns...?" Now he was certain something was going on. But why? What had his real job been? He could see the doctor frantically trying to come up with an explanation.
"That's right. You represented people who sold video games."
"Video games have guns?" Murdoc had no idea what a video game was. He supposed he should. And yet...
"Haven't you ever heard of Grand Theft Auto?"
Of course he knew what a Grand Theft Auto was. He knew a lot about cars, including ways of placing a bomb so that any attempt at disarming it would make it explode. But he had a feeling that wasn't what this doctor meant. "...No."
"Oh dear, this is more serious than I thought." The doctor gave Murdoc a fake smile. "Well, we're just going to have to find you another job, Mister Murdoc. Just to help ease you back into your place in the corporate world."
Deciding to play along for the moment, Murdoc affected a confused and lost tone of voice to match his expression. "I...this isn't right somehow..."
"Of course it isn't right man! You have amnesia! But don't worry," the doctor gave another fake smile that was supposed to be comforting, but that just made Murdoc's skin crawl. "Now you can make a new life for yourself that has nothing to do with violent video games!"
The doctor pulled a syringe out of his pocket and took Murdoc's arm.
"Now now, no need to show your gratitude. You need your rest."
"Wait, what's in that?"
Too late, the doctor plunged the syringe into the fleshy part of Murdoc's upper arm. He began losing consciousness. "No...I don't want...sleep..."
"How is he?"
"Alive, knows his name, understands everything he needs to."
"Good. I do believe our super-sekrit attempt at mind control is working!"
"...no. No it isn't. He's questioning..."
"Let him! He thinks he has amnesia! Of course he's going to question!"
"Calm down. You're turning a nasty shade of blue. All I meant was, I don't think he'll buy it for long...he's not like the others. He actually has a will. Strong."
"Well. We'll just have to place him in an environment that's familiar enough to his past to keep him from questioning. Don't you have a friend named McGunner?"
"Angus? He's a lazy, good for nothing jerkass who somehow manages to get out of doing his job and getting someone else in trouble for it."
"Excellent. It's perfect. Murdoc will never know the difference."
"Excuse me? A guy who's able to use office supplies to get out of life threatening jams is nothing like one who uses his boss's handicap to his own advantage to keep from having to do his own job."
"Pfft. We'll just tell him McGunner is his arch nemesis, and whether the guy's a jerkass or not, Murdoc will never know the difference. Because they both use office supplies!!!"
"Don't do that. You have a bad habit of spitting when you do that. Fine. I'll give McGunner a call. No doubt he'll find some convincing way of getting Murdoc hired on without ever having said a word."