[The Adventures of Brisco County Jr.] True Zombie Tales of the Old West
Title: True Zombie Tales of the Old West
Author: rise_your_dead
Fandom: The Adventures of Brisco County Jr
Characters: Lord Bowler, Pete Hutter, Brisco County Jr.
Length: 746
Rating: PG
Warnings: Canon-typical violence
Prompt: 029. Adventures of Brisco County, Jr. -- Pete Hutter -- Rumors of Pete's survival were greatly exaggerated, but it was an excusable mistake considering he was still walking, talking, and robbing trains.
“Bowler,” Brisco observed, “you look like you’re doing some deep thinking.”
Bowler gave a low, deep chuckle and sipped his beer. The din of the Horseshoe Club continued to hum along in the background as they conversed. “You think you know me that well, huh?”
“Yep.”
Bowler glared back. “Yeah. So what, so I’ve had a lot on my mind since we got back from DC!”
“Well, you know what they say - a secret kept is knowledge never gained. What’s troubling you?” He asked.
Bowler grunted, gesturing expansively. “Pete Hutter. That’s who’s troubling me. You’ve killed him three times and he keeps bouncing back, healthy as he ever was. He’s either the luckiest man in the world or there’s something going on.”
Brisco shrugged. “Pete’s not well known for his brainpower,” he pointed out. “Maybe he was never as badly hurt as we all thought he was.”
“Dixie saw you hit him with that Chinese throwing star,” pointed out Bowler. “And everybody in Smith’s gang knows you gut shot him right square in the center of town.”
Brisco scratched his chin. “Huh. Come to think of it, I don’t remember seeing a doc treat him afterwards.”
“See my point? There’s something wrong with that fella, Brisco,” Bowler declared. “It just ain’t natural.”
“Well,” Brisco declared, “we're going to have to wait for him to commit another felony. Until then, we’ll just have to keep on taking care of the vulnerable and downtrodden.”
Bowler grumbled. “I hope there’re some downtrodden people on a vineyard somewhere.”
***
There weren't any vineyards where they ended up, but there was a wagon train, and that train got robbed just as they were driving into town. A short chase led Brisco to the culprit - and he happened to be Pete Hutter.
It was hard to question a felon while being held at gunpoint while on a speeding locomotive, but Brisco managed well enough. It was easy enough to disarm him, but tying him up was proving difficult. His skin was awfully slippery…and cold.
“So Pete,” Brisco said, finally binding Pete to a bale of hay via clever use of his belt loop. “Do you wanna tell me how you survived four completely different and highly fatal encounters with the wrong end of my gun?”
Pete squirmed. “I don’t think this is the time nor the place for such a thing, County,” he said.
“Oh, I think so,” Brisco said lightly. “We have hours until we reach Truth or Consequences.” He sat down nearby. “Please. Enlighten me.”
“Awwright! You drug it out of me!” Pete cried. “I’m partially a zombie. On my mother’s side, you see.”
Having encountered naked, time-traveling women and alien orbs, Brisco wasn’t entirely willing to call Pete a liar. “A zombie?”
“I am semi-impervious to pain, and I do not require oxygen to live,” Pete said. “In all other aspects, I am a normal human being with a regular hankering for the raw, bloody flesh of a recently-killed steer. And showtunes.”
Brisco raised an eyebrow. “So you mean to tell me that you can’t feel this?”
Pete yelped and jumped back from Brisco’s pinching fingertips. “I’m still sensitive to pain, I’M SENSITIVE TO PAIN!” he declared.
Brisco rubbed his chin, sitting back. “I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt and believe you - but it is an awfully tall tale.”
“I swear it’s true!”
“Well, you’re gonna have to prove it…in some way that won’t get another living soul hurt.”
Pete frowned. “You drive a damnably hard bargain, Brisco.” But he concentrated very, very hard…and broke the ropes holding him to the bale of hay. He pitched it in the bounty hunter’s direction.
Brisco dodged it and raised an eyebrow. “Super strength? Impressive.” He blinked the hay out of his eyes and Pete was a blurry mirage coasting out the train door. Brisco scrambled to the opening and saw Pete rushing away at an almost invisible speed. “But using super speed is cheating!” He hollered. Then he paused. “Wait, since when do zombies have super speed?”
He heard Pete’s windblown voice cry, “genetic mutation!”
“Now that’s what I call the coming thing!” Bowler had been right all along - and when they met up again Brisco knew he’d never hear the end of it. Fingers to his lips, he whistled for Comet. If anybody could possibly match a marauding zombie, he and his best friends could.
A few minutes later Brisco discovered half zombies were not immune to whips, nor to double sheepshank knots - though Pete would insist he’d been captured only because he slipped.
Author: rise_your_dead
Fandom: The Adventures of Brisco County Jr
Characters: Lord Bowler, Pete Hutter, Brisco County Jr.
Length: 746
Rating: PG
Warnings: Canon-typical violence
Prompt: 029. Adventures of Brisco County, Jr. -- Pete Hutter -- Rumors of Pete's survival were greatly exaggerated, but it was an excusable mistake considering he was still walking, talking, and robbing trains.
“Bowler,” Brisco observed, “you look like you’re doing some deep thinking.”
Bowler gave a low, deep chuckle and sipped his beer. The din of the Horseshoe Club continued to hum along in the background as they conversed. “You think you know me that well, huh?”
“Yep.”
Bowler glared back. “Yeah. So what, so I’ve had a lot on my mind since we got back from DC!”
“Well, you know what they say - a secret kept is knowledge never gained. What’s troubling you?” He asked.
Bowler grunted, gesturing expansively. “Pete Hutter. That’s who’s troubling me. You’ve killed him three times and he keeps bouncing back, healthy as he ever was. He’s either the luckiest man in the world or there’s something going on.”
Brisco shrugged. “Pete’s not well known for his brainpower,” he pointed out. “Maybe he was never as badly hurt as we all thought he was.”
“Dixie saw you hit him with that Chinese throwing star,” pointed out Bowler. “And everybody in Smith’s gang knows you gut shot him right square in the center of town.”
Brisco scratched his chin. “Huh. Come to think of it, I don’t remember seeing a doc treat him afterwards.”
“See my point? There’s something wrong with that fella, Brisco,” Bowler declared. “It just ain’t natural.”
“Well,” Brisco declared, “we're going to have to wait for him to commit another felony. Until then, we’ll just have to keep on taking care of the vulnerable and downtrodden.”
Bowler grumbled. “I hope there’re some downtrodden people on a vineyard somewhere.”
***
There weren't any vineyards where they ended up, but there was a wagon train, and that train got robbed just as they were driving into town. A short chase led Brisco to the culprit - and he happened to be Pete Hutter.
It was hard to question a felon while being held at gunpoint while on a speeding locomotive, but Brisco managed well enough. It was easy enough to disarm him, but tying him up was proving difficult. His skin was awfully slippery…and cold.
“So Pete,” Brisco said, finally binding Pete to a bale of hay via clever use of his belt loop. “Do you wanna tell me how you survived four completely different and highly fatal encounters with the wrong end of my gun?”
Pete squirmed. “I don’t think this is the time nor the place for such a thing, County,” he said.
“Oh, I think so,” Brisco said lightly. “We have hours until we reach Truth or Consequences.” He sat down nearby. “Please. Enlighten me.”
“Awwright! You drug it out of me!” Pete cried. “I’m partially a zombie. On my mother’s side, you see.”
Having encountered naked, time-traveling women and alien orbs, Brisco wasn’t entirely willing to call Pete a liar. “A zombie?”
“I am semi-impervious to pain, and I do not require oxygen to live,” Pete said. “In all other aspects, I am a normal human being with a regular hankering for the raw, bloody flesh of a recently-killed steer. And showtunes.”
Brisco raised an eyebrow. “So you mean to tell me that you can’t feel this?”
Pete yelped and jumped back from Brisco’s pinching fingertips. “I’m still sensitive to pain, I’M SENSITIVE TO PAIN!” he declared.
Brisco rubbed his chin, sitting back. “I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt and believe you - but it is an awfully tall tale.”
“I swear it’s true!”
“Well, you’re gonna have to prove it…in some way that won’t get another living soul hurt.”
Pete frowned. “You drive a damnably hard bargain, Brisco.” But he concentrated very, very hard…and broke the ropes holding him to the bale of hay. He pitched it in the bounty hunter’s direction.
Brisco dodged it and raised an eyebrow. “Super strength? Impressive.” He blinked the hay out of his eyes and Pete was a blurry mirage coasting out the train door. Brisco scrambled to the opening and saw Pete rushing away at an almost invisible speed. “But using super speed is cheating!” He hollered. Then he paused. “Wait, since when do zombies have super speed?”
He heard Pete’s windblown voice cry, “genetic mutation!”
“Now that’s what I call the coming thing!” Bowler had been right all along - and when they met up again Brisco knew he’d never hear the end of it. Fingers to his lips, he whistled for Comet. If anybody could possibly match a marauding zombie, he and his best friends could.
A few minutes later Brisco discovered half zombies were not immune to whips, nor to double sheepshank knots - though Pete would insist he’d been captured only because he slipped.