Disclaimer: I own nothing; Harry Potter and the elements of his universe all belong to J.K.Rowling. The Middleman and the elements of his universe all belong to Javier Grillo-Marxuach. I’m just borrowing the characters to play with for a while. This is for pleasure only, no profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Just an idea in my head that I fiendishly used to try and get more people interested in watching The Middleman. Check it out. It's a very entertaining show about to be canceled before you ever even heard of it.
THE CROSSOVER DRABBLE COOPERATION
“I need coffee.”
Ida lifted her head out of a bowl filled with strangely glowing liquid. “You need to lay off the doobie is what you need.”
Wendy Watson had to look away from the unnaturally bright fluid dripping off the android’s face and glasses. “I need coffee before I can deal with you.”
The Middleman wiped clean his upper lip with a closed fist and a smile. “Nothing like wrapping your hand around a big frothy glass of fresh squirt.”
Wendy saw how alert and awake her boss was and tried again. “I need coffee now.”
“Dubby,” the Middleman began to lecture. “Your body’s physiological and psychological reliance on caffeine is a-”
“Now,” Wendy Watson pleaded.
“You know if you hadn’t gone for Interrodroid 4000’s soft tissue or more accurately where a human male’s soft-”
“I know, I’m sorry. I’m not about to forget cleaning up the melted coffeemaker last night.”
“Then let this be a lesson in-”
“Oh –BLEEP- your lesson.”
“Dubby!” The Middleman exclaimed aghast. He softened as he saw his tired young apprentice drop her head into her arms on the table. “Tell you what. Since there aren’t any life-threatening emergencies right now, why don’t we have a pop quiz on the proper Middle-etiquette to surprise visits by intergalactic royalty?”
Wendy looked up at the Middleman in anguished disbelief.
The Middleman saw her look and added, “And we can do it at the coffee shop.”
A sincere and genuine smile of hope blossomed over Wendy’s face. “Really?”
The smile only lasted a second before sirens began blaring and flashing lights dropped from the ceiling.
“Uh-oh,” Ida announced abandoning her neon soup.
“Tough luck, Dubby,” the Middleman empathized. “Looks like the HEYDARs picked up a life-threatening emergency.”
“Son of a –BLEEP-! You gotta be –BLEEP- kidding me!”
Ida was standing in front a big silver ball. “You’re going to need the BTRS Scanner.”
“This is a Beyond the Realm of Science life-threatening emergency?” Wendy clarified.
Ida confirmed, “HEYDAR says it’s… magical in nature.”
“Magical? Are we talking like ‘cursed tuba’ magical or ‘earth elemental warrior’ magical?”
“Well, it ain’t a carpet ride, you lazy hippie,” Ida retorted without looking away from the HEYDAR. “Looks like a rogue Hungarian Horntail racing across the Atlantic. You got less than ten minutes before it reaches the coast.”
“Great green gobs!” The Middleman exclaimed. “A horntail? All the way over here?”
“What’s a horntail?”
“We need the fireproof Middle-suits, Dubby,” the Middleman concluded. “Because a horntail… is a dragon.”
“Dragon?” Wendy’s eyes perked up. “Like fire-breathing, flesh-eating, angry giant flying lizard, dragon dragon?”
“Exactly,” the Middleman nodded solemnly. “And Hungarian Horntails are some of the fiercest, most dangerous dragons in the world.”
Wendy’s face split into a goofy smile. “Cool.”
The Middleman woke the sleeping man and flashed a badge. “Agent Picard of the Department of Enterprise Security. I’m sorry sir but you need to vacate the premises immediately.”
The vagrant was slowly sitting up from his bench. “Huh?” He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and took in the Middleman’s appearance. “You know you kinda look like-”
“Beat it!” Wendy yelled at the man in irritation.
He let out a yelp as he ran down the emptied dock and away from the two scary people in extremely shiny suits.
The Middleman looked over at his apprentice with a frown. “Dubby, you know screaming as loud as you can is not always the best way to avoid panic.”
Her brilliantly reflective suit crinkled as she turned to look at her boss. “I still don’t have coffee.”
“Fair enough,” the Middleman agreed.
“And since when do the fireproof Middle-suits look like the lovechild of the Michelin Man and a Hershey’s kiss?”
The Middleman glanced at his foil covered arm. “You’re thinking of the flame retardant Middle-suits. Those are only capable of withstanding a few thousand degrees of heat. I can assure you, dragon fire would roast us like a couple of prairie dogs in a tail pipe if we only had the flame retardant suits.”
“Incoming,” Wendy announced pointing an arm towards a speck on the horizon. “So how do we slay the dragon?”
“We’re not slaying anything unless we have to,” the Middleman insisted. “Dragons are generally intelligent creatures. First we need to determine what it’s doing, and if it attacks unprovoked then we’re going to try and stun it.”
“And I’m guessing that looking like background extras from a Michael Jackson video won’t be enough?”
The Middleman lifted up a gun Wendy had never seen. “I’m setting the Middle-phaser to stun.”
“Of course you are,” Wendy agreed with a roll of her eyes.
“One other thing,” the Middleman added as he saw the dragon clearly was now only seconds away. “Dragon hide’s impervious to just about everything short of anti-aircraft weapons. The eyes are the only place the Middle-phaser will even phase.”
The massive beast let out a loud screech and swooped straight towards them both.
The Middleman and Wendy both dove away from each other as it’s claws passed through the empty air between them.
“I think it’s attacking unprovoked,” Wendy shouted as she began to run down the pier.
“Quite right, Dubby,” the Middleman agreed as he aimed at the dragon. He lined up a shot towards its eyes and fired.
The beam was headed straight for the beast’s eyes when it swung a wing up in the way and the shot splashed harmlessly against its hide.
The Middleman had time to duck to the ground and avoid the swooping dragon while Wendy turned to run away down the pier. She saw the dragon still coming for her and she was about to run out of pier.
Another angry loud screech let Wendy know it was right behind her and she shouldn’t slow down.
“Any ideas, boss?” she shouted just before her entire line of sight was overcome by blistering hot flames. She fell down as the concrete beneath her feet began to melt and stick to the fireproof Middle-suit. All of the wooden railings on the pier were reduced to ash and smoldering timber in mere seconds.
Wendy’s hands were stuck to the malleable concrete and she looked over her shoulder to see the dragon had landed just fifteen feet behind her. It was slowly stalking towards her.
“A little help, please?” Wendy pleaded loudly.
“STOP!” shouted a commanding voice from just in front of her.
She whipped her head forward and saw a young man dressed in a uniform unlike any she’d seen before. It was mixture of blacks and greys and hung behind him like a trench coat.
She looked back over her shoulder and saw the dragon had stopped its advances and looked far less angry.
“SIT!” the man firmly ordered.
Wendy just blinked when the dragon plopped backwards onto its haunches and hung its head in shame.
“Be good,” the man instructed gently as he approached Wendy’s prone position.
She smiled goofily when he squatted down and asked, “You okay?”
“Peachy,” she replied. “And you?”
A loud grumble sounded and the man shot back up, “Heathcliff, NO!”
The Middleman had been trying to make his way around the calmed dragon when it started to growl and shoot steam out its nose in anger. He was relieved when the stranger scolded the beast again.
Heathcliff the Hungarian Horntail dragon flattened his body down on the ground and placed both of his wings across his nose in deference.
“Heathcliff will be good,” the man offered. “He knows he’s in trouble and doesn’t want to make it worse.”
The dragon let out a petulant sound of agreement. The Middleman took that as his invitation to carefully walk around the dragon towards his glued down apprentice.
Wendy was beginning to feel embarrassed at her position, particularly as she realized she’d been staring at the young man’s currently eye-level crotch.
“Dubby, are you alright?” was the Middleman’s first question.
The young man happily answered for her, “She says she’s peachy, but personally I think you look more like baked potatoes.”
Heathcliff the dragon snickered as quietly as an amused dragon can snicker.
“Someone want to get me out of this suit?” Wendy pleaded, looking up at the two men.
The Middleman looked over at the temporarily peaceful dragon and the unidentified man. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Heathcliff won’t hurt you. And even if he wanted to, I can shield us from his bad breath.”
“I take it you’re a wizard,” the Middleman carefully offered.
“Harry Potter, British Department of Mysteries,” the man introduced. “And I’m beginning to think you’re not wizards.”
“No,” the Middleman agreed with a touch of careful skepticism. “Neither of us is magical. And I was under the impression wizards couldn’t so easily command obedience from dragons.”
Harry shrugged. “I’m not your average wizard. And who are you? I don’t even know any wizards with suits capable of withstanding dragon fire.”
“Ah,” the Middleman paused before whipping out the badge he’d been using. “Agent Picard of the Department of Enterprise Security.”
Harry frowned and summoned the badge straight from the man’s hand. “I’m not familiar with that department,” he suspiciously replied as he inspected the credentials.
“I’m still stuck here,” Wendy complained, getting a crick in her neck as she tried to look away from Harry’s crotch.
“Ah, sorry Dubby,” the Middleman apologized as he bent down to release her helmet and allow her some fresh air.
With her arms free, Wendy unzipped the rest of her fireproof Middle-suit and climbed out of it to her feet. She saw the wizard named Harry was smiling at her and said, “Hi.”
He thought her outfit looked oddly out of place until he spotted Agent Picard climbing out of his suit.
“Bloody hell,” Harry said finally connecting the dots. “You’re the Middleman.”
The Middleman looked up in surprise. “You’ve heard of me? I didn’t know wizards were aware of our organization.”
Harry happily handed back the false credentials and explained. “They’re not. It’s just my master met a Middleman a while back and he’s been trying to make sure I’m ready for anything and anyone.”
“Really,” the Middleman said in surprise. “I didn’t think any Middlemen had directly crossed paths with the wizarding world in centuries.”
“Might not have,” Harry said scratching his head. “This was probably… sixteenth century, maybe?”
“Sixteenth century?” Wendy repeated dubiously.
“Nick’s really old,” Harry offered before clarifying, “my master.”
“Uh-huh,” Wendy agreed.
“He created a little rock that keeps him around,” Harry explained. “I call it the pebble of youth.”
The Middleman finally connected the dots, “Nicholas Flamel, the alchemist?”
Harry groaned. “It’s just going to go to his head that you know who he is.”
“He’s still alive?” the Middleman repeated incredulously.
“Pebble of youth? Come on Middleman, keep up,” Harry chided.
Wendy smiled at the Middleman’s brief look of embarrassment. “So is it your job to chase down wayward dragons?”
Harry shook his head. “I’m sorry, Dubby, is it?”
“Wendy, please,” she corrected.
“No Wendy,” Harry answered. “I was just offering credentials for my less than authorized appearance into your country. And it’s not my job. Heathcliff here was raised by a friend of mine and he asked me to help him track him down.”
The dragon made a purring request when Harry looked towards him.
Harry looked at the dragon seriously. “Are you going to behave?”
Heathcliff lifted his head and nodded.
Harry reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a golden goblet. “Whoops, that’s not it.” He shoved his hand into another pocket and pulled out a sticky red substance. “Dammit. That’s going to stain.” He went searching into one more pocket and said, “Ah-ha.”
His hand emerged wrapped around a half empty bag of marshmallows.
Heathcliff’s head was perked all the way up and his tongue was lolling out the side.
Harry pulled out a single marshmallow and enlarged it to the size of a basketball. He tossed in a high arc through the air and the dragon leapt up and caught fluffy white treat in his jaws.
Heathcliff turned his head to side and let loose a quick blast of flame, instantly blackening the marshmallow trapped in his teeth. He then proceeded to settle back down and happily chew up his gooey marshmallow mess.
Wendy and the Middleman looked at Harry curiously as he shoved the bag of marshmallows back into a pocket. “It’s how Hagrid raised him. Don’t ask.”
“Right,” the Middleman said in acceptance. “There still is the matter of-”
Harry caught on and turned to the dragon. “Heathcliff?”
The dragon looked up revealing a maw filled with blackened edges and white sticky goo.
“Are you going to go home now or am I going to have to take you home?”
Without missing a beat, the dragon launched itself into the air and began to fly back across the ocean.
“See?” Harry said with a smile. “No need to contact the authorities or get my friend in trouble, right?”
The Middleman looked around the charred dock and winced. “Well, there…” He trailed off as Harry had drawn his wand and was waving it in all directions. Everything that had been damaged or even destroyed was fixing itself before their very eyes. The fireproof Middle-suit even floated up into the air while the lumpy misshapen concrete smoothed beneath their feet.
Wendy looked up seriously impressed. “Okay that was cool.”
The Middleman looked towards the town and commented, “Crowds are starting to form. We should probably go.”
“Good point,” Harry agreed.
“Well it was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Potter,” the Middleman announced offering his hand to shake.
“You as well, Mr. Man,” Harry cheekily replied in an equally professional voice. “Wendy,” he said in a more casual friendly manner. “Could I interest you in a cup of coffee?”
“Oh dear,” the Middleman said under his breath.
Wendy just looked at Harry with stars twinkling in her eyes. “I think I love you.”
“Well then,” Harry said with a nod as he escorted Wendy down the pier. “I heard Americans were easy but I had no idea.”
The Middleman watched his apprentice walking away from him and reminded, “Just keep on your Middle-watch and I’ll call if… there’s… an emergency.”
He was feeling sufficiently ditched as he gathered up both fireproof Middle-suits and walked towards the Middle-mobile. “I wonder if a pop quiz on Middle-etiquette when dealing with surprise visits from intergalactic royalty can count as an emergency.”
The Middleman paused before shaking his head and deciding against it. “Not until I figure out a better way to defend the soft tissue.”
THE END
Author's Note: Reviews are great. A second season of The Middleman would be greater.