Work Text:
Title: Fancy Dress
Fandom: Hot Fuzz
Author: dr-tectonic
Word Count: 500 exactly. Let's just call it a pentadrabble and pretend I didn't overshoot by a factor of 5...
Rating: G
Warnings: Once seen, some mental images cannot be unseen.
Notes: In response to some requests for vampires. Not what anyone meant, I'm sure.
Disclaimer: Sandford and its peacekeepers be not mine, obvs.
In years previous, Halloween had been rather a discouraged holiday in Sandford, what with the potential for prank-related property damage and general unsightliness. This year, with the NWA gone, the formerly repressed citizenry seemed determined to have a full-on ghost and goblin blowout. Attendance by the police service at Mr. Aaronsen's fancy dress party had been strongly encouraged by the new chief, though he himself was nowhere to be seen.
"You think he'll show?" asked Doris. Last year she had gone to a party in Bristol dressed as Elvira, so this year it was Naughty Nurse. With plenty of cleavage.
"Of courfe he'll fhow," said Danny. His Dracula outfit had a red-lined satin cape and everything. The plastic fangs were a bit awkward, but they had a hidden blood capsule retainer, so that was all right.
Wainwright snorted at him. "Inspector Tight-Arse? He may show, but I'll bet you twen'y quid he don't dress up." The Andes had chosen to wear black NWA cloaks. It was unclear whether this was due to extremely poor taste or simply because they could nick them from Evidence, but since neither of them could be arsed to zip them in front or put the hood up, no-one had noticed enough to take offense.
"Or 'is costume'll be summat really lame, like 'copper'." Cartwright blew cigarette smoke in the general direction of the Turners. It had taken everyone quite some time to determine that the twins had dressed up as one another. Or so they claimed.
"Well now, you never can tell what people will do," said Tony. His Blue Devil costume was remarkably realistic, though he'd had to explain who the DC superhero was to everyone but Danny.
Danny looked askance at the Andes. "Twenty quid? You're on. He'll come frough. Have fome faifth." He sighed sadly at them as they shook hands on the deal.
"Saloddaiskrim,'" mumbled Bob Walker. He was dressed as a biblical shepherd, in bathrobe and terrycloth towel headdress. Where he got the authentic shepherd's crook or how exactly he had persuaded Saxon to wear the sheepskin remained a mystery.
Just then there was a thunderous boom as the door was kicked open. A hush spread over the crowd as every eye in the room found itself drawn inexorably to the arresting figure presented there.
From the ground up: combat boots. Pale pink tights. Ballerina tutu. AK-47 in one hand (a plastic replica, of course, as indicated by the orange barrel tip), sparkly silver star wand in the other. Pink leotard. Dual ammo bandoliers. Gauze fairy wings. Toothpick. Aviator sunglasses.
Tiara.
"Evening, all," growled Chief of Police Inspector Nicholas Angel.
* * *
"You shouldn't shock them so," Danny chided him later on. "Poor Andy nearly swallowed 'is cigarette."
"I will stop. I promise." Nicholas grinned slyly. "Just as soon as they stop making it so damned easy. Until then," he plucked one of the tenners from Danny's hand, "at least my petty cruelty will keep us in Cornetto money, eh?"