Ripped From The Headlines : Another Day In A Christian Paradise? Part 1(LSWC)

Struggling to open eyes that felt like lead, Wes woke up feeling
pain all over his body. Moving slowly, he dry scrubbed his hands on
his face, only to realize they weren't dry at all. Opening them
quickly, he realized they were covered in blood. "Where the Hell did
the blood come from?" Wes thought to himself.

Suddenly there was a loud knock at the door. As Wes looked across
the bed to the front door of his small studio apartment, he realized
there was a female lying in the bed next to him. Getting up from
bed, he quickly ran to the sink, he yelled out "Give me a second, be
right there."

After washing his hands and face then drying his hands and looking
at the clock before he looked through the peephole, Wes noticed it
was six o'clock in the morning. "This is too early for who
ever this is, knocking at my door" he said to himself. He rushed to
throw on a pair of jeans, almost falling on the floor.

Having noticed that it was a Police Officer, Wes opened the door a
crack, wedging a foot against the door so it couldn't be opened any
further. "Can I help you Officer?" as he looked the Police Officer
straight in the eyes. The Officer handed him a picture, asking "Have
you seen this woman tonight? She's been reported missing by her
mother." Taking a look at the picture, Wes shook his head as he
handed it back. "No, I sure haven't Officer. What's her name, if you
don't mind me asking?"

"Karen, her name is Karen sir. If you see her, can you give me call
at this number?" the Police Officer asked as he handed a business
card to Wes. He took the business card, glancing at it he said "Sure
thing Officer, anything I can do to help." Shutting the door, Wes
tucked the business card in a tight back pocket and looked over at
the bed. Walking quickly to the bed, he threw back the sheet and
hollered at the female in his bed. "Up and at'em, time to get out of
my apartment, who ever you are."

Wes's faced turned three shades of white. There was a blonde woman
laying in his bed, naked and face down in a pool of
blood. "OFFICER…" Wes screamed out, running to the front door and
opening it. He noticed the unmarked Police Car; a black Ford Crown
Victoria with a Mafia tint was sitting at the road waiting to turn
left. Looking back to the bed and thinking about what he saw, Wes
quickly shut the door. "What the Hell am I doing? I don't even know
who this woman is, and I'm going to tell a Police Officer I woke up
next to a dead body…what the Hell am I thinking?"

Picking up his cell phone, Wes opened it and began dialing a number.
Putting the phone to his ear, he glanced at the body on the
bed. "Hello?" spoke a voice on the other end. "This is Wes…I need
your help. I think I'm in trouble." The lean six foot two man said
into the cell phone. "Wes…when aren't you in trouble?" spoke a
female voice on the phone. "I'm serious…I need you at my apartment…
NOW!" he said excitedly. "Okay, you'll be here in fifteen minutes?
Thank you so much. Sorry that I yelled. I'll explain when you get
here." He hung up the phone and looked around his apartment. Wes
noticed a woman's clothes thrown on the floor, her shoes no where to
be seen. Reaching down, he picked up a brassiere and looked at it.
Lacey and slightly worn, it was a size forty double D. "Yeah…um I
like my women's boobs a little smaller than that." Wes said out
loud.

Deciding he needed a shower, Wes pulled off his pants and threw them
over a chair. He reached into the shower and turned on the water,
leaving it to get hot. As he looked in the mirror, he noticed a spot
of blood on his shoulder blade. "God, I've got blood everywhere."
Stepping into the shower, the muscularly lean man grabbed the
shampoo and began to pour it into his hand. Lathering his hair, he
began thinking about the night before. "I went to work yesterday…
then I came home, got a shower, left for the party and that's the
last thing I remember" Wes said to himself. "Why don't I remember that party at all?" Wes pondered the party that eluded his memory.

A loud ear shattering scream brought him out of his thoughts, and
Wes almost fell on his butt in the shower. "What the Hell?" he
shouted after quickly rinsing the soap out of his hair. Pulling the
shower curtain aside, he stepped out of the shower while grabbing a
towel and stepped into the living room. "Wes, what the Hell did you
do boy?" a pretty blonde woman with a shocked look on her face asked
him. "Are you in the habit of murdering women, then asking your ex-
girlfriend's over to help you hide the body?" she asked. "Roxanne…I
don't even know who this woman is…" he stated, while pointing at the
dead body.

"I mean, all I know is that I woke up after having been at a party I don't remember last night, with a dead body in my bed. I didn't even know she was dead until after the Police Officer left." He agitatedly said to his
ex-girlfriend. "The POLICE were here?!?!" she yelled. "Where are
they now? Did they ask you a lot of questions? Do they know who she
is, or how she got here? Why aren't you in jail waiting…?" Roxanne
asked before Wes stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Rox…a
Police Officer knocked on my door at six am, asking if I'd seen a
woman who's mother had reported her missing. I don't know why he was
knocking at my door; he didn't seem too interested in knocking on
anyone else's door. Once I'd realized this woman was dead, I ran to
the front door and the Cop was already leaving the apartment
complex."

Roxanne looked at Wesley Iodole, her ex-boyfriend of five years, and
relaxed a bit. "His story is out there, but I know Wes isn't a
murderer or I'd be dead after half the crap that went down between
us." she thought to herself. Turning back to the naked man, she
looked him over. "Wes…babe, why are there bruises all over your side
and back" she asked as she stepped closer, touching his side. "Ow,
dammit…that hurt." He yelled at her. She flinched at the
rebuke, looking him in the eyes furiously. "You know, I didn't hurt
you…I was trying to help. It looks like you may have a broken rib or
two."

The brunette man dropped the towel he had been holding, running his
hands over his face. "Sweetie, I'm sorry. It just hurt a lot, and I
wasn't expecting it." Looking back to the body, he stepped closer to
it and looked at the tattoo on her bare butt. A tattoo of two
fairies having sex stared back at him, a male bending a female fairy
over. That's quite an odd tattoo thought Wes to himself. Roxanne
stepped closer to the body, examining it from behind Wesley.
Pointing to the body, she said "Wes, since when you date women who
like fairies? I thought you'd told me that they were childish and
immature." Turning around quickly, looking his ex-girlfriend in the
eyes Wesley Iodole stated flatly "I told you, I DON'T know this
woman…didn't you listen the first time I said that?!?!" Roxanne
moved closer to Wes, putting a soft hand on his shoulder. "Babe, it
was a joke, to lighten you up." She sighed softly. "I thought it
would lighten you up, but I see you've gotten no further with having
a sense of humor since I saw you six months ago." She chided.

Slightly trembling, Wesley sat down on the edge of the bed.
Putting his hands out in front of him, he realized he was shaking so
bad it was visible to both him and the woman he used to love. "Why
did I call Rox now…did I trust her this much when we were together…
do I trust her this much now?" he thought in rapid fire succession.
He watched as Roxanne went to the television and turned it on, then
turned towards him. "I'm going to go get a few things out of my car,
you sit and relax for a few minutes and watch the tube." Wes watched
her leave the apartment then lay back on the bed a few inches from
the body of the dead woman.

The T.V. had some news broadcast of an over inflated left
wing Christian liberal spouting off how they needed added security
to our beloved nation, and how much the terrorists were plotting and
scheming to flatten the giant that was the United States, how the
War on Terror had a new type of terrorist, the Lone Wolf. That people
who weren't patriotic to our country, computer hackers, people who
hid in plain sight were deemed a "Domestic Terrorist."

"What a load of crap." thought Wes to himself. "Can't these
people hear through this dribble? Can't they hear the double-speak
for themselves? Why am I the only one who hears it?" Suddenly the
crowd on the television gasped, and Wes sat up to see what the
commotion was all about. He saw the politician had fainted on the
stage, knocking the podium off the stage, a letter grasped in his
hand that had obviously just been handed to him by the man who was
standing by his side, stunned by what had just transpired.

Quickly a few well dressed men ran in to scoop him up before
he fell to the floor below the stage. The men had smelling salts
out, reviving the man quickly. Other men in the crowd along with his
security team put the podium back up on the stage, straightening the
microphone for him. Taking the offered glass of water, he timidly
thanked the man who had handed it to him, took a small sip of it and
set it down underneath the podium.

Roxanne walked back into the apartment right then, watching
Wesley's face as she spoke into the phone. "I'll call you back daddy, Wes needs me." She set down her stuff on the other chair in the
room, picking up a bra from the chair as she did. "She's definitely
got a lot going for her." Roxanne drawled sarcastically. The
speaker on the television continued with his speech, Roxanne seemed
oblivious to him while Wesley tuned her out. "The time has come to
bring the world ahead to the future, to take a step closer to a New
World Order, to take the fight to the terrorist's front door. I have
just found out that my own daughter, Karen…was found murdered this
morning.

[edit on 7-6-2008 by SpartanKingLeonidas]

I am not at this time permitted to discuss the details of
this travesty of my family as it is still under investigation. Just
know this, justice will be served, and it will be served swiftly."
He stated slamming his fist on the podium hard to the last word.

Wesley looked to the picture of the woman the television showed,
then looked to the dead body, then to Roxanne. "We've got to get out
of here RIGHT NOW." He yelled as he grabbed a t-shirt off the floor,
turning and grabbing Roxanne's arm. "What the Hell Wes? What is your
God-damned problem? You asked me here to help you, then you turned
around and demand we leave." She yelled at him. Wesley looked at the
woman staring furiously at him while shoving on his tennis shoes.

He tied the laces quickly, ripping one off he'd tied it so
tight. "Rox, you can stay here if you want, but I'm leaving…they're
finally after me and I need to leave with or without you." Roxanne
looked at the man putting his shoes on, puzzled. "Who the HELL is
after you buddy?

Why are you putting on your running shoes…you only do that when
you really want to run." Wesley stood up looked her straight in the
eyes and softly said words that normally would have infuriated her.

"The New World Order is after me Rox, the New World Order."


Wesley looked directly at Roxanne as he straightened his t-shirt. The television was playing some story on it about a “No Knock Search Warrant” that the Police had the power to use after a new court justice had been assigned. “We’ve got to leave now, Roxanne.” Wes stated flatly. Turning to look at the rear window, Wesley asked Roxanne. “Where did you park your car?”

Roxanne ran her hands through her hair and looked at Wesley. “I parked it around back like you taught me. Why?” He held out his hand to the five foot nine knockout who was his ex-girlfriend, motioning with his finger for her to give him the keys. Refusing to hand him the keys, Roxanne turned as she heard someone’s footsteps outside Wesley’s apartment. Wesley reacted quickly, by grabbing Roxanne’s wrist and pulling her away from the front door. Quickly running to the kitchen Wesley grabbed two bottles that Roxanne could not identify. He popped the lids off of each, flinging the liquid from both all over the front door and the front wall of his small apartment. Roxanne yelled at him “What the Hell on Earth are you doing?” as she backed away from him. Wesley grabbed her wrist tightly while directing her towards the rear window.

Wesley opened a dresser drawer pulling out a nine millimeter Glock model seventeen and an empty two liter bottle and a roll of black electrical tape. Handing the two liter bottle to Roxanne he said “Rox, hold this here.” directing her to place the empty two liter on top of the Glock while he ran the electricians tape around the edge of the bottle’s mouth and the pistol. “What the Hell are you doing Wes?” Roxanne stammered. “Hold it still, and keep quiet for once in your life Roxanne or you will get us both killed.” Roxanne shut her mouth quickly while the look of melting solid steel with lasers came from her eyes directed at Wesley.

Suddenly the wall to the front of the apartment burst into flames as Wesley was finishing running his tape around his odd new looking weapon. Roxanne began to scream as Wesley put his hand over her mouth “WWEeeesss...” and it was cut off after his hand clamped tightly over her mouth.

“Rox, will you stop and think about what you’re screaming will do.”
Hearing several sets of footsteps outside the apartment door, Wesley pushed Roxanne towards the window. “Get out and down to your car while I hold them off.” Roxanne listened to Wesley’s authoritative sounding voice and did as she was told, looking back through the window as she began climbing down the fire escape she saw the front door burst open and a flood of men in black clothing, kneepads, black helmets, and Counter-Terrorism Unit emblazoned across their chests. She saw Wesley raise his pistol quickly firing off three shots in quick succession hitting the men all between the eyes as they looked around at the fire that was blazing on the wall of the door they had just knocked down while some of the flames leapt to their clothing.

Roxanne reached her car and unlocked it, getting into the driver seat quickly, starting the car’s engine over. It was a 2007 model Ford Crown Victoria, a present from her boss who was a long time lover of hers. Twisting the radio knob to the on position Roxanne was startled to feel a hand on her shoulder and she looked up to see a soot covered Wesley. “Wes get in so we can go.” She stated. A startled cry escaped her lips as he wrenched her from the car and jumped in her seat. “If you had wanted to drive you could have just asked me.” She defiantly hissed at him.

Looking down at her with dead calm eyes, Wesley slammed the door shut and threw the car into reverse and spun out in a reverse fishtail motion as he slammed the door shut leaving her sitting dumbfounded on the ground as tears came to her eyes. The black Ford Crown Victoria left a trail of smoke in its wake as he peeled out and left the parking lot. Roxanne began questioning her sanity as she heard rushed footsteps pounding the pavement hard to the right of the building that was ablaze from the fire her ex-boyfriend had set. Suddenly a loud explosion sounded from a few blocks away, the shockwave unnerving the running men to the ground only a few feet away from Roxanne. They were clad in the same black featureless clothing as the men she’d seen burst through Wesley’s front door with Counter-Terrorism Unit emblazoned across the front.

They stood and looked at each other as they closed on the woman on the ground weapons at the ready and pointed directly at her. “Lay down face to the ground and don’t move” screamed one of the masked men. One of the men to the back of the group asked “L.T., its obvious the man doesn’t care about her since he left her here, shouldn’t we just leave her?” As the Lieutenant turned to scold his recalcitrant subordinate an odd thing happened.

The man sprouted a third eye in the middle of his head blossoming into a red spot that almost looked like a rose as the remains of the mans brains splattered out of the back of his head. “That’s exactly why you’re not in charge Henderson, you don’t think.” the Lieutenant spouted as he watch the young twenty-one year old new recruit fall to his knees dead. The Lieutenant looked around the parking lot to attempt to determine where the shot had come from while putting his hand to the walkie-talkie receiver. “We need backup…” was all the Lieutenant was able to say as blood gushed from his throat where a blade has slashed the main artery of life. The other two men who had been watching the display of stupidity of their superior officer and their other fallen team mate pointed their weapons straight at their leader as his body began pushing towards them of its own volition.

The two men looked to each other as the rifle in the dead mans hands raised and pointed directly at them. Each man fell to the ground dead as the rifle emptied it’s clip into their death dancing bodies while the silencers of their weapons and the weapon that was shooting them did their jobs as bullets fired across the small alleyway that functioned as a parking lot.

Roxanne looked on in horror as the death toll quickly climbed on in her presence. The body of the Lieutenant fell to the ground and a blood drenched Wesley looked at Roxanne dispassionately. Squatting and bending down over the fallen Lieutenant, Wesley reached into all the fallen mens pockets emptying them onto the pavement. “One, two, three, four, five, six…” Wesley counted as magazine clips fell to the ground and a sheet of paper unfolded in his hands as he stopped counting. Dropping the paper in Roxanne’s lap he quietly began rummaging through the rest of the dead men’s pockets while dropping MP-5 clips and nine millimeter Glock seventeen clips in a small pile.

Roxanne looked at Wesley as a determined looked came across his face and she asked him “Just what the Hell is going on Wes?” as tears ran down her face. Wesley stated three small words. “Read the paper.” Continuing to police the bodies for anything of use Wesley ignored his ex-girlfriend. Roxanne picked up the piece of paper and read out loud “NO KNOCK WARRANT” across the top of the page. “A little quieter please Rox, the neighbors are beginning to come out of the woodwork.” Picking up and pocketing the gun clips and grenades Wesley stopped in front of Roxanne and offered his hand down to her. She looked up at him as she read in a whisper both Wesley’s address and her own to him. “This is impossible Wes. Why would they come after me, I’ve done nothing wrong?”

“Wrong Rox, you were the first person I called, if you’ll look at the ink on the paper it’s fresh like it was typed not more than an hour ago.” She glanced at the paper as she took the offered hand from the man standing over her. Roxanne straightened her skirt and looked at the men on the ground and turned to ask Wesley. “Where’s my car and why did you leave me here?” Grabbing her hand Wesley pulled her up and then reached down and grabbed up two of the MP-5’s from the dead bodies hands. “Your car came in handy as a diversion for the rest of the world and the backup these guys would be calling, Rox.” “A diversion, what on Earth…?” she stopped in mid-sentence as it dawned on her about the explosion earlier. “What did you do to my car Wesley?” she turned on him. He pushed her towards a locked garage unit and left her standing in front of it as he walked to the side of it. She peered around the side where the man had disappeared to see no one there. Suddenly the garage unit opened from inside startling her.



[edit on 7-6-2008 by SpartanKingLeonidas]

Wesley pulled her into the unit closing the door behind them. The unit became pitch black and she stubbed her toe on something in the dark. Roxanne heard a scraping noise and then Wesley’s voice “stay here Rox, I’ll be right back.” What the Hell was Wesley thinking Roxanne thought to herself. After a few minutes Roxanne heard shuffling footsteps to the rear of the garage and a dull thump. Suddenly a light in the rear of the garage turned on and Roxanne saw Wesley standing next to an old Mustang. “Wes, I thought you got rid of this stupid car when we were going together?” Roxanne queried Wesley when she saw the dull gray 1969 Mustang.

“I couldn’t get rid of this beauty if all the women of the world promised to be my sex slave Roxanne, you should’ve known that.” Wesley stated flatly. Running her hand across the fender Roxanne looked at the car she knew well and began wondering what else Wesley had lied to her about as she looked at him. “Rox, I couldn’t get rid of this car if I wanted, I’ve got too much time and money invested in it.” Wesley said when he saw her look at him. “Besides, there’s a lot more money and time wrapped up in it that you ever had a clue about.” Roxanne stepped towards her ex-boyfriend looking him in the eyes and slapped him with her left hand hard. “I guess I deserved tha…” Wesley said as her right hand connected with his face. Wesley took a step back looking shocked at being hit not just once but twice. “I understood the first slap Rox, but what was the second one for?” he said as he rubbed a now swollen jaw.

“The first one is for not telling me about you not selling this car.” She said as she pointed at him. Wesley showed a small smirk on his face as he asked “the second slap babe?” Roxanne stepped closer to Wesley as he looked at her. “The second slap was for not telling me you didn’t sell her and not letting me help with whatever you were doing to her.” A small smile creased her face as she stepped into Wesley’s reach and she hugged him tight. “Now, where did you go a moment ago and what was that sound before you turned on the light?” she asked. Wesley stooped down and brought up a balaclava and showed it to Roxanne. “I needed a few more things from those guys I just killed.” He said looking Roxanne square in the eyes. “Like what…?” she asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer. “Roxanne I’ve told you before, in the Art of War it tells you when you defeat an enemy, you gain strength by taking from the enemy.” He said as he showed her the clothing of the dead man as he peeled them off.

“Oh crap.” Roxanne said as she looked away from the dead and nearly naked man on the concrete floor. The man she used to love was throwing the clothing of the dead man in the trunk of the car quickly. He moved towards the driver’s side door of the car, handing Roxanne a pistol and an extra clip which she took from him hesitantly. Opening the car door and sitting in the driver’s seat he turned the car over and it roared to life, the sound echoing in the small enclosed space. “Wes, aren’t you afraid everyone will hear the sound of the engine and tell them where we are?” Roxanne asked. Grinning at Roxanne he said. “No Rox, this unit is sound-proofed, one of the other things my money was going into that you didn’t know about. You need to get in now, or I’m leaving without you.” Roxanne quickly got in the car shutting the door quickly. “Now how are we going to get out past the neighbors without them seeing us and which direction we go Wesley?” she asked.

“Patience Roxanne, patience.” He said as he flipped a now lighted switch on the dashboard and they both heard a soft whining sound. The car began to lower slowly like it was on an elevator. “Let me guess, something else your money was going into that you neglected to tell me about?” she asked with a smirk on her face. Wesley looked at the ex-girlfriend and smiled. “You don’t know the half of it Rox, trust me.” The car stopped lowering as Wesley thrummed the gas pedal a few times and threw it in gear as he flipped the switch that had lowered them. “Roxanne, you must remember that Washington D.C. was built on top of itself many times over and some of this stuff was here already when I found this apartment.” The man said as he turned on the cars headlights. The car drove down the tunnel quickly as Wesley turned the radio knob to the on position and the news was broadcasting a story. The woman on the radio sounded calm as she read off a new story.

“Today in downtown Washington D.C. a fuel tanker exploded as a black Ford Crown Victoria smashed into it while running through a red light, the two people, a man driving and a female passenger were believed to be killed instantaneously when the vehicle collided with five thousand gallon tanker. In other news a crack team of Counter-Terrorism operatives died in a freak accident when a building they were practicing sweeping and clearing burst in flames. The local Fire Chief believes the fire was set as a prank by a few local teenagers that they are attempting to locate and question.” Wesley turned the radio to a music station as the car came to a tunnel entrance driving up into the daylight and past a flaming heap of twisted metal with fire fighters and paramedics swarming around it futilely attempting to stop the blaze from spreading. “Wes, that’s my car!!!” Roxanne exclaimed. “Wrong Roxanne, that was your car.” He said chuckling as he shifted into third gear. “Why on Earth did you do that to my car?” she asked.

“Playing shell games with them Roxanne.” Wesley told her. “Why are we driving so close to the accident then babe?” she asked as she looked out the darkly tinted windows on the classic car. “You always do the last thing they expect of you Roxanne and they never catch on.” He said as he shifted to fourth gear and drove the car easily through traffic watching as the major roadblocks to incoming traffic were set up. “A shell game is something like three card Monte, Roxanne” Wesley said as he smiled at the ex-girlfriend.

I had some difficulty with getting the format to cooperate so that it would seamlessly flow from column to column, but there's My LSWC submission.

Good luck to all that enter, and may the best person win.

As a quick note to all who read this short story, I hold no ill-will towards any Law Enforcement Officer's now, nor have I ever, and while I post anything even resembling criticism of Government it does not reflect My personal opinion of Police Officers as they are only doing their jobs.

While I am heavily critical of Government as well as the current Presidential Administration and that may seem that I am saying one thing while doing another, I just know and or understand too many things about the way politics works, and how specific people within Government can easily get away with murder both literally and metaphorically through "knowing the system" they are operating within.

Crooks come in all shapes and sizes, and I've seen them both walking the streets as well as lieing through their teeth on television broadcasts around the world as well as online. I was raised to understand how Government works, and to see what most others do not see, past the hype, past the propaganda, and into the darkest of evils into the very souls of the bad guys, whether they were wearing the trashiest of clothing and selling pot or wearing the three-piece Armani suit and selling lies to the public like a crack-dealer having a Summer sale.

That's My disclaimer for anyone who may have any problem with the content of this short story submission. Being that it is based on a murder/set-up scenario I hope you enjoy it but do not practice anything even resembling these types of events, or I will have to hunt you down and throw you in jail Myself under a citizens arrest.

My intent with this story was merely to entertain you other ATS'ers out there as well as maybe, just maybe win the contest and or one of the secondary prizes.

[edit on 7-6-2008 by SpartanKingLeonidas]

Oh come on now, it's not that bad a story is it?

Just kidding. I know I posted it rather late at late and can't expect it to be seen just yet.

I am not usually a murder mystery guy...but I liked this story....question..how did Karen play into the "set-up" that was revealed at the end. The ending showed that Wes had some kind of inkling, but he seemed perplexed in the beginning...

Definitely a very good read, though. A few points hit home for me...

Nice.

As long as it was, you could really go off in a lot of directions with it and keep running with the ball so to speak. Seems almost like a teaser for a rogue agent action/adventure series.

Originally posted by MemoryShock
I am not usually a murder mystery guy...but I liked this story....question..how did Karen play into the "set-up" that was revealed at the end. The ending showed that Wes had some kind of inkling, but he seemed perplexed in the beginning...

Definitely a very good read, though. A few points hit home for me...

Well, due to U2U's with someone else, I've decided not to just let the story die there like I had previosiouly had in mind.

I was going to leave it there as a teaser, but I've got a whole new direction I'm thinking now, and it involves all of ATS.

~Evil Maniacal Laughter~

[edit on 7-6-2008 by SpartanKingLeonidas]

Thanks for u2uing me about this Spartan, i can see why you were getting all excited about it.



Anyway, the story doesn't seem half bad, but it lacks the personal touch that makes the story unique.

A little bit of work in the right places and i'd say it was novel material.

SKL, this was a great read, and I'm definitely looking forward to more of this story. Very Bourne-esque, and as mentioned earlier, I can imagine a series of (mis)adventures with Wes and Rox.

Keep me up to date my friend with your latest writings. I've been outlining a few of my own, once I get 'em rolling I'll PM you, maybe a little collaboration.

reply to post by SpartanKingLeonidas

I think this the best of the stories in the contest so far.
The quality I particularly want to praise is like a cool flow, I quickly got an intangible sense of the writer's fundamental storytelling competence...like how wise old doctors don't scare the patients, or better, like how on a good new plane you can just relax and enjoy the movie, you don't have to be looking out the window holding yourself in reserve for fear the writer is going to do something weird and weak and lurch and crash it.
CONFIDENCE. That was the one word I wanted.
You project confidently, and the reader feels he can proceed confidently, and take an interest.

Originally posted by nine-eyed-eel
reply to post by SpartanKingLeonidas

 

I think this the best of the stories in the contest so far.
The quality I particularly want to praise is like a cool flow, I quickly got an intangible sense of the writer's fundamental storytelling competence...like how wise old doctors don't scare the patients, or better, like how on a good new plane you can just relax and enjoy the movie, you don't have to be looking out the window holding yourself in reserve for fear the writer is going to do something weird and weak and lurch and crash it.
CONFIDENCE. That was the one word I wanted.
You project confidently, and the reader feels he can proceed confidently, and take an interest.

Wow, what a compliment. I wrote the story from the perspective that I am the character being thrown into the proverbial "meat-grinder" and with the exception of calling an ex-girlfriend, I wrote everything how I would react, if something like this was to happen and I was to catch on to it.

I will admit it's not My best work, I am writing seven books simultaneously to actually be published, and when I get them done I will post a link to them for Amazon and or Barnes and Noble.

Thank you.

[edit on 8-6-2008 by SpartanKingLeonidas]

Wesley drove his Mustang around the corner tightly making the wheels squeal just a bit and pulled into a parking space in front of a building labeled Mayland Police Department. Roxanne looked at Wesley like he was crazy and asked him “Are you nuts? We just escaped the police only to park out front of the police station!!!” shouting hysterically at Wesley. Wesley looked at his ex-girlfriend calmly and waited until she stopped being excited. “Roxanne, if you think about it calmly and without hysterics, this is the perfect place to go. Everyone is out looking for a “Cop Killer” in the city and the Police Department would be the last place they’d think I would be. Wesley used air quotations with the words “Cop Killer” to emphasize his meaning to her.

Reaching into the glove box of his car he pulled out a pair of handcuffs and stated to Roxanne “Put these on while I get changed.” Roxanne looked at him incredulously taking the handcuffs while Wesley stepped out of the car and opened the trunk of the car. After approximately five minutes a shadowy man appeared around the passenger side of the car and rapped on the window startling Roxanne. She rolled down the window and looked up to see a man in a police uniform. “I’ll need you to step out of the car ma’am.” a deep voice spoke to her. She looked around frantically for Wesley not knowing where he had disappeared to. The Police Officer leaned over and looked into the car and smiled at her. It was Wesley dressed in the Counter-Terrorism Unit Police clothing and he looked like he had been wearing it all of his life.

Roxanne opened her car door, one handcuff around her left wrist dangling off it like a bracelet. Wesley grasped the other wrist and said “Here, let me help you babe.” As he twisted her arm behind her back. “Ow, you bastard that hurts.” She screamed at him. “Oh good, I don’t have to make you play along very much, you just did a walk in role for me. Now keep that up.” Wesley said as he chuckled and pulled the balaclava up over his lower face. Wesley pushed her towards the curb, placing a shotgun on his left shoulder. Roxanne began screaming curse words at him as three Police Officers came out of the building. “What have we got here?” asked one of the Police Officer’s as he nudged one of the other two officer’s. Wesley stopped calmly and looked at the three officer’s. “I was on the way back from a raid and this hooker leaned into the window of the unmarked surveillance van and asked if she could make me happy. I said sure, put these on.” Wesley said as he motioned to the handcuffs.

Roxanne screamed at the top of her lungs. “I AM NOT A HOOKER, you son of a...” she screamed as she began struggling against the restraints. “You’re a damn dead man when I get my hands out of these cuffs Wesley.” She stated with venomous hatred. The three officers looked straight at Wesley with serious looks on their faces. Wesley shrugged. “I guess I remind her of an ex-boyfriend or something?” The three officer’s burst into laughter. One of the officer’s walked closer to Roxanne still laughing and grabbed the edge of her skirt. “This skirt is for easy access right honey?” he asked suggestively. Roxanne pulled back her foot as she stepped back and kicked the officer in between the legs as hard as she could.

“Laugh at that you dumb ass.” She said. Wesley pulled her back and pushed her against the wall, forcing her to look at the concrete wall of the building. The other two Police Officer’s burst into hysterical laughter while helping their friend to his feet. Pointing at the building and laughing as tears came to his eyes, one officer made motions to the building for Wesley. “Take…take her inside.” The officer said as he burst into more laughter. Wesley grabbed the handcuffed hands of Roxanne and twisted a bit and directed her with small twists of the handcuffs towards the front door.

“Wait until Sergeant Johnson hears about her.” The other officer said through laughter as both officer’s directed the now wounded officer to a parked patrol car. Wesley got to the front door and reached for the identification badge that would gain him clearance to the building. Roxanne began struggling more fiercely screaming profanities at Wesley. One of the three officers ran back to the front door making hand motions to Wesley. “Here, let me get that for you Lieutenant.” He said as he grabbed his own identification badge, swiping it through the card reader. “Have a good day Ms Thang.” The officer said as he bowed to the woman in handcuffs. Roxanne weakly attempted to kick the officer while he was bowing. The officer at the patrol car burst into more laughter at his partner’s actions, as the officer who had been kicked fell off the patrol car he had been sitting on. Both officer’s who had helped their friend fell on the ground laughing hysterically, pounding the pavement with their fists as Wesley walked Roxanne through the door and into the lobby of the Police Department. A burly bald officer in a crisp clean uniform brushed past Wesley scowling at him. “Take her to the desk; I’ll be right there after I chew these idiots out for being idiots.” He said as he stepped outside screaming at the three officer’s now on the ground, two in laughter and the third moaning in pain.

The two laughing officer’s laughed even harder as they began explaining to their superior officer as he watched them help their fellow officer off the ground. Wesley looked around the precinct casually as he waited for the desk Sergeant to come back to his post. He noticed a dark room full of computers as a woman walked out of the door glancing at him. The burly officer came back in muttering under his breathe. “God dang rookie officer’s, I’m putting them on report for dereliction of duty when I get the chance.” As he walked into the caged desk looking at Roxanne with a scowl on his face. “And who are you missy and what did you do?” he asked as he first looked at Roxanne and then Wesley. Pulling a driver’s license out of her purse, placing his thumb over the name to hide it Wesley said “Her name is Rosanna Purdue, solicitation of prostitution to a Police Officer and aggravated assault against a Police Officer.” Wesley stated as a smirk came across his face as he motioned outside the building.

“You think this is funny too, huh?” the scowling desk Sergeant asked as he looked at the woman in handcuffs who began struggling. “Where are the rest of your team mates?” he grumbled while ticking off marks on a document. Wesley stopped dead cold and thought for a moment. “Well…? I’m waiting…sir.” The now less than enthused officer said as his voice raised a few pitches in volume. “Oh, sorry Sergeant, their out unloading the van. I got the pleasure of escorting this “lady” into the building.” The sarcasm dripped at the word lady. Pointing the direction of holding cells, the desk officer said brusquely. “Take her over there and put her in lock up. I had better see paperwork on my desk in a half hour or less or your name is going to be mud. Do I make myself clear Lieutenant?” “Yes sir!” Wesley said as he saluted with his middle finger when the officer stopped looking his direction. Walking about twenty feet to the cells Wesley stopped and looked at the gate to the cell door wondering what to do next.

A buzzer sounded along with a loud click and the gate moved a half inch away from the adjoining bars. Wesley pushed Roxanne towards the cell, pushing her through the gate and pulling her back to the cell and quickly got the handcuff keys and unlocked them. Roxanne now in tears sobbed his name as she rubbed her sore wrists. “Wesley, what are we doing here? She asked through the sobs racking her body. “Clearing up a few things with a blow job.” whispered Wesley through bars of iron. A look of incredulity came across Roxanne’s face as tears came anew. “Patience Roxanne, you need some patience.” Wesley said soothingly.

“Watch your back in there Rox.” Wesley said as he walked away from the holding cell. Roxanne continued to sob uncontrollably until the last words her ex-lover said finally sank in and she looked behind her. Two women watched her every move, whispering to each other and giggling as they shook their heads. Roxanne looked around the ten foot by twelve foot cell and realized she had little area to run away from a potential fight if something should happen. The two women approached her, one pulling a used Kleenex from her brassiere offering it to Roxanne. “My name is Dixie and this is Shalondra.” the bedraggled woman said after motioning to first herself then her friend. “What are you in for honey?” Trixie asked Roxanne.

“My ex-boyfriend brought me in here and told the desk Sergeant that I was a hooker.” she said as she took the offered Kleenex when she began sobbing again. “Well, we’re all hookers in here then aren’t we and they’re all “our ex-boyfriends” aren’t they?” Shalondra said as she began to laugh, the sarcasm dripping off the words. Roxanne looked at the two women and screamed at them as she backed into the bars. “I am NOT a HOOKER, you TRAMPS!!!”

The man at the desk looked over at the cell with a venomous stare and went back to his paperwork after a moment muttering under his breathe about hookers and their territorial disputes. Reaching under his desk, the Sergeant rubbed his growing erection. Stopping for a moment, the desk Sergeant typed in a name into the computer next to him under the query option and the computer began its search as he went back to the paperwork in front of him. The phone next to him rang slightly startling him as the females in the cell began bickering loudly. “Shut the Hell up, I’m on the phone.” he yelled while picking up the phone covering it with his hand.


[edit on 8-6-2008 by SpartanKingLeonidas]

[edit on 8-6-2008 by SpartanKingLeonidas]

Wesley turned the handle of the door marked NCIC/NCIOC Mainframe then realized it had a keypad access for entry. A woman’s voice behind him startled him as he turned quickly. “Can I help you Officer?” the woman asked while staring at him. “Oh, I was looking for the restroom and got the wrong door.” Wesley said sheepishly. The woman brushed past him, keying the numerals into the door’s keypad quickly while blocking his view. Turning to look at him in the eyes she said. “Follow me please.” Wesley reluctantly followed the woman into the dark computer filled room and looked around as the door shut behind him.

The woman turned on him quickly and glared at him. “Who are you and what are you trying to access in here…Officer?” she spit venomously towards Wesley. Startled, Wesley backed towards the door as she walked over to a desk and he heard a metallic click from behind him. The woman was bent over a desk reaching under it towards an unknown object when Wesley looked towards her. Wesley stood motionless as she pulled her purse out from under the desk and set it down on top of the desk, pulling a tazer gun and walkie-talkie out of it. Without thinking Wesley took three long legged strides towards the woman in front of the desk and made a swift chopping motion with the outside edge of his hand, hitting the woman hard on the side of her neck.

The woman slumped to the ground as Wesley grabbed her and laid her down without a sound. He looked around the office filled with humming computers and blinking lights. Spotting what he wanted Wesley quickly moved to a computer that was on the floor, picking it up and setting it on the desk it was near then reached down and grabbed the keyboard setting it down on the desk. Pulling a disc out of his pocket Wesley set it down on the desk top. He looked down at it and chuckled to himself as he read his handwriting with the words “Blow Job” written on the disc. Hearing a loud commotion outside the room he was in Wesley went to the door and peeked out and saw the burly desk Sergeant approaching the holding cage with his nightstick drawn and her him cursing loudly in the direction of the cell Roxanne was in with the ladies of the night he’d left her with.

Sergeant Pierson quickly walked towards the holding cell watching the three women fighting. He reached down adjusting the now obvious erection he had so it wouldn’t be so noticeable and rapped the nightstick on the bars of the cell to get the women’s attention. “If I have come in that cell I am going to knock your lights out you stupid cum sucking #s.” the Sergeant yelled at them. The women continued screaming at each other, one woman was on the floor yanking the hair out of another ones head, the Sergeant could not tell which woman had started the fight or who was who in the cat fight. His arousal was almost painful as he fumbled for his keys to the cell door, pulling them out of his pocket and inserting them into the keyhole quickly.

Roxanne punched Dixie again and again in the face, watching as the violent actions she rarely showed made the woman’s nose bloody while her face began getting cuts all over it from the ring Roxanne had on her left hand, her right hand holding tightly to Dixie’s blonde scraggly hair tightly. Shalondra got off the floor of the cell and began trying to pull Roxanne off of her friend as the violent woman backhanded her out of the way again. “I am not a hooker, a slut, or a WHORE, you bitch!!!” Roxanne screamed at the top of her lungs, making emphasis of each word with each punch to the woman on the grounds face, the last punch making Dixie’s head hit the concrete with a loud crack. Shalondra got off the ground again as Sergeant Pierson finally got the cell door open and stepped inside. The black woman who watched as Roxanne beat her best friends head in began to tremble with rage, her fist clenched tight as she stepped forward, her body shaking uncontrollably.

Sergeant Pierson took a step towards the women with his nightstick raised over his head, stepping towards Shalondra intending to hit her with it. Not seeing the Police Officer because of the blind rage and hatred from watching her friend beaten to death brought her left hand around into a roundhouse punch as Officer Pierson took another step towards her. The now mad Police Officer was beet red in the face, his last footstep landed in a pool of now growing blood and he slipped as the nightstick came down to connect with Shalondra’s head as her roundhouse punch connected with the unintended blow to the bald Police Officer cold-cocking the man and making him fall to the ground. The result of this action almost brought Roxanne to hysterical laughter if it hadn’t been for the blood all over her and the violence she still felt steamed through her veins.

Roxanne looked around her on the floor seeing Dixie, Shalondra, and Officer Pierson lying prone on the ground on the jail cell. The pool of blood had now spread over the floor connecting all three people on the floor in gore. She began trembling as the results of her actions with the blonde white woman she’d beaten to death finally sank into her consciousness. Looking at the open cell door Roxanne took a tentative step towards the freedom that now became self evident as she looked around the precinct realizing there was no one within sight. Stopping as her foot caught on the prone Police Officer’s body, she squatted to the ground and grabbed the nightstick from the ground, reaching across him to secure the keys to the Police facility that were connected to the portly man’s belt loop. Roxanne searched his body for a gun but none was evident on his hip. Crying out in disgust Roxanne noticed the man had an erection while remaining unconscious on the ground.

She looked around the cell one last time and as she walked towards the prone body of the Police Officer she stepped on his crotch, grinding her heel into it when her full weight was on it. Roxanne heard a slight noise in the precinct towards the back and quickly moved against the wall. Squatting Roxanne blended herself into a small shadow and watched the precinct for signs of movement. Watching the back of the Police Department Roxanne saw someone moving in her direction quietly. She steeled herself so she could act quickly when the time came. A male figure came around the corner and she swung the baton attempting to connect it with the knee-caps of the unknown individual. The figure leaped in the air the, baton missing his knees and landed on the baton wrenching to from Roxanne’s hands. “It’s me Rox, it’s just me babe.” Wesley said. “Let’s get the Hell out of here now.”

Roxanne looked up at Wesley and clenched her fists as she stood up slowly. “I should knock your #ing block off Wesley Nathan Iodole. You bastard!” she said as she began poking him in the chest. Wesley looked first to Roxanne and then to the jail cell where she had been a prisoner only a few minutes ago. “I think you handled yourself pretty well Roxanne. Besides I knew you could do it, that killer instinct has always been inside you and I needed you to get that bitch out and in the open. Let’s go find a place to relax and talk so I can fill you in on a few details.” Wesley held out his hand to Roxanne and she reluctantly took it, smiling slightly as he winked at her.

At the building marked J. Edgar Hoover Building - Federal Bureau of Investigation building it was pretty slow for a Monday. The F.B.I. Agent in his office was busy with the task of filling out his paperwork on the subordinates below him when his phone rang. He looked at the Caller – ID of the incoming office line and noted it was his direct supervisor. As he picked up the phone he quickly jotted down the time and phone extension for his records. “Bob Macaulay’s office, how may I help you?” he asked. The man listened intently for a few minutes, interjecting with yes’s or no’s but did not say much back to his supervisor while writing down comments next to the time and date of the phone conversation.

Hanging up the phone he got out of his chair and put his sports jacket on and bent to the desk with ink pen in hand. He quickly scribbled a few more notes on the notepad beside the time of the call and extension number, jotting the name “Blow Job” and a huge question mark next to it. Picking up his phone he dialed a three digit extension. “Trudy, please re-direct all of my calls to my cell phone. I need to head over to the Maryland Police Department. Yes Trudy, if you could order those roses for my wife I would appreciate it. Yes, you know the color she wants and please put something romantic sounding on the card for me. Thank you Trudy.” He hung up the phone and walked to the rear of his office, opened a filling cabinet and pulled out a Colt forty-five pistol that looked brand new and fresh out of the box putting it in the holster under his right armpit. Next he pulled out a satchel marked “Organizational Criminology Detection” and Bob thought to himself that this was the long and governmental way of saying the simple word, profiling.

As Bob walked through his office door he turned and locked the door with a key and placed his thumb over the scanner imbedded within the door frame. Watching as the scanner’s light went up and down it then flashed the words “Door Secured Mr. Macaulay, have a nice day” to him and he mouthed to the words to himself “Good night Irene” and chuckled to himself at the name he picked for the computer lock to his door and the ties it had to the fifties and sixties for him. He turned and watched his secretary Trudy scrambling with the phone on one ear pressed tightly into her shoulder and typing on the computer with both hands. She then ripped a paper off the printer, circled something on the bottom of the form and made a hand written note and handed the paper to her supervisor.

Bob took the paper, noted the price of the flowers that was circled on the bottom, read the note and smiled at Trudy after reading it and the words that she had picked for his wife to read when she got the dozen roses. Bob mouthed the words “Thank you Trudy and I will” to his assistant as he re-read the note from his secretary that said she wished him luck and to stay safe catching this bad guy. As Bob winded his way through the corridors of the F.B.I. building he nodded or waved his hand as people acknowledged him in passing. He exited out into a parking garage, noting the placement of the security cameras and wondered which of the highly trained security team was monitoring his actions and if they even knew what to look for in his body language to tell if he was up to no good. He knew none of the security team was trained in criminal profiling and that watching body language only went so far.

Stopping at the grey unmarked Ford Crown Victoria with a mafia tint on the windows he remembered when he first got a vehicle assigned to him as a cadet fresh out of the F.B.I. academy and how different this car was to that and how much he had moved up into the world since then. He had only wanted to catch bad guys, kick down a few doors, and make a positive change when he was a young twenty-one year old boy entering academy but now he was one of the F.B.I.’s top criminal profilers and he really did know how to catch the bad guys. Use their thoughts against them and out think them, that’s what his boss had told him ten years prior. Putting the satchel in the seat next to him, Bob turned the key in the ignition and revved the car’s engine as he waited patiently for the CD in the player to begin before he backed the car out of the parking space marked “Employee of the Year : Bob Macaulay : PhD Organizational Criminologist.”

As the music began playing Beethoven’s eighteen-twelve overture he shifted the car to reverse and imagined himself on the stage directing an orchestra and then superimposed that image over himself directing a crime scene and smiled as pieces of the puzzle already began fitting into place with everything he’d heard from his boss so far. Driving around the parking garage he noted that with every escalation of the song he was either turning or speeding up. When Bob turned the next corner before exiting the parking garage though he slammed on his brakes and skidded to a halt as another car was attempting to pull into a parking space. He noted that the vehicle was a dull dirty gray 1969 Mustang that looked like it needed a good paint job and a few body panels. He thought about this for a moment and tried to concentrate on what he had been thinking only moments ago. The thought was lost to him as he sped his vehicle towards the exit.

Bob turned to the right after making a full and complete stop at the stop sign even though there were no on-coming vehicles. Making a left hand turn, Bob pulled out his cell phone as it rang once an answered while putting the Blue-Tooth wireless over his ear. “Bob Macaulay” he answered. “Yes, I’m in route now.” Glancing at the Rolex on his wrist he said. “I’ll be there in about forty-five minutes, traffic permitting.” He hung up the phone and then flipped through the settings and put the phone on vibrate so he wouldn’t hear the phone and be disturbed during the investigation when he got there. He was annoyed that the Maryland Police Chief had called him wondering where he was at. The Chief knew his office was on the other side of town from the precinct he was heading to. Why did a Chief of Police take this action by some unknown assailant so personally he wondered?

He already knew from the short phone conversation and the Maryland Police Chief’s reputation he was going to have a political jurisdictional fight on his hands on who’s case this was and who should head the investigative team in order to solve it. Picking up the phone off of the plastic holster on his hip, he flipped through the phone a few times and hit the send button. “May I please speak to Justice Hollister? He’s in a meeting? Well, tell him this is Bob Macaulay and I need a favor.” He paused and listened. “I don’t care if he told you not to interrupt him or not, this is important. Tell him this is regards to an investigation he had asked me about with his wife and some pictures I have of his. He’ll know what I mean and no I won’t explain that to you. Thank you. Yes, I’ll hold.” He knew this was the last “favor” he’d get from this judge but he didn’t care. It always paid to have connections with someone in power or better yet to have strings to pull and make the connections co-operate with him.

The Chief of the Maryland Police Department screamed at the rookie officer in front if him. “I told you to cordon off that street and I don’t give a DAMN if it’s their “Constitutional Right…” he said with sarcasm “as newspaper reporters to get details of an investigation or if they want a quote from me or not. Get them the Hell off of MY goddamned street and out of my sight now!!!” The rookie moved instantly pulling the black grief band over his badge so the Chief wouldn’t notice it hadn’t been placed on there properly. Man the rookie thought, I’ve never seen the Chief this pissed off at anybody, something big must have happened at the station for him to go that red in the face and to call all the off duty officers in and pull the majority of the street officers away from their investigations, speeding tickets, or other traffic duties.

The Chief’s cell phone rang and he answered it brusquely. “Yes, who is this and what do you want?” he bellowed. “Oh, I’m sorry Justice Hollister. Yes sir, I’m sorry. Yes sir, there was one male officer murdered brutally and one female officer knocked unconscious and restrained like a Thanksgiving turkey stuffed with stuffing.” He stopped talking and listened, his face turning red with repressed anger. “Yes SIR. He will have my fullest co-operation. Again, I’m sor…” he said as the phone went dead in his ear. “Goddamn judges and son of a bitch meddlesome F.B.I. agents and calling people to get strings pulled.” Chief Paulson motioned for an officer to come to him. The officer quickly crossed the street to his Chief and waited. “You go tell Detective Conover to get his ass in gear son. Then you make sure when an F.B.I. agent shows up to take over this case that he is given a hard time getting through this crowd and to me. I’m not having some asshole outside of my precinct solving this case and bringing this cop killing asshole in. He’s getting Police Justice.” he said as he slammed one closed fist into an open palm. The Police Officer smiled at his Chief’s words with pleasure.

Across the street an Ambulance was sitting alongside a Coroner’s van and several police cars with the red and blue lights flashing in a wildly random seeming fashion but hypnotic order. The Chief walked over to the Ambulance and quickly entered the building. He looked at the man on the stretcher covered with a sheet. He pulled back the sheet and looked the bald man lying dead on the stretcher. “Leave him uncovered when you take him out and put him in the Ambulance not the Coroner’s van.” He told the paramedics. The paramedics looked at him and then each other. One of the paramedics worked up the courage and asked. “Why Chief, the guy is dead?”

[edit on 8-6-2008 by SpartanKingLeonidas]

The Chief of Police looked at the paramedic coldly. “Because the man deserves to die a fallen hero, and not a dog in a jail cell with two hookers, son.” The paramedic took the sheet off of the dead man grumbling while he did it. “You mean you’re covering up his death and the fact that someone snuck in here without anyone being the wiser.” The paramedic said. The Chief took one step forward and slapped the paramedic hard. “You will not talk to me like that, and you will say nothing about any of this to anyone, or I and the Brotherhood will make you disappear. If that’s not enough to scare you, we will make your mother and father turn against you and make your girlfriend or wife come down with a disease right before she screwss you the next time.

In other words, the Brotherhood will totally screw you and your measly life if you don’t keep your mouth shut. If you act like a good little doggy and behave and keep your mouth shut, you come see me in a week’s time and we can talk.” The paramedic blanched at the rebuke, but couldn’t resist asking. “What would we talk about in a week, sir?” The Chief stepped closer to the younger man. “You’re an observant individual; you might find a place within our organization.” He showed the twenty-one year old paramedic the ring on his finger. The paramedic saw the ring and moved quickly to do as he was told. He wanted nothing to do with pissing off the men of the All Seeing Eye.

The paramedics rolled the stretcher out of the open door and the crowd broke past the police line that had been holding them back. Cameras were flashing all over the place, men with cameras and women and men with microphones ran to the Ambulance, being stopped at the last minute with a line of police with riot gear. People were screaming questions at the paramedics, at the figure on the stretcher, at the men in police uniforms in riot gear. All to no avail, they said nothing to the news reporters in the street. The paramedics pushed the stretcher down to the ground lowering the wheeled stretcher at the back of the Ambulance. They bent down simultaneously and lifted it while one paramedic stepped up into the Ambulance while the other one guided the stretcher into the vehicle and shut the door, pounding on the back door and running to the passenger side to get in quickly before it drove off in a hurry.

The Chief of Police watched all of this transpire from the shadows of the front door of his precinct with a few other men who watched in silence. A smile came across the veteran Police Officer’s face as the Ambulance drove off. Stepping out of the precinct the Police Chief became the immediate central of topic as one newspaper reporter saw him and caused a stampede which nearly left a few riot gear adorned Police Officers on the ground. The Chief of Police of Maryland stood and waited for the crowd to subside as a myriad of flashes from camera bulbs went off while he focused his eyes on the Ambulance as it drove away. He did this both to watch and make sure it left and for his eyes to not become permanently blinded by focusing his vision anywhere but where the camera flashes were. This was a trick he had learned a long time ago when confronted by reporters with their camera crews.

As the crowd kept flashing pictures newspaper reporters screamed questions at him and he held his hands in the air for silence. The crowd slowly subsided while cameras flashed continuously and the permanent lights of the live video cameras focused on him. “Ladies and gentlemen of the press, we have a killer on the loose in the streets of our fine city of Maryland and we have a few deceased people here at our precinct.” The newspaper reporters screamed out more questions, fighting to be heard over one another like rabid jackals fighting over the last few morsels of a desicated corpse.

The Chief held up his hands again to make the crowd get silent. “We have two suspects who were already in custody who were killed in the process of the escape and two wounded Officer’s, this may have been an attempted rescue of the two individuals who were already incarcerated. The Officer you just saw leave here in the Ambulance is in stable condition and I will personally keep the press up to date as to his condition. The other Police Officer had only minor injuries and is being questioned as I speak to you in regards to the current ongoing investigation.”

One newspaper reporter raised her hand and the Chief nodded towards her to ask her question. “Alison Hathaway with WOWN News here, do you have the perpetrators name and what they were in your precinct for, for the record?” she asked as her camera man focused on the man in uniform. “At this time we do have both the perpetrator and his accomplices names but we are not able to distribute this as it may hurt the ongoing investigation.” The Chief said to the pretty blonde reporter. “I’d like to say the Officer who went in the Ambulance only a few minutes ago, is a hero…” a Police Officer touched his Chief’s shoulder just as the word hero came from his lips, the Police Officer was holding his hand to an ear piece. The Chief seemed annoyed at being interrupted during the speech, but listened intently as the Police Officer at his side whispered in his ear.

The Chief held up both hands in the air for complete silence, as one last camera flashed catching him with his arms in the air. An annoyed look came to his face but he ignored the photographer, obviously he thought this guy was a rookie news journalist. “Ladies and gentlemen of the press, it has just come to my attention that Officer Pierson has had a heart attack in route to St Michael’s Hospital due to his medical condition after the violent attack here today.”

The crowd of newspaper reporters and cameramen went ballistic with questions, screaming the Chief’s name, screaming questions. They quickly subsided as the Chief stood still waiting for silence. The pretty blonde reporter from earlier raised her hand again and the Chief nodded to her first. “Alison Hathaway again, One World Nation news here. Can you comment if that fallen Officer has any family and how they might react to the news of his death, Chief?” she said. “I would imagine that his surviving family will be stricken with grief ma’am. Now if you will all excuse me, I have to go Officer Pierson’s family and console them in their time of loss.” The crowd began screaming again, asking questions and shouting comments to the Chief of Police. The crowd couldn’t see it but the Chief of Police had a creepy and eerie smile on his face as he walked away.

Police Chief Charles Paulson motioned for an Officer to come to him; the Officer in uniform quickly did as asked. “Tell Ms Hathaway to come to my office when she has the time and I will personally fill her in on any information she may want.” The Police Officer smiled as he left his Chief since he knew what the innuendo meant. He walked quickly towards where the crowd of reporters and cameramen were talking or broadcasting news to their selective stations and he watched as the pretty blonde news reporter was scribbling notes quickly on a pad of paper. He approached the reporter waiting until she acknowledged him. She kept writing for a few more moments and when the Police Officer thought he couldn’t stand it any longer she finally acknowledged his existence like this was a practiced exercise of hers.

“Yes Officer, can I help you?” she said glibly as she stared at him, it was almost like she was looking through him into the very core of his being he noted to himself. “Yes ma’am” he stammered “I, I mean Chief Pierson wants to see you when you have the time.” The pretty newspaper reporter smiled at the effect she had on the Police Officer as she strided closer to him like a female lion. Alison lightly touched his cheek. “It’s okay little boy, I have that affect on lots of people. You can come with me if you would like.” She said as she began walking towards the precinct, a malicious smile crossing her face. She softly reached down and caressed his arousal as she walked past him.

The power she felt from the arousal of men of power, Police Officers and Chief’s of Police alike thrilled her to no end. Alison Hathaway noted the timing of the un-marked Ford Crown Victoria pulling up and the other news reporter who thronged to the car as the man got out of his car. They flocked over him like he was a sand flea on a beach and they were devouring seagulls. She noted the F.B.I. agent’s looks and thought this guy was supposed to be their best criminal profiler. “What a chump, if he thinks he will actually get anywhere with his investigation.” She said as she noted the Police Officer behind her following closely and smiled.

Alison strode to the side of the building and into the shadows away from the view of her media colleagues. She waited until her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, then stepped forward tentatively while listening carefully and her breathing slackening so she could hear the slightest of sounds if need be. A form in the dark moved in front of her as stepped back knowing not to go forward. Alison backed into what she thought was a wall which she then realized to her dismay was a man muscled almost seemingly of solid rock. The figure behind her quickly and quietly clamped a firm hand over her mouth before she had the chance to scream.

The shadow of a man stepped forward from the shadows. It was Police Chief Pierson and he wasn’t dressed in his class A uniform anymore. Alison wondered what the Chief of Police would be doing dressed up as a S.W.A.T. Officer, the Special Weapons And Tactics division of his own Police Precinct wasn’t the place he was fond of since the day his knee was blown out by a concussion grenade misplaced during a raid and he had to have re-constructive surgery done just so he could limp. The man had gone through years of rehabilitation before his limp was almost non-existent.

“Alison, I have a task for you and if you don’t complete if, you will be found dead on Morningside Drive with heroin in your system and a twenty dollar bill sticking out of your brassiere. Do we understand each other?” She nodded compliantly, being frightened if she was to say no. She knew Morningside Drive was the road where all the hookers were found dead in the last five years. The man she had known so many years as a lover stepped closer to her and inhaled her fragrant perfume. The frightened look on her face made him smile at her, which in turn made her recoil from him. He stepped forward again, placing his hand on her thigh and moved it slowly up her hip while he talked about the task he wanted her to complete. The feeling of his hands on her body made Alison want to vomit convulsively but she knew if she threw up on this man he would have no pity on her.

Inside the Precinct the bomb squad conferred amongst themselves as to how best to disarm the bomb that was strapped to a female Police Officer. She was on her knees, her hands were restrained with keyboard cords behind her and tied to the restraints around her ankle so she could not stand up, or even lean forward without falling over. In her mouth was a gag of unknown material along with duct tape holding it in place with a note hanging that she couldn’t read, but she heard the Bomb Squad chuckling amongst themselves about how it said “Would you like a blow job?” scrawled in red lettering as what looked like a sick joke on the threat of the bombs. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she watched the countdown timer hit the four minute fifty-nine second digit. All around her body was strapped blocks of C-4 plastic explosives along with multiple bags of coc aine in what looked like evidence bags from the lock-up in the evidence cage downstairs.

Along with Jennifer being tied into a submissive position, the mouse from the computer was tied to the front of her blouse so that if she moved the mouse would roll on the mouse pad and the electronic rodent would trigger a similar bomb that was duct taped to the computer in front of her. She was in what the Bomb Squad colloquially called a catch twenty-two. If she moved one way, one bomb would detonate and if the Bomb Squad was to cut the wrong wire or make her move by accident while attempting to disarm the bomb, she would blow up. This is all while a countdown timer had been going for the last twenty-five minutes. Jennifer never was a patient person to begin with but this was terrifying her to the point of almost losing her bladder control.

The mouse on the mouse pad was still as death as Jennifer’s muscles began spasming from the continued non-movement where she was squatting over her own ankles without being able to sit for fear of making the mouse move. One Bomb Squad Officer talked to Jennifer in calm and soothing tones to attempt to relax her but she had zoned out long ago thinking about being in her husbands and two little boys arms one last time and how she wished she could talk to them right now and tell them exactly how mush she loved them. The one happy thought in her mind about her family was also the one thought that made the sheer terror of the moment hang for what seemed forever to her. She doubted the Bomb Squad was going to be able to save her in time. Today, somehow Jennifer knew she was going to die.

Jennifer watched as the countdown timer rolled past four minutes and thirty seconds. She wondered exactly how the bomb squad was going to get her out of her current predicament. To her they seemed tense and agitated, which was not their usual state of mind when they were confronted by a bomb to diffuse. She breathed in calmly while she wished she could she could speak to these Police Explosives Professionals to give them words of encouragement or derision. Something, anything to motivate them to act, to do something to quicken her getting out of these improvised restraints.

The bomb squad Police Officer’s came to a conclusion amongst themselves out of earshot from the hostage of explosives. Jennifer watched their gestures and motions for any signs of what might be next for her. The Police Officer’s in the room began taking their equipment out of the room, and pieces of computers that were not nailed down or fixed into a locked position. This of course wasn’t much as the vast majority of equipment was fixed so that the finely tuned electronics wouldn’t be disturbed easily. The only thing she could think of was that they were taking equipment out of the room that might be damaged with an explosion. She was confused and upset at the thought of the silly actions taken by these men. The equipment they were toting out of the room was such an insignificant cost compared to the computers that were secured to the walls and floor.

Jennifer knew exactly how much the entire contents of this room cost, since she was the person in charge of budgeting, cost analysis, and upkeep for the equipment. When she thought of this and the fact that the Chief of Police care more about the computers in her department than her own life this totally pissed her off. Jennifer knew that departmentally speaking this was proper procedure and Office Politics at work, but at that exact moment she didn’t care. All she could think about was the family she might never see again thanks in part to some man dressed in a Counter-Terror Unit Police Officer’s uniform. She still wasn’t sure what had keyed her into figuring out he wasn’t one of her fellow Police Officer’s other than the fact that he had been attempting to access an unauthorized area of the Maryland Police Precinct when she came upon him after she had gone to get coffee out of the break room around the corner.

A bomb squad Police Officer approached Jennifer and used a calm and soothing voice to communicate with her. “Jennifer, I want you to know that we’re doing everything in our power to get you out of this alive. Is there someone you wan us to contact for you for when we get you out of this?” The Officer asked her soothingly. She nodded her head quickly as tears flowed from her wet and reddened eyes. Another Officer handed the bomb squad Captain Jim Frazier a file folder as he stepped into the room and quickly went back to moving computer equipment. Captain Frazier flipped through the file folder three pages into the three inch file on his fellow Police Officer. “You want us to contact Bob and your son Tim, Jennifer?” He said in a neural tone. She nodded quickly and then shook her head violently just as quickly. The veteran Police Officer was puzzled a moment then he figured out the answer. “You want us to contact your husband, but you don’t want your son knowing, is that right Jennifer?” She nodded emphatically to his asked question.

Robert Defilippo answered the phone on his desk on the second ring in a monotone and authoritative voice. Listening to the male on the other end of the phone he asked an odd question. “Is she tied in bondage or is this a practical joke?” The voice coming out of the phone screamed at him. Pulling the phone away from his ear so as to not lose the hearing in his right ear he looked incredously at the receiver. “I apologize Officer Frazier; I didn’t realize this was an actual phone call from my wife’s precinct. My wife and I are into…” he paused. “Well we live an alternative lifestyle. Yes Officer, I will be right down to the precinct.” Robert Defilippo hung up the phone at his desk and quickly got to his feet.

Looking around his sparsely but large office he noted the picture frame on his desk of him, his wife, and a sexual mistress they had both enjoyed the pleasure of at a Halloween party. He picked up the phone and waited for an answer. “Ms. Rioux, please hold all of my incoming calls. Yes, re-schedule anyone who wants to see me for the rest of the day for next week. Yes Ami, I am aware that the Senate Intelligence Committee meeting is in two hours. They don’t have enough intelligence between all of them to fill the center of a tootsie roll lollipop, so I don’t give a damn what they think if I’m not there. Please call Senator Kinnett and tell him that I will either be late or won’t be there at all. Yes? It’s a family emergency, and that’s all he needs to know.” He listened for a moment longer. “Ms. Rioux, I don’t care if he and the rest of the Senator’s will be upset or not. I am the Senior Administrator for the Central Intelligence Agency. They will just have to re-schedule the whole damn meeting if I don’t make it.”

Should I stop the story here, or keep going? I'm considering bringing some other ideas into it. Something that may make ATS'ers happy.

The Bomb Squad was nervous as the countdown timer got to the thirty second mark while Jennifer’s muscles were spasming. Her husband Robert had finally gotten there and Captain Frazier had let him come through to try to calm her down. The problem Jennifer had with this whole situation is that her husband seemed to be more worried about his credentials as a Central Intelligence Agency officer and some jurisdictional bull# with a Federal Bureau of Investigation criminal profiler and the Chief of Police for Maryland, than her being out of these restraints and the bomb being shut down.

This to her was another giant pissing contest where men had to prove who was better than the other, and it was a sore point with her. She had never wanted to move to Washington D.C. when her husband had gotten a promotion years ago. Testosterone fueled bickering was not something Jennifer wanted to watch as her husband and an F.B.I. agent bickered and argued violently, stating how the C.I.A. wasn’t allowed to operate on American soil and that the F.B.I. was called in to do the clean up work.

She watched as the countdown timer got to fifteen seconds and wondered how she had changed the world for a positive like she had said she wanted to as a Miss Florida pageant winner. If only she could do something to change it now, she would have done so many things differently. Jennifer made a decision that would change the course of her life at least now in what she felt were the last few seconds of it. Looking back and forth at the two bomb squad officers trying to disarm the bomb, she sighed in resignation and let herself fall forward. She knew the pain would only last a few moments as the bomb blew her, her husband and everyone else within the precinct to kingdom come.

Wesley looked at the wristwatch he wore as the timer continued to beep. He smiled to himself as he turned it off. The man behind the desk looked up with a questioning glance and Wesley just nodded. “I’m expecting a really big send off, you might say it’s going to be a real big blast for someone I know.” He said to the F.B.I. agent behind the desk smiled and handed him the “Visitor’s Badge” in order to keep an appointment. The man behind the counter had a plastered on fake smile and acknowledged Wesley as “Stanley Turner”, N.S.A. agent, or National Security Agency agent as he gestured for him to continue through the double doors and on into the rest of the building.

Wesley looked at himself in the reflection of the glass he was heading towards and smiled at the representation of what he felt the N.S.A. agent he was posing as smiled back at him dressed in a cheap knock off of an Armani suit. Watching the clock tick over to twelve noon he saw an agent come through a set of double doors as he had predicted earlier on the phone to Roxanne when he had asked her place an “important call for an urgent meeting” with the man in charge of the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s “domestic terrorism” branch.

The man walked up to Wesley and as he saw the man get within five feet the man disguised as a N.S.A. agent stood and offered his right hand with a congenial spy smile of not trusting someone yet dealing business across the board. “You must be Stanley Turner and how can I help you today, sir?” the man dressed in the all black business suit asked. Wesley flexed his throat muscles and did his best Texas Southern drawl as he said. “Well Mr. Montgomery I was sent from Texas on an urgent itinerary with the intent to stop an international terrorist from crossing state lines and I need your help.” The man who Wesley had grasped hands with grimaced at the strength of the grip with two hands but tried to hide it as he smiled back at him. “And exactly how can I help you, Mr. Turner?” Peter Montgomery asked as the strained smile relaxed after what felt like a death grip was relaxed.

He admired the man in the suit but wondered where his ten gallon hat was as he sized up this man. “Well, it’s not so much you can do it’s what the F.B.I. can do through you and I believe we need to discuss this in private because it’s both time sensitive and highly classified information.” Wesley said in a hushed whisper to the now relaxed Federal Agent. Montgomery shifted slightly at the mention of classified as he could not stand the things that spooks like Mr. Turner classified as hush-hush information because it generally meant he was never allowed to discuss it again, which irritated him highly.

He did not like being under the thumb of some agency with what he could and could not speak about, especially an intelligence agency as it usually brought with it wiretaps he knew nothing about, both on some suspect somewhere and himself. They had a habit of wiretapping people before, during, and after they approached them for “assistance” in the field of intelligence. This being so they could assure that person’s loyalties, which he was not in question about, and for possible leverage, which is exactly what he hated, being blackmailed by another agency to cooperate.

After the last time that had happened getting Peter in the news media because of his involvement with a high profile murder and a Podunk Junction small town’s Chief of Police getting too big for his pants, he had to put that man in his place and got the town to force the man to retire five years sooner than he had planed. Peter Montgomery had developed his own sense of ruthless aggression when it came to cooperating or being blackmailed, he did neither without a major fight through his own development of a single-minded sense of self made protocols.

“Let me contact my supervisor and see how he wants to help out, Mr. Turner.” Peter said as he turned to go back to his office. “If I had wanted your boss involved in this, Mr. Montgomery, I would have been talking to him and he would be asking you into his office to meet me right about now and I wouldn’t be in as congenial a mood right now. Are we clear now?” Mr. Turner said. Was this about his supervisor or him Peter wondered to himself as he shook his head quietly in submission.

Peter turned again and led the N.S.A. agent to the desk and for the first time he noticed a beautiful woman dressed in business attire who was smiling congenially at the man at the desk. She turned to look at Peter and her smile disappeared and she nodded to the man behind him. “Have you signed the registry of visitors, Mr. Turner?” Peter said non-chalantly as he smiled at the beautiful woman who was not smiling back.

Mr. Turner nodded to the female as she took her briefcase off the counter. The man behind the desk scowled at Peter as the two people in suits looked at each other. “This visit never happened as far as you’re concerned Agent Montgomery.” Wesley said in a forced whisper as he gave a curt nod to the man pressing the buzzer to allow them access into the F.B.I. building.


[edit on 8-6-2008 by SpartanKingLeonidas]

Whew short story aye ? lol
Good story, descriptive and in-depth enough to keep the reader interested
I look forward to reading more if/when you post it

I agree with Anti-tyrant in that with a little fine tuning this does have novel potential.

Star and flag for you dear King