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Chaos fic: Spooks of the Spooks

June 18th, 2011 (03:18 pm)
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Title:  Spooks of the Spooks

Disclaimer:  Not mine.

A/N:  This foray into creepy yet still somehow fluffy team bonding uses the prompt Billy gets bored during a mission and starts telling ghost stories from eviinsanemonkey .  Subsequent beta by geminigrl11 , though I tinkered some afterward so more mistakes may still be there that are entirely my own silliness. 

Summary:  That would assume that Rick believes in ghost stories, which is clearly not the case.


Rick is used to giving up the creature comforts for his job; usually, it makes him feel like a real spy.

But usually, they’re not in the middle of the forest at night, posing as adventure-hardy campers while trying to stake out a suspected American member of a drug cartel.  Rick has been camping before, of course, and was perfectly adept at both roughing it and surviving, but in truth, he found the entire thing rather boring.

Camping in and of itself could be enjoyable, were he actually allowed to do real camping things.  As it is, they’ve pitched tents they’re not allowed to sleep in and made a fire too small to count for anything.  More than that, they’d been there for hours, taking turns scouting out the nearby cabin where their mark was expected to visit.

The job is to make contact, apprehend the mark, and then attempt to turn him on his employers.

Which is fine except the mosquitoes were bad, the camping gear was uncomfortable, and Rick doesn’t really want to go dig a hole in the woods to relieve himself within walking distance of his teammates.  It’s not that he doesn’t trust them with his life; it’s that he doesn’t trust them with his pants down.

To make matter worse, their comm link with Langley went down an hour ago, Michael is too focused to move, and Casey finds more to complain about than Rick did.

Of all of them, Billy seems to be taking it in stride, and he’s the only one who even attempts to make this night somewhat interesting.  Not that he succeeds easily in the face of fairly insurmountable odds: he offers a singalong, which Michael nixes for security reasons, and his offer of truth or dare was met with a loathing scowl from Casey.

“So how about some good, old fashioned ghost stories,” Billy suggests next, his eyes alive at the notion.

It’s Rick’s turn to groan.  “I think I’ve heard every ghost story there is,” he says, because he has.  With older brothers, Rick has been subjected to the routine teenaged scarings in all forms, for better and for worse.

Billy shakes his head.  “Of the civilian variety, perhaps,” he says.  “But I’m not talking about Bloody Mary or wendigoes.  I’m talking about CIA stories.  The spooks of the spooks.”

Despite his better judgment and overall restraint, this actually sounds vaguely intriguing to Rick, but Casey snorts dismissively.

“Ghosts aren’t real,” Casey says plaintively.  “They are figments of the imagination created by weak minded people as an attempt to explain away disparate parts of their reality.”

Billy gives him a good humored if disapproving look.  “Not all things of the supernatural realm can be so easily dismissed,” he says.

All things considered, Rick’s inclined to agree with Casey, and he actually suspects that Billy would, too.  But the power of ghost stories, Rick understands, is not so much an actual belief in the idea as it is allowing the setting and context create a certain feeling.

And it beats sitting in the silence doing nothing.

Still, Casey eyes Billy with boredom, and Rick gets the sense that they’ve had this conversation at least once before.  “We deal with facts and reality,” he replies.  “Myths and legends are outside the scope of what’s relevant, or have you forgotten that we’re supposed to be catching flesh and blood murderers?”

“Forgotten, no,” Billy says.  “But I, for one, have never been so quick to dismiss the possibility that there are things that sometimes defy human logic.”

Casey lifts his gun.  “If I can shoot it, then it’s logical enough for me.”

“So you don’t believe the stories of Agent X, then,” Billy muses.

Casey rolls his eyes.

Rick just frowns, interest piqued further.  It’s possible that his lingering childhood experiences around the campfire still have some hold on him; it’s also possible that he’s worried about being bored to death before this mission is over.  Either way, he wants to know.  “Who’s Agent X?”

Billy turns to him, face lighting up in the small crackle of the fire.  “Agent X is the operative that you Americans like to never talk about,” he begins.

Casey shakes his head, rolling his eyes again.  “Are we really going to hear this again?”

Rick looks blankly at Casey.

“It’s an important element of Agency history,” Billy contends.

“It’s fantasy,” Casey replies.

“And how can you be so sure?”

“Because I have common sense,” Casey says.  “Michael, tell them it’s fantasy.”

Michael just shrugs one shoulder, keeping his eyes clearly on the cabin with his night vision goggles.  “I’m staying out of this one.”

Billy leans forward with fresh enthusiasm.  “That’s because every agent would do good to take the story to heart, no matter what their doubts may be,” he says, sparing a moment to cast a furtive look at Casey.

Casey refuses to look back, lifting his chin astutely.

“I’m still not following,” Rick says honestly.  It’s not an uncommon feeling for him.

“Agent X offers a tale of horror and woe that may save your life someday,” Billy says with a knowing nod.

“Or it’ll simply fill your brain with more filler so the next time someone asks about your alias, all you’ll be able to come up with is nonsense,” Casey counters.

Billy’s eyes narrow.  “It is important to preserve the legacy of those that have gone before.”

“Sure, national heroes, not ghosts.”

Billy doesn’t hesitate to fire back.  “It’s a story that all operatives should know and heed.”

Casey finally looks at Billy fully.  “If you want to produce a legion of agents that fares as well in the field as the Russians, maybe.”

“You lack all faith and imagination,” Billy mutters.

“Two facts I’m quite proud of,” Casey says, a little smug.

Rick sighs, shaking his head.  With all this preamble, he really wants to know now.  And if he doesn’t stop their bickering soon, it’s not actually clear when it will end.  “So are you going to tell the story, or--?”

Casey sighs.  “Just get on with it and put us all out of our misery,” he grumbles.

Straightening, Billy seems somewhat mollified.  “It starts on a night, very much like this,” he begins, gesturing out at the forest.  “Nothing but a small breeze, rustling faintly in the trees.  If there was a moon, it was hidden in the dense canopy.”

Despite his assent, Casey can’t control his grunt.  “You’re hitting every cliche in the book already,” he says.  “What’s next?  He gets cut off from radio communication?”

“Which is not an uncommon occurrence,” Billy reminds him pointedly.  “Or have you forgotten the static the last time you tried your comm link.”

Rick does his best to be patient.  “So what happens?”

The question seems to refocus Billy and he turns his attention back to Rick.  “Well, Agent X had been assigned to do deep level recon in a remote area,” he says.  “Some people like to say that the mission was in Russia or Korea, but me, personally, I think this tale is one of home grown disaster.  Perhaps in a woods much like this.”  He nods to the woods around them.

Rick looks around, skeptical.  Billy’s clearly working hard with this, but it almost seems like too much.  Michael doesn’t seem to be paying attention and Casey is studiously trying not to care.  “So basically it could be anywhere depending on where the story is being retold,” Rick concludes.

This time, Billy glares at him in earnest.  “Do you want to tell this story or shall we perhaps continue sitting in total silence while the hours drag on?”

“No, no,” Rick says quickly.  “Go ahead.”

Billy bristles slightly, then seems to settle in.  “Anyway,” he says, eyes turning from Rick to Casey purposefully, as if daring either to interfere again.  “Agent X was supposed to set up a post and make contact with a mark.  Due to the secluded nature of the mission, he agreed to go in alone to minimize the CIA’s exposure with only a comm link back to the rest of his team in order to ensure full mission compliance.  Agent X, being the loyal agent that he was, readily agreed, trusting his skills and training to bolster him no matter what the context.”

Rick nods because that much seems reasonable as far as set ups go.

The silent assent seems to encourage Billy’s story.  He hunches forward, a bit eagerly.  “So Agent X sets up his camp and starts his recon.  A few uneventful hours pass, with no sign of movement and nothing unusual,” he says.  Then he pauses, quirking one eyebrow.  “Then, out of nowhere, his comm link blinks out.”

“What a stunning coincidence,” Casey says sarcastically.

“If you’re referring the fact that our comm link went down an hour ago, that is entirely not my fault,” Billy says.

Casey turns a bored eye to him.  “I was referring to the fact that a ghost story involves the victim being cut off from all outside forms of communication.  And the fact that I just predicted that it would happen two minutes ago.”

“I couldn’t get ahead of myself,” Billy says.  “Besides, present situation considered, you have to admit that a scenario for supernatural tragedy is not as unlikely as you would have young Rick here believe.”

That’s a point Casey can’t deny.  Even Rick has to admit that from a neutral standpoint, their situation is ripe with opportunities for scaring.

For persons who weren’t skilled and trained and fully armed, of course.

With barely restrained frustration, Casey shakes his head.  “Fine,” he mutters.  “Then continue your pointless attempts to invoke fear.”

Billy seems satisfied with that and looks back to Rick.  “Agent X was probably much like our doubtful friend Casey, here,” he says.  “A small glitch in the routine was hardly enough to throw him for a loop and he continued the mission as specified, right down to every last detail.  He took pictures and kept himself fully armed, testing the comm link every ten minutes to see if contact had been restored.”

Rick nods.  “Okay,” he says.  “So I take it something happens?”

Billy smiles mischievously.  “It’s a CIA mission,” he says.  “Something always happens.”

“So what was it?” Rick asks, more curious than anything.

“Well,” Billy says, clearly glad that Rick humored him enough to ask. He lifts his hands to help make his point.  “Agent X is continuing his monitoring when he starts to hear things.  At first, it’s just faint noises, like nothing more than the breeze picking up in the trees.  But as the minutes go by, he starts listening a little closer and it starts to sound like something else.  Maybe movement, maybe not; he can’t quite tell.  Still, being the trained operative that he is, he follows protocol.”

“And tried to ascertain visual confirmation,” Rick assumes.

Billy nods with enthusiasm.  “Very proper of you, lad,” he says.  “So Agent X gets up to do a perimeter sweep of his camp, but he doesn’t find anything.  When he settles back down for his surveillance, he starts to hear it again.  But closer this time--and louder.”

Rick nods along.  It’s been years since his brothers convinced him to take the time to go camping.  Even still, he can remember their late night attempts to make him tremble, something which they had invariably failed at no matter how much blood and gore they included.  Billy’s storytelling is more refined, and the remote campsite is more unsettling, but Rick still feels like this is nothing more than an apt distraction.

Still, Billy is a convincing storyteller, and Rick hasn’t heard this one before, so getting caught up isn’t all that hard to do.  “So did Agent X pull his weapon?”

Billy almost beams.  “The CIA has certainly prepared you well,” he says.  “Under all that youthful naivete, you really are a tried and true operative.”

Casey shuffles in his spot, refusing to look at them.  Michael still seems oblivious to the entirety of their exchange.

“And then I assume Agent X tries for visual confirmation again,” Rick continues, prompting Billy for more.

“Right you are,” Billy says.  “But he still can’t get a visual or any sense of what it is that’s out there.  It seems too purposeful to be animal in nature but in the woods at night, he’s not sure who else might be there except his mark.”

“So he tries to make contact,” Rick presumes.

“Naturally,” Billy says.  “Because Agent X was a bright young lad like yourself.  Chipper and strapping; the best the Agency had to offer.  Top of his class at the Farm with exquisite precision in the field.”

“The details are superfluous,” Casey interjects.

“The details make the story,” Billy shoots back.

“Conjecture and hearsay developed over years of multiple retellings,” Casey say plainly.

“It’s about ambiance,” Billy says.  “Something which you clearly have no sense of, given your oppressive air of unrelenting negativity.”

Rick could let them argue, and it might be just as amusing.  But there’s a chance their own mark might show up at any moment, and if Rick’s going to listen to ghost tales, he’s going to at least hear the whole story out.  “So if visual confirmation fails, Agent X would try to obtain alternative means of confirmation.”

Billy turns back to him, shifting his weight away from Casey altogether.  Focused on Rick again, he resumes his storytelling posture, leaning in close and letting his voice drop for what Rick can only suspect is dramatic effect.  These tells would be annoyingly obvious if they weren’t so well executed.  Rick understands why Billy is the charmer of the group. 

“Correct again,” Billy says with a dazzling smile.  “Since he’s not sure if he’s being threatened or not, Agent X did the only reasonable thing and maintained his cover.  Swallowing his fear, he called out into the woods, identifying himself as a camper.”

Again, that made sense.  Rick knew the nature of ghost stories; knew their rise and fall as well as anything.  Which meant that the tension should start building now.

Billy doesn’t disappoint.  Unlike Rick’s brothers, who tended to exaggerate with clunky details and unnecessary profanity, Billy spins his tales with subtlety and finesse.  Even when Rick knows how to understand it, it’s still surprisingly effective. 

“He calls out, his voice echoing in the trees, but there’s no answer,” Billy says.  “Just more rustling, only it’s closer, faster now.  You can imagine, Agent X is nervous, but he’s CIA.  He’s trying not to show it.  Instead he uses his light, trying to track the movement any way he can.  He catches glimpses--shadows darting in the dark--but always just beyond what he can see.”

Billy pauses again, shadows from the fire dancing across his face.  “Agent X is sure of impending danger now, but he doesn’t know what to do.  He keeps his wits, draws his gun, and is ready for anything.  Until--wham!”  Billy slaps his hand to his thigh hard enough that Rick almost jumps.  “Something tackles him from behind.”

Rick works to maintain his composure, feeling suddenly embarrassed that it’s such an effort at all.  It’s something of compensation that while Michael still seems to be not listening, Casey’s eyes are turned toward Billy even if his posture remains staidly away. 

At any rate, Billy is too far into his tale to stop to mock Rick for his lapse in professionalism.  “Agent X knows his hand to hand combat, though.  He rolls hard out of the way and comes up firing.  But there’s nothing there.  His back is bleeding, but he can’t tell how badly, and he hears rustling in time to turn around and wham!  Gets knocked over again.”

Rick’s not superstitious--like Casey, he prefers rationality to myth--but he has to swallow harder now to control the growing lump in his throat as Billy’s voice wafts in the darkness.

“It’s obviously an attack now, but no form of self defense stands a chance.  His back is bleeding heavily and it’s all he can do to keep getting up to fight.  He goes down again and again and he realizes he’s being flayed alive.  Strips of skin, torn from his back and his legs and his arm, strip by strip until he can’t get up anymore,” Billy says, punctuating the words carefully, pulling the visceral image from Rick’s mind almost against his will. 

The climax is coming--Rick knows this--but whereas his brothers never had the patience to draw it out, Billy sits on the emotion for a long moment before wetting his lips and continuing.

“The next morning when Agent X’s team came to check on him, they found everything in the site perfectly in order.  All the gear and equipment was untouched.  Nothing was missing,” he says, then he pauses again, letting the peaceful image linger.

Maybe it’s the setting.  Maybe it’s the rhythmic draw of Billy’s voice.  Maybe sleep deprivation has finally caught up with him.  But Rick leans forward, almost unconsciously, desperate for the end.

Billy seems to know this, eyes carefully trained on Rick, holding the pregnant pause just a moment longer.  “Not even Agent X,” he says.  “They found him, piece by piece, strewn about the campsite with the only identifiable part being his emptied gun still clutched in his ripped off hand.”

Rick has let himself get so captivated by the storytelling that it takes him a long moment to realize that Billy may, in fact, be done.  Incredulous, Rick shakes his head.  “That’s it?”

Billy shrugs, sitting back.  “What more were you expecting?’

At that question, Rick flounders a bit.  “But...if he died, then how does anyone know what happened?”

Casey snickers a little.  “It’s a ghost story,” he says.  “It doesn’t require substantiated fact.”

But Billy’s eyes have sparked with the insinuation.  “Except this is a CIA ghost story,” he enunciates carefully.  “We can’t have our mythos be unsubstantiated.”

“So how do they know what happened?” Rick pushes.

“Because,” Billy says, fully undaunted.  “You need not forget that our misfortunate Agent X was by the book.  He had his recording gear running the entire time.”

“So it captured the attack,” Rick presumes, though he’s collected himself enough to be somewhat dubious now.  He probably should let it drop.  After all, he knows better than to apply logic in this kind of situation, but for some reason, he can’t help himself.  When it comes to the ODS, he can almost never help himself.

Billy leans forward with new vigor.  “No, and that’s the mysterious part.  CIA experts analyzed the tape and the video equipment and found it to be in impeccable shape.  The footage was crystal clear before and after the attack, but the section of time during which Agent X perished was completely distorted except for the audio.”

Rick doesn’t even know what to say to that.  He does what little he can to keep his curiosity benign and hopes that his team can’t see through it in the darkness.  “What was on the audio?”

Billy sits back, quite obviously intent on drawing the story out.  “Nothing but the rustling of the leaves and Agent X’s screams as he was slowly and surely killed throughout the night,” he says.  He shrugs again.  “And the tragedy of it all is that if he’d just moved one mile in any direction, his comm link would have been restored.  But because Agent X, the ever dutiful CIA operative that he was, followed protocol, he died alone and terrified in the line of duty.  The CIA, ever fond of their secrets, filed the footage in a top secret location, known only to the utmost officers and government officials.  As for Agent X--they say he visits agents on lonely missions, whispering in their ear to remind them of his untimely demise in hopes of preventing their own.”

Rick waits, tilting his head.  As far as stories go, he understands that this is, in fact, the proper end.  The story has followed its arc, reached its resolution, but Rick still finds it unsettling, if only because it feels a little too close to home. 

Because a trained operative dying a horrible death on a lonely mission due to protocol?  Is not a way he wants to die, but he also couldn’t see how any other end would befall him in such a scenario.

Not that Rick is conceding that such a scenario would pass.  Because that would assume that Rick believes in ghost stories, which is clearly not the case.

Still, there’s something missing that he wants to know.  “So what’s the point?” he asks.

Billy blinks at him.  “The point?”

“Yeah, the moral,” Rick asks, feeling a little desperate.  He’s not scared--of course not--it’s just that if he knows anything about ghost stories, it’s that they always have a point, even twisted or shallow.  Whether the point is not to go camping alone after Labor Day or not to have sex with other wayward hikers on cold nights, there’s always a point and if Rick finds solace in anything, it’s always the bottom line.

Billy frowns slightly, as if that question hasn’t occurred to him much.  “It’s a ghost story, why does there have to be a moral?”

Rick gapes at him.  “Because you said all agents should know this story!”

Casey sighs in melodramatic fashion.  “It’s told to scare new recruits into learning how to think on their feet,” he says in exasperation.  “Following proper protocol got Agent X eviscerated so he died a painful, bloody, and pointless death.  Understand the way to properly use protocol and balance it with your common sense in order to stay alive in this field.”

Rick stares at him.

Billy seems to be considering that.  “Huh,” he says.  “And here I thought it was just a way to keep agents from going completely stir crazy on long stake outs.”

Really, it’s Rick’s own fault for listening, for encouraging Billy down this line of reasoning, which isn’t reasoning at all.  Billy is always looking for some way to entertain, and Rick should know enough by now to see such displays for what they are.

Still, Rick’s not sure whether to laugh at him or punch him.

He does neither because Michael gets to his feet.  “We’ve got movement,” he says, nodding toward the cabin down the way.

The rest of the team is already in action, gear in hand, forming a tight line for approach.

Billy looks at Rick, who still hasn’t managed to move from the ground.  “Are you coming?”

Rick’s brow furrows but he nods.  As he gets his gear together, he pauses at their vacant site.  It’s a silly story, of course.  Agent X--it’s nothing more than the tales of La Llorona his mother plied him with during his childhood to make him fall in line.

Still, the distant rustle of the leaves sound like moaning, sending a shiver down Rick’s spine.  Clutching his gun closer, he turns quickly to his team, speeding after them into the darkness, just in case.


Posted by: lukadreaming (lukadreaming)
Posted at: June 18th, 2011 10:04 pm (UTC)

Nicely creepy! And I love Casey's grumpy running commentary as Billy tells the story *g*.

Posted by: do i dare or do i dare? (faye_dartmouth)
Posted at: June 19th, 2011 12:33 am (UTC)
billy content

I hope some creepiness actually came across. I'm not really into ghost stories all that much on my own, so I was making things up as I went :)


Posted by: Evil Insane Monkey (eviinsanemonkey)
Posted at: June 19th, 2011 12:31 am (UTC)

hee, this is perfect :) I love Billy, and I can so imagine him being a fantastic story teller (I think it might be the accent...). And Casey being all "Why are we doing this?" And Rick listening and getting into it is so adorable. And I can totally see Michael listening to them with one ear while still playing disinterested, listening to their banter and their bonding and being all "oh, my team" in his head.

Love it :)

(you're up :D)

Posted by: do i dare or do i dare? (faye_dartmouth)
Posted at: June 19th, 2011 12:36 am (UTC)
billy content

What is really fun about writing Billy is that I get to hear his voice in my head, which never fails to make me smile. And then, of course, whenever Billy starts talking in my head, the Casey in my head starts to get exasperated and Rick just falls for far too much.

Which can tell you something about the state of my head.

And I will also say this was by far one of the hardest things for me write in a long, long time.

(Okay: The team undercover in an uncomfortable situation.)

Posted by: Evil Insane Monkey (eviinsanemonkey)
Posted at: June 19th, 2011 12:40 am (UTC)

Hee,that sounds so perfect.

aw, well, the hard ones are always so rewarding in the end, aren't they?

(eep, now I have to think...)

Posted by: do i dare or do i dare? (faye_dartmouth)
Posted at: June 19th, 2011 12:42 am (UTC)
billy content

I do rather enjoy it, even if it makes me vaguely crazy.

And LOL, as long as you liked it, then I think it was worthwhile.

(And I apologize for making you think on a weekend!)

Posted by: Evil Insane Monkey (eviinsanemonkey)
Posted at: June 19th, 2011 12:43 am (UTC)

Lol, yeah, well...it could be worse.


(lol, s'okay, I just hope I can come up with something good...)

Posted by: do i dare or do i dare? (faye_dartmouth)
Posted at: June 19th, 2011 12:44 am (UTC)
chaos team 2

(I have great confidence in you. It's not like you've failed yet :) And as always, I can give you another one if it gives you fits.)

Posted by: Evil Insane Monkey (eviinsanemonkey)
Posted at: June 19th, 2011 12:45 am (UTC)

(I'll muse on it tonight while my sinuses are keeping me awake, but I should be able to come up with something)

Posted by: do i dare or do i dare? (faye_dartmouth)
Posted at: June 19th, 2011 12:48 am (UTC)

(That actually sounds very unpleasant. Now I don't know whether to hope you feel better or to hope you come up with something brilliant while being miserable.)

Posted by: Evil Insane Monkey (eviinsanemonkey)
Posted at: June 19th, 2011 12:49 am (UTC)

(I'm semi-used to it, 'cause I've been dealing with it at least once a year for most of my life, it's just annoying. I actually feel somewhat better sitting up in bed reading and/or writing, so maybe working on the fic'll help me fall asleep)

Edited at 2011-06-19 12:51 am (UTC)

Posted by: do i dare or do i dare? (faye_dartmouth)
Posted at: June 19th, 2011 12:52 am (UTC)

(I hope the thinking/ficcing helps, then :)

Posted by: Evil Insane Monkey (eviinsanemonkey)
Posted at: June 19th, 2011 12:59 am (UTC)

(thanks, me, too)

Posted by: Evil Insane Monkey (eviinsanemonkey)
Posted at: June 21st, 2011 08:03 pm (UTC)

(okay, so, I'm having trouble thinking of the uncomfortable situation for them...I'm sure if my brain could come up with that I'd be golden. So, I thought I'd ask if you had any particular uncomfortable situations you'd like to see?)

Posted by: do i dare or do i dare? (faye_dartmouth)
Posted at: June 21st, 2011 08:33 pm (UTC)

(I don't have anything particular in mind. It could be physical discomfort, i.e. the guys stuck in a small space, or just uncomfortable because of the cover they have to maintain. Does that help? Or do you just want a different prompt?)

Posted by: Evil Insane Monkey (eviinsanemonkey)
Posted at: June 21st, 2011 08:36 pm (UTC)

(I'm gonna give it one more day and see if I can come up with anything. If I can't, I'll ask for a different prompt tomorrow)

Posted by: do i dare or do i dare? (faye_dartmouth)
Posted at: June 21st, 2011 08:40 pm (UTC)
billy content

(Okay. I'm sorry! I wasn't trying to be difficult. I just come up with prompts off the top of my head without any real concept behind them.)

Posted by: Evil Insane Monkey (eviinsanemonkey)
Posted at: June 21st, 2011 08:46 pm (UTC)

(It's okay, it's not so much difficult as my mind is just really weird right now. I do still have to watch the most recent ep, so maybe that'll help give me ideas)

Posted by: Evil Insane Monkey (eviinsanemonkey)
Posted at: June 22nd, 2011 12:46 pm (UTC)

here it is

Posted by: blackdog_lz (blackdog_lz)
Posted at: June 19th, 2011 08:24 am (UTC)

I love how you and eviinsanemonkey throw out so many good fics in so short a time. I can so see this happening. The rest of the team trying to scare the newbie :)
Keep them coming.

Posted by: do i dare or do i dare? (faye_dartmouth)
Posted at: June 19th, 2011 01:08 pm (UTC)
billy earnest

It's been really fun going back and forth with the prompting, so it's also very nice that others get to enjoy our fun as well :)


Posted by: nietie (nietie)
Posted at: June 19th, 2011 10:16 am (UTC)

Great story, Billy. You had me on the edge of my seat here *g*
Bless poor Rick. He'll always be the newbie to the other Right Bastards.

Posted by: do i dare or do i dare? (faye_dartmouth)
Posted at: June 19th, 2011 01:09 pm (UTC)
CHAOS team

I love Rick and his utter newbie-ness, even when he's trying so hard not to let it show. It would have been great to see their dynamic develop over a few seasons, but yeah. Obviously that's not going to happen.

Anyway, thanks!

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