Author's note:

I, Binghampton is based on the 1997 movie and is a gift for a friend who also is a fan of Dean Stockwell and Tim Curry. This is slash, by the way, but it's just going to be flirty and sort of romantic (I suppose) instead of hot and steamy.

Also, why is it that folks have stopped making so many author's notes, these days? To me, it's like reading a book without a cover.

Pairing: Wallace/Vladikov.

Rating: T for mild language.

I , Binghamton

"...hereby swear that I won't rest until I get that bum, Quinton McHale, back and shove a boot up right up his ass at the speed of light!" said the former naval captain vigorously as he clicked his heels and saluted his reflection in the mirror. "Yes, siree."

He looked smart in his old cap and uniform, proudly puffing out his chest.

After the fall of Vladikov and the rise of McHale, Wallace was demoted. Mostly, due to the fact that his plan seriously backfired when he tried to take out Vladikov's HQ himself. Since then, he has stayed on San Moreno to whip the men back into shape, quietly planning his revenge.


Rumors had started floating about amongst the men. They spoke of a long stretch of beach where, at night, one could hear the faint moaning of a tortured spirit beneath the crash of the waves. Happy had started this tale and took to sleeping beneath Christy's bed. Virgil just scoffed at the whole thing. He wasn't about to admit that he'd heard it, too.

Word of this finally got around to Wallace.

"You call yourselves grown men? You're a mockery of the navy. A bunch of bed-wetting ninnies! I'll show you. I'll go down there, tonight. BY MYSELF," Binghampton said, red in the face as he stood in their cot bunker.

"NO! The ghost will steal your soul!" Happy hysterically warned in his boxer shorts.

"You nimwit, there is no ghost!"

"Wull ookaayy, If you say so...after it eats you, can I have your those katana on the Nurizaya mount in your bedroom?"

"How do you know about those?!" Wallace gave Happy the stink eye, who just looked at the ground. "And NO you may not. And there isn't a blood thirsty ghost!"


The men watched as Binghampton strode out of his house, toward the beach that night. "There goes a good man." Henry took off his baseball cap and held it to his chest.

"I'm gonna miss him." Christy choked back a sob before Virgil slapped him on the shoulder. "Let's go raid his house."

"Okay!" They all agreed and hurried to the door.

Wallace tried to keep the sand from getting into his black Dr. Scholl's and unhooked the flashlight from his belt. "I'll show them. Scaredy cats."

It felt like an hour before he came to an area where the tide had taken over the beach and formed a little pool. Above that pool was a cave, partially hidden by a leaning tree and other flora. This made no difference to Wallace until he heard...a melodious voice coming from its black depths.

With great difficulty, he made his way up to the mouth of the cave, brandishing a stick that he'd torn off of the convenient tree. As quiet as a mouse, Wallace peeped his head into the mouth of the cave. He could see that there was light coming from a small fire...and a shadowy figure sitting beside it. He managed to get his legs and feet just slightly damp before haphazardly plunging into a sandy pocket of muck. "Damn! Damn, damn, damn it, DAMN!" The freezing water filled his shoes. The figure inside smote the fire and Wallace could hear the distinct cocking of a gun before he felt the steely muzzle digging into his cheek. "Not very subtle, are we?"

Binghampton looked into the face that taunted him and his eyes widened with fear before he screamed "It really is a ghost!"

Maj. Vladikov couldn't help but laugh. "Boo!"