Post by Lord Hastings on Jan 14, 2023 22:05:47 GMT -5
Scotland Yard’s finest, Benedict Earl, had to wonder how he’d ended up his current position. He stood outside of the headquarters of the Chicago Police Department, thinking back to the white stone of New Scotland Yard - it had only been a few weeks, but he was already missing home. He took a deep breath before walking towards the building and stepping inside, he was transported back to the mid-ninties. The walls were tiled and the floors had that speckled pattern that every municipal building had adopted once upon a time. He handed the security guard his identification, and walked through the metal detectors. Once inside, he walked towards the reception desk.
“Hi there - my name is Benedict Earl. I’m here on Secondment from Scotland Yard - here to see Captain Lance.” Said Benedict. He was gaining looks from all around as he waited for the receptionist to find further details on his meeting. He was young, just turned twenty-nine and devilishly handsome. He’d joined the force young, and rose through the ranks with relative ease.
“Of course sir, you’ve been booked into meeting room three - I’ll have someone come and escort you.” She said with a smile, and a flutter of her eyelashes.
“Thank you.” Benedict said with a smirk, before turning to face the staff member who would take him to the meeting room. “Shall we?”
Benedict followed him through the halls of police bureaucracy.
“GREY!” Shouted Captain Lance. He was in his fifties, with a red face that betrayed the levels of stress he was constantly under. Right now, though, his main cause of ire was the whereabouts of one of the members of his force. “Where the hell is Grey?!”
“I think I saw him eyeing up the new delivery of donuts, Captain.” Called someone from behind the desk.
“Of course he is.” Said Lance as he strode through the department, his arms flailing around in frustration. He slammed through the door to the break room.
“Dammit, Grey, we have a meeting!” Said Lance to the back of someone’s head. The head slowly turned to face him.
“If you wouldn’t mind.” Said the man thickly, through a mouth full of food. “I’m just enjoying this delicious pastry.”
The large bushy eyebrows upon Grey’s face moved independently from the rest of his face - his goatee beard was covered in powdered sugar.
“Donuts aren’t pastry, Grey.” Said Captain Lance.
“You’re wrong. They’re a sweet, deep-fried pastry.” Said Grey before taking another bite. “And they’re delicious.”
“I honestly couldn’t care less.” Said Lance, shaking his head. “Will you hurry up? The new guy just arrived.”
“New guy?” Asked Grey, without a hint of sarcasm.
“For god sake Grey - we’ve been talking about this all week. The new guy! Your new partner! From Scotland Yard!” Said Captain Lance.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Said Grey. “I remember you saying something about us getting a visit from a Count or a Duke or something, but that has nothing to do with me so I stopped listening.”
“No, thats…” Captain Lance begins, before pausing and taking a deep breath. “You have a new partner. He’s coming in from Scotland Yard. His name is Earl. Benedict Earl.”
“Oh.” Said Grey as he took a sip of coffee to wash down the last donut. “Well why didn’t you just say that?”
“I did! I said that many, many times this week!” Said Lance, the colour in his face starting to rise again. “Just… Follow me.”
Captain Lance turned and slammed through the door, while Grey stopped for just a moment, to grab another donut.
Benedict Earl, checked his tie in the large mirror that ran across the length of the wall in the meeting room and ran a hand through his immaculate hair and winked at his reflection. The door of the meeting room opened, and Captain Lance stepped inside, closely followed by Grey.
“Detective Inspector Earl.” Said Captain Lance as he extended his hand.
“Captain Lance.” Said Benedict.
“This is Lieutenant Danny Grey.” Said Lance, stepping out of the way. Grey moved into view and offered his hand.
“Benedict Earl.” Replied Earl, offering his own hand in response.
“I suppose you do look like a Duke.” Said Grey, looking Earl up and down. “Sound like one too.”
“Wh… What?” Asked Earl, looking at the Captain.
“Just… Ignore him. He’s different.” Said Lance glancing at Grey who was pulling a donut out of his jacket pocket. “A brilliant detective… But… Different.”
“I can see that.” Said Earl, his face slipping into a smirk. “And one who clearly enjoys his morning coffee with whipped cream.”
“How could you possibly…” Captain Lance began.
“The stain on his trousers is clearly from whipped cream, and yet the slight browning around the edges implies that it was sat atop something. Given that there’s no food residue, and we’re still in the morning, it’s safe to assume that he was drinking coffee with whipped cream and some spilt.” Said Earl.
“Well deduced.” Said Grey. “And I’d be even more impressed if you weren’t almost late this morning.”
“I was…” Said Earl, looking impressed. “How did you work that out?”
“Easy - you took a shortcut through the dog park down the road. You stepped in something, because this room smells like dog-sh…” Began Grey. Earl’s eyes widened in shock, but thankfully…
“Like… I said…” Interrupted Lance, glancing at Grey reproachfully. “Brilliant but different.”
“Well I’m… pleased… To have such a well-respected partner.” Said Earl, still looking a little unsure of the interaction.
“Let’s not go too far.” Said Lance. “Grey, come on, sit down.”
The three men took their seats around the table. Captain Lance placed a folder on the table in the midst of them - he flipped open the folder within which was a report of their first case.
“Alright - this is the Wylde Irsh. They’ve been running their own game across Chicago for the last year now, and hardly anyone has managed to get near them. They’ve been involved in a turf war with a gang called the Tempest Creeps - seemed to keep them occupied for a while, but now they’ve won out, they’re back to their old tricks.” Said Lance.
Earl reached out and picked up one of the reports.
“Mac Rogue- Irish mobster out of Dublin. I think I know that name - pretty sure we were tracking him back in London before he relocated to the states.” Said Earl. “He’s been working Chicago since he arrived?”
“Pretty much - tends to disappear for a while, but when he’s shows up there’s nothing but chaos.” Replied Lance.
“I know Chaos.” Said Earl. “I can handle all the chaos you can throw at me.”
Earl winked at Lance who looked uncomfortable. Having finished his donut, Grey used his sticky, glaze covered finger to drag the second report towards him.
“Wilma Lucanfield.” Said Earl, having not entirely swallowed his donut. “She the one that came down from Maryland?”
“That’s the one.” Said Lance. “She was causing problems in this town long before Mac showed up - but once thet got together…”
“It’s amazing what a good partnership can do, right?” Said Earl looking up at Grey and smirking.
“Right.” Said Grey before looking over at Captain Lance. “So we should probably try and find me one?”
“Wait…” Said Earl, but Grey didn’t wait.
“So these are the guys you want us to capture? The Wiley Scottish, or whatever?” Asked Grey.
“The… Wylde Irish…” Said Lance.
“I’m pretty sure I said ‘or whatever’ for a reason.” Said Grey.
“Can we just…” Earl began.
“Shall we get started?” Asked Grey.”
“I… Guess…” Said Earl looking around the room.
“Appreciate you taking the lead on the driving.” Said Earl. “Never been my favourite part of the job.”
“Don’t mention it. It’s probably for the best.” Said Grey. “I wouldn’t want you getting confused by driving on the correct side of the road for once and getting us killed.”
“That’s not…” Began Earl.
“Besides, we have a job to do. Did you pick up anything else up from the report?” Asked Grey.
“A few things - shall we compare notes?” Asked Earl.
“Obviously.” Said Grey. “The report said that Lucanfield and Rogue are a couple.”
“A couple of criminals, am I right?” Asked Earl, nudging Grey.
“Don’t do that.” Replied Grey. “I hear they do business out of the old Coalition building down town. We should head down there and see what anyone has to say.”
“Alright - I’ll take your lead. This is, of course, your town.” Said Earl.
“Glad we’ve established that I’m in charge.” Said Grey.
“We didn’t… That’s not what I…” Said Earl, glancing around the car as if looking for someone to help.
“It makes sense, I’m the most talented, the most respected, the most knowledgeable. Honestly, you may as well just start calling me sir.” Said Grey.
“Now hold on a minute! This is not how this is supposed to be!” Said Earl.
“How exactly is it supposed to be? You expect a Scotland Yard police officer is going to walk into the Chicago Police Department and start leading investigations? Do you honestly think that’s realistic?” Asked Grey.
“It’s supposed to be a partnership!” Said Earl.
“Yes, it is. But as with all of the partners I’ve been stuck with over the years, I imagine that I’ll have to do most of the work. And that’s fine - that’s how I’ve been as successful as I am. It’s a formula that’s tried and tested, so if this is going to work, you should probably accept your place.” Said Grey.
“My PLACE?!” Asked Earl. “I should accept my PLACE?! What are you even talking about… You’re insane. INSANE!”
“There is a fine line between insanity and genius. And I think you’ll find that whilst many believe I have skated that line in my career, I have always…” He paused and turned to look Earl in the eye and raised his eyebrows. “Always been on the side of genius.”
“I can’t do this…” Said Earl. He reached out and grabbed the handle of the car door. “Let me out.”
“We’re in a moving car. You can’t get out. Don’t be ridiculous.” Said Grey.
“I swear to god, if this door doesn’t open in the next five seconds…” Said Earl. Before finally, there was a loud click. The door opened and he stepped out of the car.
“CUT!” Came a shout from off screen. “I’m sorry, Sebastian, but you can’t just get out of the car when we’re filing a driving scene…”
Sebastian Everett-Bryce slammed the door of the car and stepped away from it to reveal what was a green screen in the background. The car had no wheels and was suspended on a dolly. From the far side, Donovan Hastings climbed out of the car.
“I swear, I cannot work in these conditions.” Said Hastings.
“You!? YOU?! Can’t work in these conditions?!” Said Seb, eyes wide. “You’ve been going off script all day - your little digs and snide comments.”
“Real actors can improvise, Sebastian.” Said Hastings shaking his head. “I was taking what we were given and bringing it to life.”
“You were being,... An arse!” Said Seb throwing his hands up in the air. And letting out a frustrated yell. “I’m done - this was a terrible idea.”
“You know if you weren’t such a diva we could be making history right now - the greatest television show in history and you’re throwing a hissy fit.” Said Donovan, shaking his head. “You’re so dramatic.”
“I’m being dramatic?! DRAMATIC?!” Seb asked, before glancing around the set. Eyes were upon him, and he suddenly had the sinking feeling that Donovan wasn’t the only one who felt this way. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish.
Donovan stared at Seb entirely unironically - Seb was being a dramatic queen. There was no doubt in his mind - he stood, leaning against the car nonchalantly as Seb the guppy gave up trying to come up with something to say and stormed off towards his dressing room. Donovan turned to the crew and rolled his eyes.
“Actors, am I right?” They all laughed. All of them. It was a good day.
“I don’t care Travis - this was a bad idea, and I’m not carrying on.” Said Seb down the phone. He paused waiting for the answer on the other end. “No. I’ll do it with someone else, but not him. He’s entirely unsuitable. He’s just changing the script!”
Seb paused again, before his eyes widened.
“But he’s not Daniel Day-Lewis! He’s Donovan Fucking Hastings! The script is bad enough as it is without his vague attempts at penmanship.” Said Seb - there was a knock on the door and it immediately opened. Donovan stepped inside. “Hold on - do you not wait to be invited in?”
“I wasn’t knocking for permission. I knock to proclaim my arrival so that it can be properly appreciated.” Said Hastings picking up as magazine and taking a seat on the comfortable couch. He threw his feet up on it, leaving not as single seat for Seb to sit down on.
“I have to go. I have a pest problem.” Seb said quietly. “No, Travis. I will not be reasonable.”
Donovan flicked through the pages of Horse and Hound magazine.
“Why do you have a Horse and Hound magazine? Are you required by British law to read it?” Asked Hastings.
“I didn’t ask for it.” Seb said, leaning back and resting against the table.
“It’s just… Very British. I can’t imagine a decision was made to just have it lying around. Is this on your rider? Along with a Pot Noodle and a pot of that brown liquid you call gravy.” Said Hastings.
“Is there a reason for you being here?” Asked Seb.
“Because you and I have to work together.” Said Donovan.
“I’m not going back out there…” Said Seb.
“Not that. Synergy. Our match.” Said Donovan. “As much as I know how you could ride my coat performance to acting stardom, I get the impression that you’re…”
Donovan cleared his throat and warped into the worst British accent in history.
“A tad miffed, mate.” He said.
Seb blinked, rapidly for almost a minute. Donovan looked away and continued to flick through the magazine.
“Oh look - a sale on jodhpurs.” He said followed by a small chuckle.
“So, Rogan and Lucy.” Said Seb, through gritted teeth.
“Right - sure. The World Champion and her Owen.” Said Donovan.
“Not everyone has an Owen.” Said Seb, quietly.
“Well they should - it’s highly convenient.” Said Hastings. “But my point still stands.”
“Of course it does.” Said Seb - pausing to breathe deeply. “I trust you can handle Rogan - I’ve handled Lucy on more than one occasion.”
“Why is it precisely that you think you should be the one to deal with the World Champion?” Asked Donovan, looking up from an article called ‘Ten Top Tips for maintaining your mare and styling your stallion.’
“I think that’s pretty clear - I have a fantastic record against Lucy. She’s still never beaten me.” Said Seb.
“Except in multi-person matches. In fact, if I remember correctly, the last time I agreed to “leave her to you” we were teaming together and we lost.” Said Donovan. “Not the most gleaming indictment of your capabilities.”
“For one thing, that was Travis’ fault, not mine. For another, I literally won a match a week ago with her in it.” Said Seb.
“You did?” Asked Hastings.
“You were watching it!” Said Seb.
“What does that have to do with you?” Asked Donovan
“I was in…” Seb stopped and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “The point is, I won that match.”
“I remember Lucy sitting on the ground outside the ring when the bell rang - did you happen to beat someone else?” Hastings asked.
“Why are you like this?” Seb asked. When Donovan made no effort to continue on without an answer. “Fine. I beat Chuck Rydell.”
“His name is Dave. I spent considerable time on this.” Said Donovan.
“No, not Dave.” Said Seb. “Hey! I said it and it wasn’t even an intentional insult! But no, not Dave, Chuck.”
“Chuck Rydell… Well… Wonders never cease.” Said Donovan. “Either way, you didn’t beat Lucy - so… I don’t think you have any claim to being the one who “deals” with her. You should leave that to a professional.”
“Due respect, you’ve barely been around this past year. Save for turning up to be a nuisance at Outlast and then Horizons. I’ve been virtually unstoppable.” Said Seb.
“I mean… Only one of us was the World Champion in 2022.” Said Hastings. “I’ll give you a clue. It wasn’t you.”
“You lost it on the first show of the year! I’ve been the Chaos Champion since April!” Said Seb.
“You're really going to compare that tin you wear with my World Championship…” Said Donovan, wrinkling his nose.
“Don’t you dare - show that Championship some respect. It’s the title everybody wants, and if they don’t then they should.” Seb said.
“Everyone?” Asked Donovan. “Really?”
“I said what I said.” Said Seb. “Besides, you and Rogan have history.”
“Yes, I beat him when defending the WORLD Championship in 2021. Twice.” Said Donovan. “Honestly, at this point you’re just making yourself look bad.”
“I can’t talk to you. How does anyone talk to you?” Asked Seb.
“Usually by booking an appointment in advance, so perhaps you should think yourself lucky.” Said Donovan.
“Look, my point is this - Lucy and Rogan are two time Cooperative Champions. They’re dangerous on their own, and they’re arguably better together. We, on the other hand, can’t stand one another. I think you’re a heinous, cowardly, shitbag and you think I’m a waste of space.” Said Seb.
“I don’t think you’re a waste of space.” Said Donovan.
“You… You don’t?” Asked Seb.
“Of course I do.” Said Donovan. “But the girls had me watching scenes that were cut out of the Harry Potter movies this weekend, and I saw an opportunity.”
“Brilliant.” Said Seb. “There’s no way we could possibly work together, is there?”
“Oh I don’t know about that.” Said Donovan with a smirk. “You’ll find I can be quite amicable when there’s an opportunity to get closer to what I want.”
“... Well…” Said Seb, looking mildly confused. “Well that’s… Good then.”
“Yes.” Said Donovan. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to finish this article in peace.”
“This… Is my dressing room…” Said Seb.
“Then you’ll know the way out, won’t you?” Said Donovan.
“Right…” Said Seb, as Hastings leaned back on the couch to get comfortable. Seb walked towards the door and pulled it open, stepping outside and closing it behind him. A moment later, the door flung open again. “Now wait just a minute!”
And as Seb burst into a fit of expletives, the newly formed Cooperative duo were left to talk further strategy.
Amicably.
“Hi there - my name is Benedict Earl. I’m here on Secondment from Scotland Yard - here to see Captain Lance.” Said Benedict. He was gaining looks from all around as he waited for the receptionist to find further details on his meeting. He was young, just turned twenty-nine and devilishly handsome. He’d joined the force young, and rose through the ranks with relative ease.
“Of course sir, you’ve been booked into meeting room three - I’ll have someone come and escort you.” She said with a smile, and a flutter of her eyelashes.
“Thank you.” Benedict said with a smirk, before turning to face the staff member who would take him to the meeting room. “Shall we?”
Benedict followed him through the halls of police bureaucracy.
“GREY!” Shouted Captain Lance. He was in his fifties, with a red face that betrayed the levels of stress he was constantly under. Right now, though, his main cause of ire was the whereabouts of one of the members of his force. “Where the hell is Grey?!”
“I think I saw him eyeing up the new delivery of donuts, Captain.” Called someone from behind the desk.
“Of course he is.” Said Lance as he strode through the department, his arms flailing around in frustration. He slammed through the door to the break room.
“Dammit, Grey, we have a meeting!” Said Lance to the back of someone’s head. The head slowly turned to face him.
“If you wouldn’t mind.” Said the man thickly, through a mouth full of food. “I’m just enjoying this delicious pastry.”
The large bushy eyebrows upon Grey’s face moved independently from the rest of his face - his goatee beard was covered in powdered sugar.
“Donuts aren’t pastry, Grey.” Said Captain Lance.
“You’re wrong. They’re a sweet, deep-fried pastry.” Said Grey before taking another bite. “And they’re delicious.”
“I honestly couldn’t care less.” Said Lance, shaking his head. “Will you hurry up? The new guy just arrived.”
“New guy?” Asked Grey, without a hint of sarcasm.
“For god sake Grey - we’ve been talking about this all week. The new guy! Your new partner! From Scotland Yard!” Said Captain Lance.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Said Grey. “I remember you saying something about us getting a visit from a Count or a Duke or something, but that has nothing to do with me so I stopped listening.”
“No, thats…” Captain Lance begins, before pausing and taking a deep breath. “You have a new partner. He’s coming in from Scotland Yard. His name is Earl. Benedict Earl.”
“Oh.” Said Grey as he took a sip of coffee to wash down the last donut. “Well why didn’t you just say that?”
“I did! I said that many, many times this week!” Said Lance, the colour in his face starting to rise again. “Just… Follow me.”
Captain Lance turned and slammed through the door, while Grey stopped for just a moment, to grab another donut.
Benedict Earl, checked his tie in the large mirror that ran across the length of the wall in the meeting room and ran a hand through his immaculate hair and winked at his reflection. The door of the meeting room opened, and Captain Lance stepped inside, closely followed by Grey.
“Detective Inspector Earl.” Said Captain Lance as he extended his hand.
“Captain Lance.” Said Benedict.
“This is Lieutenant Danny Grey.” Said Lance, stepping out of the way. Grey moved into view and offered his hand.
“Benedict Earl.” Replied Earl, offering his own hand in response.
“I suppose you do look like a Duke.” Said Grey, looking Earl up and down. “Sound like one too.”
“Wh… What?” Asked Earl, looking at the Captain.
“Just… Ignore him. He’s different.” Said Lance glancing at Grey who was pulling a donut out of his jacket pocket. “A brilliant detective… But… Different.”
“I can see that.” Said Earl, his face slipping into a smirk. “And one who clearly enjoys his morning coffee with whipped cream.”
“How could you possibly…” Captain Lance began.
“The stain on his trousers is clearly from whipped cream, and yet the slight browning around the edges implies that it was sat atop something. Given that there’s no food residue, and we’re still in the morning, it’s safe to assume that he was drinking coffee with whipped cream and some spilt.” Said Earl.
“Well deduced.” Said Grey. “And I’d be even more impressed if you weren’t almost late this morning.”
“I was…” Said Earl, looking impressed. “How did you work that out?”
“Easy - you took a shortcut through the dog park down the road. You stepped in something, because this room smells like dog-sh…” Began Grey. Earl’s eyes widened in shock, but thankfully…
“Like… I said…” Interrupted Lance, glancing at Grey reproachfully. “Brilliant but different.”
“Well I’m… pleased… To have such a well-respected partner.” Said Earl, still looking a little unsure of the interaction.
“Let’s not go too far.” Said Lance. “Grey, come on, sit down.”
The three men took their seats around the table. Captain Lance placed a folder on the table in the midst of them - he flipped open the folder within which was a report of their first case.
“Alright - this is the Wylde Irsh. They’ve been running their own game across Chicago for the last year now, and hardly anyone has managed to get near them. They’ve been involved in a turf war with a gang called the Tempest Creeps - seemed to keep them occupied for a while, but now they’ve won out, they’re back to their old tricks.” Said Lance.
Earl reached out and picked up one of the reports.
“Mac Rogue- Irish mobster out of Dublin. I think I know that name - pretty sure we were tracking him back in London before he relocated to the states.” Said Earl. “He’s been working Chicago since he arrived?”
“Pretty much - tends to disappear for a while, but when he’s shows up there’s nothing but chaos.” Replied Lance.
“I know Chaos.” Said Earl. “I can handle all the chaos you can throw at me.”
Earl winked at Lance who looked uncomfortable. Having finished his donut, Grey used his sticky, glaze covered finger to drag the second report towards him.
“Wilma Lucanfield.” Said Earl, having not entirely swallowed his donut. “She the one that came down from Maryland?”
“That’s the one.” Said Lance. “She was causing problems in this town long before Mac showed up - but once thet got together…”
“It’s amazing what a good partnership can do, right?” Said Earl looking up at Grey and smirking.
“Right.” Said Grey before looking over at Captain Lance. “So we should probably try and find me one?”
“Wait…” Said Earl, but Grey didn’t wait.
“So these are the guys you want us to capture? The Wiley Scottish, or whatever?” Asked Grey.
“The… Wylde Irish…” Said Lance.
“I’m pretty sure I said ‘or whatever’ for a reason.” Said Grey.
“Can we just…” Earl began.
“Shall we get started?” Asked Grey.”
“I… Guess…” Said Earl looking around the room.
“Appreciate you taking the lead on the driving.” Said Earl. “Never been my favourite part of the job.”
“Don’t mention it. It’s probably for the best.” Said Grey. “I wouldn’t want you getting confused by driving on the correct side of the road for once and getting us killed.”
“That’s not…” Began Earl.
“Besides, we have a job to do. Did you pick up anything else up from the report?” Asked Grey.
“A few things - shall we compare notes?” Asked Earl.
“Obviously.” Said Grey. “The report said that Lucanfield and Rogue are a couple.”
“A couple of criminals, am I right?” Asked Earl, nudging Grey.
“Don’t do that.” Replied Grey. “I hear they do business out of the old Coalition building down town. We should head down there and see what anyone has to say.”
“Alright - I’ll take your lead. This is, of course, your town.” Said Earl.
“Glad we’ve established that I’m in charge.” Said Grey.
“We didn’t… That’s not what I…” Said Earl, glancing around the car as if looking for someone to help.
“It makes sense, I’m the most talented, the most respected, the most knowledgeable. Honestly, you may as well just start calling me sir.” Said Grey.
“Now hold on a minute! This is not how this is supposed to be!” Said Earl.
“How exactly is it supposed to be? You expect a Scotland Yard police officer is going to walk into the Chicago Police Department and start leading investigations? Do you honestly think that’s realistic?” Asked Grey.
“It’s supposed to be a partnership!” Said Earl.
“Yes, it is. But as with all of the partners I’ve been stuck with over the years, I imagine that I’ll have to do most of the work. And that’s fine - that’s how I’ve been as successful as I am. It’s a formula that’s tried and tested, so if this is going to work, you should probably accept your place.” Said Grey.
“My PLACE?!” Asked Earl. “I should accept my PLACE?! What are you even talking about… You’re insane. INSANE!”
“There is a fine line between insanity and genius. And I think you’ll find that whilst many believe I have skated that line in my career, I have always…” He paused and turned to look Earl in the eye and raised his eyebrows. “Always been on the side of genius.”
“I can’t do this…” Said Earl. He reached out and grabbed the handle of the car door. “Let me out.”
“We’re in a moving car. You can’t get out. Don’t be ridiculous.” Said Grey.
“I swear to god, if this door doesn’t open in the next five seconds…” Said Earl. Before finally, there was a loud click. The door opened and he stepped out of the car.
“CUT!” Came a shout from off screen. “I’m sorry, Sebastian, but you can’t just get out of the car when we’re filing a driving scene…”
Sebastian Everett-Bryce slammed the door of the car and stepped away from it to reveal what was a green screen in the background. The car had no wheels and was suspended on a dolly. From the far side, Donovan Hastings climbed out of the car.
“I swear, I cannot work in these conditions.” Said Hastings.
“You!? YOU?! Can’t work in these conditions?!” Said Seb, eyes wide. “You’ve been going off script all day - your little digs and snide comments.”
“Real actors can improvise, Sebastian.” Said Hastings shaking his head. “I was taking what we were given and bringing it to life.”
“You were being,... An arse!” Said Seb throwing his hands up in the air. And letting out a frustrated yell. “I’m done - this was a terrible idea.”
“You know if you weren’t such a diva we could be making history right now - the greatest television show in history and you’re throwing a hissy fit.” Said Donovan, shaking his head. “You’re so dramatic.”
“I’m being dramatic?! DRAMATIC?!” Seb asked, before glancing around the set. Eyes were upon him, and he suddenly had the sinking feeling that Donovan wasn’t the only one who felt this way. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish.
Donovan stared at Seb entirely unironically - Seb was being a dramatic queen. There was no doubt in his mind - he stood, leaning against the car nonchalantly as Seb the guppy gave up trying to come up with something to say and stormed off towards his dressing room. Donovan turned to the crew and rolled his eyes.
“Actors, am I right?” They all laughed. All of them. It was a good day.
“I don’t care Travis - this was a bad idea, and I’m not carrying on.” Said Seb down the phone. He paused waiting for the answer on the other end. “No. I’ll do it with someone else, but not him. He’s entirely unsuitable. He’s just changing the script!”
Seb paused again, before his eyes widened.
“But he’s not Daniel Day-Lewis! He’s Donovan Fucking Hastings! The script is bad enough as it is without his vague attempts at penmanship.” Said Seb - there was a knock on the door and it immediately opened. Donovan stepped inside. “Hold on - do you not wait to be invited in?”
“I wasn’t knocking for permission. I knock to proclaim my arrival so that it can be properly appreciated.” Said Hastings picking up as magazine and taking a seat on the comfortable couch. He threw his feet up on it, leaving not as single seat for Seb to sit down on.
“I have to go. I have a pest problem.” Seb said quietly. “No, Travis. I will not be reasonable.”
Donovan flicked through the pages of Horse and Hound magazine.
“Why do you have a Horse and Hound magazine? Are you required by British law to read it?” Asked Hastings.
“I didn’t ask for it.” Seb said, leaning back and resting against the table.
“It’s just… Very British. I can’t imagine a decision was made to just have it lying around. Is this on your rider? Along with a Pot Noodle and a pot of that brown liquid you call gravy.” Said Hastings.
“Is there a reason for you being here?” Asked Seb.
“Because you and I have to work together.” Said Donovan.
“I’m not going back out there…” Said Seb.
“Not that. Synergy. Our match.” Said Donovan. “As much as I know how you could ride my coat performance to acting stardom, I get the impression that you’re…”
Donovan cleared his throat and warped into the worst British accent in history.
“A tad miffed, mate.” He said.
Seb blinked, rapidly for almost a minute. Donovan looked away and continued to flick through the magazine.
“Oh look - a sale on jodhpurs.” He said followed by a small chuckle.
“So, Rogan and Lucy.” Said Seb, through gritted teeth.
“Right - sure. The World Champion and her Owen.” Said Donovan.
“Not everyone has an Owen.” Said Seb, quietly.
“Well they should - it’s highly convenient.” Said Hastings. “But my point still stands.”
“Of course it does.” Said Seb - pausing to breathe deeply. “I trust you can handle Rogan - I’ve handled Lucy on more than one occasion.”
“Why is it precisely that you think you should be the one to deal with the World Champion?” Asked Donovan, looking up from an article called ‘Ten Top Tips for maintaining your mare and styling your stallion.’
“I think that’s pretty clear - I have a fantastic record against Lucy. She’s still never beaten me.” Said Seb.
“Except in multi-person matches. In fact, if I remember correctly, the last time I agreed to “leave her to you” we were teaming together and we lost.” Said Donovan. “Not the most gleaming indictment of your capabilities.”
“For one thing, that was Travis’ fault, not mine. For another, I literally won a match a week ago with her in it.” Said Seb.
“You did?” Asked Hastings.
“You were watching it!” Said Seb.
“What does that have to do with you?” Asked Donovan
“I was in…” Seb stopped and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “The point is, I won that match.”
“I remember Lucy sitting on the ground outside the ring when the bell rang - did you happen to beat someone else?” Hastings asked.
“Why are you like this?” Seb asked. When Donovan made no effort to continue on without an answer. “Fine. I beat Chuck Rydell.”
“His name is Dave. I spent considerable time on this.” Said Donovan.
“No, not Dave.” Said Seb. “Hey! I said it and it wasn’t even an intentional insult! But no, not Dave, Chuck.”
“Chuck Rydell… Well… Wonders never cease.” Said Donovan. “Either way, you didn’t beat Lucy - so… I don’t think you have any claim to being the one who “deals” with her. You should leave that to a professional.”
“Due respect, you’ve barely been around this past year. Save for turning up to be a nuisance at Outlast and then Horizons. I’ve been virtually unstoppable.” Said Seb.
“I mean… Only one of us was the World Champion in 2022.” Said Hastings. “I’ll give you a clue. It wasn’t you.”
“You lost it on the first show of the year! I’ve been the Chaos Champion since April!” Said Seb.
“You're really going to compare that tin you wear with my World Championship…” Said Donovan, wrinkling his nose.
“Don’t you dare - show that Championship some respect. It’s the title everybody wants, and if they don’t then they should.” Seb said.
“Everyone?” Asked Donovan. “Really?”
“I said what I said.” Said Seb. “Besides, you and Rogan have history.”
“Yes, I beat him when defending the WORLD Championship in 2021. Twice.” Said Donovan. “Honestly, at this point you’re just making yourself look bad.”
“I can’t talk to you. How does anyone talk to you?” Asked Seb.
“Usually by booking an appointment in advance, so perhaps you should think yourself lucky.” Said Donovan.
“Look, my point is this - Lucy and Rogan are two time Cooperative Champions. They’re dangerous on their own, and they’re arguably better together. We, on the other hand, can’t stand one another. I think you’re a heinous, cowardly, shitbag and you think I’m a waste of space.” Said Seb.
“I don’t think you’re a waste of space.” Said Donovan.
“You… You don’t?” Asked Seb.
“Of course I do.” Said Donovan. “But the girls had me watching scenes that were cut out of the Harry Potter movies this weekend, and I saw an opportunity.”
“Brilliant.” Said Seb. “There’s no way we could possibly work together, is there?”
“Oh I don’t know about that.” Said Donovan with a smirk. “You’ll find I can be quite amicable when there’s an opportunity to get closer to what I want.”
“... Well…” Said Seb, looking mildly confused. “Well that’s… Good then.”
“Yes.” Said Donovan. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to finish this article in peace.”
“This… Is my dressing room…” Said Seb.
“Then you’ll know the way out, won’t you?” Said Donovan.
“Right…” Said Seb, as Hastings leaned back on the couch to get comfortable. Seb walked towards the door and pulled it open, stepping outside and closing it behind him. A moment later, the door flung open again. “Now wait just a minute!”
And as Seb burst into a fit of expletives, the newly formed Cooperative duo were left to talk further strategy.
Amicably.