The Uncouth Canadian
You can blame my son for this one... he suggested an Xmen and due South crossover, in which Benny attempts to arrest Wolverine. It ended up longer than I expected, and with a serious case of battling Rays. Hope you enjoy. (Implication of RayK/Fraser established relationship, nothing shown.)
“I'm sure the reports have been wildly exaggerated,” Fraser says. He sounds almost convincing, but Vecchio spots the tell tale signs that his friend is less than sure of himself. He hasn't gone 'huh' yet, but he is tugging on his ear, and doing the super Canadian Mountie act. Well, he always does that, but ever since the complaints started coming in from the local hunters, tour guides and trappers, he's been doing it even more than usual. It's tourist season, which means it's surprisingly busy up here, beyond the tree line. Normally the worst you could expect would be hunting accidents, a couple of old boys getting drunk and taking a swing at each other. Not whatever the hell this was.
At least the dull pounding seems to be growing more intermittent. Maybe those 'icegods' were getting tired.
“Look, Benny,” Vecchio says, “you know you don't have to go out alone on this one. I mean, these guys are probably dangerous, hopped up on drugs or something, from the sound of it.”
Kowalski jumps in, with an angry glare in Vecchio's direction. “He's not going alone. I'm going with.”
“Well, I'm going with too.” Vecchio folds his arms across his chest and prepares for a physical altercation of some kind. That's one thing about Kowalski, at least he doesn't treat him as an invalid. Vecchio's pretty sure that if he can make Kowalski lose his temper, he'd have the decency to kick him in the head. He's an equal opportunity bruiser. Vecchio quite likes that.
“Neither of you is coming with,” Fraser says, dropping for a moment into the vernacular. Jeez he must be really stressed. “You, Ray,” he says, pointing at Vecchio, “are on holiday, and you, Ray,” pointing to Kowalski, “have seemed rather on edge recently, and will probably want to engage in fisticuffs, which I'm sure is a bad idea.”
“Yeah, especially if these two bozos actually are icegods,” snipes Vecchio. At least two people have reported "icegods" as being behind the banging and thundering, and Vecchio's still trying not to laugh when he thinks of it.
“They are not icegods,” Kowalski sneers back. “There's no such thing.”
“Well, they certainly do seem to be fierce individuals,” Fraser interjects, “and I rather suspect it's going to take some creative thinking to bring them into custody.”
“What, and Kowalski and me can't be creative? Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Benny.”
Kowalski looks rather startled by Vecchio sticking up for him, but quickly jumps on the bandwagon. “Yeah, show a little faith, Fraser. Vecchio and me are cops after all. Well, we used to be. We've got your back.”
Fraser sighs. “Okay then, but at least remember to bring your glasses.”
“I'm blind, not stupid.”
Fraser puts a friendly hand on Kowalski's shoulder, and squeezes. Vecchio looks away, ashamed that he's jealous of the gesture.
“Come on then, let's load up the dog sled.”
…
“I am freezing my nuts off here,” Vecchio complains, inaccurately. It's actually his nose that is cold, even behind the scarf.
“That seems highly unlikely, Ray,” Fraser calls from behind him. His voice sounds very far away, whipped as it is by the wind. “You seemed adequately clothed for the weather.”
“He's just moaning for the sake of it,” Kowalski grumbles, scrunched up next to Vecchio, and radiating an increasingly foul mood. Vecchio promptly sneezes, and Kowalski makes an 'ick' noise, and hunches in on himself some more.
Finally, they reach the recently formed crater. Fraser's weight pulls back, and the dogs slow down, then stop. For a moment, all three men hang expectantly in the silence, as the hiss of snow and the soft thunder of the dogs dies away.
“It's supposed to be here,” Fraser says, puzzled. “Can't hear anything.”
It's true. At some point the thumping and banging, the shuddering of the earth, has stopped.
“Something's queer,” says Kowalski, and Vecchio resists the urge to say, 'yeah, you,' because he doesn't actually mind queer. For reasons that he has no desire to explore at this, or any other juncture, he's just pissed off that if Kowalski decided to be queer, it had to be with Fraser. And besides, the guy's right... something is... well, weird.
It hits him all of a sudden. It's the dogs. Normally they'd be huffing and panting and snuffling each other affectionately in the aftermath of a run. Instead, they're all lying flat to the ground, shivering with more than the cold. Fraser gets off the back of the sled, and slowly goes to the lip of the crater. Finally he says it, the little syllable that Vecchio's been waiting for ever since the reports started coming in. “Huh.” In this context, of course, it means, 'what I have just seen makes no sense in this or any other universe. There is a distinct possibility that I have entirely lost my mind.' Well, that's what it sounds like to Vecchio, who has become highly attuned to the various levels of Fraser's crazy. He shares a look with Kowalski, and it's obvious that he just made the same translation.
Uncomfortably the two passengers disentangle themselves from the sled, and step up to where Fraser is poised, wondering what on earth they're going to see that triggered that particular 'huh'.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Kowalski speaks first. For once Vecchio is struck dumb. Fraser seems similarly afflicted, pulling his left ear as though he expects some kind of magical solution to pop out of it. Vecchio gathers his breath, puts a hand on Fraser's shoulder, and finally says something.
“Are you sure this isn't a prank? I mean, maybe it's some kind of Inuit version of street theatre or something... I mean, that can't be real.”
“Don't be stupid,” Kowalski snaps, “first of all, we're nowhere near a street and these guys are definitely not Inuit...” his voice fades for a moment, then he questions, in a little voice, “do you think they're human?”
“Well, they're not icegods, I don't care what the fuck it looks like.” Vecchio isn't quite as sure of himself as he'd like to be. Since he met Fraser life has taken some rather surprising turns, and somehow the possibility of icegods doesn't seem so weird out here in the great white snow as it did a mere twenty minutes ago.
“I think...” Fraser says, and shifts uncomfortably, “I think I have an idea who they might be.”
Vecchio catches sight of Kowalski's expression, as he looks to Fraser for an answer. It's charmingly little boy and innocent, like he honestly expects Fraser to know what the hell is going on. Again, for a moment he's pissed about it, then he's just sad. Because much as he loves Fraser, he doesn't have it in him to trust him unfailingly. He doesn't trust anyone unfailingly, especially not himself. He can see what Fraser sees in the other guy... a really sweet innocence. Damn. Now he was sounding queer.
He blusters, to distract himself from his thoughts, “go on then, Benny, who the hell are they?”
“Well,” Fraser starts, still looking perturbed by the scene in the crater below. “There is a story of two brothers...”
“Oh, don't tell me it's Cain and Abel...”
“No, but I suppose on some symbolic level...”
“Sorry, spare the symbolism,” Vecchio sighs, “I shouldn't have interrupted.”
Fraser gives a wry little smile, and begins again. “There were two brothers, who lived in the eighteen hundreds, but when they came to manhood something very peculiar happened. Instead of growing older, as most of us do, they seemed to continue year after year, the same. And wherever there was battle, or bloodshed or war, there they were.”
“So, they're like ancient warriors or something?” Kowalski sounds completely un-phased by this, as though he's been running into supernatural monsters all his life.
“Yes,” Fraser continues, “well, not ancient. Not truly ancient, in the greater scheme of things. Only a hundred odd years old. They were Canadians, a bit further south than we are now. They grew up amongst the trees. But at some point over the years they fell out with each other, and they've been fighting ever since.”
“They're Canadians?” Vecchio felt his eyebrows pop up in surprise, and snuck another glance at the bellicose bastards circling each other like angry cats. “Shouldn't they be like, extradited or something for bad manners?”
“Despite your high opinion of Canada, Ray, I'm sorry to say we're not all as polite as you think.”
“Obviously.” Vecchio continues to stare at the bizarre scene unfolding below. “And...” Vecchio finally gets around to stating the bleeding obvious. “It's all well and good, that story I mean, but...” he pauses. He can't believe he's going to say this... it was just insane. “None of this explains the claws.”
There is a long silence as the men stare into the pit. Right in the belly of it the two brothers are still sizing each other, like pugilists, only with fistfuls of knives. They are looking pretty exhausted, which, given that the banging and thumping has been going on for hours, is not surprising. Or maybe they're getting bored, and just can't make up their minds who is going to back down first. The hairier of the two seems to have knobbly pointy bones for blades, and a terrible dental problem, the other is better equipped with what appears to be nothing short of metal swords. The only problem being that 'boneys' weapons seem to protrude from his fingertips, while Edward Scissorhands has them thrusting from between his knuckles.
It's obviously some kind of trick.
One of them, the knobbly hairy one, lunges forward, and takes a slice at his brother, who deflects, and twists round to better jab a blade into his brother's eye socket.
“Ouch,” both Kowalski and Vecchio declare.
“That's it,” Fraser states, uncompromisingly. “We can't allow this to continue.”
“Fraser!” Kowalski yells, and “Benny!” Vecchio bellows, but it's too late. Fraser has taken the plunge, literally, and is skittering down the side of the crater like a man skiing, or surfing down the long glide of a wave. Of course when his two friends try to follow him they just end up rolling ass over elbow instead.
“Ouch.” The blue white blue of snow and sky has stopped spinning, and the bumping has come to an end. Vecchio is feeling it, and regretting his decision not to take his painkillers this morning. He might have coughed up the golden bullet, but he hasn't been a hundred percent fit ever since. Maybe coming out here wasn't such a good idea. Not the holiday, that was fine, he always enjoyed the holiday, it was just the side trip into lala land that was doing him in. Not that he could reasonably have expected fucking giants to be walking the earth.
Okay, they weren't giants, but they might as well be, the damage they were doing.
Bang. Thud. Shudder. Great, the earth is quaking again.
He sits up to notice that Kowalski looks as dazed as he is. Before he gets a chance to crawl over to him, a tremendous crack splits the air, and he hears the poor pack dogs howling. One brother, he can't tell which, is swinging the other brother round and round like a Scottish Highlander swinging a hammer, or a log, or a discus, or whatever the hell it is they throw. There's literally a 'whee' sound as the air parts before the flying guy, who looks briefly startled as he sails up from the crater and out of sight. A long moment passes before there's a distant 'whump', presumably as flying psycho hits the ground.
Kowalski is sitting up now, looking bleary, and trying to fit his glasses to his nose. Vecchio makes it to him, checking there's nothing broken, and says, “hey, keep them off, you don't want to see this. We're officially in the twilight zone.”
Kowalski pulls a face, and tries to yank his leg out from under the loose scree. Somehow he's gotten trapped, and he's pretty pissed about it. Vecchio starts digging to release the other man, but Kowalski points to his pack which has tumbled out of his reach, and says one word. Well, two actually. “Tranquilliser gun.”
Vecchio grins. “You thought of everything.”
Kowalski looks smug, and mischievous, which is weirdly endearing, and also pretty unlikely under the circumstances. It's as though he's used to this kind of thing, being trapped in a pit with his leg pinned by rubble, and a bunch of thunder gods taking swipes at each other. What the hell kind of adventures had he and Benny been having, for him to take this in his stride?
“Yeah, proper preparation prevents weird fuckups,” Kowalski says, and damn near starts laughing.
Vecchio creeps toward the backpack, and drags it back to Kowalski. After all, he might resent the guy at times, but the fact is he's a much better shot... at least when he's wearing his glasses. It's like superman in reverse. Put the glasses on and he's super nerd, sharp shooter extraordinaire.
Without the glasses he couldn't hit the back end of a barn.
He suddenly realises he's doing it again... thinking a whole load of random nonsense to avoid the weird crap that's going on around him. Because the brother who didn't fly through the air is standing there, with his metal claws still out (so it was Edward Scissorhands who threw Boney through the air. Vecchio wonders did Boney bounce, or just form another crater.) Eddie is huffing and puffing, has his back to Vecchio, Kowalski and Fraser. Which would be fine, if Eddie would just take off, once he's caught his breath... but Fraser... Fraser...
“Oh, you've got to be kidding me,” Vecchio mutters, as he sees Fraser marching purposefully towards the scissor guy.
“My name is Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, and I am placing you under arrest for...”
Eddie turns around to face Fraser, and for the first time the three men get a good look at him. Kowalski blurts out, “hey, you there, that's right, you with the razors, how come you don't shave?”
Vecchio rolls his eyes. It's like the guy's got foot in mouth disease... he's surprised he doesn't have athlete's foot of the gums. You don't go picking fights with metal monsters. Or mental monsters. Or icegods. Or mythological Cain and Abel figures. You just shut up and...
Well, no. Apparently Kowalski can't help being cheeky, and Fraser can't help trying to arrest the guy. He's at it again.
“I am placing you under arrest for disturbance of the...”
And the hairy guy with the knives poking through his fists is laughing. At Fraser.
And suddenly Vecchio is really, really pissed.
“Hey, furface, you ever seen yourself in the mirrror? Try laughing at that.”
Eddie turned to look at him with an expression of bemusement, and Vecchio grabbed a fistful of the nearest missile and throws it at him.
Unfortunately, his choice of weapon was a snowball. Which doesn't do much to deter this particular uncouth Canadian. The guy starts stomping towards him with a look of thunder in his eyes, and Vecchio finds himself flinging snowballs like he's ten again, and in the middle of a street snowball mob war. Okay, he might be thrashed to death like a wet dish cloth, but he'll go out fighting.
With snow.
Shit.
At which point there is the sound of a shot, and a rather surprised expression on Eddie's face. His knives suddenly slide backward into his hands (and wow, that looks sort of sick) and the guy goes 'flumph' as he hits the ground.
Kowalski is looking pleased with himself. “Hey, Vecchio, thanks for distracting him.”
“Yeah... you're welcome,” he replies, thankful that Kowalski thinks he had some grand plan in his stupidity.
Fraser is looking rather bewildered. “You know, I'm not entirely sure that I have jurisdiction over this matter,” he says.
“You mean you don't want to be here when he wakes up,” Vecchio says, and instantly regrets it. Fraser takes no offence though. “That's absolutely true,” he admits. “More than that though, I just don't know that my remit covers the arrest of, well, super humans.”
Kowalski finally manages to extricate his leg from the scree, and pulls himself to standing. “Well, I say we get out of here before he wakes up.”
Fraser considers this. “Perhaps this once... I can seek clarification once I get back to the depot, but a call in...”
“Hey Benny, I love you, but you know nobody's going to ever believe this. They'll think you've gone crazy.” Vecchio hates being the voice of reason, but someone has to do it.
“Even with you two as witnesses?”
“Would you believe a story like this?”
Fraser cocks his head. “Well, there are more things in heaven and earth...”
"Yeah, who am I kidding, of course you'd believe it." Vecchio grins and gives his friend a hug. "You lunatic."
The sleeping Eddie grumbles in his sleep and opens his eyes. “Frase, he's coming round,” says Kowalski, “That stuff's designed for polar bears... I thought we had hours at least. Jeez, he must have the constitution of a... well, of a..."
"A really big scary metal enhanced freak from outerspace?"
"There's no evidence he's from outer space," Fraser insists. "I'm almost certain that this one is James Howlett, otherwise known as Logan, a Canadian citizen..."
"He won't be winning any awards for citizen of the year," scoffs Vecchio.
"I really think we should get out of here...” Kowalski is looking concerned.
Fraser writes something on a bit of paper, and tucks it into the pocket of Eddie's leather jacket. (Or Logan, or Howlett, or whatever the hell his name is). Then he takes an executive decision. "We need to sort out the dogs," he says, "and get back before it gets much colder."
"What about laughing boy," Vecchio asks.
Fraser looks at the recumbent weirdo with a strangely calculating expression on his face. "I think he can handle the cold." Then he starts to scramble up the side of the crater. Kowalski turns, shoots Eddie one more time, just to keep him under, and begins the ascent. Vecchio takes a deep breath, and struggles up after them. By the time he gets to the top both Fraser and Kowalski are lying on their bellies, pulling him up. He feels somewhat comforted by that. They're grinning and clapping his shoulders when he gets to the top, and he's grinning too. Improbable bullshit. If he ever wrote a book about his life, that was the title, right there. And nobody would believe a damned word.
The dogs, of course, are desperate to get away from all the weirdness, and they're back home in half the time it took them to get there.
So, they're finally sitting by the fire drinking coco (because Benny doesn't have anything harder in the pantry, since he and Kowalski drank all the beer on the first night) and trying to figure out if they've collectively lost their minds, or if the world really is that much weirder than they'd known. And Kowalski asks the burning question: “So, Frase, what was on that bit of paper?”
“Ah,” Fraser looks embarrassed. “I felt I couldn't let him get away scott free, so I left him a fine.”
“A fine?” Vecchio hears his voice rise incredulously. “A fine? You think a thing like that's gonna pay a fine? I wouldn't pay a fine if I could help it, and I'm not a metal psycho! How the hell are you gonna enforce it?”
“You have a point,” Fraser looks regretful. Kowalski puts an arm around him.
“Don't worry, you did the best you could.”
The next morning, however, they find an envelope has been pushed under the cabin door. Which is kind of worrying, because it means metal psycho dude knows where they live. Even so, it contains more than enough money to cover the fine, and a four word message. “You guys got balls.”
“I can't believe he paid the fine,” Vecchio realises he should be way past surprise at this point, but still, it feels like just one weirdness too many.
Kowalski pulls a face, like he thinks it's weird too. “Well," he says incredulously, "I suppose the guy is Canadian.”
Fraser looks justifiably proud of his nation, and his faith in human (and superhuman) nature. He carries on making breakfast, and tries not to look too smug.
“I'm sure the reports have been wildly exaggerated,” Fraser says. He sounds almost convincing, but Vecchio spots the tell tale signs that his friend is less than sure of himself. He hasn't gone 'huh' yet, but he is tugging on his ear, and doing the super Canadian Mountie act. Well, he always does that, but ever since the complaints started coming in from the local hunters, tour guides and trappers, he's been doing it even more than usual. It's tourist season, which means it's surprisingly busy up here, beyond the tree line. Normally the worst you could expect would be hunting accidents, a couple of old boys getting drunk and taking a swing at each other. Not whatever the hell this was.
At least the dull pounding seems to be growing more intermittent. Maybe those 'icegods' were getting tired.
“Look, Benny,” Vecchio says, “you know you don't have to go out alone on this one. I mean, these guys are probably dangerous, hopped up on drugs or something, from the sound of it.”
Kowalski jumps in, with an angry glare in Vecchio's direction. “He's not going alone. I'm going with.”
“Well, I'm going with too.” Vecchio folds his arms across his chest and prepares for a physical altercation of some kind. That's one thing about Kowalski, at least he doesn't treat him as an invalid. Vecchio's pretty sure that if he can make Kowalski lose his temper, he'd have the decency to kick him in the head. He's an equal opportunity bruiser. Vecchio quite likes that.
“Neither of you is coming with,” Fraser says, dropping for a moment into the vernacular. Jeez he must be really stressed. “You, Ray,” he says, pointing at Vecchio, “are on holiday, and you, Ray,” pointing to Kowalski, “have seemed rather on edge recently, and will probably want to engage in fisticuffs, which I'm sure is a bad idea.”
“Yeah, especially if these two bozos actually are icegods,” snipes Vecchio. At least two people have reported "icegods" as being behind the banging and thundering, and Vecchio's still trying not to laugh when he thinks of it.
“They are not icegods,” Kowalski sneers back. “There's no such thing.”
“Well, they certainly do seem to be fierce individuals,” Fraser interjects, “and I rather suspect it's going to take some creative thinking to bring them into custody.”
“What, and Kowalski and me can't be creative? Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Benny.”
Kowalski looks rather startled by Vecchio sticking up for him, but quickly jumps on the bandwagon. “Yeah, show a little faith, Fraser. Vecchio and me are cops after all. Well, we used to be. We've got your back.”
Fraser sighs. “Okay then, but at least remember to bring your glasses.”
“I'm blind, not stupid.”
Fraser puts a friendly hand on Kowalski's shoulder, and squeezes. Vecchio looks away, ashamed that he's jealous of the gesture.
“Come on then, let's load up the dog sled.”
…
“I am freezing my nuts off here,” Vecchio complains, inaccurately. It's actually his nose that is cold, even behind the scarf.
“That seems highly unlikely, Ray,” Fraser calls from behind him. His voice sounds very far away, whipped as it is by the wind. “You seemed adequately clothed for the weather.”
“He's just moaning for the sake of it,” Kowalski grumbles, scrunched up next to Vecchio, and radiating an increasingly foul mood. Vecchio promptly sneezes, and Kowalski makes an 'ick' noise, and hunches in on himself some more.
Finally, they reach the recently formed crater. Fraser's weight pulls back, and the dogs slow down, then stop. For a moment, all three men hang expectantly in the silence, as the hiss of snow and the soft thunder of the dogs dies away.
“It's supposed to be here,” Fraser says, puzzled. “Can't hear anything.”
It's true. At some point the thumping and banging, the shuddering of the earth, has stopped.
“Something's queer,” says Kowalski, and Vecchio resists the urge to say, 'yeah, you,' because he doesn't actually mind queer. For reasons that he has no desire to explore at this, or any other juncture, he's just pissed off that if Kowalski decided to be queer, it had to be with Fraser. And besides, the guy's right... something is... well, weird.
It hits him all of a sudden. It's the dogs. Normally they'd be huffing and panting and snuffling each other affectionately in the aftermath of a run. Instead, they're all lying flat to the ground, shivering with more than the cold. Fraser gets off the back of the sled, and slowly goes to the lip of the crater. Finally he says it, the little syllable that Vecchio's been waiting for ever since the reports started coming in. “Huh.” In this context, of course, it means, 'what I have just seen makes no sense in this or any other universe. There is a distinct possibility that I have entirely lost my mind.' Well, that's what it sounds like to Vecchio, who has become highly attuned to the various levels of Fraser's crazy. He shares a look with Kowalski, and it's obvious that he just made the same translation.
Uncomfortably the two passengers disentangle themselves from the sled, and step up to where Fraser is poised, wondering what on earth they're going to see that triggered that particular 'huh'.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Kowalski speaks first. For once Vecchio is struck dumb. Fraser seems similarly afflicted, pulling his left ear as though he expects some kind of magical solution to pop out of it. Vecchio gathers his breath, puts a hand on Fraser's shoulder, and finally says something.
“Are you sure this isn't a prank? I mean, maybe it's some kind of Inuit version of street theatre or something... I mean, that can't be real.”
“Don't be stupid,” Kowalski snaps, “first of all, we're nowhere near a street and these guys are definitely not Inuit...” his voice fades for a moment, then he questions, in a little voice, “do you think they're human?”
“Well, they're not icegods, I don't care what the fuck it looks like.” Vecchio isn't quite as sure of himself as he'd like to be. Since he met Fraser life has taken some rather surprising turns, and somehow the possibility of icegods doesn't seem so weird out here in the great white snow as it did a mere twenty minutes ago.
“I think...” Fraser says, and shifts uncomfortably, “I think I have an idea who they might be.”
Vecchio catches sight of Kowalski's expression, as he looks to Fraser for an answer. It's charmingly little boy and innocent, like he honestly expects Fraser to know what the hell is going on. Again, for a moment he's pissed about it, then he's just sad. Because much as he loves Fraser, he doesn't have it in him to trust him unfailingly. He doesn't trust anyone unfailingly, especially not himself. He can see what Fraser sees in the other guy... a really sweet innocence. Damn. Now he was sounding queer.
He blusters, to distract himself from his thoughts, “go on then, Benny, who the hell are they?”
“Well,” Fraser starts, still looking perturbed by the scene in the crater below. “There is a story of two brothers...”
“Oh, don't tell me it's Cain and Abel...”
“No, but I suppose on some symbolic level...”
“Sorry, spare the symbolism,” Vecchio sighs, “I shouldn't have interrupted.”
Fraser gives a wry little smile, and begins again. “There were two brothers, who lived in the eighteen hundreds, but when they came to manhood something very peculiar happened. Instead of growing older, as most of us do, they seemed to continue year after year, the same. And wherever there was battle, or bloodshed or war, there they were.”
“So, they're like ancient warriors or something?” Kowalski sounds completely un-phased by this, as though he's been running into supernatural monsters all his life.
“Yes,” Fraser continues, “well, not ancient. Not truly ancient, in the greater scheme of things. Only a hundred odd years old. They were Canadians, a bit further south than we are now. They grew up amongst the trees. But at some point over the years they fell out with each other, and they've been fighting ever since.”
“They're Canadians?” Vecchio felt his eyebrows pop up in surprise, and snuck another glance at the bellicose bastards circling each other like angry cats. “Shouldn't they be like, extradited or something for bad manners?”
“Despite your high opinion of Canada, Ray, I'm sorry to say we're not all as polite as you think.”
“Obviously.” Vecchio continues to stare at the bizarre scene unfolding below. “And...” Vecchio finally gets around to stating the bleeding obvious. “It's all well and good, that story I mean, but...” he pauses. He can't believe he's going to say this... it was just insane. “None of this explains the claws.”
There is a long silence as the men stare into the pit. Right in the belly of it the two brothers are still sizing each other, like pugilists, only with fistfuls of knives. They are looking pretty exhausted, which, given that the banging and thumping has been going on for hours, is not surprising. Or maybe they're getting bored, and just can't make up their minds who is going to back down first. The hairier of the two seems to have knobbly pointy bones for blades, and a terrible dental problem, the other is better equipped with what appears to be nothing short of metal swords. The only problem being that 'boneys' weapons seem to protrude from his fingertips, while Edward Scissorhands has them thrusting from between his knuckles.
It's obviously some kind of trick.
One of them, the knobbly hairy one, lunges forward, and takes a slice at his brother, who deflects, and twists round to better jab a blade into his brother's eye socket.
“Ouch,” both Kowalski and Vecchio declare.
“That's it,” Fraser states, uncompromisingly. “We can't allow this to continue.”
“Fraser!” Kowalski yells, and “Benny!” Vecchio bellows, but it's too late. Fraser has taken the plunge, literally, and is skittering down the side of the crater like a man skiing, or surfing down the long glide of a wave. Of course when his two friends try to follow him they just end up rolling ass over elbow instead.
“Ouch.” The blue white blue of snow and sky has stopped spinning, and the bumping has come to an end. Vecchio is feeling it, and regretting his decision not to take his painkillers this morning. He might have coughed up the golden bullet, but he hasn't been a hundred percent fit ever since. Maybe coming out here wasn't such a good idea. Not the holiday, that was fine, he always enjoyed the holiday, it was just the side trip into lala land that was doing him in. Not that he could reasonably have expected fucking giants to be walking the earth.
Okay, they weren't giants, but they might as well be, the damage they were doing.
Bang. Thud. Shudder. Great, the earth is quaking again.
He sits up to notice that Kowalski looks as dazed as he is. Before he gets a chance to crawl over to him, a tremendous crack splits the air, and he hears the poor pack dogs howling. One brother, he can't tell which, is swinging the other brother round and round like a Scottish Highlander swinging a hammer, or a log, or a discus, or whatever the hell it is they throw. There's literally a 'whee' sound as the air parts before the flying guy, who looks briefly startled as he sails up from the crater and out of sight. A long moment passes before there's a distant 'whump', presumably as flying psycho hits the ground.
Kowalski is sitting up now, looking bleary, and trying to fit his glasses to his nose. Vecchio makes it to him, checking there's nothing broken, and says, “hey, keep them off, you don't want to see this. We're officially in the twilight zone.”
Kowalski pulls a face, and tries to yank his leg out from under the loose scree. Somehow he's gotten trapped, and he's pretty pissed about it. Vecchio starts digging to release the other man, but Kowalski points to his pack which has tumbled out of his reach, and says one word. Well, two actually. “Tranquilliser gun.”
Vecchio grins. “You thought of everything.”
Kowalski looks smug, and mischievous, which is weirdly endearing, and also pretty unlikely under the circumstances. It's as though he's used to this kind of thing, being trapped in a pit with his leg pinned by rubble, and a bunch of thunder gods taking swipes at each other. What the hell kind of adventures had he and Benny been having, for him to take this in his stride?
“Yeah, proper preparation prevents weird fuckups,” Kowalski says, and damn near starts laughing.
Vecchio creeps toward the backpack, and drags it back to Kowalski. After all, he might resent the guy at times, but the fact is he's a much better shot... at least when he's wearing his glasses. It's like superman in reverse. Put the glasses on and he's super nerd, sharp shooter extraordinaire.
Without the glasses he couldn't hit the back end of a barn.
He suddenly realises he's doing it again... thinking a whole load of random nonsense to avoid the weird crap that's going on around him. Because the brother who didn't fly through the air is standing there, with his metal claws still out (so it was Edward Scissorhands who threw Boney through the air. Vecchio wonders did Boney bounce, or just form another crater.) Eddie is huffing and puffing, has his back to Vecchio, Kowalski and Fraser. Which would be fine, if Eddie would just take off, once he's caught his breath... but Fraser... Fraser...
“Oh, you've got to be kidding me,” Vecchio mutters, as he sees Fraser marching purposefully towards the scissor guy.
“My name is Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, and I am placing you under arrest for...”
Eddie turns around to face Fraser, and for the first time the three men get a good look at him. Kowalski blurts out, “hey, you there, that's right, you with the razors, how come you don't shave?”
Vecchio rolls his eyes. It's like the guy's got foot in mouth disease... he's surprised he doesn't have athlete's foot of the gums. You don't go picking fights with metal monsters. Or mental monsters. Or icegods. Or mythological Cain and Abel figures. You just shut up and...
Well, no. Apparently Kowalski can't help being cheeky, and Fraser can't help trying to arrest the guy. He's at it again.
“I am placing you under arrest for disturbance of the...”
And the hairy guy with the knives poking through his fists is laughing. At Fraser.
And suddenly Vecchio is really, really pissed.
“Hey, furface, you ever seen yourself in the mirrror? Try laughing at that.”
Eddie turned to look at him with an expression of bemusement, and Vecchio grabbed a fistful of the nearest missile and throws it at him.
Unfortunately, his choice of weapon was a snowball. Which doesn't do much to deter this particular uncouth Canadian. The guy starts stomping towards him with a look of thunder in his eyes, and Vecchio finds himself flinging snowballs like he's ten again, and in the middle of a street snowball mob war. Okay, he might be thrashed to death like a wet dish cloth, but he'll go out fighting.
With snow.
Shit.
At which point there is the sound of a shot, and a rather surprised expression on Eddie's face. His knives suddenly slide backward into his hands (and wow, that looks sort of sick) and the guy goes 'flumph' as he hits the ground.
Kowalski is looking pleased with himself. “Hey, Vecchio, thanks for distracting him.”
“Yeah... you're welcome,” he replies, thankful that Kowalski thinks he had some grand plan in his stupidity.
Fraser is looking rather bewildered. “You know, I'm not entirely sure that I have jurisdiction over this matter,” he says.
“You mean you don't want to be here when he wakes up,” Vecchio says, and instantly regrets it. Fraser takes no offence though. “That's absolutely true,” he admits. “More than that though, I just don't know that my remit covers the arrest of, well, super humans.”
Kowalski finally manages to extricate his leg from the scree, and pulls himself to standing. “Well, I say we get out of here before he wakes up.”
Fraser considers this. “Perhaps this once... I can seek clarification once I get back to the depot, but a call in...”
“Hey Benny, I love you, but you know nobody's going to ever believe this. They'll think you've gone crazy.” Vecchio hates being the voice of reason, but someone has to do it.
“Even with you two as witnesses?”
“Would you believe a story like this?”
Fraser cocks his head. “Well, there are more things in heaven and earth...”
"Yeah, who am I kidding, of course you'd believe it." Vecchio grins and gives his friend a hug. "You lunatic."
The sleeping Eddie grumbles in his sleep and opens his eyes. “Frase, he's coming round,” says Kowalski, “That stuff's designed for polar bears... I thought we had hours at least. Jeez, he must have the constitution of a... well, of a..."
"A really big scary metal enhanced freak from outerspace?"
"There's no evidence he's from outer space," Fraser insists. "I'm almost certain that this one is James Howlett, otherwise known as Logan, a Canadian citizen..."
"He won't be winning any awards for citizen of the year," scoffs Vecchio.
"I really think we should get out of here...” Kowalski is looking concerned.
Fraser writes something on a bit of paper, and tucks it into the pocket of Eddie's leather jacket. (Or Logan, or Howlett, or whatever the hell his name is). Then he takes an executive decision. "We need to sort out the dogs," he says, "and get back before it gets much colder."
"What about laughing boy," Vecchio asks.
Fraser looks at the recumbent weirdo with a strangely calculating expression on his face. "I think he can handle the cold." Then he starts to scramble up the side of the crater. Kowalski turns, shoots Eddie one more time, just to keep him under, and begins the ascent. Vecchio takes a deep breath, and struggles up after them. By the time he gets to the top both Fraser and Kowalski are lying on their bellies, pulling him up. He feels somewhat comforted by that. They're grinning and clapping his shoulders when he gets to the top, and he's grinning too. Improbable bullshit. If he ever wrote a book about his life, that was the title, right there. And nobody would believe a damned word.
The dogs, of course, are desperate to get away from all the weirdness, and they're back home in half the time it took them to get there.
So, they're finally sitting by the fire drinking coco (because Benny doesn't have anything harder in the pantry, since he and Kowalski drank all the beer on the first night) and trying to figure out if they've collectively lost their minds, or if the world really is that much weirder than they'd known. And Kowalski asks the burning question: “So, Frase, what was on that bit of paper?”
“Ah,” Fraser looks embarrassed. “I felt I couldn't let him get away scott free, so I left him a fine.”
“A fine?” Vecchio hears his voice rise incredulously. “A fine? You think a thing like that's gonna pay a fine? I wouldn't pay a fine if I could help it, and I'm not a metal psycho! How the hell are you gonna enforce it?”
“You have a point,” Fraser looks regretful. Kowalski puts an arm around him.
“Don't worry, you did the best you could.”
The next morning, however, they find an envelope has been pushed under the cabin door. Which is kind of worrying, because it means metal psycho dude knows where they live. Even so, it contains more than enough money to cover the fine, and a four word message. “You guys got balls.”
“I can't believe he paid the fine,” Vecchio realises he should be way past surprise at this point, but still, it feels like just one weirdness too many.
Kowalski pulls a face, like he thinks it's weird too. “Well," he says incredulously, "I suppose the guy is Canadian.”
Fraser looks justifiably proud of his nation, and his faith in human (and superhuman) nature. He carries on making breakfast, and tries not to look too smug.