Friday, April 22, 2005

   Nougat: Origins (Chapter V):
[So here's how the squad names break down . . . so you have a "Ruth" and a "Henry". Then you have a Marsden (or "Mars'") and a Kathy Kitzman ("Kit' Kat'"). Then you have a Trixie "Twix" Jones. Then you have Roch, the outsider of the group . . . he's named after "Ferrero Rocher", which isn't a chocolate bar . . . makes enough sense, eh? Hehe . . .]


Constable Nougat had been a part of Sergeant Marcus "Flint" Stone's squad for well over a year. During his time under him, he learned how to survive the city's streets, present himself as a person of authority, and above all, have faith in the abilities of the team.

It was this very team that was then eating a quick breakfast of bagels and coffee in the lunchroom of the precinct before their shifts started. The small yet noticeably loud table held on its surface several paper cups of coffee and plates of torn up, sectioned bagel pieces; on the floor around the table were the torn off, sectioned bagel pieces that did not arrive at their intended destinations.

"Alright Noug', I'm ready this time," Henry said across the table before opening his mouth as wide as he could. Nougat drew his arm back and tossed the chunk of bagel through the air in a well-planned arc. The surrounding officers held their breaths while Henry leaned his body back in his attempt to catch the bit of bread - they all released in another round of laughter as the piece of bagel bounced off the officer's eye and onto the floor.
"Dude, you suck!" Nougat said, popping a piece of bagel directly into his own mouth.
"Hey, this is a multi-person effort, you're just as much to blame," Henry replied. The rest of the squad just howled.

"Face it," Flint said while he rocked back in his chair, "you both suck. Here, I'll prove my point . . . Noug'!" Nougat cocked his eyebrow and answered.
"Yeah yeah, whadayawant now, sarge?" he asked.
"I guess a Beretta in the butt beats a butterfly in a boot, huh?" he quoted. All around the table the squad gave signs of varying degrees of familiarity - most frantic of all was Nougat.
"Aw hell! I just watched this a couple weeks ago!" he shouted, slamming the top of the table over and over, trying to remember. "It's uh . . . that . . . uh . . . . . with Denzel . . . . . hell! What the suck is it . . . crap!" Some of the officers shouted frustrated cheers of encouragement. Henry, meanwhile, was just making ticking noises; a buzzer sound soon followed, and Nougat pressed his hands above his nose, exhaling quickly.
"Ricochet, Noug', Richochet," Flint said through a long smirk. Immediately Nougat cried out and hammered his fist onto the table, causing a fit of more laughter to envelope the lunch room, as well as in himself.

After the shouting from all parties died down to a degree, Nougat called for attention.
"Alright, Flint, alright," he said, standing up while he motioned with his hands for quiet, "I want you to show us just how good you actually are . . . . . 'cause there is no way you're getting this one!" Flint leaned his chair back on two legs once again and folded his arms across his chest.
"Try me," he said flatly. Nougat leaned forward, as did everyone else so they could listen.
"The Lord's gonna smoke his ass," he quoted.
"Busting, 1974," Flint said instantly.

Again, the entire room howled with shouts while Nougat swore over and again after dropping back into his seat and letting his head fall onto the table.
"How the crap did you know Busting?!" Nougat exclaimed.
"Because," Flint replied, "I am still the pharaoh, and you are all still a bunch of no-talent ass-clowns." As the squad continued to die with laughter, Nougat, completely defeated, walked around the table, dropped to his knees and began bowing at the sergeant's feet - again, more laughter ensued.


"Alright, enough rope-a-dope," Flint said after tugging newer squad member back to his feet, "I gotta tell you guys some stuff that's actually serious and important. So siddown." Everyone could tell when the sergeant wasn't joking around, and this was one of those times; they all obeyed and sat down quietly.

Flint cleared his throat. "Good. Alright so this is what's up . . . for the next little while I'm gonna be on special assignment. It's part of a drug sting that I've been working with for a long time now. Anyway, I won't be heading the squad for the next bit because of this . . . alright, who the hell of you is most senior . . . . . oh yeah. So yeah, Ruth'll be your acting sergeant, but don't you dare call her that or else her head'll pop from getting too big . . ." Everyone chuckled as Ruth shook her head. "But yeah, she'll be learning how to lead, so be nice to her. But, if she drops the ball - or, if you just have questions bigger than her belt can handle - you can go to Sergeant Mulligan . . . now I want you all to kick some ass while I'm gone. 'Cause I really need to work with this thing . . . . . if we crack this thing open, it could set back drug operations in this city for maybe ten years, if not longer . . . ya dig?"

Most people in the squad gave small nods to their sergeant, as well as words of encouragement and praise - the odd word of good luck came and went as well. Nougat had a slightly different thread of thought, though.
"Why don't you just have us all help you out too?" he asked. "I mean, the more hands the better, right?" Flint chuckled a little and walked around the table, crushing more bits of fallen bagel. He patted Nougat on the shoulder several times, and then went on to chop him lightly in the side of the neck.
"You're learning, that's good," he said, "but no, the city needs you to keep its streets safe." Nougat began to stand up.
"I know, but still . . ."
"Trust me Noug'," Flint said, cutting him off, "this one's pretty specialised as well. The whole team on this one's been working on it for a long time . . . . . now sit down . . . stay with this team and work with it . . . . ." Nougat tried to say more, but stopped himself. Flint nodded and smiled softly, which kind of disturbed the rest of the squad. "Good boy."

"Ruth, you're gonna be able to keep these idiots on a tight leash, right?" The sergeant asked while sitting himself back down. Ruth nodded.
"I'll try not to let ya down, Flint," she said.
"Good," Flint answered. "Now let's hurry up and finish breakfast . . . and actually eat it, will ya? The cleaning people are gonna have our skins for this mess . . . . ."


[Again, for those of you keeping track, "The Real Flint" once gave his e-wife Molly a nickname: "Blades Mulligan". Again, I think you can see where I was going with this . . . Alright, see ya in the weekend!]
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Wednesday, April 20, 2005

   Nougat: Origins (Chapter IV):
[Alright, let's see, let's see . . . oh! Here's a good tidbit for ya! Y'know this sergeant character, Marcus "Flint" Stone? He's basically a myO member immortalised in fiction! He started off as "Flint Marko" until he deleted his account for some damn reason . . . in any case, he's just plain "Flint" now, and hasn't updated in a while . . . . . but nevertheless, it was his suggestion that directly led to the primary characters of "Cream Filling & Nougat". I figured this was as good a way to tribute him as any . . . so yeah, a lot of "Flint's" character points are to a degree Flint's . . . kinda . . .]


"So, Noug'," Flint said as he drove towards the eastern suburban area of town, "this'll be your first large-scale squad effort. Lookin' forward to it?"
"Just set me loose on 'em, sarge," Nougat said from the passenger seat as he cracked his knuckles. Flint grinned and accelerated, saying,
"That's m'boy! Alright, let's go open up a can on this sucka!" As the radio chatter filled them in on what bits of information they had from the suspect, Flint laughed and changed his voice into a fake Scottish accent. "Hah! Brings a knife to a gunfight . . ."
"That was The Untouchables, right?" Nougat asked - Flint immediately looked over, slightly amazed.
"Holy crap . . . you got it!" he said before shouting and cheering in the car, making a grander display than was necessary at the time. "Just for that, I'm gonna invite you to sing at my wedding!"
"What?!" Nougat asked, completely puzzled. Flint laughed an elaborated.
"Yeah, February 12th of next year - Lincoln's Birthday - you better be free, man. The more dress uniforms I can get for the wedding picture the better. So be free!" Nougat stammered,
"Uh, I . . ."
"Hey, pay attention! We're getting close!" Flint shouted, continuing to mess with his young officer's head - Nougat just shook his head and groaned.

Earlier in the day there had been a report of someone with a knife in that particular neighbourhood. The messages since then were unclear, but there may have also been a stabbing as well. Roch and Jones were closer to the area at the time, but because of the larger search area and the vagueness of the situation as it was, Flint and Nougat - the second closest car - were also called in. At the moment Jones was relaying info to them over the radio.

"Alright," Jones said, "from what we got from the radio guy the caller talked to earlier, it sounds like we've got a young white male, maybe about fifteen or sixteen years old, with an old gravity knife . . . about five-foot-ten, one-sixty pounds . . . wearing a New Jersey Devils jersey and large, blue, torn jeans."
"Sounds good, Twix'," Nougat responded. "So how come Scott Stevens there decided to get all stabby, we know that yet?"
"They knew each other or something," Jones answered, ". . . anyway, caller's brother or something got stabbed in the arm, but he's being tended to - all we gotta do is nab knife-boy."
"Sounds good," Nougat said, "hope to see ya soon."

It took little time for the cruiser's radio to perk up once again.
"New Jersey sweater, on the run towards Forest Street and . . . Avon Road!" She said. Nougat acknowledged.
"Alright, Twix', we're almost there . . ."
"Save it," Jones said quickly, "head a block or two past it, the way he's running . . ." Nougat began to speak again but was jarred abruptly as Flint turned hard at the corner. "Alright, we're continuing on foot! We'll try to keep you posted if we can . . . oh! Away jersey, not home!"

Flint was already driving well through the small residential streets, looking for an ideal point of incercept for them.
"Alright, you ass-clown, where are ya gonna be . . ." Flint said quietly as he slowed the car down to a crawl. Nougat scanned the area, but couldn't see any signs of any sort of pursuit. Roch spoke over the radio next.
"This bastard can really book it! He's crossing the street at Blueberry Road," he said with a subtle strain in his voice from running.
"Aha!" Flint said as a fiendish grin crept onto his face. "I know where you're going now . . ." With that, Flint gunned the car, shaking Nougat once again.
"Care to fill me in, boss?" Nougat asked as he bounced around in his seat.
"He's heading to Hazelnut next," Flint answered confidently.
"How do you . . ."
"Just watch, childen, just watch . . ."

Nougat still couldn't completely comprehend what was happening, save that as the sergeant turned onto Hazelnut Lane he was also singing the theme from Jaws quietly under his breath.
"Noug', get ready to jump out of the car," Flint said. Nougat unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door.
"Are you really this sure?" he asked as he put a foot out onto the street.
"I'm not the pharoah for nothin', Noug'," Flint replied. The younger officer went back to scanning the area, ready to jump up at any moment. Flint's whooping and pointing shortly afterwards directed his attention to the space between two houses, where a youth wearing a large red sweater dashed out.
"Holy crap," Nougat said, "you were right, Mr. Scott Stevens is right . . ."
"Don't talk, just run!" Flint commanded. Nougat was ready to vault himself out of the car when he quickly turned his head around.
"You're not coming?" he asked the sergeant.
"I'll stay in the car," Flint said with another grin, "if you can, you should always cheat to win . . . now go!" With a nod, Nougat was off.


Nougat dashed into pursuit, forcing the teen to change his direction toward the adjacent block of houses.
"Block him off!" Jones shouted to the new officer in the chase; Nougat in turn proceeded to move so that he would be in the way of the sidewalk so that he could possibly stop the teen from moving any further. The suspect turned and headed directly for the nearest house and darted through the open gate to the backyard. Nougat swore, knowing that his addition to the chase was basically lost now that he was running side to side with his fellow squad mates.

The teen was already halfway over the tall stone wall along the back of the yard when the three constables came through the gate. Roch pumped his arms harder and dashed to the wall, slamming his back into it and lacing his fingers.
"Go!" he shouted while Jones was already leaving her partner's cupped foothold and vaulting over the wall. Nougat took another hard breath and followed suit. As he pressed up on the top of the wall to get himself over, he suddenly felt the weight of his body under him - with another painful groan, the young officer was over the wall, though without his balance.

Roch effortlessly climbed over the wall himself behind him, and Jones was already in hot pursuit further up the alley. It had only been a little over a minute into the chase, and Nougat was already feeling the strain of the run. As Roch ran past him, he swore once again and pushed his body forward. Trying to keep tabs on where everyone was ahead of him, he pulled the radio off from his belt.
"Flint!" he shouted, badly out of breath but still running, "We're in a back alley that's gonna lead to . . . I'm not sure what street's up next, but we're heading . . ."
"South?" Flint asked, cutting him off.
"Yeah . . . how did . . ."
"Hang tight, Noug', you're in for a fun show . . . just make sure he keeps running straight . . ."

Nougat knew he was running substantially slower than the other three people in the chase, and instead chose to radio the other two pursuers. From his position far back in the alley, he could see Jones slowly drifting to the far left of the alley while Roch did the same on the right. The teen in the Devils jersey in response kept running straight - the rookie was impressed with the other officers and their tactics . . . in any case, the alley was about to end and the suspect was still at least a good ten meters away from Jones.

As if out of nowhere, a squad car burst into view at the end of the alley from the right, sirens wailing. Inside, Flint had the car's shotgun pointing out the open window; the sergeant himself was screaming every form of obscenity known to man through the car's speaker.

The teen was visibly shaken by the display and immediately lost his balance, falling backwards; Jones and Roch were quick upon him. Nougat immediately stopped running and just tried to keep himself from falling over. By the time he finally walked over to the other officers, they had already handcuffed the young teen, removed the gravity knife from his pocket, and were reciting his list of rights. As well, Flint had made his way over to see his people, still holding the shotgun in a somewhat cinematic style.

"Nice work, my children," the sergeant said. Roch and Jones stood the youth up and nodded to their commanding officer.
"Alright, we ran pretty damn far from our car, so we'd best get walkin'," Roch said, grasping the teen firmly around the arm.
"No prob'," Flint replied, "we'll see ya back at the station for debriefing. And good job, again." The officers all gave nods to each other, and the two in particular made their way back in the other direction of the alley. Once they were far enough, Nougat dropped to his knees and started breathing harder.

Flint laughed an put a hand on the rookie's shoulder.
"Had a good run, Noug'?" he asked warmly.
"Sarge, I think I wanna puke right now," Nougat said in between small stress-relieving bursts of laughter. "I don't think I've ever liked running . . like, ever . . . . . or ever . . ." Flint put his hand around Nougat's arm and hoisted him back to his feet.
"Come on, let's not mess up the uniform - the dirt on the ground's bad enough, but if you vomit in that position, you're never gonna live it down back at the precinct."

Nougat laughed louder at the older officer's comment and nodded. His breathing remained hard and heavy, but Nougat started to hold and regain control over his breath. Flint, meanwhile, was prodding the younger officer back to the squad car with the butt of the shotgun, muttering in his fake Irish accent once again - the rookie was at least starting to feel better . . .


[I was SO tempted to break this into two chapters! But, to do so would break this story's theme of "fewer chapters, longer chapters" that I've been doing so far . . . . . oh, if anyone's wondering, Lincoln's Birthday was the day Flint and Molletta of myO e-married. I got to sing at their reception, apparently (hehe).
Ah yes, and also, the description of the suspect and the pansy street names are all courtesy of Red Tigress and Color Me Evil; as well, the idea for using Scott Stevens in the story is from my brother. Thanks guys. Alright, see ya in two!]
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Monday, April 18, 2005

   Nougat: Origins (Chapter III)
[Alright! We're back on track now! Let's rock!!! Hehe . . . oh, and we have family friends who run a Waffle House in my area, if anyone's wondering . . .]


Constables Nougat and Marsden entered the midtown Waffle House and quickly spotted the other two squad members who had been waiting for them. The two entering officers took off their hats and sat down at the small table next to the already seated Henry and Kitzman.
"Hey Mars'," Constable Kitzman said as she put down her cup of coffee, "so what's your take on riding with the new guy?" Nougat had long since accepted that he was going to be labelled as the "new guy" in the squad for a long time, so he opted not to comment on it. Marsden, meanwhile, had already propped his elbow on the table, his forehead nested in his upturned fingers.

"Ohh man . . . y'know how Flint sometimes gets a little airy during late shifts?" Both Henry and Kitzman immediately burst out laughing. Henry spoke quickly.
"You mean . . ."
"Yup," Marsden said, "Flint's got nothin' on the new guy." The laughter continued; Nougat simply leaned back in his chair and stretched a little.
"Hey, that's what happens to me early in the morning," he rebuked plainly. Marsden leaned in closer to Nougat.
"Yeah, next time leave it at home before you ride with me, okay?" he said with a smirk. Nougat just shrugged.
"I didn't have anything to leave before I left home, I can't control these things, you know . . ." Henry, meanwhile, was barely able to contain his entertainment.
"So hey," he said, getting into the conversation, "he doesn't like, fan them at you too, does he? 'Cause Flint does that sometimes . . ."
"No," Nougat answered, "that would be too mean and I don't know you people well enough to be doing that . . . not that I would anyway, I'm just saying . . . . ."

It was shortly after decided to drop the particular subject before ordering their end-of-shift breakfasts.
"So, anything cool happen during your guys' shift?" Marsden asked after the waitress took their menus away.
"Kinda," Henry replied, "earlier in the night we . . ."
"We had a fun run-in with these stupid kids outside one of the train stations," Kitzman finished. Henry let his jaw fall down in a half-serious expression of hurt.
"Hey Kathy, I was gonna tell the story!" Henry said.
"Aww, I'm sorry . . ." Kitzman replied, patting him on the hand sarcastically. ". . . please, you tell them." Henry scoffed while the others laughed.
"Stupid Kathy . . ."

"Anyway," Henry started, getting control of his audience again, "'Stupid Kathy' and I came up to these young punks who for some reason thought it'd be a good idea to finger us as we drove by . . ." Marsden immediately exploded into laughter; Nougat smiled and kept listening. ". . . so we slow down, roll down the window as we go by, and I look out at 'em. Of course, they're being stupid, and one of them goes 'oh hell, they stopped!' or something like that and started running. Of course, they're stupid, so they run into each other . . ." Kitzman started laughing again, already aware of how the story was going to end. "So yeah, these two Einsteins conk their heads together like the Three Stooges, the smaller one falls flat on his ass . . . and out of his pocket hangs a nice green-filled ziplock bag . . ." Kitzman started giggling immediately as the other two officers laughed.

"So what," Nougat asked, "did he just not put it deep enough into his pocket or something?"
"I dunno," Henry answered, "maybe it had something to do with the suddenness of the whole thing, but man . . . best part came after I came out to check it out."
"Here it comes," Kitzman commented as she sat up straight for the end.
"I get out, tell the guy on the ground to stay still, and instantly everyone else, all his friends, yet and sacrifice him or something!" Everyone at the table began laughing - as well, Marsden muttered something about "honour amongst thieves" - "so I pick the guy up, search his pockets . . . before I can say anything, he's already going, 'it's not mine! It's not mine!' and is basically freaking out. 'You wanna know whose it is? I'll give you his address, his phone number . . .'" The table started roaring.
"Just like that, he sold out the rest of 'em?" Nougat asked.
"Sold 'em out, and went on to join them, yeah . . . . . not like we'd let him get away just for that, right?" The laughter continued.

The waitress came with their breakfasts just as Henry finished his story.
"Alright Mars', your turn," Kitzman said from behind a mouthful of waffle, "what was fun that happened to you guys during your shift?" Marsden swallowed and answered,
"Not a lot, we just . . ."
"Alright new guy," Kitzman to Nougat, interrupting the other constable, "tell me something good that happened to you during your training." Nougat took a sip of coffee before replying.
"You mean at the academy, or during my block 2 . . ."
"Doesn't matter. I just want something since your idiot partner failed me." Marsden grinned and shook his head.
"Stupid Kathy . . ." he muttered before going back to his meal.

"There was this one pretty wild time during my street training," Nougat began. "I dunno, I must've been adjusting to the early hours of a morning shift or something, but I completely forgot to put on my body armour before leaving the station . . ." The surrounding officers were quick to throw in their respective two cents about the poor move. "Yeah, yeah, I know . . . but yeah, once we were out on the road, we get a call to some domestic something-rather . . . seemed some guy decided it'd be a good idea to hold his kid hostage or somethin' . . . something about custody or something . . ." The other officers nodded along intuitively. "But yeah, my T.O. and I got there, the guy had a handgun . . ." Nougat spent a fair amount of time elaborating on exactly how they talked the father into releasing his daughter and turning himself over - as well, he was personally amazed at how much attention people were giving him as he told his story. ". . . now I'm not saying that I wasn't happy that we got him, but during that whole time not having my vest on under my clothes, especially any time he pointed his gun at me . . . I never felt so naked in my life . . ."

"Yeah, you come to really love that vest," Marsden added as the other officers agreed. "I remember this one time, I was patrolling with Twix, and . . ."
"Hold on, who's 'Twix'?" Nougat asked, interrupting the story. Marsden laughed again.
"You don't know everyone in our squad too well, do ya?" he asked.
"I've been here for less than two months, of course I don't!" Nougat replied. Kitzman stifled a giggle while Marsden elaborated.

"'Twix' is the nickname Jones got after we came to some house-thing she had a couple years back," Marsden explained. "At the time, her niece couldn't exactly pronounce 'Aunt Trixie' just right, so we had to make sure to keep that on her mind for the rest of her life." Kitzman and Henry grinned as they watched Nougat listening carefully. "Anyone else you missing?"
"Actually, I've got a better question," Henry said after finishing off his breakfast. "Do you know the names of all your squadmates?"

Everyone leaned in towards the rookie officer, egging him on to list off their squad members.
"Uh, alright . . ." Nougat said, thinking hard. "So there's Flint, you guys . . ."
"Names, new guy," Henry pressed.
"Marsden, Henry, Kitzman. Happy now?"
"Very. Now continue." Nougat recomposed himself after being interrupted quickly.
"Alright . . . . . then there's Ruth, there's Jones . . . and . . . . . ah crap . . . . ." Nougat thought hard again, but the last member would not come to mind. "I give up. Who gets to punch me when he finds out I forgot him?" Henry chuckled, as did everyone else.
"You forgot Roch, but that's okay, he's always been a bit of an outsider in the squad anyway."
"Gee, that's nice to say, former new guy," Kitzman said, eyeing Henry harshly; Henry just shrugged.

Marsden stopped everyone for a moment to speak on the radio.
"Yeah, we're all still here . . . okay . . . yeah . . . yeah, we can wait for ya, sure . . . . alright, see ya soon . . ." As he straightened his posture, everyone around the table looked at him. "Oh, looks like Flint's in the neighbourhood and is gonna come laugh at us now," he said.
"Oh!" Nougat said, almost standing up from his seat. "That reminds me now! How the heck did the sergeant get that sort of nickname?" Marsden took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair.

"Stupid Kathy, you wanna field this one?" he asked.
"It's not that hard, Mars'," she answered, "but sure." Nougat cracked another smile, but listened intently once again. "Basically, the sarge is a noisy kinda guy. Not like his voice, but just his whole being. He makes things messy, blows stuff up . . . well, not lately . . . . . but yeah . . . you've seen how he acts, haven't ya?" Nougat chuckled and nodded. "So yeah, big abrasive bastard, last name stone . . . sparks and all . . . so 'Flint' just made sense, I guess." Nougat looked up at her and smiled extra wide for a moment.
"I see, very informative . . . so how long has he had this nickname?" Kitzman put down her coffee and shrugged.
"I dunno, Flint's been around for a while, I guess he's had it for a while . . . oh yeah, that said, I'd bet that his 'sparkey' nature's what's kept him as a sergeant for so long . . ." Nougat smiled even wider.
"Well, there's that, and if I were a lieutenant I'd be a lot harder to beat up ass-clowns like you for every time you stuck your foot in your mouth," Flint said from behind the immediately startled Kitzman.

Nougat lost his composure and exploded in a bad fit of laughter.
"Hmm, guess you were closer than I thought," Marsden commented.
"Yup," the sergeant replied, "then as I got closer, I heard my name, so I knew I had to ninja my way up to ya . . . luckily, my stealthiness was not compromised. Thanks new guy, this nets ya five points in my book." Nougat suppressed his fit as best he could.
"All in the name of the squad, sir," he said before going back to laughing; Kitzman kicked him from under the table.

"Alright lady and gentlemen," Flint said once everyone had settled down, "you all did good last night. Now I don't need to tell you this, but I want you all to get some good sleep once you get home. Tonight's game night, so the streets could get rowdier than usual . . . that goes double for you, Noug', rest up. We're gonna need to tag you in if they hit us with their finishers and the ref's counting fast." Nougat was puzzled about the analogy, but responded in the affirmative.

The tired officers paid their bill and left the restaurant. Nearing the small parking lot in the back, Nougat grinned, thinking about how amusing it was to see three squad cars all parked in a row behind a Waffle House. Before everyone got into their cars, Flint called to the rookie one last time.
"Hey! New guy!" he shouted.
"What's up, sarge?"
"It's my experience that a scared cop is more useful than a dead one."
" . . . what?!"
"What's it from, man?! What movie?!"
"Oh! Um . . . . . . I don't know!"
"Ah geez . . . you're killin' me man! Killin' me!"
"I'm sorry!"
"Go to Blockbuster before going home today! I'm changing my orders for you!"

Inside their cruiser, Nougat couldn't remove the grin on his face.
"It was from Lethal Weapon 2, by the way," Marsden informed him before starting the car.
"Ah . . ." Nougat thought out loud while buckling his seatbelt. " . . . haven't seen that one yet . . . . ."


[Are these getting too long, you guys think?
Another tidbit for ya. My brother the police officer has a squadmate named Kathy - that's right, she is the original "Stupid Kathy" . . . or Cathy . . . . . meh. Oh, a quick question: being from the commonwealth nation I am, I know fully well what a "constable" is. For the record if people were having problems with it, "constable" is basically the lowest level of police officer, under sergeant. Thought I'd throw that in just because I've been using it throughout the series. But hey, it goes with my use of "ERT" and stuff, so yeah . . .]
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Sunday, April 17, 2005

Umm . . . we'll do it tomorrow
I'm such a bastard . . . . . I have just decided that I would much rather just go to sleep than try to make up a bunch of dialogue tonight. Chapter three shall be tomorrow. In any case, it's all over for another week or so. I'm happy.
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Saturday, April 16, 2005

   Just thought it'd be fun to update right now . . .
Well, it's 1:53am PST as I type this . . . okay, 1:54 now. But yeah, I'm about 1.5 paragraphs away from finishing a term paper that was due about a month ago. Hehe . . . long story, some of you know it. It's not that fun of a story anyway . . . in any case, my next exam is in . . . 6 1/2 hours . . . 1:55 . . . . . yeah, Saturday morning exams just seem evil.

None of you have been able to keep track, so I'll fill you in on what my nights have been like:

Thursday: (1:56) kinda got my teeth into my Ancient History term paper before we all went out for dinner to celebrate the aniki's birthday (one day late . . . 1:57). After the dinner, the ototo and I went over to the aniki's house to play for a bit . . . well, we didn't stay long, seeing as I had my class notes in front of me and the younger guy was asleep on the couch . . . so we went home a little past 11pm, where I then . . . oh, 1:58 . . . where I then went to finish writing my term paper about the Roman Republic's army at about 5am in the morning. (1:59) By that point I figured I might as well just catch the earliest bus I could and get to school.

Friday:
Got to school at about 7:30am, bought breakfast and studied my notes for my exam at noon . . . 2:00 . . . . . so yeah, basically I studied in just that morning for the most part . . . though I did take a quick 20 minute nap at one point . . . meh. Anyway, wrote the exam, answered the questions, whatever . . . heh, there was this one poor hump in the class, after we all sat down with the exam questions on it, all you could hear from him in the next . . . . 2:01 . . . five minutes was him sighing and fidgeting, burying his face in his hands, looking upset . . . . . what a hump . . .
So yeah, got off campus by about 2 or so, got home around 3:30-ish . . . 2:02 . . . . . and read the articles I needed for my Myth and Religion paper . . .which I am just finishing up now, as we speak. That said, I guess I'll have a bit of time to study in the next few hours, no sleep again . . . . . 2:03 . . . so yeah, I guess this marks the first time I have ever spent three consecutive days awake with more than a half-hour's sleep to break it up.

And man, do I feel loopy right now! I definitely would not recommend this sort of thing to others. 2:04 . . .

So yeah, I should be done with this exam by noon. Then I'll have a few hours to rest up (and nap, maybe) before leaving the house again for a kung-fu related thing. But after that I'll be done for about a week and it'll be great! And I'll write the next chapter to "Nougat: Origins" and then sleep for a long, long, long time . . . 2:05 . . . . . but that's not 'til Sunday-ish.

'Til then, I need to finish off this hump essay . . . heh. See you guys soon, a'ight? A'ight!


[plop.]


Oh yeah, and the ototo bought "Lego Star Wars" for the PS2 . . . 2:06. It's a kids game, but it's cute and freakishly fun. I'd recommend it as a rent or so, I'd say. I've been wanting to share that one for a while . . . . . alright, back to essay. Peace!

. . . . 2:07. 14 minute post, not too bad . . .


[EDIT: I fell asleep for a couple hours, from about 3-5am. Not sure if that's good or not . . .]
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Wednesday, April 13, 2005

Finals precedence . . . dang . . .
The next few days are gonna get a little choppy exam-wise and stuff. Story's gonna get put on hold 'til after Saturday, okay?

That said, don't expect to see me online too often either. Hehe . . . well, I'll try not to disappoint. Meantimes, hang tight - I'll be back soon enough.


[EDIT: Those of you with the ability to watch the new Smallville episodes, you HAVE to watch it tonight! The actor who will play a security guard on it is my brother's best friend and the guy who painted our house (spectacularly, might I add). Ah, it's good to live in Vancouver sometimes . . .]

[EDIT 2: Aw! Those bastards! They cut his speaking role! Now all you see is him dead and crammed in a locker instead of getting shot! How cruel . . .]
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Monday, April 11, 2005

   Nougat: Origins (Chapter II)
[Well, we just got through the long talky character-intro chapter . . . time to kick it up!]


"Radio, this is cruiser PPT-four-niner," Nougat messaged into the hand-held speaker, "we are in pursuit of a blue New Yorker, license plate sierra-romeo-bravo, four-niner-seven. Currently heading down Clark, wouldn't mind some assistance. Over."

"You play the radio part well," Ruth commented as she drove the speeding police cruiser over the long, wet roads.
"Hey," Nougat replied, "since I didn't have to call for shotty, I figured I might as well do something to make up for it." As the siren above them wailed, Nougat was effectively bouncing in his seat with excitement. Ruth was quick to notice, and kept a calm grin on her face as she drove.
"So hey, you're quite the lucky one, aren't ya?" she asked.
"How do ya figure?" Nougat responded.
"Ya know, new guy gets to be in a car chase so early in his career . . . gotta be fun for ya." Nougat let out a strong, amused laugh.
"Just like goin' to the fair . . ."
"Yeah, don't forget to hang on to the ride - you're still new and I don't want your puke in my car, got it?"
"Yes ma'am!"

"Unit four-niner," someone hailed over the radio, "keep him going in that direction for a bit longer. Over." Nougat kept himself from swearing upon hearing the message.
"Um, how do you propose we keep him going? Last I checked our squad cars weren't equipped with telepathy-projectors . . . over."
"You're an ass, Nougat," Ruth commented quickly; Nougat grunted in response.
"Unit four-niner, just keep chasing him until you hit Shell Road. Once there it's a long straight road with no intersections for a while - we've got a trap set up at the end of it. Over." Nougat rolled his eyes and said something crude under his breath.
"Roger," he said into the speaker, "we'll do our best, over."

Nougat leaned over to his current partner.
"Alright Ruth, y'think you can keep him going straight for another five blocks?"
"I'm workin' on it!" Ruth answered back just before yanking hard on the wheel and regaining control over the slippery road. For the past couple weeks the weather had actually dried up quite a bit, so the roads were especially slick with the new rainfall. Ruth knew well enough that this was easily the worst situation to have in a high speed pursuit, but there was little she could do about it other than stay extra focused on the matter at hand. She was just glad that the other drivers on the road were pulling over early enough to make themselves less of a hazard.

"Three blocks on, two to go!" Nougat said enthusiastically as the scenery moved from the light commercial areas to a more spacious grid of long roads. To their right was a large field with various antenna towers built above them; to their left was a long sidewalk lined with trees and little else. "You're goin' down, ya car-jackin' bastard!" He continued shouting other similar remarks until the car jerked sharply again.
"Sorry," Ruth said flatly; Nougat stopped shouting.

"I think we lucked out," Ruth said, breaking the short ten second period of solid siren wailing. "I think that driver knows the roads are wet too, so he doesn't wanna take any fast turns and move off this road." Nougat nodded along, understanding completely.
"So he's not entirely reckless, then," Nougat commented.
"Nope, just reckless enough." Nougat could only grip at the door handle with one hand anxiously while drumming on the dash with his other.

Nougat clicked the radio receiver on as they neared the trap.
"This is unit four-niner, we're almost at Shell Road now. Over."
"Four-niner, this is eight-three," the radio chattered, "we're at the end just before Number 4 Road; we've got our cars set up in a road block. I think we've got 'im, over."
"Roger that, hope to see ya soon." Nougat replaced the receiver on its holster and watched the New Yorker blaze on, spraying water as it sped.

"Okay, we're going insanely fast and we're still not friggin' up to speed with him," Nougat said gruffly. "There's no way that guy's gonna brake in time to not smoke the roadblock and clear it anyway.
"They usually do," Ruth reassured, "don't worry . . . 'sides, the guys on the other end are good cops, they won't get hit too bad . . ." Nougat shot to attention.
"Hit?!"
"Not literally!" Ruth shot back. The rookie officer breathed out hard, drummed out three finals beats on the dash even harder, and unbuckled his seatbelt. "Hey, new guy, what the hell do you think you're . . . hey!" Nougat was already rolling down the window before Ruth could finish.
"Keep me steady . . ." he said as he unholstered his sidearm and reached his head out the window.
"Nougat! Get back in here right now!" Ruth commanded.
"It'll be alright," he shouted over the wind, sirens and rain, "I just wanna slow him down so he doesn't smack the other guys too hard!"
"We're almost at the roadblock! Do you wanna cripple yourself within the first month of your job you retard?!"
"Hold her steady!" Nougat shouted back; he was already leaning his entire torso out the window.

The young constable Took careful aim at the New Yorker's rear tire, squinting hard to keep the rain and wind out of his vision. He fired once, almost losing what little balance he had as he contained the recoil of the pistol - he missed. The young officer went on to lean even further out of the window, reaching to the point that his hips were resting on the car door. Ruth shouted again.
"Damnit stop shooting! You're gonna hit the guys on the other side of the . . ."

The roadblock came up quicker than anyone thought - the perpetrator included. The driver in the New Yorker slammed the brakes hard, trying not to crash into the makeshift wall created by two police cruisers set across the street with officers behind them. The effort was only partially successful, however, as the wet roads in turn put the New Yorker into a dangerous slide. As the stolen car slowly drifted sideways, Ruth slammed on her own brakes and swerved to her left. Though she also slid, it was nowhere as wild as the other car. Nougat, meanwhile, shook with the lurch and desparately tried to stabilise himself. Unfortunately with the rain, the top of the car gave little in the way of hand holds. As Ruth swerved to the left, Nougat fell to the right.

Nougat rolled as best he could to protect himself, but still managed to rub his elbows raw on the wet concrete. After groaning quickly, he looked up and saw the New Yorker already turning around to escape in his direction - Ruth had swerved completely out of the driver's way, leaving only empty road between himself and the young rookie. The New Yorker's motor roared and its tires skidded as the driver gunned it directly towards the downed officer. Nougat tried to get up and out of the way, but knew that his legs were too badly shaken from the fall to be of much use. At that point, the sound of the incoming engine seemed like the only thing remotely capable of movement.

Nougat's heart raced while the New Yorker beared down on him. It was then that something finally clicked inside him. As if on instinct, Nougat scanned the street for his pistol and saw it lying within a body's length from him. With one last curse he pulled himself over and rolled towards his firearm, grabbed it, and continued rolling until he was lying prone on the street - in the same moment, he squeezed the trigger.

An audible pop echoed in the spacious street as the New Yorker's front tire burst. The car screeched, swerved, and slammed into the far curb, stopping instantly. Nougat was able to raise his head out from under his hands early enough to see the rest of the officers rush in, sidearms drawn, to apprehend the dazed driver. The next minute or so more or less disappeared from Nougat's memory in the meantime . . .


". . . Noug'? Yo, Nougat?" Ruth repeated while helping the battered officer up off the ground.
"We get him?" Nougat asked, a slight sense of levity in his voice.
"Yes, you moron," Ruth answered, "we got him. Now let's get you back to the car until the ambulance gets here . . ." With that, she put an arm under Nougat's and walked him back - still, she couldn't help but notice that he was basically putting no weight onto her whatsoever.

Nougat was sitting in the car with his feet out on the street, eyes closed and head resting against his seat. Ruth opted to stay in the rain, leanging against the body of the car on the other side of the open door.
"Hey Nougat, pass me the radio," she requested. Nougat murmered quietly and passed the receiver to her. "Hello, unit two-eight, unit two-eight . . . Flint, where the hell are ya?" After a long break, the sergeant finally picked up.
"Yeah, yeah, unit two-eight, what the hell do you want, Ruth?" Nougat laughed out his nose listening to Flint talk - he still wasn't used to his crudeness.
"Just wanted to fill you in on the after-effects of that chase."
"Alright, go for it," Flint said. Ruth answered.

" . . . . . Flint, the new guy's an idiot. A big one. But . . . he can shoot like a rocket . . ."
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Saturday, April 9, 2005

   Nougat: Origins (Chapter I)
[For those of you new to this story, don't forget to read the "prologue" chapter a couple posts before this, savvy?]


Nougat walked briskly through the misty rain after parking his car outside the precinct. The building itself seemed absolutely gigantic to him at the moment, but he had a feeling that that would ease up on him sooner or later. Off in the distance he could hear the regular sounds of traffic from a downtown area. There were no car horns, shouts, or any other sounds that would suggest any conflict with the peaceful, although somewhat dark and unhappy day.

After stepping into the precinct, Nougat hiked up the small black sports bag over his shoulder and stomped the wet soles of his boots off into the rubber mat beneath him. Aside from a queue of people sitting along benches that lined the walls, it was also surprisingly quiet. Not that he minded, he was just expecting a lot more police-type action going on at the moment in a police precinct. Rather, it was just a few uniformed officers sitting behind the front desks, tending to people in front of them or managing paper work.

A desk clerk opened up and Nougat stepped forward.
"Hi," he said, "I just got assigned here today."
"Alright, sounds good." the clerk said cheerfully. "Name?"
"Nougat." The clerk looked through the rosters on the sheet in front of him. When he found Nougat's name, another wide grin spread across the officer's face. "Ohh, this is good . . ."
"Huh?"
"You're assigned to Sergeant Marcus Stone's squad, office 409." Nougat nodded, but stopped briefly.
"What's good about him?" he asked.
"They're a little strange in that squad," the clerk answered. "Be careful, okay?" Nougat nodded again before heading to the stairs - the puzzlement remained strong on his face.

The precinct still seemed overly quiet as the young, fresh recruit made his way through the hallways. Finally he came to the office numbered 409. Finding it came with a shock, though, for when he reached for the knob the door violently swung open; inside sat one man behind the desk in front of him, and seven officers standing at the sides, almost menacingly if he didn't know any better.
"Sit down," the officer behind the desk ordered while another nearby motioned towards the one chair placed directly in the centre of all of them. Nougat stepped in slowly, fully aware that every pair of eyes was fixated directly on him. He started,
"Um, Sergeant Sto-"
"Yes, but don't speak if you're not addressed first," the sergeant said from behind the desk. Nougat nodded again and made his way to the chair. While dropping his bag down and lowering himself into the oddly cold chair, the other officers were quick to form a tight circle around him.

"Okay," Stone said, "first off, yes, I am Sergeant Stone. I head this squad. You do what I say, and you stay alive . . . you mess up once too often, I'll have your badge personally . . ." Nougat tried hard not to let anything show, but he couldn't help that he was completely taken back by the man in front of him. ". . . so remember that: I'm the boss, the king, the pharaoh. Got it?"
"Uh, yes sir," Nougat said quickly.

"Alright," Stone continued while he looked at some papers he picked up, "so you're Constable Naggat?"
"Um, Nougat," the young officer corrected. Instantly he heard a murmur through all the other officers around him. Stone remained unaffected.
"Uh huh, I see . . . okay Naggat, now that we're all introduced, I have some questions to ask you . . ."
"Yes sir . . ."
"Did I address you yet?"
"Uh . . . no sir . . . . ."

Though Nougat was convinced it was his own imagination, he thought he heard someone snicker behind him . . . he didn't dare to turn around, in any case.
"So tell us," Stone said, "you graduated from the academy last class, right?"
"Yeah, that's right," Nougat answered. Stone pressed his fingers together soon after hearing the response.
"That's right, sir, constable."
"Oh! Right . . . sorry sir . . ." Again, the odd feeling that someone was snickering entered Nougat's mind.

"What was your time for the POPAT?" Stone asked." Nougat answered,
"Five minutes, fifty-two seconds . . . sir." Stone rubbed his chin hard and winced slightly.
"How about your shooting qualifications?"
"I scored one-sixty on that, sir." Again, more murmuring came from the tall ring of officers. Nougat gripped the arms of his chair tightly as the sergeant stared directly into his eyes.
"Another question, Naggat" he said, "during training, which sidearm did you prefer to shoot more, the Glock or the Beretta?" Nougat flashed his vision to his sides - they were all staring at him as well.
"Well, uh . . . I suppose . . . . ."
"Come on, man!" Stone said sternly, slamming his hands on his desk, "this isn't gonna destroy the world . . . not everyone's world, anyway . . ." Nougat swallowed and took a breath.
" . . . . . the Beretta. I felt most comfortable with it." A sharp gasp made its way through the circle of officers; Stone continued to look agitated.

"So you're saying you're a slow runner, but you can shoot well . . . and that you prefer the Beretta?!" Nougat's eyes went wide briefly.
"Yes sir, but I don't see how any of this . . ."
"For the love of toast, Naggat!" Stone shot back again. "Don't you understand that everything matters?!" Nougat stood up and placed his hands on his end of the desk as well.
"No, sir, I . . . I mean . . . . ."

That was when he knew for sure that someone behind him was definitely snickering.

The snicker forced its way out of the female officer's nose and gave way to an all out belly laugh. Nougat turned around and saw that the rest of the squad was quick to follow suit - one even staggered backwards and had to brace himself against the nearby shelf. Turning back to face Stone, Nougat could feel the stress and anxiety flutter away with his new sergeant's contained, mischievous grin. Nougat fell back into the chair, psychologically defeated; after landing, several hands were quick to pat his shoulders in a reassuring manner.

"Well, that was fun," Sergeant Stone said, smiling. Most of the rest of the squad at settled down, save a couple who were still trying to catch their breaths.
" . . . you guys are assholes!" Nougat got out while trying to hide his own freshly-formed smile.
"Yeah, they know," Stone replied casually before leaning back and putting his feet up on the desk. Nougat shook his head and said,
"Y'know . . . the guy at the front desk told me to be careful, too." Immediately the squad erupted into another fit of laughter; Stone laughed hardest out of all of them.
"Yeah, those guys know too . . ."

The squad members all took less menacing positions around the office while Stone continued talking.
"Alright, let's do this again," he said, "I'm Marcus, and I'm the sergeant of these idiots . . . and soon enough, you shall be an idiot along with them, I'm sure," Nougat grinned and answered,
"We'll see about that . . ." Stone grinned, happy that Nougat was finally taking his own position in the game.
"Anyway," the sergeant continued while motioning around the office, "to your left are Constables Roch, Ruth, and Cook. On the other side, there's Marsden, Henry, and Kitzman." Everyone said a quick hello; Nougat gave a kind of weak wave all around him. Stone spoke again.

"Now that we're all introduced for real now, let's get down to the really important business," he said boldly. Nougat thought for a moment as to what it might be, but chose not to venture a guess.
"So what might that be, sir?" he asked.
"Movie quotes!" Stone answered. "Cop movies, to be precise . . ."
" . . . . . huh?"

Constable Cook was the first to openly speak out of the six.
"Just relax," she said, "it'll all make sense in a second . . . alright, let's do it!" She clapped her hands together and backed up. The sergeant rubbed his hands together and looked upwards in thought.
Alright, let's see . . ." Nougat sat quietly while Stone thought. "Okay, got it: This is the cleanest and nicest police car I've ever been in my life! This thing is nicer than my apartment!" Something sparked in Nougat's head.
"Oh! Uh . . . Beverly Hills Cop?" A small cheer went up around him.
"Good, good," Stone said, leaning back in his chair, "that's one . . . . . alright, next quote . . ."

Stone cleared his throat.
"I thought maybe you were a smart boy. But I guess if you were real smart, you wouldn't be a convict." Nougat thought for a moment, but knew he was at a complete loss.
"I don't know," he said, while shaking his head. The officers feigned disappointment in various physical ways.
"48 Hours, Nougat, 48 Hours," Stone answered; Nougat shrugged innocently.
"What is it with you and the Eddie Murphy movies?" Ruth asked. Stone just shrugged and made an odd face - everyone laughed again.

"Alright, last chance to redeem yourself," the sergeant said, "you ready?" Nougat nodded and waited. "Now I have a machine gun. Ho ho ho." Everyone in the room made another small reaction.
"Come on, Flint, that's way too easy!" Henry shouted.
"Yeah, Flint," Ruth followed, "you were never this easy on us before."
"Ah, sure I was," Stone said dismissively. "So how 'bout it, Nougat?"

After all that commotion, Nougat couldn't help but feel stupid.
" . . . . . ah, I'm not sure, actually . . ." Another huge reaction went through the squad - again out of complete disbelief.
"How could you miss Die Hard?!" Marsden exclaimed while the rest laughed; in reaction, Nougat just slapped his face.
"Right, right . . ." he muttered, "Die Hard . . ."

Sergeant Stone took his feet off his desk and sat up straighter. The other officers leaned in slightly as well. Again, Cook was the first to say something.
"So Flint, one outta three . . . whadayathink? He have promise?" Stone rubbed his chin for show once again for a moment.
"Ahh . . . . . I think we can make somethin' of him, yeah." A half-serious round of applause followed the statement.

"Constable Nougat," Stone said, "we're gonna hafta sit you down in front of about five dozen movies in the next couple months . . . but yeah, welcome to the squad. I hope you enjoy it here." The applause grew in volume - as did Nougat's comfort level.
"Thanks, sarge," he said while leaning way back into the chair, "I won't let ya down."


[Heh . . . this totally went longer than I thought it would . . . . but, I have fewer chapters planned out . . . maybe they'll just be longer, then? But yeah, here we go!]
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Thursday, April 7, 2005

   Just so ya know . . .
Right now I'm about 1/5 of my way through a large research paper. Technically I do have until 2pm today to finish it (it's 10:50pm yesterday as I type this). That said, I've definitely gotten myself sick again and have been coughing up yellow stuff all evening. Needless to say I am definitely looking forward to the end of the semester . . . yah, I'm gonna be sleepy tonight . . . . . oh yeah, had my Shakespeare final yesterday. I think it went alright.

Alright, back to essay'ing! Remember, "Nougat: Origins" kicks into high gear on Saturday! 'Til then, everyone get lots of sleep, try to have okay days . . . and enjoy your Escaflowne movie DVDs. Hehe . . . . . Tchau!


[EDIT: It's 11:25pm and my bro just directed me in how to make a pot of drip-coffee. I'm up to 1/4 now - thank you Homer for giving me lots of poetry to rant about for a thousand words or so!]

[EDIT 2: It's just past 12:00am - happy Thursday! Anyway, I'm up to 1/3 complete now! I think it's time to go to get myself that second cup of coffee and take a washroom break!]

[EDIT 3: It's about 1:05am, and I'm halfway there! Ah . . . in other news I can feely myself being artificially held awake by the coffee (which I shook and spilled a bit on the library books next to me on the floor - eep). Other than that . . . I'm getting hungry . . . and I need to go to the bathroom again (cursed coffee/illness) . . . so, who thinks I'll break the 2/3 mark before 2am? Hehe . . .]

[EDIT 4: Well . . . it's 2:45am, and I'm not 'quite' at 2/3 . . . I'm basically there, but not quite. I dunno, the past while, along with writer's block, my nose plugged up BIG TIME, making sitting here just not an enjoyable time at all . . . grr . . . . . STUPID RESEARCH PAPER! WHY ARE YOU SO FRIGGIN' LONG?!?!]

[EDIT 5: It's 3:45am. I feel like absolute hell right now. I don't have any more ideas for what to write, even though technically I should have about 1000 more words . . . I'll probably try to make it up to 2500 and leave it at that, meaning I need to at least think of one more body paragraph of sorts . . . . . heh, I really, really miss sleep . . . . . It's almost been a full 24 hours now . . . well, it will be in a couple more . . . ugh . . .]

[EDIT 6: Well . . . . . he asked for about 3000 words, and I'm gonna give him 2469 . . . buy y'know what? It's four-friggin'-thirty-seven in the morning right now. At this point, I think I'll just take the crummy mark and be done with it (my conclusion REALLY sucks hard, by the way). Hmm . . . . . I guess I'll watch the last episode of Bleach before I go take a nap and then go to school . . . y'know, to nap . . . . . kids, let this be another lesson. Do NOT leave these things to the last minute!
Alright, 4:40am. Good morning everyone, I'm outta here.]

[EDIT 7: Um . . . . yeah . . . . . . but HOLY CRAP! Bleach is NOWHERE near finished! Haha! Yeah!!!]
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Wednesday, April 6, 2005

   Prologue:
[myOtaku Presents . . .]

"They're sure taking their sweet time to get up here," Cream mused while he and the others sat around the table in the precinct lunchroom. Nougat was already leveling his hands in the direction of the hallway out of the lunchroom, his fingers pointed into the shape of an imaginary pistol and lips curled in a mischievous grin. Pastille, the only constable at the table with the two sergeants, sat up straight as the far off noise got louder.
"So that was them I heard singing 'We Are The Champions' all through the precinct as I walked here?" he asked.
"Without a doubt," Nougat answered. "Guess they're happy with their work . . ."

[A SomeGuy Story . . .]

Within the next minute, the detachment of squad members rounded the hallway and burst into the lunchroom. All the officers in the room couldn't help but notice and smile a little - fact of the matter was the three people entering just looked ridiculous swinging their arms together and skipping while bleating their voices out in song.
"Alright you humps," Nougat said, "siddown and let's hear it." Losanje sat herself on the corner of the table while Ruit and Raute took up chairs on either side of her.
"Operation was a success in every sense of the word, boss!" Raute said cheerfully. At that, the other two constables had to holler and cheer again.

"Okay," Cream started, "so you were outside the apartment last we heard . . ."
"Yup," Raute responded, "then we gave them the warning to open the door . . ."
"You mean I gave the warning, right?" Losanje popped in.
"Right, right, she gave the warning, they didn't answer, so we banged in with the ERT guys behind us." Raute was still going through ramming-motions with his arms while Ruit picked up the story.
"So yeah, we all rush in, guns drawn, shouting and stuff like the good officers we are," he said while Nougat and Cream both pretended to laugh at the 'good officers' comment. "Anyway, no one was home except for the wind and the toilet . . . well, they were the ones that reponded with anything remotely similar to a sound, anyway." Nougat raised an eyebrow.
"Ya might need to elaborate on that, I think," he suggested.
"Alright, it's like this," Losanje said. "So the toilet's flushing and the wind is blowing through the hall. So the R-boys haul ass to the kitchen where the breeze is coming from while I hoof it to the bathroom. The poor moron was trying to flush the evidence, but was too much of a retard to not take the stuff out of the big bag - so yeah, I scare the piss out of him, probably making him piss himself, and got the Cryssal out of the can before it was too late."
"Nice, nice," Cream added in quickly.

"Yeah," Losanje continued, "meanwhile, the other cockbite was trying to chuck the documents and stuff out the window, but the apartments were so friggin' crappy that the windows wouldn't even open right!" Ruit cut in quickly before Losanje could continue.
"Hey, this is our part of the story let us tell it!" Losanje scoffed.
"Killjoys . . ." The sergeants just grinned.

"Anyway," Ruit said, "the guy had broken the glass with a piece of pipe or something, and in his hurry to toss stuff out the window was cutting up his arms really bad . . . it didn't take much to convince him to stop."
"Did he get any of it out?" Pastille asked.
"Yeah, a bit," Ruit answered, "but we did have officers on the street backing us up . . . so yeah, they got those bits for us."
"Wow," Cream said, "this was one damn clean bust." Raute beamed and smiled.
"Yup. Clean, quick, and safe."

The table was still buzzing with energy as the informal debriefing went on. Just as they were upon entering, the three constables continued to be the center of attention in the fairly large lunchroom. By the time Ruit, Raute and Losanje had moved aside some empty tables and were acting out their various anecdotes on the floor, Nougat's pager brought him out of the lunchroom's insanity.
"Hey Whip," he said, poking his partner with his foot, "lemme borrow your phone for a sec, I got paged." Cream unclipped his cell and handed it over without a second thought; Nougat then went off to a quieter area of the room.

"Ack! Hey, you never did that!" Ruit forced out while Losanje cinched tighter on the ankle-lock she had on the other officer.
"I'm just sayin', this is what I would've done if the cockbite tried to run!" she said back in between her laughs. Pastille had already gotten up to apply another joint lock on the immobilised Ruit; Cream was tempted to join in with the wrestling as well, but thought better of it. It was then that Nougat came back to return the younger detective's phone.
"You handle these idiots, I gotta jet," Nougat said quickly.
"Is it Sprinkle?" Cream asked before the older officer turned around.
"No . . . no, it's something else, don't worry about it . . ." Nougat gave a quick nod before turning around and left the lunchroom. Amid Ruit's groans, Cream sat confused at his partner's hasty exit. Concern quickly followed along with the confusion.


* * * * * * * *


Nougat unlocked the door to the office and clicked on the lights. The office seemed especially quiet and solitary, especially after leaving the riot in the lunchroom. He walked around the double-desks to the file stacks in the back. His eyes paused for a moment when they passed across the photos sitting on top of the cabinet. On the left was a picture of himself, Cream, and the rest of the Cryssal team in uniform, trying to look as stern and serious as possible - he was actually amazed at how well they actually pulled it off, considering the personalities behind the faces. In the center was a shot of the two detectives and 'Mel in the office. They were flexing in the various positions of the classic Hulk Hogan poses: Cream with his arm outstretched, Nougat with his arms flexed to his side, and 'Mel standing between them in the full forward crunch. Nougat had to laugh quickly to himself as he always did when he saw that picture.

On the right was a slightly older photo: it was of Nougat and his former partner Henry, arms over each other's shoulders. Again, the detective smiled and sighed. That was the last pause, however, and he proceeded to unlock the bottom drawer. After opening it and sifting through the various files for a short while, he found the files he wanted and brought it to the desk. Nougat took a seat in his chair and lightly patted off the bit of dust that had collected on the folder before setting it on the desk.

Inside the folder were papers Nougat had not seen for the better part of the year. He turned to the small fax machine in the office to receive the new bits of info he had been recently sent and compared them to the notes and papers he already had. As he flipped through the files, another photo showed itself between the leafs. Again, Nougat softly wiped the thin layer of dust off the picture and paused as he looked once again. It was a photo of himself about ten years earlier sitting in a pub with his old squad. The old memories dared to break out back into his current mindset as he gazed at each smiling face one by one; he could only sigh once again.

He took another breath before getting back to work . . .
"Ah, Flint . . . . ."


Nougat: Origins


(Hehe . . . . . curious yet?)
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