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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