This hellish slice of insanity was prompted by the LJ meme: Create your own League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, and explain why. My League is here. Unfortunately, once I'd assembled them, they refused to leave me alone.

I accept no responsibility whatsoever.

A Day in the Life
by Maya Tawi


The first time Sanzo killed Methos, he claimed it was an accident. Methos was unconvinced, mostly because Sanzo was singularly unconvincing, and really, how does one manage to shoot the only Immortal in the vicinity by accident? But Kowalski let it slide, so Methos contented himself with the petty revenge of bleaching the monk's slinky black undergarments a pearly, pristine white.

The second time, Methos none-too-subtly suggested that Gabriel sell Sanzo's damned banishing gun to the highest bidder. Gabriel was willing, but there remained the problem of extraction from its rightful owner.

The third time, Methos woke with a roar. "Where is he?"

"Um," came Harper's voice. His head popped up from a hole in the Maru's floor, dirt-smeared and spike-haired. "I think he's, uh. Whatever monks do? Meditating?"

"Meditating my arse," Methos snarled. "That bastard doesn't meditate, that sorry excuse for a fucking--"

"Hey!" Harper raised his hands in a universal gesture of don't-shoot-I'm-innocent. "Not my problem, man. Leave me out of this."

Methos growled. Harper ducked back into his hole.

He stalked towards the mess, feeling very put out indeed. Doyle scampered out of the way when he saw him coming. Gabriel raised an eyebrow. Aeryn rolled her eyes. Kowalski took one look at Methos's ruined sweater and said, "Fuck."

"Where is he?" Methos demanded again.

Wordlessly Gabriel pointed towards the crew's sleeping quarters. Methos grabbed Kowalski's collar on his way out the door.

"Wha-- hey!" Kowalski protested, struggling.

Methos didn't let go. "You're supposed to be the leader. So lead."

Kowalski swore loudly, then started muttering dire imprecations towards someone called Fraser. Methos just tightened his grip and continued stalking.

Sanzo glanced up as the door slammed open, looking supremely unconcerned. Methos gave Kowalski a shove, crossed his arms, and waited.

"Right," Kowalski said. "Um." He ran a hand through his already-vertical hair. "Sanzo, stop killing Methos. Happy?"

Methos didn't budge. "Nice try."

"It's not like it hurts him." Sanzo sounded irritated.

"It bloody well does hurt!" Methos retorted.

Sanzo ignored him, turning instead to Kowalski. "Would you prefer I killed you?"

Kowalski narrowed his eyes. "I'd prefer you curbed your fucking homicidal tendencies till we're off this scrap heap."

"Hey!" came Harper's muffled voice from the general direction of the engine room. "I heard that!"

Sanzo rolled his eyes, looking sorely tested. Kowalski sighed. "Look," he said, "you keep killing him, I'm locking you in here till we finish this. No meals, no nothing. You like that?"

"Fine," Sanzo snapped. "I'd prefer not to see your ugly faces anyway."

Harper: "I heard that too!"

"Shut up!" Kowalski yelled at the wall. Then: "The fuck's your problem with him, anyway?" He jerked his head at Methos, who gave Sanzo a long, cool look.

"I don't have a problem with him," Sanzo growled. "But he can't die."

"You're killin' him for stress relief?" Kowalski sounded incredulous.

"Is there something wrong with that?"

"Yes," said Methos.

Kowalski shook his head. "I don't fucking believe this. You want a squeezy ball? I'll get you a fucking squeezy ball. Just lay off the rest of us."

When Sanzo looked at Methos, his violet eyes gleamed. "How deeply do you sleep?"

Methos launched himself at Sanzo, as silent and deadly as a snake. Kowalski yelped. Sanzo tossed him off with the ease of long practice. They both stood, circled each other, and started in again.

"Wow," Gabriel said from the doorway, and Kowalski buried his face in his hands. He hadn't noticed the growing audience, but everyone was there; even Harper had abandoned his tinkering and was hovering in the hallway, trying to get a good look at the action. Aeryn leaned against a nearby wall, looking superior. Doyle appeared to be taking bets.

"Come on, come on," the half-demon was saying. "One's indestructible, t'other's supernatural, t'ey're both of 'em miserable bastards. Place yer wagers--"

Harper's distinctly nasal tones cut in. "Fifty on Sanzo killing Methos in the first round!"

The scuffle paused briefly. Beyond caring, Kowalski stepped aside, giving the two combatants a clear line of sight. He heard Harper gulp and Doyle say nervously, "What say we nip out to a pub, let 'em settle this like gentlemen?"

"Good idea," Harper agreed.

Kowalski fancied he could see a cloud of dust settle where they had been standing.

Aeryn looked disgusted. "Aren't you going to do anything about this?"

"Oh, hell, why bother?" Kowalski said wearily.

She scoffed. "Males."

Gabriel, he saw, was edging into the room, casting distinctly covetous glances towards Sanzo's banishing gun.

Kowalski turned on his heel and marched back to the mess. Behind him, he could hear Aeryn wading into the fray, followed by several thuds, a distinctly peculiar sound that made him wince, and Aeryn's enraged roar: "You frellniks!"

And then Sanzo: "Bring that back, you little shit!"

Kowalski kept marching until he reached the nearest wall. He stopped directly in front of it, closed his eyes, and began rhythmically slamming his head against it.

He was going to kill Fraser for talking him into this.


More fic?