THE NIGHT OF THE FAUX LIGHTNING McCoy
By Andamogirl
Author's note: season 2.
Challenge issued by Tripidydoodah : write a story that fits with the episode of TNOT Surreal McCoy.
Done!
One shot / vignette.
This story takes place during TNOT Surreal McCoy. Missing scene following Artie drugging Lightning McCoy's glass of whiskey.
Many thanks to my beta reader Tripidydoodah.
WWW
Cantina,
At night
Lightning McCoy downed the rest of his whiskey, laced with a sleeping drug, let out a pleased sound and set the empty glass on the bar with a thump.
Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he moved away from the bar and said, "We have to go now, amigo. Dr. Loveless is waiting for us and I can't wait to go to the ranch."
Smiling, Artemus Gordon nodded. "Okay, you're right, let's go." He took a last swig finishing off the rotgut whiskey and grimaced. That horrid stuff could make holes in metal, he thought with dread, and felt his stomach contract when the liquor hit it.
The special agent was following the Mexican gunslinger toward the double doors when Lightning McCoy started crabbing sideways across the saloon… his legs buckled. He crumbled to the floor at the base of the two steps leading to the front door.
Artie looked at the hollow part of his ring topped with a black stone, which had contained the sleeping powder and thought, 'With that size dose, he'll sleep at least 12 hours.' He smiled and added in his mind, 'It's a good thing I put it on my finger this morning feeling that it would be useful, and I was right… At this level, it's not intuition any more, Artie old boy, but divination! Maybe I should try reading the future in a crystal ball before an assignment…it could be very handy."
Sensing someone at his back, Artemus pivoted in a flash, hand on the butt of his gun, and saw the Mexican bartender come back to his bar, after he fled – like all the patrons – except Lightning McCoy, when the black-clad gunslinger had said he wanted to drink alone.
He relaxed and looking sorry, he said, "I think my friend drank a little too much whiskey," before pulling Lightning McCoy into a sitting position. "Do you have a room to rent for the night? Where he could sleep it off peacefully."
The bartender nodded. "Si, señor. Upstairs, on the left, at the end of the corridor." He glanced at the body of the black-clad gunslinger, lying on the sawdust-covered floor, and in a pool of his own blood, just in front of the bar and added, "Your friend killed that man, Grant Carter, El Hombre Negro, the gunslinger, who terrified everyone here, so, for him…" he grinned, and said, "it's free! I will offer him breakfast too, tomorrow morning, to thank him." He glanced again at the dead man and spat on the floor. "Good riddance!" then he went back behind the bar to clean the glasses.
Artemus pulled Lightning McCoy from the floor and hoisted him onto his shoulder. "Come on, compadre, it's time for you to go to bed."
WWW
Denver
Later, in the Wanderer
Sitting at the long work table in his lab, Artie opened the box where he kept his faux moustaches and faux beards and chose a wide, short, droopy moustache.
He rubbed his left cheek looking at his reflection in the small portable mirror he had placed to one side. His slight growth of beard wasn't enough to accentuate the dark and dangerous appearance he wanted to give his character. So, he opened a second box, containing his makeup, and quickly darkened his face and chin with charcoal pencils.
Sporting some faux stubble now, he stuck a piece of faux skin under his right eye and on the side of it, to imitate the scar the real Lightning McCoy had there.
Marmalade strolled into the lab and jumped onto the long work table. She sat down, tail wafting slowly, apparently waiting.
Gluing the phony, black, droopy mustache above his upper lip, Artie said, "I'm busy now, I can't play with you or cuddle you, Marmie. Later. Jim's in danger." Then, using tweezers, he started to trim his eyebrows in order to make them slightly angular, to accentuate his 'don't mess with me or you're dead' look.
Meow.
Marmie rubbed her head against her owner's neck. Then, curious, she started exploring his box full of faux hairs, sniffing delicately at them. She tentatively pawed a blond beard.
Immediately Artemus groaned and tsked. "Don't touch that Marmie! They're not toys." And the cat obeyed, sitting on its hind legs, amber eyes demanding, tail waving.
Marmalade tilted her head. Meow?
His eyebrows trimmed like he wanted, Artie stroked the feline's head, between the pointed ears, eliciting loud purrs. "You don't want to play or a cuddle; you want to eat, right?" The cat meowed in approval. He smiled. "Sometimes I wonder if you're a normal cat, with one stomach, you're always hungry and eating…" He chuckled and Marmalade rubbed her cheek on her owner's hand. "If Jim was there, he would say like cat, like owner…" He sighed anxiously thinking about his best friend and partner, prisoner of Morgan. "I'm coming Jim, I just have to change my appearance…"
Marmalade meowed again, deeper, louder and one paw came to pat Artie's cheek as she waved her tail more rapidly, insisting. Meow!
Amused, Artemus smiled and rubbed his nose against the cat's triangular one, then he started to move his thumb along the cat's small chin and Marmie purred contentedly. "Demanding girl!"
The secret agent stood, and opened one of the big trunks which contained his disguises. This one was labelled on the lid: 'Mexican costumes'.
He smiled. It wouldn't be the first time he had disguised himself as a Mexican, but it would be the first time as a gunslinger.
He hoped he would not have to give a demonstration of his speed with a revolver. He was fast with a gun, but not as fast as lightning… he mused.
He frowned, intrigued, wondering why Morgan had hired the best gunslinger in the US, as he already had a collection of henchmen at his service.
But he would soon discover why, posing as Lightning McCoy, he reflected. 'Once inside Morgan's ranch, he would find Jim and then…' "We'll see, what happens next," he said.
Marmie jumped down to the floor.
He took a black, rounded wide-brimmed hat, Spanish-style with a band of silver conchos… and chuckled. "My version of Lightning McCoy likes shiny things…" Marmalade took the opportunity to jump into the trunk, sniffing the sombrero charro placed there. "No, no, nooo!" He scooped up the orange and white cat and placed it at his feet. "Be a good cat and go to the galley, Marmalade, and wait for me there. I'll join you n a few minutes. I have some fish leftovers for you. Okay?"
Marmalade let out a long meow in reply and then she purred, satisfied, and waving her tail high in victory, she padded out of the lab.
Smiling, Artemus pulled out a pair of over-the-knee high black boots, decorated with four silver buckles; dark-gray pants, a burgundy shirt and a black bolero jacket with silver buttons.
He opened another trunk where he kept various weapons and gun belts with revolvers, and took one, light brown colored, with a silver-toned six shooter with a mother-of-pearl butt.
He smiled. "A shiny revolver. Perfect!"
He untied his black cravat and stripped off his brown corduroy jacket with tan lapels. "Time to disguise yourself as Lightning McCoy," he said.
WWW
Later
Morgan's ranch
Lightning McCoy (Artemus Gordon) dismounted in front of Morgan's two storey, white house and tied his horse to the hitching post. Looking around him he spotted two armed men on each side of the vast porch which had five square columns.
His hand resting on the butt of his Colt, he headed toward the big door, with flexibility and fluidity, walking or rather padding like a big dangerous cat - like a predator.
Black spurs clinking with each step.
Using the knocker, he knocked at the door and shortly after two cowboys appeared in front of him. "I'm lighting McCoy, Dr. Loveless is expecting me," he said with a Mexican accent.
The man with a brown waistcoat nodded. "Come in and wait here, I won't be long." Then he turned around and headed toward a door at the back of the large hall.
The other henchman, with a blue jacket, looked at the famous gunslinger from head to toe and said, "You don't seem to be very dangerous…"
Faux-Lightning McCoy shot a cold, black, glare at the other man. "Try me, if you have a death wish," he said, his voice as cold as ice, snaking his hand toward the butt of his gun, his eyes riveted on the cowboy's. "Any last words?" he added in a deadly icy tone.
The other man stood stock-still, his back stiff and ramrod straight. He held his breath and then gulped audibly. "Okay, I-I was just jo-joking," he stuttered, taking a step back.
His face impassive, Artie, his thumbs hooked casually under his gun belt, looked at the other cowboy who was coming back… and out the corner of his eyes, in the room, he saw a man, half hiding at the side of the door and staring at him, a man he thought dead, burned three months ago, in his Robin Hood costume.
His face remained expressionless – barely.
Loveless!
He was still alive!
The end.