caffienekitty (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
caffienekitty) wrote2007-10-14 01:25 pm
caffienekitty) wrote2007-10-14 01:25 pm
Entry tags:
SPN Fanfic: Heads with No Names (win_non_con challenge entry)
Title: Heads with No Names
Characters: Dean, Sam, Connor MacLeod
Rating: GEN, PG13
Word Count: 1190 words
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: Nothing.
Summary: Sam and Dean investigate some mysterious beheadings in New York city and have a chat with some guy who likes swords.
A/N:Written in approximately two hours, so don't expect high art here. Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
win_non_con TV Crossover Challenge Prompt: 14. SPN/Highlander - the boys investigate some mysterious beheadings.... It's the original Highlander movie I'm crossing over but that's on TV every other week so it totally counts, right? Also, I'm probably mangling the Highlander timeline something fierce. Oh, and the Highlander character of Brenda doesn't exist. I think. Arg!
-
Heads with No Names
by CaffieneKitty
-
"Fifth beheading in a month, Dean. One guy's body was found in the street, while his head was found in a trashed office forty floors above."
Dean picked up the paper Sam had tossed on the table and examined the article. "Vampires?"
"Don't think so. It is New York, though, lots of nightlife for them to hide in."
Dean tilted his head in acknowledgment of the point.
"Also reports of freak atmospheric phenomenon, electrical disturbances, manhole covers flying off, and, uh, there was an antique sword found at the scene of one beheading under Madison Square Gardens. That one apparently happened during a boxing match."
"Hunh. Guess we're heading to the big Apple."
- - -
Connor MacLeod was pissed off. The Kurgan was out of control and running wild in his city. He was violent, disrespectful of the rules, and was hurting innocent people. In his city. Connor looked out over the glow of downtown Manhattan. A person didn't live in a place for several hundred years without feeling a bit like the laird of the land. Even if the land held several million people, most completely unaware he even existed.
There was a roar of an engine and a screech of tires on the road below. He looked down to see two young men in suits get out of a black 1967 Impala, bickering about something, and head to his door.
Something unexpected. Interesting. Nice car. He waited a minute before heading inside and downstairs.
Rachel had the two men waiting in the front drawing room. "They say they're with the FBI." She told Connor, glancing at him sidelong.
Connor noted the lack of the feeling of another immortal presence. "It's nothing," he told Rachel, waving a hand dismissively. "Just some formality about this business with the antique sword at a murder scene a while back, I'm sure."
"You're sure?" She asked, quietly.
"Yes." He smiled. "You worry too much."
Connor didn't try to surprise them when he entered the waiting room. Startling people who played with guns for a living usually meant buying a new shirt and he rather liked the one he was wearing. The taller of the two young men was examining a case of Japanese swords and weapons, the shorter was... prowling. Both had turned to face the door as Connor entered.
-
"I'm Russell Nash," the antiques dealer said, not holding out a hand. "What can I do for you gentlemen?"
"Hi, I'm Agent Ulrich, this is my partner Agent Hammett. We're here about the sword from the beheading case a few days ago."
"The Toledo-Salamanca?" Nash stepped down into the sunken room. "I've already discussed my findings with that ass Moran from the police."
"Well, we aren't the police."
"Evidently." The ghost of a smirk chased itself across Nash's face. "What did you want to know?"
"With the recent beheadings, we were wondering if the sword itself had any occult meaning."
Sam shot a glance at Dean. "Of course, solely to determine if someone has decided to take the legend as real, enact them."
Nash smiled. "I don't know much about the occult, I'm afraid. All I can tell you is it is a very old, fine and rare blade." He sat on the circular couch and gestured Sam and Dean to do the same.
"Do you know anything about it's history?" Sam asked.
"History, now there's something I know a lot about. The toledo swords were always considered some of the finest. The mythical sword of King Arthur was said to be a Toledo sword. The Toledo-Salamanca is even rarer, because swords produced at that time were made almost exclusively in Toledo, where the Toledo-Salamanca was one of a small line, produced to exacting specifications and by expert swordsmiths in Salamanca." Nash's eyes slid back and forth between Dean and Sam.
"Does Salamanca have any particular legends or myths some nutjob might have latched on to?" Dean asked.
Nash laughed. "No, unless you count the legend of the frog."
"Frog?" asked Sam.
"Yes. Legend says that if a person catches this frog unaided, they will have fantastic sex for the next seven years."
"Really?" Dean leaned forward. "And where exactly is Salamanca?"
Sam resisted the urge to hit Dean as it would not help their claim to be FBI agents.
"Spain," said Nash with a smirk.
"Ah," said Dean, leaning back again.
Sam sighed and leaned forward to look into Nash's eyes. "What do you think is going on with all the beheadings, Mister Nash?"
Nash tilted his head and seemed about to say something, but stopped himself, looking back at Sam appraisingly before saying, carefully, "I think that there are sick people in this world. Dangerous people. And I think that anyone who gets in the way of dangerous people is a fool."
"So, are you a dangerous person or a fool, Mister Nash?" asked Sam, pushing.
The corner of Nash's mouth turned up and he bared his teeth in a grin, refusing to be pushed. "I'm not sick." He settled back on the circular couch. "I think that if you leave it alone, the situation will resolve itself, within the next week."
"Resolve itself?" Dean leaned forward, scowling. "People are dying, Mister Nash. Their heads are being chopped off. You suggest that this isn't a problem that needs to be stopped before more people die?"
Nash's lips twitched. "Of course, loss of life is tragic. I'm only saying that perhaps it's something that is best left out of the hands of amateurs."
"We're not amateurs, Mister Nash," said Sam, straightening. "We're the FBI."
"And you say that with a straight face. How amusing."
Sam stood and opened his mouth to say something.
Dean surged to his feet. "Mister Nash, are you a vampire?"
"De-!" Sam turned with a glare, nearly blurting out his brother's real name in sheer incredulity.
Nash's eyebrows went up. "No," he chuckled. "But you'd be surprised how often I've been asked that."
"What are you then? We've looked through the county archives, and it's your handwriting on every deed to this house going back hundreds of years."
"Not a vampire." Nash stood. "Look. We both know we aren't who we say we are. You aren't FBI, I'm not... exactly just an antiques dealer."
"So, you've just lived for a really long time and chop off people's heads for, what, sick jollies?"
"I told you, I'm not sick." Nash grinned. "All I'm saying is that sometimes it's best to leave these problems to resolve themselves. All the decapitations will stop within a week, and I guarantee, not a single one among the decapitated will be surprised by how they met their end. This Gathering has been millennia in the making. It's time."
"What about the sidewalk psycho?" asked Dean. "Is he connected to your bunch?"
Nash's grin faded to a grimace. "I'll deal with him. You have my word."
- - -
When the windows exploded out of the abandoned warehouse, followed by an impressive light-show, Dean and Sam were blocks away in the Impala, watching to see who came out of the building.
After a few minutes, Nash staggered out, leaning on a sword.
"Think we did the right thing, staying out of it?" Sam asked, watching Nash.
Nash waved at the Impala, then spread his arms out to the sides and looked up at the sky with an expression of sheer relieved joy.
"I hope so."
- - -
(ARG! Time's WAY up! that's all folks!)
Characters: Dean, Sam, Connor MacLeod
Rating: GEN, PG13
Word Count: 1190 words
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: Nothing.
Summary: Sam and Dean investigate some mysterious beheadings in New York city and have a chat with some guy who likes swords.
A/N:Written in approximately two hours, so don't expect high art here. Written for the
win_non_con TV Crossover Challenge Prompt: 14. SPN/Highlander - the boys investigate some mysterious beheadings.... It's the original Highlander movie I'm crossing over but that's on TV every other week so it totally counts, right? Also, I'm probably mangling the Highlander timeline something fierce. Oh, and the Highlander character of Brenda doesn't exist. I think. Arg!Heads with No Names
by CaffieneKitty
-
"Fifth beheading in a month, Dean. One guy's body was found in the street, while his head was found in a trashed office forty floors above."
Dean picked up the paper Sam had tossed on the table and examined the article. "Vampires?"
"Don't think so. It is New York, though, lots of nightlife for them to hide in."
Dean tilted his head in acknowledgment of the point.
"Also reports of freak atmospheric phenomenon, electrical disturbances, manhole covers flying off, and, uh, there was an antique sword found at the scene of one beheading under Madison Square Gardens. That one apparently happened during a boxing match."
"Hunh. Guess we're heading to the big Apple."
- - -
Connor MacLeod was pissed off. The Kurgan was out of control and running wild in his city. He was violent, disrespectful of the rules, and was hurting innocent people. In his city. Connor looked out over the glow of downtown Manhattan. A person didn't live in a place for several hundred years without feeling a bit like the laird of the land. Even if the land held several million people, most completely unaware he even existed.
There was a roar of an engine and a screech of tires on the road below. He looked down to see two young men in suits get out of a black 1967 Impala, bickering about something, and head to his door.
Something unexpected. Interesting. Nice car. He waited a minute before heading inside and downstairs.
Rachel had the two men waiting in the front drawing room. "They say they're with the FBI." She told Connor, glancing at him sidelong.
Connor noted the lack of the feeling of another immortal presence. "It's nothing," he told Rachel, waving a hand dismissively. "Just some formality about this business with the antique sword at a murder scene a while back, I'm sure."
"You're sure?" She asked, quietly.
"Yes." He smiled. "You worry too much."
Connor didn't try to surprise them when he entered the waiting room. Startling people who played with guns for a living usually meant buying a new shirt and he rather liked the one he was wearing. The taller of the two young men was examining a case of Japanese swords and weapons, the shorter was... prowling. Both had turned to face the door as Connor entered.
-
"I'm Russell Nash," the antiques dealer said, not holding out a hand. "What can I do for you gentlemen?"
"Hi, I'm Agent Ulrich, this is my partner Agent Hammett. We're here about the sword from the beheading case a few days ago."
"The Toledo-Salamanca?" Nash stepped down into the sunken room. "I've already discussed my findings with that ass Moran from the police."
"Well, we aren't the police."
"Evidently." The ghost of a smirk chased itself across Nash's face. "What did you want to know?"
"With the recent beheadings, we were wondering if the sword itself had any occult meaning."
Sam shot a glance at Dean. "Of course, solely to determine if someone has decided to take the legend as real, enact them."
Nash smiled. "I don't know much about the occult, I'm afraid. All I can tell you is it is a very old, fine and rare blade." He sat on the circular couch and gestured Sam and Dean to do the same.
"Do you know anything about it's history?" Sam asked.
"History, now there's something I know a lot about. The toledo swords were always considered some of the finest. The mythical sword of King Arthur was said to be a Toledo sword. The Toledo-Salamanca is even rarer, because swords produced at that time were made almost exclusively in Toledo, where the Toledo-Salamanca was one of a small line, produced to exacting specifications and by expert swordsmiths in Salamanca." Nash's eyes slid back and forth between Dean and Sam.
"Does Salamanca have any particular legends or myths some nutjob might have latched on to?" Dean asked.
Nash laughed. "No, unless you count the legend of the frog."
"Frog?" asked Sam.
"Yes. Legend says that if a person catches this frog unaided, they will have fantastic sex for the next seven years."
"Really?" Dean leaned forward. "And where exactly is Salamanca?"
Sam resisted the urge to hit Dean as it would not help their claim to be FBI agents.
"Spain," said Nash with a smirk.
"Ah," said Dean, leaning back again.
Sam sighed and leaned forward to look into Nash's eyes. "What do you think is going on with all the beheadings, Mister Nash?"
Nash tilted his head and seemed about to say something, but stopped himself, looking back at Sam appraisingly before saying, carefully, "I think that there are sick people in this world. Dangerous people. And I think that anyone who gets in the way of dangerous people is a fool."
"So, are you a dangerous person or a fool, Mister Nash?" asked Sam, pushing.
The corner of Nash's mouth turned up and he bared his teeth in a grin, refusing to be pushed. "I'm not sick." He settled back on the circular couch. "I think that if you leave it alone, the situation will resolve itself, within the next week."
"Resolve itself?" Dean leaned forward, scowling. "People are dying, Mister Nash. Their heads are being chopped off. You suggest that this isn't a problem that needs to be stopped before more people die?"
Nash's lips twitched. "Of course, loss of life is tragic. I'm only saying that perhaps it's something that is best left out of the hands of amateurs."
"We're not amateurs, Mister Nash," said Sam, straightening. "We're the FBI."
"And you say that with a straight face. How amusing."
Sam stood and opened his mouth to say something.
Dean surged to his feet. "Mister Nash, are you a vampire?"
"De-!" Sam turned with a glare, nearly blurting out his brother's real name in sheer incredulity.
Nash's eyebrows went up. "No," he chuckled. "But you'd be surprised how often I've been asked that."
"What are you then? We've looked through the county archives, and it's your handwriting on every deed to this house going back hundreds of years."
"Not a vampire." Nash stood. "Look. We both know we aren't who we say we are. You aren't FBI, I'm not... exactly just an antiques dealer."
"So, you've just lived for a really long time and chop off people's heads for, what, sick jollies?"
"I told you, I'm not sick." Nash grinned. "All I'm saying is that sometimes it's best to leave these problems to resolve themselves. All the decapitations will stop within a week, and I guarantee, not a single one among the decapitated will be surprised by how they met their end. This Gathering has been millennia in the making. It's time."
"What about the sidewalk psycho?" asked Dean. "Is he connected to your bunch?"
Nash's grin faded to a grimace. "I'll deal with him. You have my word."
- - -
When the windows exploded out of the abandoned warehouse, followed by an impressive light-show, Dean and Sam were blocks away in the Impala, watching to see who came out of the building.
After a few minutes, Nash staggered out, leaning on a sword.
"Think we did the right thing, staying out of it?" Sam asked, watching Nash.
Nash waved at the Impala, then spread his arms out to the sides and looked up at the sky with an expression of sheer relieved joy.
"I hope so."
- - -
(ARG! Time's WAY up! that's all folks!)
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I'm glad the story worked out okay. :-)
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Besides, the Highlander franchise is plenty good at mangling the timeline themselves
Not to mention the 'they're aliens!!' nonsense of the second movie.
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THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE!
Sorry. Had to say that. Favourite movie. Our college sports teams were the Scots, we have a pipe band, and they all wear the McLeod tartan. So, yeah, such a personal memory for me....
The one thing I would recommend when shifting perspectives, and in *crossovers* especially, is to be crystal clear when you're switching from the POV of the one universe's character(s) to the other universe's. I had to go back a couple times to make sure that we were reading from Sam and Dean's perspective, rather than Connor's, during that third section. More description and/or sticking to *one* boy's voice might also give things a more focused point of view.
But yes, if there had been hunters in NY at that time, they definitely would have investigated the Gathering. Actually, it would be interesting to have seen this from the POV of someone who *was* hunting then, like maybe Bobby or Caleb (Caleb might well be interested from a weapons perspective).
I'm not sure you can really ignore Brenda's role in everything, though. I mean, without her, the Kurgen wouldn't necessarily have led Connor to SilverCup.... I'm going to stop before this sounds too critical - because it is a fun little piece of crack - it's just that Highlander (movie) is also one of my great loves, so it's hard for me to judge without bias.
I have always loved Connor's relationship with Rachel, though, and you really captured their tenderness.
And this exchange:
"I think that there are sick people in this world. Dangerous people. And I think that anyone who gets in the way of dangerous people is a fool."
"So, are you a dangerous person or a fool, Mister Nash?" asked Sam, pushing.
The corner of Nash's mouth turned up and he bared his teeth in a grin, refusing to be pushed. "I'm not sick."
Has the snappy feeling of both scripts - so great job on that!
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That interview section was a pain, because I had it all from Connor's POV at the start and then I needed to fudge around too much with Sam and Dean because the dialog intertext, Connor's referring to them as Ulrich and Hammett and I kept losing track of who was who, and needed to get into the boys' heads anyway, so I switched it except for the bit on the roof and with Rachel and probably missed getting the POV on the rest totally switched over and then of course I see now I've got Sam and Dean internals intermixed because really, the boys are only one person, right? *facepalm* Arg.
Hunters in New York at the time... that would be interesting to see. Sam and Dean would have been 2 and 6, so Bobby, Caleb and Pastor Jim would make sense.
Brenda's role... I was always kind of annoyed by Brenda. Not sure why. If she hadn't been there, though, I'm sure the Kurgan would still have been a rampaging psycho and Connor would still have had the big showdown with him, not neccesarily at Silver Cup but at some abandoned warehouse somewhere. *handwaves*
And thanks for the compliments on Rachel and the dialog! I'm a procrastinator and perfectionist by nature, so writing that in so short a time with no prep was a hell of a challenge, and I did end up arbitrarily ending it, rather than having it go as far as it could have. Also, I haven't seen the movie in about ten years, so I had to dig up a copy of the script online (which had Connor as Conner, hence the way his name is spelled in this, which I am about to change) to refresh my memory. :-D
How was your event by the way? I seem to recall you mentioning you were going to a con or an SCA thing last weekend?
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Work is kicking my butt at the moment and must go pay attention to it.
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Have a good day at work! I have to get going myself :-o