Title: Slingshot
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Fandom: View Askewniverse, post-Dogma (no real spoilers)
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob
Rating: Graphically NC-17. Hubba hubba.
Status: New
Archive: Yes if you tell me.
Feedback: kel@crazysheep.net
Sequel/Series: I have no idea. Story challenge answer. Either that, 
or put this somewhere towards the end of the big bad 
Feather/Dagger/Tunnel gang.
Disclaimers: Mercy's my creation, Jay and Silent Bob belong to Kevin 
Smith and View Askew. Good thing, too, considering the horrors I 
visit upon them on a daily basis.
Notes: How this morphed into the answer to Scorpio's lost-her-mind 
challenge, I have *no* idea. This started out as a simple let's-make-
Mercy-move story--that did *not* feature Jay and Silent Bob.
Summary: Bob reflects on the abnormality of the common mall.
Warnings: Graphic m/m sex. Mercy gets hurt again, like that's 
uncommon... Car explosions. Weird devices. And I swear to God, this 
had an actual smut-free plot at one time. The boys are getting out 
of hand.

"Slingshot"
by Kelandris

The problem, Silent Bob reflected ruefully, was that malls were 
essentially unpredictable. Oh, the stores were stale... until they 
closed... and the patrons were always there... save when they weren't. But 
more often than not, a group of days would drift by, between food 
court stops and pet store visits, and he'd forget that anything other 
than this same creeping sameness could happen.

And then something completely bugfuck would come in, rip all the 
established complacency to shreds, and exit through a wall.

Riding home on the bus, arm snugged tight around Jay's waist under 
his jacket, he mused on this essential instability. Turning a 
corner, he noticed a boy holding a broken mirror and a dead mouse. 
His eyebrows went up. Maybe it wasn't just malls that every so often 
went nuts. But malls were more spectacular about it.

Take last week, for instance...

***

He and Jay had gone down to the mall to grab a couple of pretzels and 
Cokes. Other than Jay's Coke being flat, it had been another normal 
day--some friends, some fun, some smokes out the back door in the 
parking lot. There were a lot of sales going on; everyone from that 
Magic Eye booth to Walls of Socks to Burning Flesh had wanted a piece 
of the action. Banners everywhere, half-off posters, come-buy-here 
enticements around every corner, which Jay and Bob managed mostly to 
ignore.

On their way out to the back lot, both men had stopped, though, 
struck dumb by the double set of tits attached to two short, stacked 
redheads. The one on the left wore a black t-shirt straining over 
her melons and wrapped tight around her midriff. It said in big 
yellow block-print letters, UPPITY WOMEN UNITE. Her companion's 
shirt was pale blue, and printed in block letters over her endowments 
were the words, GOD I WISH THESE WERE BRAINS.

Jay started snickering, but both women only smiled, laced their hands 
together, and continued down the walkway. Jay elbowed Bob, pointing 
after them, and Bob shook his head, pointing out the door to the back 
lot and holding up an unlit cigarette. Shrugging, Jay followed him--
though not without a long, yearning look--and they went out and 
started in on the second pack of the day. So far, it had been a 
pretty average day, incredibly stunning redheads notwithstanding.

Then they came back in and walked into chaos. The mall was alive 
with people whispering and pointing, not moving silent and drone-like 
through the daily grind. And the reason for all the excitement was a 
black blur racing around the upper level, being chased by six other 
black blurs.

The six men in black cornered whomever it was, reaching out and 
yammering, and the unknown runner promptly jumped for the big banner 
advertising the shoe sale that month at Best Foot Forward. The 
figure swung over the gaping patrons of the food court like Luke 
Skywalker crossing the impenetrable central core of the Death Star. 
And as the figure swung by overhead, arms wrapped tightly around the 
words "half off", Bob's wide brown eyes connected with the figure's 
startled violet ones, and he choked back a yell.

Jay hit his arm.

"Dude, was that who I think it was?"

Bob could only nod. Mercy Wallis was back in Red Bank, no angelic 
sidekick to be seen--but a lot of black-clad wolves hungry on her 
trail.

"Lunchbox, we gotta help," Jay said gravely. "Damsel in distress, 
an' all that."

Bob nodded. Damsel in distress, possibly. Damsel in danger, 
definitely. But just what could they do? He looked around for a 
suitable distraction, seeing nothing nearer than a large potted palm, 
a scrap of tinfoil twined around one of its more wilted leaves. He 
walked past it, watching her leaping from ceiling beam to skylight 
struts, dropping like a dark stone when two of the men pulled weapons 
and fired. That's when people began screaming and running; when one 
of the greenish-gold energy beams struck a clothing store, a rack of 
blue and green ties inside vaporizing along with half the window, it 
was anticlimax to the horde already running for the exits.

But Silent Bob noticed she'd dropped *as* the beams zotted out, 
clearing the area before any of the beams found her. She seemed to 
pivot in midair as one of the men went down, pierced by crossfire, 
vaporizing in crumpling sections like the neckties had not.

Her hair was a dark halo around her as she fell, and Bob was 
mesmerized for a moment, watching as her hands shot out and grabbed 
the railing, jackknifing under the bottom railing in seeming defiance 
of all rules of physics.

Almost immediately Mercy rolled forward, her legs kicking out and 
sweeping the second man off his feet. His legs bucked and he fell 
with a scream, topping over the railing and heading for the floor. 
It wasn't that far to drop, but he was fighting with the slim black 
cylinder he held, trying to aim it behind him at Mercy, who had now 
vaulted over the railing and was falling towards him. He landed on 
top of the weapons tube, and there was a loud crack. The smell of 
singing flesh soon followed, as an electrical discharge flickered 
quickly but briefly over the fallen man. Smoke drifted up from his 
dark clothes as Mercy fell gracefully beside the man's still form.

Bob nodded. Nice maneuvering. Two down, four to go. He watched as 
she took off, in a dead run on the lower level, passing him with a 
pained expression. The four were hot on her trail until Bob stepped 
in their way, dull expression on his bearded face, black leather 
trench swinging around him like a cloak.

All four looked alarmingly similar, as if they were the same person 
poured into four separate shells. Bob didn't have a problem with 
that--he knew cloning of human beings had already happened, he'd seen 
that Joey Lawrence show.

He stepped forward into the pack, the men whirling and tumbling over 
him, around him, arms flailing in the air. As soon as he went down, 
the first man rolling over his back, Jay stepped in, whaling on 
random limbs clad in black--though not black leather, Bob was 
terribly grateful about that. And snarling, slipping, slapping at 
the two young men, the four in now rumpled black suits sought their 
quarry, gaining their feet and staring around suspiciously.

Bob and Jay backed off, doing a well-honed imitation of two stupid 
stoner fucks standing in a mall. They were assessed, sneered at, and 
dismissed in the same moment. Then all four tensed, raising their 
weapon tubes, while one gestured outside, pointing and yelling. It 
was at that point that Silent Bob realized he didn't understand what 
language they were speaking.

All four ran outside, and he followed surreptitiously to the mall 
doors facing the back lot. Peering out, he and Jay watched Mercy's 
attackers outside. The men in black ran as a unit to a black 
Mustang, looked like a 1961, in cherry condition. They clustered 
around it, waving their arms, then all four stepped back as one, 
yelling. 

And the car exploded. A single fireball of red and orange and 
actinic yellow rose from the tarmac, gleaming. Just like that, 
between one breath and another, the four men, and the remains of the 
Mustang, were gone.

Bob's eyebrows rose high, thinking.

"Be ever mindful of the Living Force, young Padawan," he murmured.

"Yes, my Master," Jay replied sarcastically, and Bob's eyebrows rose 
higher. Then the blond in the knit cap looked around.

"Fuck, dude, this place is dead," he whispered. 

Bob looked around. Jay was right. He set off for the mall doors and 
Jay hit his arm again.

Silent Bob looked at his arms, looked pointedly at Jay, and shook his 
head warningly.

"But--"

He shook his head again. "Mercy," he said.

"Yeah, okay, but shit, Bob, how often are we gonna find a completely 
cleared out mall? I mean, this kinda shit only happens one in a--no, 
fuck that, this kinda shit only happens *once*, *now*, and we don't 
take advantage a'this... well, you `n me might as well go get LOSER 
tattooed on our foreheads, y'know?"

Bob just looked at him, but said nothing further when Jay quickly 
rifled through the collection of Tunes `R Us, emerging with a handful 
of CDs and a pleased look on his face.

"Snootchie bootchies!" he said happily, waving his haul. Bob smiled, 
quickly looking away, and motioned for him to catch up.

Now they made their way out the back door in earnest, following the 
same path Mercy had taken. They looked around, seeing sky, asphalt, 
concrete and the blasted black circle in the distance where the 
Mustang had been. But no Mercy. She wasn't there.

"Not... exactly true," said a winded voice, panting. Both men whirled. 
Mercy leaned against the wall by the door, breathing unsteadily.

"Why is it," she asked, holding a hand to her side, "that every time...
I see you I'm... wounded? It's not a... good sign."

Jay scrunched up his face, smiling crookedly.

"'Cause you're always in trouble, Mercy-lady. That's a fuckin' no-
brainer."

One corner of her mouth twitched in amusement.

"I am a shameless agitator," she said softly. Then she winced, 
inhaling. Bob squinted at her, alarmed at the spreading wet patch on 
her dark shirt. She took her hand away, grimacing, and he saw her 
palm was read. Sighing, he walked over to her, hanging his cigarette 
from his lip, and pulled at her shirt. She frowned.

"Give over, Bob, I'm fine."

His eyebrows rose as he pulled up her shirt and revealed a paler than 
usual expanse of flesh, weeping red from a jagged slice in her side. 
He stared at her, the expression on his bearded face grim, yet 
concerned.

**Sure you are,** it said.

"Our youth we can have but today," she said formally. "We may always 
find time to grow old."

"Not if you keep pulling shit like this," Jay said.

"Quite possibly true, pet." She watched with interest as Bob, 
shaking his head, reached into his pocket, taking out a folded 
pocketknife. He turned to Jay, gesturing for his jacket, and 
unthinking, Jay handed it to him. Bob carefully folded it over one 
arm, then reached for his grey tee. Before the blond could react, he 
cut into the fabric, tearing it all the way around, removing the 
bottom six inches of length.

Jay shrieked, clutching his shortened t-shirt and stepping back.

"Hey!" he yelled. "Stupid fuck, you are *so* lucky this isn't my 
Forked Tongue shirt, man, I'd hafta *kill* you!"

Mercy rolled her eyes. Bob did likewise. Jay muttered something 
about ungrateful bitches and stalked off across the parking lot to 
look at the char marks on the ground where the car had been.

Bob allowed a moment to appreciate the graceful line of Jay's lower 
back, now revealed above his worn and faded jeans and his perpetual 
Docs. Then he cut the length of material he held again, tearing the 
bottom hemmed inch away. He folded the remaining cloth into a thick 
square, pressing it against her side. She grimaced, but stood there 
while he tied the inch-wide strip around her, holding the makeshift 
bandage in place.

He gestured towards where jay stood, peering with interest at the 
blast pattern on the asphalt. The meaning was clear. Just who 
*were* those guys?

Mercy sighed, closing her eyes and leaning back against the wall.

"Oneirons. They've been chasing me since Tuesday. Once they target 
someone, they backflip their quarry through that person's... personal 
history. Which is fine if someone's a homebody, but you know me," 
she said bitterly. "Always on the go.

"I could have lived without seeing Mongolia again. And Novosibirsk 
this time of year is desperately cold--especially in this outfit."

His brown eyes wandered over her black silks for a moment, agreeing. 
Then he tossed around the various implications of what she'd said as 
he pulled her shirt down and stepped back.

"So they're still chasing you?" he asked carefully.

She giggled, then opened her eyes, trying to assume a sober 
expression.

"No, actually--they finally made the mistake of keeping their 
machinery in the same area as they were. While you were--occupying 
them--I wired their travel unit. That's why the Mustang exploded, 
after all."

Oh. He blinked, folding his arms. He nodded his chin towards the 
wound. You should have that seen to, the gesture said.

She smoothed a lock of dark hair back from his forehead, smiling 
warily.

"I will," she said. "But first I need to get back to England. 
There's a young girl there these fellows locked up. I doubt they'll 
have set her free in the interim of flipping me around the globe and 
back again. Obscurely, she's how all this started."

Jay walked back in time to hear these last few statements. He shook 
his head, looking doleful.

"What, not even a blow for old time's sake?"

He grabbed his crotch, wagging his hips suggestively. Mercy stared 
into his grinning face, shaking her head.

"Doesn't your darling play with you enough, child?"

"Hells," Jay said happily, "that tubby bitch could fuck me 24/7, and 
I'd still want action."

"Why am I not surprised?"

Carefully she stepped forward, hugging Bob. Then she looked over at 
Jay, holding out her arms.

"Come here, you infuriating boy. It's the least you can do."

Jay swaggered forward, long blond hair swinging, grinning so hard Bob 
thought his face might split. He hugged her hard enough to get a 
yelp, more of surprise than of pain. Then he grabbed her head and 
planted a kiss on her lips that made her eyes cross. She pulled back 
after a long moment, her eyes gleaming wickedly.

"Really?" she murmured. She grabbed Jay, fisting her hands in what 
was left of his shirt, kissing him until he was moaning against her, 
hands clutching her shoulders. Then, laughing, she set him on his 
feet again, scooting him towards Bob.

"I'm sure you can think of something to do with that," she said, then 
waved and walked around the side of the building.

**Exit Mercy, stage left,** thought Bob, feeling rather dazed. Then 
he froze as Jay stepped forward, pressing his lips against Bob's ear.

"Yeah," he breathed, "I think I got an idea." And he grabbed Bob, 
thrusting his hips against the larger man while he dug through the 
trench's oversized pockets.

"Lube, lube, where's the--ah!" he muttered. 

Bob was still dizzy from the feeling of Jay's lips moving against his 
ear. But Jay wasn't wasting any time. He whipped out his cock, 
tongue half-sticking out of his mouth as he coated the length with 
the slippery stuff. Then he pulled down Bob's shorts and Bob's eyes 
flew wide, staring in shock and horror at the empty parking lot.

**My God,** he thought, **anyone could walk by, absolutely anyone--**

"Yeah," whispered Jay, grinning maniacally. "Anyone could see us, so 
we gotta hurry. Turn around."

Shaking, Bob did, the inside of his head screaming *too risky, we'll 
get caught, danger, danger--*

Then Jay popped inside his tight hole, sighing, and it hurt because 
he wasn't ready, but it felt good, too. Oh, yeah. And now Jay as 
moving, was stretching him, stretching him good as he pushed inside, 
his hands slipping under Bob's sweatshirt, reaching up to pinch his 
sensitive nipples. Bob gasped, all his muscles clenching, and Jay 
yelped.

"*Fuck*, you're tight, Lunchbox! Shit, maybe we should do this more 
often... fuck... shit... feels so fuckin' good, so fucking *good*..."

Jay was driving into him fast now, and he leaned forward, pressing 
his cheek against the blocks of concrete and tightening and releasing 
the muscles in his thighs and ass. Jay was moaning behind him, 
breathing hard and thrusting fast, and Bob fought the impulse to 
bring himself off. He had something else in mind.

But it was hard, *he* was so hard, and Jay was whispering into his 
hear, pressing close against him and thrusting, thrusting so fast 
into him. Suddenly the blond yelped again, then screamed his name, 
bucking against Bob. Bob shot a hand down, pressing his thumb and 
fingers together around the head of his cock, squeezing hard. He 
shuddered all over, but he didn't come. He waited, trembling, while 
Jay slid out of him, turning to face Jay in the same moment as both 
men pulled up their pants.

"Inside, Jay," he said, trying to find a comfortable position for his 
rock-hard erection.

"What?" Jay asked. He blinked dazedly, smiling.

"Inside," Bob said again. He opened the door to the mall, pushing 
Jay through and walking him through the empty food court. They 
walked past a bank of broken telephones, all their cords sliced clean 
and dangling, and turned the corner, entering World of Sleep. One 
hand in the center of Jay's back propelled him face first onto a teal 
satin pillow-top floor model.

"What the fuck?"

"Lube."

Jay turned to look at him and his eyes bugged out. Bob stood, stark 
naked save for his leather trench and Mooby ball-cap, and he was as 
hard as Jay had ever seen him.

"Holy fuck, Bob, you're gonna kill me with that thing--"

"*Lube*," Bob said again. There was a dark gleam in his eyes.

"But, Bob, shit, we don't have the fuckin' time for this--"

Bob growled, holding one hand out imperiously. "LUBE!" he 
commanded. "And strip," he purred in a low voice.

Now Jay was shaking, but he stripped out of his gear, watching as 
Silent Bob lubed up. Bob knew when his eyes glazed over, he had him, 
but still pushed him flat against the mattress as if he'd been 
resisting. He pushed one of his lube-slick fingers inside Jay, just 
one, and felt all of Jay's muscles trembling. Lovely.

Spreading his lover wide, he poured more lube onto his cock and 
positioned it against Jay's puckered entrance.

"Uhh, Bob, don't you think--"

Bob only growled again. Slowly, he pushed against Jay.

**I'll huff, and I'll puff, and--**

"*Ah!*" he cried out, when the head popped in. Jay twitched on the 
mattress.

"Oh, fuck, oh fuck, don't move, oh God, oh fuck, ohfuck--"

Shivering ran through all his limbs, and he whimpered.

"So fuckin' *huge*, Bob, oh my God so *big*, how the fuck..."

Panting, he trailed off, spasming around the tip of Bob's cock. Bob 
began to twitch, wanting to thrust very, *very* badly.

"Uhh," Bob moaned. "Gotta... move, Jay, need to... need to... need you..."

"Yeah, yeah, hold the fuck on..."

Gingerly the blond moved, spreading his legs wider and raising his 
ass in the air. He leaned forward at the same time, resting his face 
against the satin and breathing hard.

"Okay," he breathed. "*Okay*. Fuck, yeah. Go."

Bob grabbed Jay's hips and thrust, pulling Jay forward at the same 
time. He sank in a few more inches and Jay screamed. Fighting every 
impulse, Bob stopped, gasping, and stroked Jay's pale hair.

"You... okay?" he asked. "You good?"

"Fuck yeah, I'm good," Jay said breathlessly. "You're, God, fuck, 
*big*, dude, big, *huge*, bigger'n ever! Want you in me, *want* you, 
but *fuck*, you're... gonna split me in half, you... keep this up!"

Even as he spoke, though, Jay was moving against him, clenching 
around him, hungry for more, hungry for Bob. The bearded man bit his 
lip, pulling out slowly, Jay thrusting back against him as he did.

"Noo, Bob, come back," he moaned. "You gotta... uhh... want you in me, 
*in*... *side*..." His back arched, sheened with sweat, and he whimpered 
again.

"Fuck, Bob, please," he whimpered. His eyes fluttered closed as he 
rocked on the bed. "C'mon, fuck me, *fuck me*, don't fuckin' tease..."

Breathing hard, Bob squirted more lube into his palm. His eyebrows 
went up.

"We're out of lube," he whispered.

"Fuck, no!"

tbc...

END
**************