Gotta love russian technology, wait, Jack, what are you doing......

ooc-first up, apologies, i pulled of some russian words from a site,
but came out in some odd language, possibly welsh...
<clip>
A flash could be seen from miles
around, and when it disappeared, a pair of smoldering boots were the
only
thing that could be seen by the russians. The leader removed a walkie
talkie from his jacket, and spoke into it
(translation begin) The intruder has been vapourised (end
translation)...
<end clip>
Keats kept running, the snow storm was covering him from the shots
coming from behind him, as he ran intot he village, he noticed how
quiet it was, still, even the russians wouldnt be out in a
snowstorm... he saw a large flash appear around him, before something
or someone landed on him... ' Sorry, ummm, is that you john...' the
warm friendly voice of the more dominant of Jacks personalities
greeted him. He sat there for a while... 'Umm, Jack, its great seeing
you and all...' started keats. 'yeah, its wierd, no, probably had
some kind of quantum effect that pulled me and the gun towards the
nearest singularic pulse effect... someone from our timeline..'
blurted Jack. 'Yes, thats great, one thing... GET THE FUCK OFF ME!'
JAck crawled off of John, before dusting off the snow 'Right, wed
better get indoors, my guns reading... oh...' Jack looked
dissapointedly at his gun, it had run outta juice from the
teleporter, wats worse, several of the polarised charge relays had
burnt out beyond repair. 'Shit' they said in unison. Keats looked
around, he saw a suitably pub looking building and headed there,
throwing the door open revealed it was indeed a pub, however, it was
deserted. 'Spooky, ah well, free booze' they headed to the bar area,
and gathered up several of the less toxic looking bottles. Much
celebrating went on before they locked themsleves in a room upstairs
and snoozed.
Later that night, assuming it was, the snow had a slightly darker
tinge than normal... anyway, later that night they awoke, several
profanities were said in varying degrees of loudness until one of the
two (you can never tell at night, especially in a russian snow storm)
unlocked the door and fell down the stairs, breaking the wooden wall
at the other end. 'Ohhhh F..' Several thousand miles southwest,
sitting in the vatican, The pope, who currently was giving mass
infront of several thousand twitched slightly and spilled some wine,
oes to show you can never tell the full power of a good profanity...
Keats appeared at the top of the stairs 'feeling better now are
we.... hmm, whats that behind you..' Jack had smashed into a hidden
room, in there was a cmputerised lock and a heavy blast door leading
downwards... 'Well, you know what that means...' Jack looked down and
sighed. 'Blancmange.. nope, blancmange... nope.....'
<tag> ooc-sorry, this is qutie shit, but hey, go for it andy me man!