"Have the SPIN-ers Stopped Screaming, Clarice?"
Part 2
The identical, odd-eyed men bustled about the room, cleaning up from the multiple battles. One paused next to a black-clad, black-haired girl.
"Everyone has a fantasy," he said. "What's yours?"
"C'mere," the girl replied. He leaned down and she whispered in his ear. His eyes got wider and wider, until...
"Yipe!" he cried, and took off running. His brothers spared him glances, and then got back to their work. Every so often, one would glance back at the black-haired girl, and she would raise an eyebrow. They would then turn quickly back to the maintenance.
"What did you *say* to him, Wednesday?" said a brown-haired girl that looked about the same age (but wasn't). Then Bola held up a hand. "Wait, no, I don't want to know."
Wednesday just shrugged. "Up to you."
The lawyer Lilah Morgan, meanwhile, had settled comfortably into the Irons chair, Ian 3 instinctively fallen in behind her. Aras had grabbed a chair and turned it backwards, straddling it as she faced her. Ian 2.0 appreciated her position, but not too openly, as his girlfriend Harley Quinn was fingering a large mallet, and his second-season brother had his broadsword within easy reach.
"Evil twins have certain specific rights," Lilah was saying. "Each case is demonstrably different, but you should definitely have representation. I'd like to begin by filing a proposal that would have you declared the primary version, making Sara Pezzini the doppelganger. Standard stuff, really."
The blue and red clad twins spoke up, the scarred one beginning.
"You really should let her represent you..." "...she's helped craft precedent in several evil twin cases..." "...even when both twins are evil," they ended, chorusing.
The Ians stared at them. Ian One spoke up. "Do I know you? You look extremely familiar."
"Imagine us in..." "...business suits."
He did. "Ah. Tomax and Xamot, CEOs, Extensive Enterprises. Correct?"
"Exactly," they chorused again.
"I helped them win a personal injury lawsuit against the U.S. Army," Lilah elaborated. "And, got injuries done to one considered injuries done to the other."
"Why..." asked Ian 3, then had his question answered when they both leapt into the air, clutching their backsides. Wednesday stood behind Xamot with a large hatpin.
"What?" she said. "I was curious."
"Hey," Aras said, "You guys are palindromes too!" Her eyes lit up, and both Ians 2 and 3 glared in the twins' direction. Aras noticed. "Hey, c'mon. It's not like I'm gonna jump the Corsican Brothers here. But they *are* good looking."
"Okay, that's it," Harley said, glaring at Ian 2.0 in turn. "You want to fight your brother for the little skank, you do it. I'll just go back to Gotham and Ivy... I mean, Mistah J! Who at least has the decency to stab me in the front! Literally!" With a back handspring, she was out the study door.
Ian 2 looked about, almost apologetically, at all concerned. "Excuse me," he said. Then, "Harley, wait!"
"Anyway," Lilah continued after Ian 2's exit, "that's just an example. Wolfram and Hart also administers a trust for the Isaacs, to distribute the funds from one to all the others in the case of their death."
One of the odd-eyed men spoke up. "We figured if it happens with our strength, it ought to happen with our money." Then Wednesday glanced at him and he went quiet.
"And," she said, "we managed to get Vampire Willow's death invalidated, since it happened in her alternate reality."
The redhead, whose attention had completely wandered following the fight, looked up. "But what you've really got to look out for," she said, "is your good twin getting more evil than you." At Aras' snort, she said, "It could happen! I'm all redundant now." Then she caught sight of Ian 3 for the first time. "Ooh! Puppy!" she cried. An instant later, she was behind him, running a sharp fingernail down his back. "Puppy wanna play?"
Ian 3 suddenly looked extremely nervous.
"Wait," Aras said, suspiciously. "Why are you doing all this?"
"Well, I *am* a lawyer," Lilah responded. "It's not like these services are free. Also, we vicious, streaky bitches have to stick together."
"Well, when you put it that way..."
Ian 2.0 interrupted the company, suddenly, by careening back into the study. His normally sure feet skidded a bit on the floor as he went.
"Excuse me," he asked, his fixed grin somewhat strained, "but did anyone order a mob with flaming torches? Because there's one outside."
"Oh, Gomez!" cried Morticia Addams, who had been sitting, chatting with her family and a pair of Isaacs. "How romantic! Just like our honeymoon!"
"This was not my doing, my love," he replied, "but that doesn't mean we can't take advantage of the atmosphere!" He swept her off her feet and they were away.
"Kids," Uncle Fester said fondly, taking a AAA battery from a sack near his hand, popping it in his mouth, and chewing absently.
The Ians 1 and 3, as well as Tomax, and Xamot, had meanwhile mobilized around Ian 2.0. "Did you notice anything in particular about this mob?" the eldest Ian asked.
"Well, there were a couple of things. First, they seemed to be burning an effigy of Aras there."
"How could you tell?"
"It was wearing a grey hooded sweatshirt that read..."
"Pagan?"
"Skank."
"Oh."
"Well, we could always..." "...Send Aras out to them..." the twins suggested, then gulped as Ians 2 and 3 levered swords at their throats. "...just a suggestion," they finished in unison, weakly.
"Also," said Ian 2, sheathing his katana, "most had signs or sweatshirts that read SPIN."
"SPIN. Does that mean anything to any of you?"
Ian 3 wrote it down. He stared at it. "Uh-oh."
"What?"
He drew lines out from each of the letters, so that the acrostic read "S- ara P-ezzini I-an N-ottingham."
"Ah. This could be a problem."
"Not too much trouble..." Tomax began. "...we can have the Crimson Guard here in half an hour..." Xamot continued, "...for a small fee."
Ian One sighed and looked at his brothers. "Do it," he said. "So, we have only to hold out until then. It shouldn't be too difficult...I doubt they can even get inside the mansion."
Of course, as soon as he said this, another body came hurtling through the hole made by Gomez Addams earlier in the day. It was large yet compact, and it spun on its way down, landing in a martial-arts pose directly between Aras and Lilah, facing the former.
"Hiii-yah!" cried the blonde pig with the SPIN t-shirt. Aras just stared, jaw hanging open.
"How could you!" the porcine, pink female continued. "How could you deflower that poor boy and take him away from Sara, with whom we all know that he is meant to be!"
"Deflower? You mean he was a...damn! He sure did his homework," Aras said, admiringly. Ian 3 blushed.
"Leave him alone!" the pig shouted.
"When pigs fly," Pagan said dangerously, getting up to circle her opponent, who turned, keeping her in sight. "So, who are you, besides soon-to-be- bacon?"
"The name's Piggy! *Miss* Piggy. I *love* a good romance, and you just ruined one! You're going to pay! Hiii-yaaah!" Piggy launched herself at Aras, who prepared to block and kick...only to be immobilized by a petite redhead, who had grabbed them both by the collars.
"Bored now," she said. "Go home." Vamp Willow wound up like a hall-of-fame pitcher and tossed Miss Piggy back through the window. As the pig went flying, she cried, "I'll be baaaaaaack..."
"Good lord," Tomax began. "Could this evening..." "...get any more..." "...surreal?"
"If I might make a suggestion," Lilah said from the chair, looking for all the world like a female Kenneth Irons, enough so that Ian the First scrutinized her, but found no evidence of actual possession. "I think a bit of misdirection is called for. Ian 2?"
"Yes?"
"I think many of us feel that you're more Aras' type, with the mutual interests and all. What we need to do is convince the mob outside that she actually slept with you, and not your brother. You're virtually identical, after all."
"I have short hair."
"Well, we can't fool all the people all of the time. Anyone have a better idea? No? Okay then. We need a window that's too high for the mob to rush."
"I think I know one like you mean, in my room," Bola said. "Should overlook the mob, too."
"All right. Let's go." And most of the company filed up the stairs until they bracketed Ian 2.0 and Aras against the torchlight that played across their features.
Ian 2.0 took Aras in his arms and prepared to dip her as his brother had. Aras instead spun him around, pushed him up against the window, and proceeded to maul him mercilessly. The torches seemed to flare a little brighter, the mansion to shake (although that could have been the battering ram at the door; at any rate, it ceased presently). The angered chanting faded to hoots and catcalls.
"Well," said Lilah, "I think my work here is done for now." The assemblage, Lilah in the lead, adjourned downstairs.
* * *
"Well," said Morticia, much later, "that was certainly an interesting evening. And whichever brother she chooses, I think I'd be happy to call either one family. They'll fit right in."
"Oh, definitely," Gomez replied. "Splendid fighters, as well, and they have the most interesting friends!"
"You know, though," Morticia said, "It's odd. I have the strangest feeling we're forgetting something."
* * *
Bola had her room back, finally, and she arranged her weaponry in the small space she'd hollowed out beneath her pillow. She'd changed from her red hood and dress to a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt, and she was finally ready to just relax. She took a sip of the brandy she'd placed on her nightstand, and then settled back with her hands laced behind her head.
Then came a tap on her shoulder.
She looked to and fro, but saw nothing. Then she looked at her nightstand.
Sitting next to the brandy was a severed hand. It lifted up its index finger and waved.
* * *
On his way to get a glass of water, Ian One heard a scream. It was followed by a female voice crying, "It's loose! The hand is loose! Kill it! Kill it!" This itself preceded the sound of gunfire.
He looked in that general direction, then down at his empty glass, then over at a grandfather clock on the wall. He shrugged and just kept walking.
* * *
END
TMF
Extra Credits: Thanks again to AudreyCherie and TwilightMyst for the brainstorming! Audrey, I wanted to work Dominique in here, really, I just couldn't fit her in. 'Sokay, she may keep 'till later - the idea's still solid. The Hell scene also got cut, alas, but if anyone's wondering what Lupo's doing right now, he's watching Fight Club with a screen crawl that reads "The Narrator IS Tyler Durden."
Rejected titles for this fic included:
"All in the Family,""Streaky the Super-Slut and Friends,""Streaky Strikes Back,""Shoot your Stylist, Sugar,""Skanks in Trouble"
Part 2
The identical, odd-eyed men bustled about the room, cleaning up from the multiple battles. One paused next to a black-clad, black-haired girl.
"Everyone has a fantasy," he said. "What's yours?"
"C'mere," the girl replied. He leaned down and she whispered in his ear. His eyes got wider and wider, until...
"Yipe!" he cried, and took off running. His brothers spared him glances, and then got back to their work. Every so often, one would glance back at the black-haired girl, and she would raise an eyebrow. They would then turn quickly back to the maintenance.
"What did you *say* to him, Wednesday?" said a brown-haired girl that looked about the same age (but wasn't). Then Bola held up a hand. "Wait, no, I don't want to know."
Wednesday just shrugged. "Up to you."
The lawyer Lilah Morgan, meanwhile, had settled comfortably into the Irons chair, Ian 3 instinctively fallen in behind her. Aras had grabbed a chair and turned it backwards, straddling it as she faced her. Ian 2.0 appreciated her position, but not too openly, as his girlfriend Harley Quinn was fingering a large mallet, and his second-season brother had his broadsword within easy reach.
"Evil twins have certain specific rights," Lilah was saying. "Each case is demonstrably different, but you should definitely have representation. I'd like to begin by filing a proposal that would have you declared the primary version, making Sara Pezzini the doppelganger. Standard stuff, really."
The blue and red clad twins spoke up, the scarred one beginning.
"You really should let her represent you..." "...she's helped craft precedent in several evil twin cases..." "...even when both twins are evil," they ended, chorusing.
The Ians stared at them. Ian One spoke up. "Do I know you? You look extremely familiar."
"Imagine us in..." "...business suits."
He did. "Ah. Tomax and Xamot, CEOs, Extensive Enterprises. Correct?"
"Exactly," they chorused again.
"I helped them win a personal injury lawsuit against the U.S. Army," Lilah elaborated. "And, got injuries done to one considered injuries done to the other."
"Why..." asked Ian 3, then had his question answered when they both leapt into the air, clutching their backsides. Wednesday stood behind Xamot with a large hatpin.
"What?" she said. "I was curious."
"Hey," Aras said, "You guys are palindromes too!" Her eyes lit up, and both Ians 2 and 3 glared in the twins' direction. Aras noticed. "Hey, c'mon. It's not like I'm gonna jump the Corsican Brothers here. But they *are* good looking."
"Okay, that's it," Harley said, glaring at Ian 2.0 in turn. "You want to fight your brother for the little skank, you do it. I'll just go back to Gotham and Ivy... I mean, Mistah J! Who at least has the decency to stab me in the front! Literally!" With a back handspring, she was out the study door.
Ian 2 looked about, almost apologetically, at all concerned. "Excuse me," he said. Then, "Harley, wait!"
"Anyway," Lilah continued after Ian 2's exit, "that's just an example. Wolfram and Hart also administers a trust for the Isaacs, to distribute the funds from one to all the others in the case of their death."
One of the odd-eyed men spoke up. "We figured if it happens with our strength, it ought to happen with our money." Then Wednesday glanced at him and he went quiet.
"And," she said, "we managed to get Vampire Willow's death invalidated, since it happened in her alternate reality."
The redhead, whose attention had completely wandered following the fight, looked up. "But what you've really got to look out for," she said, "is your good twin getting more evil than you." At Aras' snort, she said, "It could happen! I'm all redundant now." Then she caught sight of Ian 3 for the first time. "Ooh! Puppy!" she cried. An instant later, she was behind him, running a sharp fingernail down his back. "Puppy wanna play?"
Ian 3 suddenly looked extremely nervous.
"Wait," Aras said, suspiciously. "Why are you doing all this?"
"Well, I *am* a lawyer," Lilah responded. "It's not like these services are free. Also, we vicious, streaky bitches have to stick together."
"Well, when you put it that way..."
Ian 2.0 interrupted the company, suddenly, by careening back into the study. His normally sure feet skidded a bit on the floor as he went.
"Excuse me," he asked, his fixed grin somewhat strained, "but did anyone order a mob with flaming torches? Because there's one outside."
"Oh, Gomez!" cried Morticia Addams, who had been sitting, chatting with her family and a pair of Isaacs. "How romantic! Just like our honeymoon!"
"This was not my doing, my love," he replied, "but that doesn't mean we can't take advantage of the atmosphere!" He swept her off her feet and they were away.
"Kids," Uncle Fester said fondly, taking a AAA battery from a sack near his hand, popping it in his mouth, and chewing absently.
The Ians 1 and 3, as well as Tomax, and Xamot, had meanwhile mobilized around Ian 2.0. "Did you notice anything in particular about this mob?" the eldest Ian asked.
"Well, there were a couple of things. First, they seemed to be burning an effigy of Aras there."
"How could you tell?"
"It was wearing a grey hooded sweatshirt that read..."
"Pagan?"
"Skank."
"Oh."
"Well, we could always..." "...Send Aras out to them..." the twins suggested, then gulped as Ians 2 and 3 levered swords at their throats. "...just a suggestion," they finished in unison, weakly.
"Also," said Ian 2, sheathing his katana, "most had signs or sweatshirts that read SPIN."
"SPIN. Does that mean anything to any of you?"
Ian 3 wrote it down. He stared at it. "Uh-oh."
"What?"
He drew lines out from each of the letters, so that the acrostic read "S- ara P-ezzini I-an N-ottingham."
"Ah. This could be a problem."
"Not too much trouble..." Tomax began. "...we can have the Crimson Guard here in half an hour..." Xamot continued, "...for a small fee."
Ian One sighed and looked at his brothers. "Do it," he said. "So, we have only to hold out until then. It shouldn't be too difficult...I doubt they can even get inside the mansion."
Of course, as soon as he said this, another body came hurtling through the hole made by Gomez Addams earlier in the day. It was large yet compact, and it spun on its way down, landing in a martial-arts pose directly between Aras and Lilah, facing the former.
"Hiii-yah!" cried the blonde pig with the SPIN t-shirt. Aras just stared, jaw hanging open.
"How could you!" the porcine, pink female continued. "How could you deflower that poor boy and take him away from Sara, with whom we all know that he is meant to be!"
"Deflower? You mean he was a...damn! He sure did his homework," Aras said, admiringly. Ian 3 blushed.
"Leave him alone!" the pig shouted.
"When pigs fly," Pagan said dangerously, getting up to circle her opponent, who turned, keeping her in sight. "So, who are you, besides soon-to-be- bacon?"
"The name's Piggy! *Miss* Piggy. I *love* a good romance, and you just ruined one! You're going to pay! Hiii-yaaah!" Piggy launched herself at Aras, who prepared to block and kick...only to be immobilized by a petite redhead, who had grabbed them both by the collars.
"Bored now," she said. "Go home." Vamp Willow wound up like a hall-of-fame pitcher and tossed Miss Piggy back through the window. As the pig went flying, she cried, "I'll be baaaaaaack..."
"Good lord," Tomax began. "Could this evening..." "...get any more..." "...surreal?"
"If I might make a suggestion," Lilah said from the chair, looking for all the world like a female Kenneth Irons, enough so that Ian the First scrutinized her, but found no evidence of actual possession. "I think a bit of misdirection is called for. Ian 2?"
"Yes?"
"I think many of us feel that you're more Aras' type, with the mutual interests and all. What we need to do is convince the mob outside that she actually slept with you, and not your brother. You're virtually identical, after all."
"I have short hair."
"Well, we can't fool all the people all of the time. Anyone have a better idea? No? Okay then. We need a window that's too high for the mob to rush."
"I think I know one like you mean, in my room," Bola said. "Should overlook the mob, too."
"All right. Let's go." And most of the company filed up the stairs until they bracketed Ian 2.0 and Aras against the torchlight that played across their features.
Ian 2.0 took Aras in his arms and prepared to dip her as his brother had. Aras instead spun him around, pushed him up against the window, and proceeded to maul him mercilessly. The torches seemed to flare a little brighter, the mansion to shake (although that could have been the battering ram at the door; at any rate, it ceased presently). The angered chanting faded to hoots and catcalls.
"Well," said Lilah, "I think my work here is done for now." The assemblage, Lilah in the lead, adjourned downstairs.
* * *
"Well," said Morticia, much later, "that was certainly an interesting evening. And whichever brother she chooses, I think I'd be happy to call either one family. They'll fit right in."
"Oh, definitely," Gomez replied. "Splendid fighters, as well, and they have the most interesting friends!"
"You know, though," Morticia said, "It's odd. I have the strangest feeling we're forgetting something."
* * *
Bola had her room back, finally, and she arranged her weaponry in the small space she'd hollowed out beneath her pillow. She'd changed from her red hood and dress to a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt, and she was finally ready to just relax. She took a sip of the brandy she'd placed on her nightstand, and then settled back with her hands laced behind her head.
Then came a tap on her shoulder.
She looked to and fro, but saw nothing. Then she looked at her nightstand.
Sitting next to the brandy was a severed hand. It lifted up its index finger and waved.
* * *
On his way to get a glass of water, Ian One heard a scream. It was followed by a female voice crying, "It's loose! The hand is loose! Kill it! Kill it!" This itself preceded the sound of gunfire.
He looked in that general direction, then down at his empty glass, then over at a grandfather clock on the wall. He shrugged and just kept walking.
* * *
END
TMF
Extra Credits: Thanks again to AudreyCherie and TwilightMyst for the brainstorming! Audrey, I wanted to work Dominique in here, really, I just couldn't fit her in. 'Sokay, she may keep 'till later - the idea's still solid. The Hell scene also got cut, alas, but if anyone's wondering what Lupo's doing right now, he's watching Fight Club with a screen crawl that reads "The Narrator IS Tyler Durden."
Rejected titles for this fic included:
"All in the Family,""Streaky the Super-Slut and Friends,""Streaky Strikes Back,""Shoot your Stylist, Sugar,""Skanks in Trouble"