Glimpsing the Fandom

by Dreamality

Disclaimer: Lost and all related characters, settings, plots, etc. belong to J.J. Abrams and ABC. I claim no ownership and make no money from this venture. Survivor belongs to Mark Burnett and oliphaunts are the creation of J.R.R. Tolkien.


Chapter Seven: In Which the Master Plan is Revealed

"Our plan is working. The Bosses are pleased." The polar bear crossed her arms behind her head and leaned back languidly, surveying the security monitors that stretched from floor to ceiling along the wall in front of her. She glanced at the yellow Labrador at her side and grinned. "You've done well for yourself, Vincent."

"Thanks. Not like it's hard. Humans are so easy to manipulate." Vincent joined the polar bear in a throaty laugh as they watched Jack sit in front of the computer screen in the jungle, surfing the web for good fan fiction sights. "We can make them do whatever we want."

"Yes. They are rather simplistic creatures, aren't they? They've no idea that they were simply pawns in a great reality show. The audiences are voting and the final tally will come in soon. At that point we send the monster after the first victim," the polar bear said.

"The genius of the plan amazes me. Survivor has nothing on us. After all, what's more dramatic? Seeing a torch put out or seeing someone get mangled by a monster?" Vincent asked.

"Has anyone said anything? You're sure we're safe?" the polar bear asked, suddenly giving Vincent a sharp glance.

"Don't worry, Sahara. Everything's fine. Like I've said, humans are dumber than doornails. They'll never catch on. I can't believe they haven't noticed the cameras yet! I mean, we're not exactly discreet about strapping them onto the backs of the boars or the birds or hiding them in the bunches of bananas," Vincent said.

"They're all too busy staring moodily out to sea or creating sexual tension to notice things like that." The polar bear switch views so they could see Walt. He was calling for his dog. The view switched again to Charlie and Claire, who were singing to the baby.

"Who did you vote for?" Vincent asked suddenly.

"Sawyer. Bastard shot my cousin!" Sahara spat vehemently. "He's lucky I don't run him down myself."

"Why'd you send Ralphie after them anyway?" Vincent asked curiously.

"Same reason I sent Snowflake after your boy. They were coming too close to headquarters. That would have been disastrous!" Sahara switched views again. They were looking at Locke and Boone, who were out in the jungle looking at a mysterious hatch that refused to open. "Fools," Sahara muttered. "Once they break in, all they'll find are some computers that can only access the QVC website!"

"Brilliant ploy, that," Vincent complimented. They were looking at Walt again, only he wasn't calling for Vincent anymore. He seemed to have found something buried in the sand and was digging at it. Sahara recognized it at once and gasped.

"It's the electrical box! If he finds that we're screwed! All the cables lead to that, all he'd have to do is follow it and he'd find us! Go, Vincent, do your job!"

Vincent galloped out of the underground control center to distract Walt. Sahara leaned back again and looked over a fax the Bosses –the producers and creators of this intricate reality show– in America had sent her. Ratings were still up, she saw, but that damn American Idol was starting to creep in on them.

Perhaps it was time for a little publicity stunt? Sahara wondered how viewers would react to a volcano explosion. Or an earthquake. It was all a button's press away on this manmade island. Or maybe something more dramatic, something more emotional? He could send another shark after one of the Red Shirts, or…

No. She had it. The brilliant plan that would draw in millions more viewers and get Sahara a nice fat raise…

It was time to release the oliphaunts.



A big, huge, massive, mondoTHANK YOU goes out to everyone who reviewed this fic. I love you all to bits and pieces and I'm so glad I coudl provide you with a little entertainment!