Title: Vin Strikes Back (Fanfic War Story)
Author: Tiffiny ficaddict@aol.com
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not even a little.
Two figures sat hunched over a table in the far corner of the saloon.
In front of them were spread several sheets of paper and various
writing implements.
"Do we got a deal?" the taller of the two figures drawled
questioningly.
His companion nodded her head eagerly in reply.
"You sure you understand the terms?" the man asked yet again.
"No hat. No coat. One roll of film. No touching without the required
preapproval." The girl repeated the terms obediently.
It was the man's turn to nod.
"Here." he said, handing her a pencil. "Start writin."
Vin Tanner exited the saloon and made his way purposefully down the
dusty street. He hadn't gone far when he spotted a familiar
figure.
"Mornin' cowboy." he drawled, walking over to where Chris Larabee
stood.
Blue eyes twinkling, the tracker LEANED against the nearest wall and
smiled at his friend, luscious lips quirking in...
"Hey, now! Stop that!" Back in the saloon, the man glared at his
companion in disgust.
"Sorry." the girl replied sheepishly. "I got caught up in the
moment."
"It won't happen again." she added quickly, seeing the man's frown grow
increasingly ominous.
The man eyed her suspiciously, but said nothing further.
"What are you grinnin' about?" the blackclad man looked at his
friend curiously.
"I got me a plan to hit those dang fic writers where it hurts. It may
not stop 'em but it should cause them a little sufferin." Vin smiled
smugly.
"What is it? Tell me!" Chris Larabee demanded in a tone bordering on
the desperate.
"Nope. No can do, pard." Vin shook his head. "Ya never know when one
of 'em might be listening."
As Chris nodded his head in understanding, Vin resumed his interrupted
journey.
He arrived at the barbershop a few short minutes later. He seated
himself in the chair and glanced at the waiting barber. He opened his
mouth to speak.
"I'll just have the usual." he found himself saying.
Back in the saloon, the man grabbed the piece of paper from his
companion with a snarl.
"That aint what I was supposed to say!" he yelled, glaring down at the
girl.
"I'm sorry." she whimpered pathetically. "I'm a Vixen. I just
couldn't do it."
"Maybe if you included the shirt as part of the deal?" she looked up
hopefully.
"Forget it!" snapped an irate Vin Tanner. "I'll do it myself."
"I should've known better than to trust one of you crazy girls anyway."
he muttered, tapping his pencil irritably.
Vin ignored his companions desperate pleas as he began to write, slowly
at first, then quickly gaining speed.
Vin Tanner exited the barbershop, freshly shaven head gleaming in
the afternoon sun. Although a gleeful smile lit his features, there
was no corresponding twinkle in the blue eyes. Those eyes had seen
their last twinkle.
Chris Larabee gaped at his friend in shock and sank slowly into one of
the chairs outside the jail as he watched his friend's approach.
"Hey pard." Vin's clipped tones were completely unlike his former slow
drawl and he stood ramrod straight as he stopped to greet his
friend.
The man in the saloon sat back in his chair, looking mighty pleased
with himself. He prodded his comatose companion, who'd fainted as the
first lock of hair had hit the floor.
"You wouldn't happen to know of a store where I could get me some
clothes like those pilgrim people wore? he inquired. I need a new
jacket."
A faint moan was his only response.
"Never mind." he told the still figure on the floor.
Waving his pencil triumphantly, he added. "I"ll find one myself."
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