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[personal profile] omteddy2006
Title: What's So New About York?
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,000
Characters: Vaizey, the sheriff of Nottingham; Jerry, Elaine, George, Kramer
Disclaimer: Robin Hood 2006 is owned by the BBC. Seinfeld is owned by Jerry Seinfeld, I think. I own my computer (although it's not paid for just yet...). No copyright infringement is intended and certainly no money is being made.
Author's Note: This was my entry for the Twilight Zone challenge at[livejournal.com profile] hoodland . Write a 1,000 word or less crossover fic involving one character from BBC's Robin Hood in another fandom.

The sheriff clutched his side. The wound inflicted by Guy was gone along with…Nottingham? Where was he?

The streets were made of smooth, solid rock. Enormous buildings surrounded him. Strange carriages lined either side of the road, packed in so tightly there was not room for horses to pull them.

It was dusk. The streets were nearly deserted. A light mist fell.

The sheriff needed to find out where he was; then, get back to Nottingham. He had unfinished business with Sir Guy and Prince John. Grabbing a passing youth, he demanded, “Where am I?”

“Hey, watch the leather!” the boy said, trying to wrench himself from the sheriff’s steel grip.

“Where. Am. I?” the sheriff spat.

“Upper West Side,” the youth stammered. “New York?”

The sheriff released the boy who hurried away, muttering “freak” under this breath and rubbing the feeling back into his elbow.

This is York? Vaizey had never seen such a place. He could not understand how a town like this could be built anywhere in England, much less nearby Yorkshire, without his knowing about it. It certainly was “new.”

Vaizey felt his anger rising. His position with Prince John had been increasingly in jeopardy, but this! This must have been in the making for quite some time. He had been assembling the Black Knights, staging Operation Shah Mat, putting his own life on the line with the Pact of Nottingham, and Prince John had been building a new York!

It started raining harder. Vaizey needed to find shelter and an accomplice, willing or not, to help him get back his seat of power. Or, at least, a lift into the next shire.

He ducked into a portico and tried the door. Locked. And made of glass. Pretty but not very functional, Vaizey thought. Just like Prince John. Alas, he had no weapon with which to smash the glass. Then, he noticed buttons on the wall, each with a number and letter beside it. He pushed the button marked “5A Seinfeld.”

“Yeah?” A man’s voice emanated from a box in the wall.

Quickly scanning the buttons again, the sheriff found the one marked “5B.” It was worth a shot. “Er…I’m looking for Mr. Kramer?”

Five floors above, Jerry rolled his eyes and sighed. Another one of Kramer's weirdos.He was beginning to wonder if his neighbor's intercom even worked. "Sure. Come on up."

It took several tries, but the sheriff, after a terse explanation from Jerry, managed to pull the door at the exact moment that Jerry unlocked it. After several long minutes, the sheriff emerged on the fifth level. He arrived at apartment 5A, very winded.

"Is the elevator broken again?" Receiving only a quizzical look in response, Jerry quickly added, "Never mind," then thought to himself, Where does Kramer find these people?

The sheriff entered cautiously. He was still trying to decide upon a plan to gain this man's trust and cooperation when his thoughts were interrupted by a grating female voice from immediately behind him.

Elaine, slapping her hands down on the counter, continued a story already in progress. "So, back to my day in Queens. Puddy and this guy are yelling at each other..."

"Yelling?" Jerry asked, chuckling. "In the funeral home?"

"Yes! So they start shoving and hitting and yadda yadda yadda...he'll probably have to go to court."

Jerry and the leper prattled on about the incident, but the sheriff did not hear. His mind was working feverishly. This woman had been at the Queen's court and would likely return soon. Where better to find an ally to use in his fight against Prince John than in Queen Eleanor's entourage? Now, how could he convince this woman to help him?

Suddenly, the door burst open and a short, stocky, bald man screamed through ragged breaths, "In a few minutes, the phone is going to ring...you have to answer it 'Vanderlay Industries'...it's the lady from the unemployment office...'Vanderlay Industries'...got it?"

"Do I know you?" Jerry coyly asked.

"It's important!" George bellowed. "Vanderlay Industries! Okay?" Turning to Vaizey, George calmly asked, "Who's this?"

"Friend of Kramer." Turning to Vaizey, Jerry said, "I didn't catch the name."

"Vaizey."

George's face lit up. "Vaizey? Vanderlay? Close enough. And you sound like a guy who owns his own business. Could you do me this favor? Please? I’m begging you!"

The sheriff made a noncommittal gesture as if to say "What's in it for me?"

The phone rang.

"Look, I'll owe you one!" George beseeched him.

The phone rang again.

"Please! I'll do anything! Just tell them you're thinking of hiring me!"

The sheriff had no idea what any of these people were talking about, but he understood indebtedness and he needed an ally. He gestured for the telephone.

"Vanderlay Industries," he answered cautiously. He continued speaking to the disembodied voice. "Yes. [pause] George Constanza?" George nodded vigorously. "We are considering him. For a rather important job actually. [pause] Good-bye."

"Thank you," George gushed, shaking Vaizey's hand.

The door burst open again and a tall, dark, lanky figure strode into the apartment. "Giddyup."

"Doesn't anyone knock anymore?"

Kramer nodded to Jerry and then introduced himself to Vaizey.

"Wait. You don't know each other?" asked Jerry.

"Do we?" Kramer asked Vaizey.

"We have a mutual friend," Vaizey ventured.

"You look familiar. Did Bob Sacamano send you?"

"That's right," Vaizey lied. "I was in the neighborhood...just on my way to Queens...I don't suppose any of you could tell me how to get there from here."

George answered tiredly, "My car's downstairs. I have to go visit my parents anyway. I'll give you a lift."

"Can I come, too?" Kramer asked. "I wanna check out a sale on golf balls."

George gave Kramer a disgruntled look, but said, "Yeah. C'mon."

The threesome departed, leaving a heavy silence in their wake.

Checking the TV guide, Elaine said, “Hey, there’s a show on the infamous sheriff of Nottingham on PBS. Wanna watch?”

Jerry shrugged. “Why not? We’ve got nothing better to do.”
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