Disclaimers:  Poltergeist the Legacy concept and characters belong to Trilogy et al.  No copyright infringement is intended, no profit is made.  "Alternate universe" characters and story belong to the author, and should not be used without her permission.

The Legacy: Off Screen

©, Samantha Agee and Carla Rodriguez

A typical day in the life of the San Francisco Legacy House, dubbed the castaways of Angel Island, the mist curls around the brick and stone as always, all but obscuring the castle from those of us actually attempting to garner a closer look at it.  A mysterious stranger (what else would one expect in the Legacy, at midnight, on All Hallow's Eve?) is seen at the front doors, long black coat affording the avid watchers little or no details on his either nature or true business with the secret organization.

It seems that the precept of the San Francisco House has posted his most effective member on guard duty tonight, trusting that when confronted with such a dilligent watchman, the beasties will most likely run and hide in fear.

We join our heroes and heroines already in progress...




The mysterious figure knocks on the heavy, wooden doors.  Seeking entrance, he is surprised when his next knock meets nothing but thin air as the door swings open, and - elated at such lack of vigilance, runs into the House, intending to kill anyone in his way.

Too late, the demon sees the elderly man standing in the foyer, blocking his path.  Moving swiftly to kill this guardian, he is completely overcome by fear and terror at the calmly spoken words.

"Take your coat sir?"  Duncan offers helpfully.

Screaming at the epitome of polite society, the agent of the Dark cries out as the British curtesy banishes him to Hell.

Having noted the disturbance, the precept, Derek Rayne looks in from the study.  "Is there a problem, Duncan?"

The elderly butler only shakes his head once again replying, "Certainly not, Master Derek.  It gets them every time."

Derek quirks his lips up in a grin, cradling the ancient manuscript he had been studying in one hand.  "Indeed.  Just make sure to get all the slime off the floor this time, we have guests arriving shortly."

"Certainly sir.  Will there be anything else?"

It was the precept's turn to shake his head, gray hair moving slightly as he had yet to get it cut.  "No, Duncan I think that will be all."  Moving to return to his study, Derek did indeed think of something else.  "But the next demon that shows up, try to get him off the hardwood floors and antique rugs,o.k.?"

The servant's reply was solemn.  "Certainly sir."

At just that moment, Nick Boyle, ex-Navy SEAL and resident punching bag for anything paranormal walked in grinning from the kitchen where he had been grabbing a snack.

"Another one?  Way to go, Duncan!  Nice job."

"Thank you master Nick.  All in a day's duties."

Walking over to the scoreboard, Nick places a chalkmark next to Duncan's name, changing it to read:  'Score:  Duncan 67, Demons 0'.

Eyeing the board, Philip walks in. "Oh!  Another one fer Duncan?"

Nick grins, miming a punch in the air while trying not to spill his sandwich. "Yeah, right here in the foyer!"

The priest smiles, exchanging congradulations with Duncan.  "Well, tha's one less exorcism!"

Alex Moreau enters from the computer room, escaping from the shackles that had held her captive in the lab, running endless searches and cross-references that nobody ever uses anyway.  "You know Duncan, if you keep this up, we'll all be out of a job."  She tells him, grinning.

Through a mouthfull of his snack, Nick sighs.  "You mean I'll finally stop getting thrown into walls and down stairs everytime a ghost or a demon decided the House looks tastey?"

Phillip murmurs to low for anyone but the audience to hear.  "Y' could do  that on yer own, SEAL-boy.  If y'd ever stop pickin' on th' ones that'r twice yer size."

::The audience snickers at the unheard observation.::

Derek grins, his face alightlighting, a thought occuring to him.  "Uh huh, and with Duncan in charge, that dratted wind machine will stop blowing my hair all over!"

Sloan (muttering over in the corner, off stage):  "I don't have that problem.  So?  Get a hair cut."

::The audience boo's and hiss's at the leader of London's Ruling House, throwing popcorn and other things at him.::

Philip adds, a hopeful look in his eyes:  "An' I'll stop crossin' m'self and mutterin' prayers every time a demon is tossed my way?"

Doctor Corrigan snorts and all eyes look  her way.  "Well don't look at me; you all know I don't believe in any of this stuff, no matter what I see happening in front of me.  I think you're all wacko."

Kat frowns at her mother, having just seen the 'Batman Forever' movie.  "Wacko?  That a technical term?"

Leaning down, the mother blatantly patronizes the child while pretending it's all prefectly good parenting.  "Yes, honey.  For all of those crazy people who think this is real and not a t.v. show."

Little Kat is no dummy; she rolls her eyes and counters intelligently, "Oh.  I thought they were fans?"

Startled, Derek whirls to find the Evil Wind Machines, that are surely trying to destroy his hair.  "Where?  Where?!?"

Nick snorts, almost choking on a mouthfull of food.  Phillip wacks him on the back and Nick finally manages, "No Derek, not mechanical fans, people fans!"

Not one to be left out, Phillip adds, grinning, "You know, th' ones who stay up until midnight t' see us, hopin' t' catch us in little, 'r no clothin'."

Speaking for the first time, lest they notice her and chain her back to her terminal where she'll never see daylight again, Alex gasps, "Philip!  You're a priest!"

The Irishman shrugs philosophically.  "I'm a Priest, I'm not dead."

As a certain amount of restless milling ensues, the precept knows he must lead his people.  Ingeniously he comes up with a plan, asking, "Sooo....what do we do now?"

The one true backbone of the Legacy, it is Alex (as usual) who saves the day, taking out her script and reading.  "Oh joy.  I get to sit behind the desk....again.  You and Nick and Philip rush into danger like typical males...Philip is the only one left standing as you get thrown into a wall, and Rachel has a fit over something totally irrational..."  She keeps reading.  "Kat saves the day."

Grinning in triumpth as though he had the answers all along and was just testing his people (when in reality the man really had  no clue), Derek observes wisely, "Uh huh.  You see?  A normal day."

Philip glances around warily.  "Derek, if Kat saves th' day, what happens t' me?"

Still reading script (hey, she  is head of research after all - all those hours behind a desk have to count for something), Alex answers, looking up at the poor young priest in surprise.  "It says here that you get seduced by several female fans and end up leaving with them!"

Repeating Nick's earlier gesture, Phillip punches the air happily.  "Score!"

But someone's not happy about that.  Protesting sharply, Nick glares at both Alex and the giddy linguist.  "Hey!  How come I never get the girl?"

Never losing her patronizing tone, Rachel attempts to sooth him, pointing out in a rare moment of logic, "But look at how much fun you have in the meantime."

"True, I do get the most bed scenes."  Shrugging, happy again, Nick continues munching.

Snorting at them both, Alex shoots back, "At least you guys have legs!  I'm stuck here at the desk so often that I'm beginning to wonder!"

Taking that as an excuse (not that he needed one) to look at the researcher's legs, Nick offers helpfully, "You definitely have legs, Alex."

Turning her glare to the older man, she glares pointedly at the distinguished precept, fussing with his hair in the large mirror of the foyer.  "Well, I'm glad SOMEBODY notices."

The answer is, as always, diplomatic and sensitive to any possible hurt feelings.  "Huh?"

The others chuckle while Alex looks ready to take down and put the Legacy's sword to good use, Rachel commenting dryly, "Maybe someone needs to draw him a picture!"

Perking up at that, Kat, who was being ignored, sang out, "I can draw!"

Snickering so hard that he soon doubles over in helpless laughter, Phillip can't breathe, making it Nick's turn to pound  his back.  "Easy buddy!  You'll have a coronary!"

In the midst of the hillarity, Duncan appears with mop and bucket in hand.  "If you all would be so kind, I would like to clean the floor now."

Prostesting sympathetically, Nick offers, "You killed it, somebody else should have to clean it up!  But who else has nothing valuable to offer around here...?"

Derek's eyes alight on Rachel who had been trying to sneak out of the castle.  "Ah ah.  Time to earn your keep, doctor."

::The audience snickers at this, loving every minute of it as Rachel whines at the general unfairness of life.::

"But I'm a professional!  And...and it's....icky!"

"Suuuuuure you are."  Alex crosses her arms, muttering:  "And your taste in clothing isn't?"

::A whoop is heard from the audience as the male members of the House all  oooooooo in unison, both sides waiting for the wardrobe battle to commence.::

Stunned, Rachel sneers, "Like yours is better!  You get to wear really elegant clothes, or comfortable jeans and flannels and I get...I get..."

Hands behind his back, Phillip offers helpfully, "A street walkers uniform?"

::Nick's now howling while Rachel glares and the audience members are cackling in delight.  Meanwhile, Derek is giving Phillip a high-five as Alex smiles serenely at the glowering Rachel.::

Fed up with her mother's childish behavior, little Kat looks at her mom in disgust.  "Clean the floor, mom!"

Having finally noticed the fans in the audience, Rachel indignantly glowers at the writers and producers, tapping her foot.    "I will NOT be ordered around by an eight year old!"

::Still in the corner that we now realize has been designated as Hell where he currently resides after (well, we really don't know just  how turning the last Selphechre key sent him there when it was  supposed to release the demons, but hey, what do we know?), turning the key, Sloan slips in smoothly,::   "I don't see why not.   You act like one."

Having had enough of Rachel's incessant whining (we can dream, can't we?), Derek barks, "Clean the floor Rachel!"

Getting down on her hands and knees scrubbing, grumbling all the while, Rachel begins rubbing the floor with a vengence, the sponge making soapy bubbles everywhere.  "Why do they gives me these short skirts to wear?!?"

She doesn't notice Nick, Derek, and Philip leering at her from behind.

Alex snorts, rolling her eyes, "Juveniles!", taking Kat off to show her important things, like how to run a Legacy House.

"That's why!"  Nick smirks, leering quietly to the guys, as Rachel, oblivious to the fact that her skirt is  way too short and she should have changed first, keeps muttering to herself.

Fade out.....

::Whispers in the audience...

LegacyLdy2:  Finally, justification for her wardrobe!!!

LadiLark: YES!!  ::high five::

LegacyLdy2:::high five:::  Owww!  my hand!  LOL

LadiLark::  Soory about that!::

Meanwhile, down in Sloan's little corner of Hell...

The Imp grimaced, hoping that this time the irritating man would stop pestering him and let him get back to work.  After all, there were always little kids to torment, chaos to create...

...good, upstanding members of AOL to kick off-line.

"So tell me again what it is you do around here?"  Seemingly unphased by the searing heat or his terrible surroundings, the Precept of the Ruling House, London, merely settled back against the flaming rock, perfectly content and quite clearly not going anywhere.

At the smooth smile the human wore, the Imp sighed, more like a low growl, and resigned himself to a long afternoon in Hell.

Literally.

The End

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