Mulder checked his watch. "No, my guess is he's bedded down for the night.
We'll call it in in a few minutes, the night shift will be along soon. Okay,
Batman or Spiderman?"
Looking out of the window, his face partially hidden from Mulder's gaze,
Krycek rolled his eyes heavenward at the banality of Mulder's conversation. His
attempts to draw Mulder out over the course of the preceding nine hours had been
painful, met largely with grunts and monosyllabic retorts. To pass the time he'd
resorted to prattling inanely about half assed pop cultural icons, feigning
prepubescent hero-worhip for Captain America and Clint Eastwood. Unable to fight
his basic instincts, he'd fabricated an anecdote about running away in search of
The Ponderosa; a story of such vividness and intricacy that, momentarily, it
assumed a seductive life of its own, one in which he'd temporarily lost himself.
On returning to reality he'd been astounded to find Mulder's hazel eyes fixed
upon him intently, head tilted just 'so', signifying that the bait, lovingly
prepared, cautiously sniffed at and tentatively licked, had finally been seized
and dragged into Mulder's den.
Except that that was three hours ago, and rather than wolf it down in one go,
Mulder had proceeded to chomp noisily on it, worrying away at small pieces;
swallowing it periodically, only to regurgitate it and work it round his mouth
some more.
Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up, SHADDUPSHADDUPSHADDUP
SHUT-THE-FUCK-UP, GODDAMN YOU!
Blood singing in his ears, Krycek composed himself and smirked.
"Spiderman. The whole Batman thing—the cape, the big underpants, the close
male companion—too camp for my tastes. You?"
"Spiderman does have the edge, costume-wise..." Mulder paused, seemingly lost
in a reverie of his own, then continued, waving his hand dismissively.
"Batman is essentially a dilettante, a gadget man. I can respect and applaud
his commitment to upholding the prevailing laws, but it's questionable whether
some of his motivation can be traced back to a desire to preserve the
socio-economic status quo, thus rendering the threat to his own, dominant
position less tangible."
"...Oook-kaaay...The Brady Bunch or the Partridge Family?"
"The Partridge family, for sure. They kicked the Brady's ass."
"You're a conundrum, Agent Mulder. Okay, Scooby Doo—Freddie or Shaggy?"
"Thelma."
Hello! Come out, come out, wherever you are! I'd have marked you down as
Daphne, myself, Mulder, but still...
"I mean that in the sense that she exhibits an unquenchable desire for the
truth, from which she steadfastly refuses to be diverted. Think about it. There
are countless instances of them being faced with obstruction, ridicule,
suspicion, of being on the verge of abandoning all their ideals, only to have
Thelma put them right back on track."
"But she was a sceptic, a Scully..."
Shit!!
The 'Sc' word, usually so fastidiously avoided, was out of his mouth before
he'd had time to recognise it's ominous, baggage laden outline looming large on
the horizon. But Mulder, if he'd registered it, showed no reaction. Krycek
continued, choosing his words carefully, like a stilt walker picking his way
across slippery stepping stones.
"Thelma looked for the rational explanation. And she usually found it; there
were no ghosts or ghouls or aliens. At the end of the day it was always just a
man in a mask."
"No, not necessarily, not in the later seasons, when they introduced Scooby's
long lost nephew, Scrappy. They turned canon on its head, took away all previous
givens and presented us with a whole new set of possibilities; the central
premise that the apparantly unexplainable is always rooted in the rational is
challenged in New Scooby Doo; the plot resolutions frequently are supernatural
or other worldly in their origin."
"Yeah, damn them for fucking with the format! It went completely down hill
then, in my opinion."
"Really? That's just when I thought it started getting interesting... Okay,
Ask me another."
Krycek inhaled sharply and silently counted to ten in Russian, cursing that
such a promising line of questioning could have descended into yet another
Mulder Rant. Then relaxed slightly. Set his expression to 'sweetly innocent' and
turned to face Mulder.
"Barbara Streisand or Bette Midler?"
Arthur or Martha?
by Hattie
"You think he's going to make a move now?" Krycek yawned and stretched, as far
as the confines of the battered pool car would allow him to.
