MEGARAN LEGAL – Title Sequence and Act One

Opening Titles

Megara Three bobs jauntily along the office corridor, aware that all optical sensors, organic and non- were on him. And rightly so.

Cut to –

Megara Six spins around behind her desk to flash a tantalising glimpse of her inner glow.

Cut to –

Crusty old Megara Four pulses sternly as he surveys the other Megara arrayed before him around the conference table.

Cut to –

Megara One blinks his surprise, a picture of innocence as he zips out from under the skirt of a legal secretary.

Cut to –

Megara Two buzzes out from an office doorway, a dotty and endearing lilt to her flight path as she scans the corridor.

(Wah wah wah wadawa wah wah.)


A beam, magnesium bright, lanced across the conference room and blew the Cyberman’s head off. The man’s grin could be classed as collateral damage as that was wiped clean off his face. Thankfully it had nothing to do with the searing energy and much more to do with the smoking Cyberman’s head that rolled across the carpet and thunked into a table leg close to Megara Three’s chair.

“What the hell did ye do that for?” demanded the tartan-suited fellow. “He’s with me!”

Three sympathised, in so far as his coolly logical mind would allow, but for the moment he was more focused on directing the appropriate level of disapproval at Megara One. “There’s also the question,” he said, “of where ‘Denny’ here availed himself of the disruptor beam. I thought we’d had you disarmed.”

“I believe every sentient being has the right to bear firearms.” One appeared to realise that everyone was expecting something more from his explanation. “And the right to re-equip themselves behind everyone’s back as soon as the opportunity presents itself.”

“Well, we’ll just have to disarm you again, won’t we,” insisted Four, managing an effective glower by upping the intensity of his natural glare by several tens of factors.

“Nothing doing,” protested One. “You’ll have to pluck it out of my cold dead core.”

“That can be arranged.”

“Anyway, it was a Cyberman. I reacted on impulse. They’re known to be hostile to all other forms of life.”

Two heaped on the wry. “It’s questionable whether you’re a form of life.”

The man in tartan stepped up to the table. “And anyway, like I said, this one’s not hostile.” He stooped to pick up the head by its convenient handlebars. Behind him the decapitated Cyberman stood framed in the doorway, still upright and coughing up black smoke from his collar. (Three considered a comment about the office’s no-smoking policy, but deemed it unwise given that their betartaned client still looked a little upset.) “At least, he wasn’t,” the man added, glumly examining the Cyberman head in his hands. The fixed slit-mouth and round eyes with the little tear-drop indent actually combined to lend it a fairly miserable expression of its own. “Alas,” the fellow began with a sigh, “poor – ”

“Please don’t do that joke,” requested Three. “We’re very sorry for your loss. Of course the firm will reimburse you.”

“Reimburse? You’ve got to be kidding!” The man held out the head for everyone to see. “This is an Invasion era Cyberman. Mint condition, he was. Irreplaceable.” He glanced back at the charred and ragged neck of the still-standing body. “I guess I can effect some repairs. But he won’t fetch nearly as much on e-bay.”

“E-bay?” said Six, horrified. “Are you meaning to suggest you trade in sentient species?” She nodded to Three. “I can see now why you were dubious about defending this man.”

“No, no. I’m not saying I’ll sell him. Poor lad.” He patted his Cyberman’s crown. “But you know, if he’s no good to the team any more, I’d like to make sure he goes to a good home.”

“The team?” queried Six.

“Aye.” The fellow surveyed the room, taking in each of the bobbing glowing spheroids in turn. “Have you no gone over the facts of my case yet?”

“We were getting to that,” said Two, shooting a sidelong datastream at One. “Please, take a seat, Mr – ah?”

“Jester,” said the man. “The Jester. Pleased to make your acquaintances.” He smiled as he sat, depositing the Cyberman head in his lap – and then thinking better of it and placing it on the table in front of him. He winked at Six. “Will you be taking my case, lassie? I think I’d rather like hearing your siky tones pleading my innocence.”

“No, I’m afraid Megara Six will be busy with another case. A parole hearing.” Three did his best to bow towards the Jester. “I will be handling your case. Ably assisted by Megara One over there.”

One beamed. Not with the disruptor this time, but merely shining a tad brighter. “Can we at least drop the Megaras?” he suggested. “Excuse us, Jester, we were discussing the matter of names when you entered. Megara this and Megara that, it’s all a bit of a mouthful, wouldn’t you agree? And it’ll be hard to tell us all apart on the page.”

“Er, what page would that be?”

“The minutes,” said One like it was obvious. He winked at Claudia, the human secretary who had carried on tapping quietly away in the corner throughout. “You are taking the minutes, I take it, Claudia?”

“Trying to,” she said. “Except someone keeps buzzing me with their tactile projection field.”

“What I like to call my sphere of influence,” said One and he winked again.

“It always comes back to balls with you, doesn’t it,” observed Two with more wry on top of her earlier wry. “Now can we please get back to the matter in hand. Perhaps, Jester, you’d care to go over the key points of your case. What is it that you’re supposed to have done?”

[To Be Continued…]


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