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AU Interlude: Murder
Title: Murder
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
agenttrojie and tea_fiend
Rating: R
Authors' Notes Very much AU. Bad Slash Agents going flamethrower-, or in this case, scalpel-crazy. This has been sitting in googledocs for a while; we figured it was about time it was posted.
It was after the 43rd assassination in as many weeks that Agent Trojanhorse finally snapped.
She stepped through the portal back to Response Centre #45 with her jaw jutting dangerously and a steely glint in her eye. Absinthe, her enormous green sniffer dog, jumped up and washed her mistress's face energetically by way of greeting. Trojie ignored the dog, and stalked over to the cupboard by her bunk.
Agent Paddlebrains staggered through the portal a moment later, trying in vain to untangle her hair.
'Bloody dinoSue blood,' she muttered. 'Just once I'd like to come back from that continuum clean and untainted. What are you after?'
This last was directed at Trojie, whose upper body had disappeared into the recesses of the cupbaord.
'Trojie? Be careful in there, I think there's - ' She was interrupted by a crash and some muffled cursing. 'Er. Woodworm?'
Trojie ignored her partner, her focus on the large reinforced generic grey box in her hands as she reversed out of the remains of the cupboard.
'What's in the box?' Pads asked, slumping onto a chair and spurning her blood-encrusted hair in favour of rolling a cigarette.
Trojie simply grinned evilly. Pads sniffed, dog-like.
'Oh. Oh. Oh, no! Trojie, you can't! You've no idea what it even does!'
'Can't be anything worse than that bloody woman's put us through this past year.'
'No. I absolutely forbid it.' Pads folded her arms resolutely, and Absinthe whined, loath as ever to witness the humans arguing.
'It's not yours to forbid. Besides, who's the senior Agent here?'
'In age or in sanity? Because I beat you in both, now put it away!'
'So, what, you'd rather go back in there on a weekly basis and be subjected to...' Trojie waved an arm expansively, momentarily lost for words to describe their regular torture. 'I can handle the lack of plot, the abuse of punctuation, I don't even notice the hideous mischaracterisation any more, but I swear on the holy name of Kurt Cobain that if I have to watch any more dinosaurs mating with mammalian genitalia, I'm going flamethrower!'
There was an awkward silence as both Agents digested this most grave and serious of threats. Pads gave in first.
'So you're going to warp the entire continuum through Glod alone knows how many dimensions. I think Lucas and Spielberg might object.'
'It's the only way.'
'What if it wasn't?'
Trojie shook her head. 'I'm telling you, DOGA are never going to let us go down the strategically aimed meteor route.'
'Maybe they won't have to. Look, we keep exorcising and assassinating, right?'
'Nothing about it is right,' Trojie muttered sullenly, her fingers absently stroking the box that she still clutched as though it were a lifeline. Absinthe rested her head on the Agent's lap and eyed her dolefully.
'But they keep getting reincarnated. Why?'
'Because someone up there really wants us to suffer?'
'Someone wants us to suffer alright. Someone out there.'
'In the corridor?' Trojie glared at the door suspiciously.
'No. Someone out in the Real World.'
'The author...' Trojie's eyes narrowed, her voice dropping to an angry hiss. 'No,' she decided after a moment. 'We can't. The SO'd find out, and he'd... I don't know what he'd do, but it'd probably be creatively unpleasant. And we'd be screwing any chance we ever had of getting the last five years' back pay.'
'Then we'll just have to make sure we cover our tracks properly, won't we? Now come on, put the New Pie away.'
***
She had screamed and screamed and screamed.
It got to them, in the end. Not at first; HQ had inured both Agents to all manner of howls and sobs and shrieks of pain that rent the air and threatened the eardrums of those close by. But after about forty minutes, when the screams had broken and degenerated into cracked sobs and pitiful whimpers, Pads had broken.
'Trojie?' she said softly from the doorway.
'Mmm?' Trojie replied, distracted, the scalpel in her hand gleaming in the surgically bright light they had affixed to the ceiling.
'Can't you shut her up?'
'I could extract the vocal chords, if you like. Though I wasn't planning on slitting her throat. At least not yet.'
'I'd rather you didn't at all. I think I've seen enough blood.'
'Losing your touch?' Trojie asked, turning momentarily to her partner, eyebrow raised. On the table in front of her, the girl whimpered quietly, but the fight had gone out of her by that stage, and she made no attempt to escape her bonds.
'I'm no Assassin, I should never have had to deal with all this blood in the first place.'
Trojie shrugged, and, ignoring the bleeding girl for the moment, stood up and crossed the room to her Bag. Rummaging ensued.
'I'm nearly finished here anyway. Just got to stitch her up.' She groped in the depths of the Bag, eventually producing a needle, thread, and a sandwich. Stuffing the latter in her mouth, she returned to the girl, whose eyes followed the needle as it crossed the room and came to rest, hovering in front of her eyes.
'Which did you go for in the end?' Pads asked, settling down on a chair and fumbling in her pocket for tobacco.
'Crocodile. Let her enjoy that kind of sexuality. And I replaced her pituitary gland, as well.'
Pads frowned. 'I thought you were going to borrow one from C*l*br**n,' she said, effortlessly pronouncing the asterisks after months of practice.
'I still think it would've been cool, don't get me wrong,' Trojie told her partner. 'But...' She shuddered. 'Well, would you fancy nipping into that continuum and 'borrowing' an Orc's bits?'
'Point.'
'For a start, I'd have to take the Orc apart first. And I'd want to be sure I did it properly, so she functioned well once I'd put her back together, and I'm much more familiar with crocs than Orcs.'
***
The Weeds waiting for them in their RC were hardly a surprise. Neither were the handcuffs. Pads noted that by their fluffy covering, the cuffs had probably been lifted from her and Trojie's stash of things liberated from missions for barter at the Store.
Agents Trojanhorse and Paddlebrains, you are accused of kidnapping and torturing a human Author without the endorsement of an OFU. Come with me, please.
They were walked through the corridors of HQ, which were lined with Agents. Most were cheering.
'I thought they'd support us,' said Trojie sadly. 'Everyone wants to kill the Legendary Badficcers.'
'I think they do, sort of,' said Pads, looking at the sympathetic expressions on several faces. 'I just think maybe they think we took it too far.'
'Mum! Pads!' Their Triceratops daughter was pounding down the corridor towards them. 'What's happening?'
'Marsha, go back to the Nursery,' said Pads quietly.
'No, tell me what's going on! Someone said you'd been arrested!'
Trojie managed to pat her daughter's neck-frill as she and Pads were whisked away. 'We can't talk now. I love you!'
***
'I suppose we only have ourselves to blame,' said Pads on their second day of incarceration. 'I think it was sort of implied in the rulebook that hunting down actual authors was forbidden.'
'We didn't hunt her down,' said Trojie defensively.
'Yes we did. With dogs, actually, as you'll recall when your sanity has returned.'
'Oh, right, I remember. But that's not a crime!'
Pads mentally reviewed all the legal systems of which she had any smattering of knowledge, and ventured, 'Er, I think it is.'
'Only in, like, weird freak continuua.'
'Hunting humans down like animals is only approved of in one place that I can think of, and that's feudal Uberwald.'
'Precisely, which is why we set a booby-trap portal for her that made her land in feudal Uberwald, so that we could hunt her. I told you I'd thought it through.'
Pads smiled at the memories and reached for her partner's hand. 'Thank you.'
'I didn't do it for you. Well, not totally for you.' Trojie twined her fingers through Pads's.
'Been ages since I've had a good run through snow,' Pads said, still smiling. 'I'd almost forgotten how it crunches, and makes your whiskers shiver, and the smell, all cold and crisp and sort of deep orange...'
'I envy you your nose occasionally.'
'So, how many days to go?'
'Seven hundred and sixty two,' Trojie said promptly. Pads sighed, and leaned back against the grimy wall of their cell. 'Just think what we could do with all the time. You could write that novel you're always on about, and I can make some real breakthroughs in Sue biology. Well, theoretical breakthroughs. Can't really test 'em in here. Unless... You don't think the SO's sadistic enough to let Sues in here, do you?'
'Better not be,' Pads murmured, a little distracted. Her eyes had glazed over a little, and she appeared lost in thought.
'Pads? You better not have gone stark raving tonto already. I'm not sharing a cell with a lunatic for the next two and a half years.'
'Not gone mad. Just thinking about how we could pass the time.'
'Oh.' Trojie gave Pads a sideways look, and devoted her attention to that part of her brain that linked her inextricably with her partner. 'Oh. I see. Yes, that'd certainly be a distraction.'
'You know,' Pads said conversationally as they groped for one another in the darkness, 'it's a good thing you gave in in the end.'
'Oh?'
'If you'd not given in to my irresistible charms...'
'I had to. Sort of the definition of 'irresistible', really.'
'...You'd now be stuck in a cell with a madwoman who wanted in your knickers.'
'For two and a half years,' Trojie said softly, her hand locating Pads's knee and stroking it gently. 'I'd've ended up killing you.'
'Just like that poor deluded author.'
'Possibly without the genital reconstructive surgery first.'
'You're too good to me.'
'Not really. Just thinking ahead.'
'Disturbingly necrophiliac tendencies aside...'
'Are you dead?'
'Not yet, thank Glod.'
'Then I'm not a necrophiliac. And you don't have crocodile bits, so everything's hunky-dory.'
'Except the cell.'
'Could be worse.'
'Could be in here with LBTwriter.'
And both agents dissolved into disturbingly manic cackles as, their minds filled with the shining memory of blood and snow and cries of terror carried on the icy wind, they began distracting one another from their predicament.
FIN.
Author:
agenttrojie and tea_fiendRating: R
Authors' Notes Very much AU. Bad Slash Agents going flamethrower-, or in this case, scalpel-crazy. This has been sitting in googledocs for a while; we figured it was about time it was posted.
It was after the 43rd assassination in as many weeks that Agent Trojanhorse finally snapped.
She stepped through the portal back to Response Centre #45 with her jaw jutting dangerously and a steely glint in her eye. Absinthe, her enormous green sniffer dog, jumped up and washed her mistress's face energetically by way of greeting. Trojie ignored the dog, and stalked over to the cupboard by her bunk.
Agent Paddlebrains staggered through the portal a moment later, trying in vain to untangle her hair.
'Bloody dinoSue blood,' she muttered. 'Just once I'd like to come back from that continuum clean and untainted. What are you after?'
This last was directed at Trojie, whose upper body had disappeared into the recesses of the cupbaord.
'Trojie? Be careful in there, I think there's - ' She was interrupted by a crash and some muffled cursing. 'Er. Woodworm?'
Trojie ignored her partner, her focus on the large reinforced generic grey box in her hands as she reversed out of the remains of the cupboard.
'What's in the box?' Pads asked, slumping onto a chair and spurning her blood-encrusted hair in favour of rolling a cigarette.
Trojie simply grinned evilly. Pads sniffed, dog-like.
'Oh. Oh. Oh, no! Trojie, you can't! You've no idea what it even does!'
'Can't be anything worse than that bloody woman's put us through this past year.'
'No. I absolutely forbid it.' Pads folded her arms resolutely, and Absinthe whined, loath as ever to witness the humans arguing.
'It's not yours to forbid. Besides, who's the senior Agent here?'
'In age or in sanity? Because I beat you in both, now put it away!'
'So, what, you'd rather go back in there on a weekly basis and be subjected to...' Trojie waved an arm expansively, momentarily lost for words to describe their regular torture. 'I can handle the lack of plot, the abuse of punctuation, I don't even notice the hideous mischaracterisation any more, but I swear on the holy name of Kurt Cobain that if I have to watch any more dinosaurs mating with mammalian genitalia, I'm going flamethrower!'
There was an awkward silence as both Agents digested this most grave and serious of threats. Pads gave in first.
'So you're going to warp the entire continuum through Glod alone knows how many dimensions. I think Lucas and Spielberg might object.'
'It's the only way.'
'What if it wasn't?'
Trojie shook her head. 'I'm telling you, DOGA are never going to let us go down the strategically aimed meteor route.'
'Maybe they won't have to. Look, we keep exorcising and assassinating, right?'
'Nothing about it is right,' Trojie muttered sullenly, her fingers absently stroking the box that she still clutched as though it were a lifeline. Absinthe rested her head on the Agent's lap and eyed her dolefully.
'But they keep getting reincarnated. Why?'
'Because someone up there really wants us to suffer?'
'Someone wants us to suffer alright. Someone out there.'
'In the corridor?' Trojie glared at the door suspiciously.
'No. Someone out in the Real World.'
'The author...' Trojie's eyes narrowed, her voice dropping to an angry hiss. 'No,' she decided after a moment. 'We can't. The SO'd find out, and he'd... I don't know what he'd do, but it'd probably be creatively unpleasant. And we'd be screwing any chance we ever had of getting the last five years' back pay.'
'Then we'll just have to make sure we cover our tracks properly, won't we? Now come on, put the New Pie away.'
***
She had screamed and screamed and screamed.
It got to them, in the end. Not at first; HQ had inured both Agents to all manner of howls and sobs and shrieks of pain that rent the air and threatened the eardrums of those close by. But after about forty minutes, when the screams had broken and degenerated into cracked sobs and pitiful whimpers, Pads had broken.
'Trojie?' she said softly from the doorway.
'Mmm?' Trojie replied, distracted, the scalpel in her hand gleaming in the surgically bright light they had affixed to the ceiling.
'Can't you shut her up?'
'I could extract the vocal chords, if you like. Though I wasn't planning on slitting her throat. At least not yet.'
'I'd rather you didn't at all. I think I've seen enough blood.'
'Losing your touch?' Trojie asked, turning momentarily to her partner, eyebrow raised. On the table in front of her, the girl whimpered quietly, but the fight had gone out of her by that stage, and she made no attempt to escape her bonds.
'I'm no Assassin, I should never have had to deal with all this blood in the first place.'
Trojie shrugged, and, ignoring the bleeding girl for the moment, stood up and crossed the room to her Bag. Rummaging ensued.
'I'm nearly finished here anyway. Just got to stitch her up.' She groped in the depths of the Bag, eventually producing a needle, thread, and a sandwich. Stuffing the latter in her mouth, she returned to the girl, whose eyes followed the needle as it crossed the room and came to rest, hovering in front of her eyes.
'Which did you go for in the end?' Pads asked, settling down on a chair and fumbling in her pocket for tobacco.
'Crocodile. Let her enjoy that kind of sexuality. And I replaced her pituitary gland, as well.'
Pads frowned. 'I thought you were going to borrow one from C*l*br**n,' she said, effortlessly pronouncing the asterisks after months of practice.
'I still think it would've been cool, don't get me wrong,' Trojie told her partner. 'But...' She shuddered. 'Well, would you fancy nipping into that continuum and 'borrowing' an Orc's bits?'
'Point.'
'For a start, I'd have to take the Orc apart first. And I'd want to be sure I did it properly, so she functioned well once I'd put her back together, and I'm much more familiar with crocs than Orcs.'
***
The Weeds waiting for them in their RC were hardly a surprise. Neither were the handcuffs. Pads noted that by their fluffy covering, the cuffs had probably been lifted from her and Trojie's stash of things liberated from missions for barter at the Store.
Agents Trojanhorse and Paddlebrains, you are accused of kidnapping and torturing a human Author without the endorsement of an OFU. Come with me, please.
They were walked through the corridors of HQ, which were lined with Agents. Most were cheering.
'I thought they'd support us,' said Trojie sadly. 'Everyone wants to kill the Legendary Badficcers.'
'I think they do, sort of,' said Pads, looking at the sympathetic expressions on several faces. 'I just think maybe they think we took it too far.'
'Mum! Pads!' Their Triceratops daughter was pounding down the corridor towards them. 'What's happening?'
'Marsha, go back to the Nursery,' said Pads quietly.
'No, tell me what's going on! Someone said you'd been arrested!'
Trojie managed to pat her daughter's neck-frill as she and Pads were whisked away. 'We can't talk now. I love you!'
***
'I suppose we only have ourselves to blame,' said Pads on their second day of incarceration. 'I think it was sort of implied in the rulebook that hunting down actual authors was forbidden.'
'We didn't hunt her down,' said Trojie defensively.
'Yes we did. With dogs, actually, as you'll recall when your sanity has returned.'
'Oh, right, I remember. But that's not a crime!'
Pads mentally reviewed all the legal systems of which she had any smattering of knowledge, and ventured, 'Er, I think it is.'
'Only in, like, weird freak continuua.'
'Hunting humans down like animals is only approved of in one place that I can think of, and that's feudal Uberwald.'
'Precisely, which is why we set a booby-trap portal for her that made her land in feudal Uberwald, so that we could hunt her. I told you I'd thought it through.'
Pads smiled at the memories and reached for her partner's hand. 'Thank you.'
'I didn't do it for you. Well, not totally for you.' Trojie twined her fingers through Pads's.
'Been ages since I've had a good run through snow,' Pads said, still smiling. 'I'd almost forgotten how it crunches, and makes your whiskers shiver, and the smell, all cold and crisp and sort of deep orange...'
'I envy you your nose occasionally.'
'So, how many days to go?'
'Seven hundred and sixty two,' Trojie said promptly. Pads sighed, and leaned back against the grimy wall of their cell. 'Just think what we could do with all the time. You could write that novel you're always on about, and I can make some real breakthroughs in Sue biology. Well, theoretical breakthroughs. Can't really test 'em in here. Unless... You don't think the SO's sadistic enough to let Sues in here, do you?'
'Better not be,' Pads murmured, a little distracted. Her eyes had glazed over a little, and she appeared lost in thought.
'Pads? You better not have gone stark raving tonto already. I'm not sharing a cell with a lunatic for the next two and a half years.'
'Not gone mad. Just thinking about how we could pass the time.'
'Oh.' Trojie gave Pads a sideways look, and devoted her attention to that part of her brain that linked her inextricably with her partner. 'Oh. I see. Yes, that'd certainly be a distraction.'
'You know,' Pads said conversationally as they groped for one another in the darkness, 'it's a good thing you gave in in the end.'
'Oh?'
'If you'd not given in to my irresistible charms...'
'I had to. Sort of the definition of 'irresistible', really.'
'...You'd now be stuck in a cell with a madwoman who wanted in your knickers.'
'For two and a half years,' Trojie said softly, her hand locating Pads's knee and stroking it gently. 'I'd've ended up killing you.'
'Just like that poor deluded author.'
'Possibly without the genital reconstructive surgery first.'
'You're too good to me.'
'Not really. Just thinking ahead.'
'Disturbingly necrophiliac tendencies aside...'
'Are you dead?'
'Not yet, thank Glod.'
'Then I'm not a necrophiliac. And you don't have crocodile bits, so everything's hunky-dory.'
'Except the cell.'
'Could be worse.'
'Could be in here with LBTwriter.'
And both agents dissolved into disturbingly manic cackles as, their minds filled with the shining memory of blood and snow and cries of terror carried on the icy wind, they began distracting one another from their predicament.
FIN.
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I honestly don't know whether I like it or want to run from the room screaming. She definitely deserved it though, even if... well, ick. Crocodile. *shudder* Ick.
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Reminds me, my agents need to get into some kind of Big Trouble for their repeated attempts at doing what probably counts as "trivialised rape" - using the Redneck Trees and Drip Tiberius Rat as execution methods, and the time during the recruiting fiasco when they rectally violated a guy with a scythe handle for trying to rape and eat Laburnum. I really can't let them keep getting away with behaviour like that. (Skyfire making them use the Rape Jar doesn't count as enough punishment.) Thoughts?
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