Hugh Hamilton
"I guess that rules out searching the building for more Muskens-related clues," said Hugh from the place he and Ben had deemed the least incriminating. Hiding up a tree was not, in truth, the best method of eluding suspicion, particularly as they still wore blood-splattered clothes, but the tree's ample foliage ensured they at least eluded plain sight. Somewhere in the distance the sirens continued to wail.
"If you ask me, this whole country reeks of Muskens," said Ben, toying with the smart phone he had pilfered from one of the corpses. "I'm half expecting us to stumble upon some custardy Muskens lair behind these branches."
"That would be fitting," agreed Hugh. "Although the sign back there did make it clear that this was a Muskens-free zone."
"Yes, that was a curious sign, wasn't it?"
Both getting the same idea, Ben and Hugh turned and pushed back some of the foliage behind them. There, through the branches, they saw... well, if not a lair, exactly, then certainly... trees. More trees.
"Ah, an expertly hidden lair," said Ben. "Devious."
"Or trees," said Hugh. "I think I'm with Ockham on this one."
Before they could retreat, a handsome, topless male bounded into view.
"Muskens!" said Ben.
Hugh attempted to elbow his disapproval but instead lost his balance and landed awkwardly and painfully at the feet of the now-baffled, still-topless man.
"Are you OK?" said the man. He was offering one of his pleasingly toned arms.
"Muskens!" said Ben, again.
"What's a Muskens?" said the man, pulling Hugh effortlessly to his feet.
"Does he smell like custard?" Ben called down.
"That's not what I'm getting, no."
The man blinked. "You two haven't seen a frisbee, have you?"
"Thousands," said Ben, who had, as it happened, just found one. "Did you have one in mind?"
"Yes, it's red and somewhere in this area."
"Are there women where you come from?" interjected Hugh, still holding the man's palm despite the man having jettisoned his grip some moments prior. The extreme incongruity between the smooth, dark, adult hand and the flaky, bleach-white miniature was not lost on Ben, who giggled wryly from his bough.
The man blinked again. "Excuse me?"
"You mean this?" said Ben.
Unhinged ecstasy flashed across the man's face as he spied the red disc. "That's it! May I have it?"
"I will expertly frisbee it down to you," said Ben, creating a verb no one had asked for. The frisbee's trajectory was interrupted almost immediately by a nearby branch. Seeing an excuse to wrest himself free of Hugh's persistent grasp, the man dived athletically and caught the frisbee moments before it could complete its pathetic descent. It was then that Ben realised he was not looking at some casual, run-of-the-mill frisbee-thrower. The man beneath him bore all the hallmarks of—
"Find it?" A second man had emerged from the bushes, mildly less handsome but similarly topless.
"Yes," said the first man, regaining his footing and gliding the frisbee to his companion.
The second man received the disc via an elegant, if entirely unnecessary, spin of his body, during which he noticed Ben and Hugh for the first time. "Who are these two?"
"Ze zijn op zoek naar Muskens. Zij moeten worden behandeld," whispered the first man in an attempt at covert communication that failed on all counts but the fact that it was in Dutch. He quickly turned back to Ben and Hugh. "Where are my manners? I merely said, 'These are my new friends'."
The second man looked at Ben, then Hugh, then Ben again, swishing his obscene blond hair all the while.
"Well, it just so happens that we are in need of two able-bodied men for Ultimate," he said, stepping forward like a hot, topless car salesman.
Ben winced. There was that word. It had been ten years since he and Hugh had suffered unspeakable torment at the hands of several lean thugs coming off an Ultimate high, but the pain was still there.
"Are there women where you come from?" said Hugh, who had not realised the non-trademark-infringing variant of the name referred to the same sport.
The blond man laughed in a way that did not immediately bring to mind known patterns of human behaviour. "Yes, lots."
"We're in!"
"No," said Ben, dramatically. "You are mistaken. For we are neither able-bodied nor men. What's more—wait, scratch that second part. What's more, I translated what you said using my phone."
"And?" said the non-blond, amused.
"And... Well, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense—something about looking for Mahdi and us needing to be treated—but it certainly wasn't 'These are my new friends'."
"Come, come. You're not relying on one of those dreadful internet translating services, are you? Mahdi is simply Dutch for 'friend'."
"Really?"
"Yes, in fact— Actually, never mind. I hate farce." The man withdrew a pistol that had hitherto been hidden suggestively in his trunks. "Like all Ultimate players, we are sociopaths and we mean you harm." He turned to his companion. "I'll take the little one. You take the one in the tree."
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