Fic: The Shinin' City
Title: The Shinin' City
Author: merigirl
Characters/Pairing: Wyatt Cain
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Wyatt Cain walking the streets of Central City. Set post series, an Ozian annual = 16 cycles/annuals in my book.
Disclaimer: Don't own anything, especially not the Tin Man, his hat or his pants...such a shame.
Word Count: 624
“S-sir?” Stood a nervous young officer of the Emerald Guard, Cain tilted his head to the side, piercing wintery eyes glinting in the pale green globe lights above. “The body is down the alley but C-Commander Wigget said....said we don’t need a Tin Man fer an overdose of the vapours and ta’ call the cleaners but ...” Cain tilted his head back and arched a brow before stepping back past the kid and stepping into the shadows of the ally. The fingers of his right hand hovered over his holster as he scanned the alley for threats, eyes finally landing on the body crumpled in the deepest shadows.
Cain stepped forward eyes scanning the body of a woman in a dirty, long sleeved ragged yellow gown. Her skin was grey, unseeing eyes wide and colourless in the dim light, Cain knelt down for a closer inspection, taking his hat off and turning it slowly in his hands. Dark hair matted with dirt, bare feet sticking out from the filthy hem of her gown, fingernails torn and dark with grime on pale hands, smooth and callous free. Cain looked over the body with a critical eye, guts twisting, brain assembling the pieces of a puzzle.
The smell of vapours clung to the body. The scent was cloying. Papay blossoms and cinders. It wasn’t much of a life addicted to the vapours. She was young, not much older than Jeb or the Kid, at that thought Wyatt grimaced. That’s when he felt it, that tingle that crawled up his spine, twisting and scratching at the back of his brain. “Godsdamn it.” He growled twisting to look closer at a bruise on the dead girl’s wrist.
He withdrew a pair of thin gloves from a pocket in his duster and pushed back the sleeve of the gown revealing angry bruising all around the girl’s wrist. He could feel the magic tingle the closer he got to the body, it was faint and fleeting, a tingling itch in the back of his brain but it was there. He closed his eyes head tilted down, pinching the bridge of his nose with his left hand. “Vapours my ass.”
“S-sir?”
“Call Commander Wigget and the district alchemist. The vapours didn’t kill this girl and we need to find out who she is and who is in the Shinin’ City that can use magic subtle enough to cover up a murder.”
“M-magic? M-murder.”
“Go now!” Cain barked and watched at the young guard ran off down the alley as if chased by wild mobats. “Godsdamned idgit.” He muttered running his fingers through his pale hair before shoving his hat back on his head. One annual, Cain mused, as he looked at the chronometer in his pocket, sixteen cycles since he was released from the suit and he was living a life he still wasn’t sure he deserved. Once a Tin Man always a Tin Man. He was free of the suit, but the magic of it changed him. The Kid called it his ‘Spidy Sense” though he wasn’t sure what his newfound sensitivity to sorcery had to do with the Weavers Guild. Magic made his skin crawl, the stronger the magic the worse the feeling like some animal had up and crawled under his skin, dug claws into his brain.
Sixteen cycles of back breaking work to get the O.Z. healing and for Wyatt Cain to find himself sporting tin again. He bounced lightly on his heels, the cogs turning in his brain as he began working on the puzzle before him. He would never admit it out loud but the years spent guarding the Mystic Man were never as interesting as being a Tin Man in the Shinin’ City.
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The fic is based on a dream fuelled by watching the first six episodes of Justified season one(so that I can watch season 3 with a certain baddie), Supernatural and CSI. In the dream we were all sitting down to watch Tin Man but instead of the miniseries we all know and obsess over love, it was a gritty HBO drama, all dark and gritty, with blood, a considerable amount of guns, presumed swearing and a kickass soundtrack I'm sure.
All I can remember from the dream was Cain dressed in dark grey duster, hat and pants in an office and in a dark alleyway examining a corpse, and an obligatory shoot out. This is me try to flesh out my dream after a little encouragement fromerinm_4600and an hour to myself. I'm only posting this on my lj for now as I might tweak it a bit (and edit it again) but for now this is how I see it. And I would so watch the hell out of that show if it were real. Right I'm going to my bed after a crap day spent cleaning up after my son kept upchucking all over the place.
Also...hey look I wrote something! Yay!
Author: merigirl
Characters/Pairing: Wyatt Cain
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Wyatt Cain walking the streets of Central City. Set post series, an Ozian annual = 16 cycles/annuals in my book.
Disclaimer: Don't own anything, especially not the Tin Man, his hat or his pants...such a shame.
Word Count: 624
“S-sir?” Stood a nervous young officer of the Emerald Guard, Cain tilted his head to the side, piercing wintery eyes glinting in the pale green globe lights above. “The body is down the alley but C-Commander Wigget said....said we don’t need a Tin Man fer an overdose of the vapours and ta’ call the cleaners but ...” Cain tilted his head back and arched a brow before stepping back past the kid and stepping into the shadows of the ally. The fingers of his right hand hovered over his holster as he scanned the alley for threats, eyes finally landing on the body crumpled in the deepest shadows.
Cain stepped forward eyes scanning the body of a woman in a dirty, long sleeved ragged yellow gown. Her skin was grey, unseeing eyes wide and colourless in the dim light, Cain knelt down for a closer inspection, taking his hat off and turning it slowly in his hands. Dark hair matted with dirt, bare feet sticking out from the filthy hem of her gown, fingernails torn and dark with grime on pale hands, smooth and callous free. Cain looked over the body with a critical eye, guts twisting, brain assembling the pieces of a puzzle.
The smell of vapours clung to the body. The scent was cloying. Papay blossoms and cinders. It wasn’t much of a life addicted to the vapours. She was young, not much older than Jeb or the Kid, at that thought Wyatt grimaced. That’s when he felt it, that tingle that crawled up his spine, twisting and scratching at the back of his brain. “Godsdamn it.” He growled twisting to look closer at a bruise on the dead girl’s wrist.
He withdrew a pair of thin gloves from a pocket in his duster and pushed back the sleeve of the gown revealing angry bruising all around the girl’s wrist. He could feel the magic tingle the closer he got to the body, it was faint and fleeting, a tingling itch in the back of his brain but it was there. He closed his eyes head tilted down, pinching the bridge of his nose with his left hand. “Vapours my ass.”
“S-sir?”
“Call Commander Wigget and the district alchemist. The vapours didn’t kill this girl and we need to find out who she is and who is in the Shinin’ City that can use magic subtle enough to cover up a murder.”
“M-magic? M-murder.”
“Go now!” Cain barked and watched at the young guard ran off down the alley as if chased by wild mobats. “Godsdamned idgit.” He muttered running his fingers through his pale hair before shoving his hat back on his head. One annual, Cain mused, as he looked at the chronometer in his pocket, sixteen cycles since he was released from the suit and he was living a life he still wasn’t sure he deserved. Once a Tin Man always a Tin Man. He was free of the suit, but the magic of it changed him. The Kid called it his ‘Spidy Sense” though he wasn’t sure what his newfound sensitivity to sorcery had to do with the Weavers Guild. Magic made his skin crawl, the stronger the magic the worse the feeling like some animal had up and crawled under his skin, dug claws into his brain.
Sixteen cycles of back breaking work to get the O.Z. healing and for Wyatt Cain to find himself sporting tin again. He bounced lightly on his heels, the cogs turning in his brain as he began working on the puzzle before him. He would never admit it out loud but the years spent guarding the Mystic Man were never as interesting as being a Tin Man in the Shinin’ City.
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The fic is based on a dream fuelled by watching the first six episodes of Justified season one(so that I can watch season 3 with a certain baddie), Supernatural and CSI. In the dream we were all sitting down to watch Tin Man but instead of the miniseries we all know and obsess over love, it was a gritty HBO drama, all dark and gritty, with blood, a considerable amount of guns, presumed swearing and a kickass soundtrack I'm sure.
All I can remember from the dream was Cain dressed in dark grey duster, hat and pants in an office and in a dark alleyway examining a corpse, and an obligatory shoot out. This is me try to flesh out my dream after a little encouragement fromerinm_4600and an hour to myself. I'm only posting this on my lj for now as I might tweak it a bit (and edit it again) but for now this is how I see it. And I would so watch the hell out of that show if it were real. Right I'm going to my bed after a crap day spent cleaning up after my son kept upchucking all over the place.
Also...hey look I wrote something! Yay!