Sunday, June 20, 2004

   Cream Filling & Nougat: Third Helping (Chapter XIX)
[If anyone's curious, "Playland" is the name of an amusement park in Vancouver. As such, I'm most likely using it as my inspiration, and using names of rides from it as well. A little bit of whatever for the curious, I suppose . . . anyway, it's time for a gratuitous action scene!]


Cream ducked behind the egg shaped ride car as gunfire hammered the ride area mercilessly.
"That'd be great, old man! 'Cause as far as I know, the Tilt-a-Whirl isn't exactly bullet-proof!" he shouted while the bullets continued to rain down at him from almost all sides. As a bullet hissed past his face from the side, he immediately jumped back into the padded seat of the tall car.
"Hole up somewhere better, man!" Nougat commanded from the precinct. Cream barely registered the comment, as he listened to what almost sounded like footsteps on the uneven metal platform. Another solid shot ringed around the outside of the round car, causing Cream to jump in his seat.
"I know! They're gettin' a little close, and . . ."

Before he could finish his sentence, someone had swung around the wheeled car around on its circular track by hand, his pistol aimed directly at Cream's face. Cream instinctively threw his phone at the thug and miraculously struck the man's face. As the thug's face glanced away, Cream fired two rounds into the man's chest at point-blank range and knocked him into another adjacent car. Finally realising what he had just thrown, Cream quickly scanned what he could of the Tilt-a-Whirl platform, but was unable to see it. In addition, the gunfire deterred him from any more intensive searches. Instead, Cream looked out in the new direction the tall car faced and looked for a way to escape. Directly in front of him was another small ride with a low fence presumably for children, while the closed down carnival games were lined up behind it. Seeing nowhere good to run, Cream stood up and wheeled the car around in a new direction. Though open to more visible muzzle-flashes, he spotted the hooded bumper car area and immediately dashed towards it.

Cream fired the rest of his magazine at the various points of light to unknown effect before diving over the fence of the elevated enclosure. The gunfire lessened as the men above could no longer see him, so Cream used the moment to reload his weapon and ready himself between the jumble of small, multi-coloured cars. Sure enough, he saw two heads come into view along the bottom of the fencing and quickly snapped off two shots before they could raise their own weapons and ducked back. The young detective turned around to check his rear and saw bodies springing themselves over the fence. He quickly fired a large volley and dropped two of the thugs before they could get behind their own cars - one crawled his way back to the remaining gangster while the other remained motionless on the ground.

Cream didn't need to think long before accepting that eventually people would soon surround him. Looking all around him once again, he put a bullet into each of the four surrounding edges of the enclosure before charging towards the most visibly clear side. As he got closer, he saw a man crouched below the fence. Cream swore and started pulling on his pistol's trigger until the slide locked while he dove headfirst over the fence and towards the ground three feet below the bumper car platform. As the ground neared, Cream stretched his arm out and shoulder-rolled as he touched down - for the short moment his head was upside-down, he saw the crouched man completely shot up and slumped against the side of the platform. He completed his roll, got back onto his feet, and dashed as hard as he could over the open ground.

With the many bullets still hissing past his body, Cream looked towards the entrance to the park and saw a line of armed men standing in front of it. He then looked towards the nearest high fence with barbed wire and charged at it. Reloading his weapon as he ran, he slowly swerved to the side so that he could hide from his pursuers behind the nearby washrooms while he got himself over the fence. To his surprise, as he rounded the corner of the small building, he ran directly into another man who was assembling a scoped rifle from behind cover. Cream's heart skipped a beat as he stared down the large weapon and gasped when the trigger was pulled.

A click sounded, followed by a shocked expression on both men's faces. Cream didn't even bother to wonder why the rifle didn't fire and rushed forward, grabbing the barrel of the rifle with his left hand and whipping his pistol across the man's cheek with his right. He followed up with a swift elbow to the man's nose and swung the barrel of his pistol back across the other side of the man's face. Once satisfied with his handwork, Cream put a heavy heel kick into the man's sternum, knocking the wind out of the would-be sniper's lungs and the level ground from his feet.

Finally seeing his chance to escape the park, Cream jumped up and grabbed the edge of the washrooms' roof. After swinging himself up, he crouched down to quickly look over the remaining men. There were at least half a dozen almost directly underneath him, with more coming from the background. Cream looked back towards the fence. The top of the barbed wire was a foot higher than the flat roof of the washrooms and about a car's length away. The distance unnerved the officer who knew that while remaining was certain doom, being caught in the wire would be just as bad. He breathed hard, trying to will away the cramp he felt in his side, and built his resolve. Finally ready to leap for his life, Cream creeped back to give himself some room, ran, and sprang off the lip of the roof.

The hammering feeling between his shoulderblades instantly knocked the spring out of his legs and Cream tumbled back towards the pavement. With what strength he had left, he twisted his body so that he could land on his hands and feet. Upon hitting the ground, his limbs gave way and he sprawled over the ground motionless. Cream's mind remained fully aware, meanwhile. He knew he had been shot in the back, that he had fallen off a roof, and that very soon people would be surrounding him. He lifeted his eyes up as best he could and immediately saw many pairs of feet surrounding him.

"Hold on," one man said, "he said to take him in alive if we could."
"You mean even after he wasted all the others?!" another exclaimed.
"Even after, yes," the first man answered. "But . . . . . alright, take your shot."

The last thing Cream sensed was a quick shuffling of feet and a heavy impact against his face.



[If any of you are curious, I am greatly feeling bad about pretty much not visiting anyone lately. And I know, everyone upon hearing such a thing goes "don't worry about it" and all - well, at least I do - I still feel bad about it. I don't know when I'll be able to fix that just yet, but I will see what I can do, 'kay? 'Til then, it's friggin' late and I need to be in bed. Peace!]
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Friday, June 18, 2004

   Cream Filling & Nougat: Third Helping (Chapter XVIII)
[Oh man . . . . . I was about one or two paragraphs away from finishing this when I accidentally closed the window . . . . . I feel like I've just been kicked in the nuts . . . . . well, at least I kinda know where this is going now. Hopefully I can write this up fast now - maybe I can trim some of the fat as well, ya know? So yeah, here's chapter 18 on the 18th . . . . . gah! I can't believe I did that!]


Nougat was amazed at the clarity in which he heard the roaring car engine on the other side of the connection, as if blazing on their emotion rather than fuel.
"Yeah, this guy's flyin'," Cream said through his engine, "we both just turned onto Boundary and are haulin' all sorts of ass down the street! I'm just glad the traffic's not so bad tonight!" Nougat pictured the roads in his mind, trying to get his bearings, saying,
"Late night chase on a busy street . . . seems like as good a way to end this day as any, huh?"
"Why not, huh?" Cream answered before cutting himself off. "Whoa! He just clipped someone with the back of his car!" Nougat began tapping his foot, though he didn't notice.
"Hey man, I know I'm not hearing a siren right now, so you obviously didn't put up your light. Don't do anything stupid, alright?" Cream did what sounded like a laugh.
"Relax, ma . . . I'm the fleet-footed one, remember?"

Another screech of tires snapped Nougat back to the matter at hand while he switched the receiver to his other ear.
"What just happened?" he asked.
"He's pulling onto the 99," Cream said back. "I think this chase just got a little faster . . ." Nougat finally couldn't stand it any longer and got up to start pacing back and forth in the office. He knew very well that he was doing everything he could in his position, but the feeling remained. He felt completely useless, unable to help in this extremely dangerous situation. All he could do was listen and hope.
"So," Cream started, sounding oddly out of context, "I've told you before how I hate people that don't signal when they change lanes, right?"
"Yeah, a few times," Nougat replied, ignoring his partner's attempt to lighten the moment. "Traffic still light?"
"Yeah," Cream anwered, "still very happy about that one . . ."

Some minutes passed, while Cream continued to give updates to his partner back at the department. Mostly it was reports of reckless driving maneuvers or others at risk, though at times it involved other cars being forced to the shoulders of the freeway, causing a great deal of anxiety on the road.
"Alright, news update," Cream reported. "He's turning off onto the Hastings exit . . . still not signalling, the stupid ass-munch . . ." Nougat rethought his bearings and said,
"Hastings . . . that means you two are . . . . ."
"Near Playland?" Cream suggested.
"Yeah," Nougat replied. "You still behind them?"
"Well . . . yes and no," the younger detective said. "I'm behind the car, but they've all run into the park . . ."

Nougat heard Cream kill his engine and unclip his cellular phone from its dashboard holster. Shortly thereafter, he heard heavy, rythmic footsteps echoing off the pavement.
"I guess they'll go to the airport later," Cream said, "meantimes, I guess they just really had an urge to go to Playland?" Nougat started thinking more.
"It's summer, I guess," he said, heavily sarcasitc in his jest, "but why wouldn't they just drive around to a vehicle entrance to get in?" Cream was beginning to sound winded.
"Interesting point . . . why didn't I think of . . . ack!" Nougat jumped.
"Whip'?! What the suck just happened?!"
". . . . . I almost dropped my phone."
". . . . . you moron!"

As the words left Nougat's lips, he heard two pops echoing in the background.
"Were those what I thought they were?!" he asked while pacing around his desk.
"Yeah, they were!" Cream replied frantically. "Um, okay, I'm gonna put you into my pocket for a second . . . . ." Before Nougat could respond, he could hear everything happening in the large amusement park muffle. Two quick gunshots then reverberated through the phone, forcing Nougat to pull his head away from the receiver for a short while. He returned the phone back to his head, though a little farther away from his ear as he heard the gunfight continue to heat up. The noises suddenly became more clear.
"Hey uh, Noug'?" Cream said, a great sense of worry in his voice, "um . . . there are a lot more guys here than there were in the car . . . . ." Hearing those words, Nougat felt like he had just been punched in the stomach.
"It was a trap . . ." he said gravely.

"Whip'!" Nougat shouted, standing straight up again, "just hang on, I'll get some guys to ya!"
"That'd be great, old man!" Cream replied as gunfire continued to riccochet around him. "'Cause as far as I know, the Tilt-a-Whirl isn't exactly bullet-proof!"
"Hole up somewhere better, man!"
"I know! They're gettin' a little close, and . . ." The phone suddenly cut off with a clack, and the lump in Nougat's throat grew.

"Whip'?! Whip?!"


[Phew . . . . . that did go by pretty fast. I'm very happy about that . . . especially after the previous incident. And for the record, no, I will NEVER pre-write these chapters in Word or Notepad and then paste them into the browser window. That would be cheating. Heh . . . maybe I'll say more later. 'Til then, rest easy, and worry hard . . . 'cause Whip's in a bit of a fix . . .]
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Thursday, June 17, 2004

   Cream Filling & Nougat: Third Helping (Chapter XVII)
[Alright! Let's drive this sucker home! I've gotten my "Tenchu: Heaven's Wrath" fix, don't have to work, and my mom's doin' just fine and comes home on Friday. Let's get some writing done! Hooah!]


It had been about twenty minutes since Cream had hung up, and Nougat was honestly starting to wonder. He had long since abandoned his own case and files to focus solely on the matter with Sprinkle and his entourage. His desk was covered in papers, including a fresh sheet he was using to write down notes from everyone with whom he was in contact. Nougat never enjoyed juggling multiple phone lines, but considering his partner's curiously out of character brashness, he was short on time to figure things out.

He had already called The Hilton to ask about persons planning to check out that day and at that hour, and had gotten three names in return. He had then sent those names to Sakai in the computer lab so he could run them and find out anything in particular. Eventually, Sakai ran credit card checks on the three names and came up with a rental car. Nougat then called the car rental dealership to find out license plate numbers, colour, and whatever else that could be used to identify it. By the time he was finished with what could very well be the description of a high level dealer - possibly even Sprinkle himself - he could barely decipher his own hand writing and was already rewriting many lines of his notes.

The private line to the phone finally rung, and Nougat almost fumbled the receiver as he picked it up.
"Whip'?" he said.
"Yeah, I'm at the hotel now . . . um . . ." Cream trailed off slightly, leading up to a point Nougat had already accounted for.
"You need to know what this guy's gonna look like, right?"
"Yeah . . ."
"Your best bet is a green rented Lexus, kid. Now go give 'em hell." Cream let out another heavy breath.
"Noug' . . . . . you're good," he said.
"That's besides the point, though," Nougat replied, "fact is, if your guess is wrong, then I'm gonna give you hell. Ya dig?"
"Yeah, like dirt . . ."

A few minutes went by as Nougat received updates as they came. At that point, Cream had told him that he was out of his car, was standing in the lobby near the entrance, a bit away from the reception desk. He was in luck because the number of people checking out of the hotel in the evening was low and manageable. Every time someone started leaving, he would watch to see how many there were, what they were carrying, and what sort of vehicle they got into.

"Whoa! Noug'! Game on!" Cream said after a short lull.
"Green Lexus?" Nougat asked, sitting up in his chair.
"Yup . . ." Cream answered. "Hold on, I'm gonna go talk to them for a sec' . . . . ." Sounds got muffled as Nougat assumed that Cream's phone was now in his jacket pocket. He strained to listen to what words were being exchanged exactly, but could only hear voices of different registers going back and forth. If he could guess anything, it sounded like Cream was beginning to pester them slightly, as the other voices sounded slightly agitated. Nougat could only smirk as he listened to Cream become the world's largest itch.

Another minute had gone by and the voices were finally beginning to rise. Again, Nougat could only wonder what words were being exchanged while Cream continued to play what sounded like the honest fool. The shouting continued from several different voices and was getting increasingly heated. Then it happened: a loud, audible bang, followed by what Nougat assumed were screeching tires. People screaming faintly sounded in the back of the sound.
"Noug'?" Cream said after a short pause.
"What the suck was that?!" Nougat exclaimed. Cream on the other side seemed to be laughing, albeit with great effort.
"It's alright," he said, "the dude was a bad shot. I just faked falling over . . ." Cream continued as the stunned Nougat listened. ". . . So yeah, I know lotsa people could carry concealed firearms . . . but, I'm thinkin' this is good evidence."

"Alright," Nougat said, "you go get 'em, then! And one more thing . . ."
"What's that?" Cream said as Nougat heard his footsteps running towards along the ground.
"There are SO many reasons why this guess shouldn't have been right! How the suck did this actually work?!"


[Damnit . . . was hoping I'd be able to get further along in the story than this . . . . . if anyone's wondering, this chapter and last chapter were originally outlined as one chapter, all from Cream's point of view. But, being the wordy bastard I am . . . so yeah, next chapter tomorrow!]
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Wednesday, June 16, 2004

'Nother quick break . . .
Late. Wasted the evening. Will write two in a row to make up. Peace.
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Monday, June 14, 2004

   Cream Filling & Nougat: Third Helping (Chapter XVI)
[For those of you keeping track, this chapter officially makes this the longest "Cream Filling & Nougat story" EVER written! Ahh . . . but, I'm not gonna push my luck, so I'm gonna see if I can round it off soon. It'd be best that way, I think. Don't you? Of course you do!]


The two gangsters continued to circle around the club's parking lot in the early evening watching out for a man who was apparently a police officer of some sort. Of the dozen or so men that went into the club to flush him out, they were the ones left back in case the cop somehow got past them. They had detachedly watched the unmoving cars for about five minutes when a voice called out from the nearby alley,
"Someone stop him before he gets away!" They looked up and saw the man waving for them to come with him. Without question, the two men palmed their concealed guns and ran towards the direction of the alley.

Just as they ran past the alley, they caught up to the man who had called for them earlier. He seemed out of breath, and was staring out down the nearest road while his shoulders sunk down.
"Which way did he go?" the first gangster asked, "we'll get him for ya." The man swallowed hard, and continued to breathe heavily.
"No, it's too late . . ." he said before turning around, smiling.

Before the puzzled gangsters could do anything, the first one had already taken a sharp punch to the solar plexus and was hunched over. The second gangster drew his gun, but before he could level it, the man had already vaulted over the first man and had slammed the bottom of his fist against the base of the still standing man's neck. The aggressor finally swung a hook at the staggering gangster's head and knocked him to the pavement, while simultaneously using the motion of the punch to turn himself back towards the first gangster. A swift knee to the bent over man's head completed the movement.
". . . . . yeah, I think he got away," Cream said as he looked at the two unconscious men on the ground. He then quickly made his way back to his car.


Cream had since gotten far away from the club and any potential pursuers and was parked on a small, unlit residential street. With but his interior lights to give proof of his existence in the world at the moment, the detective thumbed his way through the many papers he had recently liberated.
"Okay," he said as he spoke to his distanced partner, "we got crap . . . crap . . . more crap . . . possible crap . . . . . another food wrapper, aw damn it . . ."
"Well, what does the potential crap say?" Nougat asked.
"Uh, lessee . . ." Cream flipped back and started skimming down the messy and undoubtedly male hand writing. ". . . okay, it's all in point-form, and now that I think about it, the words look like they're in a sort of code-ish speech or cant or something."
"Let's hear it."

Cream mumbled some of the words to himself as he read down the list.
"Ah, I get it now," he said, "they're making it sound like they're cooking a pizza or something . . ."
"You better be sure that's not an actual pizza recipe, man," Nougat said, a hint of a laugh in his breath.
"Noug', they're gangsters, they're not Italian, and it was in a locked drawer in a nightclub," Cream retorted. "I think we're safe." Nougat exhaled from his end.
"Alright . . . tell me how we make this pizza . . ."

The two detectives spent the next ten or fifteen minutes passing phrases and theories back and forth to each other, trying to discern the best way to go about things.
"Okay," Cream said, looking down the list again, "so if what we're doing is actually right, then what we've got is an important guy about to leave town from either a hotel or a motel or something . . . and that's a big if, all things considering . . ." Cream sat silent as Nougat mumbled thoughts to himself.
"You said there were some numbers, right?" he asked
"Yeah, that's right," Cream answered. "Now, I know only weirdos would bake a pizza at different temperatures . . . especially ones so insanely different from each other . . . . ."
"Maybe it's a time?" Nougat suggested. Cream thought for a moment before jumping up in his seat.
"Or a date!" he said as he looked back to the sheet. "Yeah! This gives like, last week's date!"
"Last week doesn't help this week, Whip'," Nougat said.
"Hold on, hold on . . ." Cream went back to flipping through papers while Nougat waited. ". . . . . yeah! There it is!" The excitement in Cream's voice dared to waver right out of his body.
"What?"
"Another paper dated to that day last week! It's talking about a flight leaving in . . . about four hours tonight!"

Nougat sounded honestly convinced as he spoke back.
"Alright, so most likely he'll still be at his hotel, or wherever he is, right?"
"Most likely, yeah," Cream replied. "Of course . . . I've stirred up the hornet's nest now, so he'll probably be getting out a little earlier, ya figure?" Nougat grunted.
"Good point . . . alright, another race against the response . . . . . which hotel is it?" Cream looked back to the first paper with the scribbled notes and scanned up and down them.
"Okay, I got a longshot here . . . near the bottom of the 'recipe', it says something about enjoying the dish with a late night video . . . . ."
"Just spit it out, already!" Nougat barked.
"I'm just thinkin' . . . late night video . . . say he means home movie or something . . . . . could this guy be at The Hilton?" Cream waited while Nougat remained somewhat stunned.
"Dude . . . . . you're a perv'." Cream grinned.
"Yeah, but you got to where I was coming from, so that means it's not just me."
". . . such a perv' . . . . ." Cream grinned once again to be seen by nobody but himself in the rearview mirror.
"Yeah, I'm goin' to The Hilton. Call ya back."


[Okay . . . I think I sorta cheated with this chapter. Originally Cream was going to have already gotten to the hotel before it ended . . . but, well, I just HAD to get into secret codes and crap . . . . . in any case, hopefully nobody steps in the major plotholes of this chapter, and I'll get back to ya as soon as I can! Peace!]
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Saturday, June 12, 2004

   Cream Filling & Nougat: Third Helping (Chapter XV)
Cream looked around the small, spartan room. It was maybe the size of a small bedroom with a round table in the middle and a desk or two along the walls. The one small window to the outside was heavily barred and screened, and the rest of the walls were noticeably bare. A heavy cloud of smoke also hung high in the air around the lone ceiling light, irritating the detective slightly. Once he took in his surroundings, he focused his attention back to his cel phone.
"I'm just gonna guess that I'm gonna be assassinated in about two, maybe three minutes . . ." he said to his partner back at the precinct, ". . . what am I looking for and how can I get out of here?"

"Alright," Nougat started, "check the desks and just tell me what you find." Cream started checking the nearest desk. Unfortunately, he had surprised the room's occupants while they still had the drawers locked. Seeing no other way, Cream figured he had to risk the time to try to pick the locks. Meanwhile, he could already hear heavy footsteps coming back to the door. The detective wiped his hands off on his pants one more time before reinserting the small probes into the lock. After about fifteen seconds of trying, the lock still wouldn't turn. The phone pinned between his head and shoulder spoke to him again.

"Yo, Whip', you find anything yet?" Nougat asked.
"Not yet," Cream replied, "I think I just failed my pick locks roll and sadly my Transmuter is on vacation right now." Nougat paused briefly.
". . . what the suck are you talking about?"
"Forget it!" Cream said back quickly. "Lock's not opening!"
"Dude! It's a desk lock! Just hit it!" Upon hearing the words, Cream almost wanted to kick himself. Immediately, he drew his pistol from its holster, flipped it around, and hammered at the jutting-out lock with the butt end.

Cream finally knocked the small lock in enough to allow the drawer to open enough for him to put a hand in and grab what he could. To his offense, the first layer of papers he pulled out happened to be food wrappers . . . luckily, less disgusting materials were underneath, and he pulled out as many of the small notebooks and clipboards as he could.
"Hmm," Cream said outloud to himself, "guess I'm more Fighter than Rogue after all . . ."
". . . . . what the suck are you talking about?!" Nougat shouted.
"Nothing! Forget it!"

Feeling that too much time had already passed, Cream's breath began to quicken.
"Uh, Noug'?" he said, readjusting his phone under his ear, "I don't think I'm gonna have enough time to check these out just yet . . ." Nougat quickly answered,
"Alright, just take them with you and grab the stuff in the other desks." The banging against the door told Cream otherwise.
"Don't know if I'll have the time, Noug' . . ."
"Make some time!"

Thinking of a quick way to simplify his worries, Cream dragged the still-locked desk away from the wall and behind the chair he already had propped against the door handle. Feeling that there was at least a little more security against the door, he braced his hand against the handle of the drawer and pulled back his body, ready to hammer down with his gun . . . . . his motion in turn caused the unlocked drawer to slide out, dropping Cream into a sitting position.

Shaking off his sense if idiocy, Cream quickly snatched all the documents he could and spoke back into his phone while the door began to shake heavily.
"Okay Wizard, I've got the papers, now get me back to Kansas before the flying monkeys kill me!"
"Alright, Whip'," Nougat responded, a great sense of urgency in his voice as well, "go to the wall where the window is and feel around the ground. There should still be a trapdoor around there . . . I mean, unless they got wise to us and got rid of it . . ."
"Yo! Wizard!" Cream shouted into his small cel, searching the ground all the while, "don't tell me these things!"
"Just look, damn it!"

After another quick search, Cream finally found the trapdoor that was cleverly camoflauged into the rest of the floor tiles.
"Haha! I found it!" Cream exclaimed. "Detect Secret Passages, baby! Ah . . . um, never mind that, Noug'."
"Will you just get out of there already, man?!" Noug ordered.
"As good as gone!" Cream answered back as he found the latch and lifted the trapdoor . . . . . and found two men underneath him with guns.

With no hesitation, the young detective reached down and grabbed the first gun hand he saw. He pulled up, partially dragging the man through the passage and twisted sharply, disarming the one man with an audible pop before soccer-kicking the assailant in the side of the head - his torso slumped across the floor of the room harshly. While the other man tried to free his gun from the tangle of bodies in the hole, Cream jumped in on top of him and knocked them both to sitting positions at the bottom of the tunnel. catching the gangster's weapon under both of them.

Unfortunately for Cream, he had landed with his back towards the other sitting man, and suddenly found himself guarding against a choke from behind. As an arm snaked across his throat, Cream began throwing his elbows back as hard as he could. The choke continued to tighten, and Cream could feel his head getting lighter. Out of desparation, Cream yelled out as he raised his body out from the gangster's lap, the lack of oxygen to his brain making it a huge task. After a final push, Cream was able to lift himself off the other man, immediately drew his gun with his right hand, and shoved the barrel back behind his tailbone. Hearing the uncomfortable grunt from the man underneath him, he knew he had found his target.
"Let go of me now . . ." Cream said coldly between breaths as he continued to push the barrel of his pistol into the man's groin.

The gangster eased up on his hold until he let go completely. Cream immediately got onto his feet into as high a crouch as the tunnel would allow and turned to face the still sitting man whose hands were now raised up. Again, with little hesitation in his body, Cream swung both arms across in a wide horizontal arc - his left knuckles cracked hard against the man's chin while the pistol in his right hand whipped him in the temple shortly afterwards. The gangster fell unconscious, and Cream quickly turned to find his way out of the tunnel.

He had taken about ten steps before stopping abruptly to run back to the start of the tunnel. Quickly fumbling under the downed man, Cream found what he was looking for and headed back out.
"Hey, Noug'? You there?" he said into his recovered cel phone. "Yeah, there was a bit of static there, so I lost ya for a sec . . . . . in any case, where does this tunnel lead?"


[Hmm . . . you ever find it funny that the shortest bits of story-time always seem to be the longest bits of reading-time with me? Hehe . . . . . well, if the last chapter was indeed short, I'm sure this'll make up for it. For extra bits of info, I thought this chapter was kinda fun to write (all off the top of my head, of course). And, if anyone here knows what the hell Cream was talking about, well . . . I feel especially happy for ya! Teh heh heh . . .]
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Thursday, June 10, 2004

   Cream Filling & Nougat: Third Helping (Chapter XIV)
[Ah, here we go . . . as I write this, I'm tired, it's late, and I have NO idea what I'm about to type . . . . . should be fun, eh? I'm gonna guess . . . this'll take me . . . . an hour and a half. Let's see what happens!]


The office still had its blinds closed to the outside hallway, though the makeshift sign had since been replaced with a new lined paper sign that read "Most Likely In Bad Mood: Enter Only If Life Means Nothing". Nougat had argued that the message was too strong, but Cream had nevertheless opted to write it - if not for anything else but for the cheap laugh it created.

Nougat, meanwhile, was the only man still present in the office. On one side of his desk was all of his old folders and files regarding Sprinkle and his history, while the other side was covered with books and reports relating to his own personal situation. It wasn't the greatest examples of efficient multi-tasking, but for Nougat, it at least kept things interesting during the lulls in communication in his earpiece.

"Hey Whip'," he said through the small device that was hooked through the phone on the desk, "you should still be pretty fresh with your knowledge on law and stuff, right?" Cream replied from his cel phone,
"Come on, I'm not that new to the force . . . I am a sergeant, after all."
"Oh psh, I made sergeant in like, two and a half years!"
"No you didn't, and . . ." Nougat quickly cut him off.
"Are you there yet or what?"

Nougat smiled to himself as he waited for his partner to respond.
"Yeah, I'm almost at the club you told me to check out," he said.
"Perfect," Nougat responded. Shortly afterwards, he heard the sound of Cream's car's engine turning off, and Cream responded,
"Alright, you're eatin' up my minutes enough. I'll call ya back once I'm inside."
"Your reception'll work in there, right?" Nougat asked.
"Ah, don't sweat it," Cream answered, "I've got a signal booster stuck to the back of my phone!" Nougat dropped the pen he was flipping.
"Um . . . Whip'?" Cream chuckled through the phone.
"Yes, I know those things are suck. My phone'll work, though, trust me."

With that, Cream hung up and the older detective was back to his own studies. He had suggested that Cream check out a club called The Cherry On Top because it had heavy connections with Sprinkle and his particular organization. He remembered seeing many things happening behind the back doors, and was hoping that with a little luck such occurances were still happening. Nougat flipped through his notes on The Cherry On Top trying to find something good to tell his partner to check out while he was inside. Aside from which doors to sneak into, there wasn't much else to really tell him unless Cream was able to find something. Still, he wasn't likely to call back for a while, as he was dressed in his regular plain clothes and was trying not to draw attention to himself. Thus, he would have to stand through the usual line outside the entrance.

As about half an hour passed, a funny yet dangerous thought came into Nougat's head. He had always chided Cream on his particular fashion sense, and wondered if maybe the bouncers wouldn't let him in because of it. As problematic as such an outcome would have been, he still kept a mental note to joke about that whenever it was Cream called him back.

Finally, after well over half an hour had passed since the two of them disconnected last, Nougat's phone rang.
"Yo, Noug', I'm in and I just remembered why I never liked clubbing back in the day," Cream said. Around him was a great deal of sound, but he still came through clear as glass.
"There wasn't a hassle in the line, was there?" Nougat asked. "I mean, the bouncer didn't drop you because of your clothes, or . . ."
"Hey, shut up . . ." Nougat paused to laugh to himself again and asked,
"So how is it in there?"
"Well, for one the music sucks, but . . ."
". . that pertains to the job, you 'tard!" Cream took his turn to laugh.
"Just hold on . . . I think I see some well-dressed dudes hoppin' through a door that only staff should be, let me get over there . . ."

As Cream stopped speaking and assumedly was making his way to the rear of the club, Nougat asked,
"It's a door across from the washrooms, right?"
"Uh . . . yeah, it is," Cream replied.
"Good . . ." Nougat flipped through his files. "Okay, now, I think either people have a key, or people know a fancy knock. Now, seeing as I don't know the knock . . . how inconspicuously can you pick a lock?" From the other side of the phone, Cream laughed slightly again.
"Oh man . . . I know I don't need to ask if you're serious or not, but . . . oh man . . . . . how big is the room on the other side?"
"Not too big," Nougat answered, "but it could be packed. Get ready to kick some ass, just in case."
"Sounds like fun . . . alright, I'll see what I can find. Call ya back."

Nougat barely had time to look at things involved in his own case when Cream quickly called him back.
"What the suck?" Nougat said first. "Already?"
"Something like that, yeah," Cream said. "What's up?"
"I'm in the process of losing my job, but otherwise I'm fine," Nougat replied.
"Awesome. Alright, room's been cleared, no one's dead . . . um . . . . . I shooed them out back into the main club area and locked and barred the door. I'm just gonna guess that I'm gonna be assassinated in about two, maybe three minutes . . . what am I looking for and how can I get out of here?"


[Interesting . . . 45 minutes . . . . . alright, maybe this chapter's a little shorter than the others? Hmm . . . well, in any case, I don't know what Cream's supposed to be looking for right now, so I'll let him sweat for the time being (bwah hah hah). Hehe . . . happy reading! And I will TRY to get around to some pages, I promise!]
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Tuesday, June 8, 2004

   Cream Filling & Nougat: Third Helping (Chapter XIII)
A small sign made from lined paper was taped to the outside of the office door. On it read the words "Men Not Wanting to get Fired Working: Do not Disturb" while the rest of the windows had blinds pulled down over them. From the men and women who were earlier able to get a glimpse of the interior, not a word was heard. Not a report was made, nor were any questions asked regarding the events that took place. The entire department was effectively ignoring the small office around the corner and the two men inside.


"Man, Whip'," Nougat said as he burrowed deep into his desk drawers, "you knew you would go down long before I would, trading blows like we were . . . did a better idea not come into your head fast enough?" Cream, who was also looking through his desk drawers while at the same time holding a frozen gel pack to the side of his head, replied.
"Well, I figured I couldn't wait for someone else like 'Mel to set up some sort of mock-rescue to bring us back together that would eventually explode into a serious situation that would in turn force us to . . . well, you've seen that episode, I'm sure." Nougat hummed an affirmation. His search finally proved successful.

"Found it!" he said while pulling out an old folder. "You should be glad I didn't file this away at home or something after all these years . . ."
"And considering the years," Cream asked, "how is it that you didn't?" Nougat cocked his brow.
"I never caught 'im. Didn't feel right to put him with all my closed cases, ya know?" Cream nodded and rolled his chair around to the side of Nougat's desk.
"Anyway . . ." Nougat said as he spread out some papers and photos, ". . . . . this, is Sprinkle." Cream looked at the picture Nougat was tapping.
"Whoa . . . big sucker . . . . . tough, no doubt?"
"Wouldn't know," Nougat replied, "never got a chance to find out . . ." Cream clapped his hands immaturely and hightened his voice
"Ooh! Sounds like story time!" Nougat glared, extended his finger and poked his partner in the forehead.

"So yeah," he started, "I'd been recognised as a detective for about a month when I got assigned to the case on bringing him down. Kinda like now, I was in sort of a squad of officers set to do the work, and, well . . . we wreaked hell. Oh, in the good way, of course . . ."
"Of course," Cream said as he listened attentively.
"So yeah, we do all we can, gathering whatever evidence we can . . . it was a damn slow process, and I hated it for that . . ." Nougat caught himself for a moment, realising what he was saying. ". . . . well, I was young and brash then, and . . . I guess old habits die hard, I guess?" Cream smirked.
"You were young once?! No way!" Nougat's jaw dropped slightly.
"Dude! I'm like . . . eight years older than you . . . . . hey, pay attention!" Cream smiled again and bowed his head subtlely so Nougat could continue.

"I dunno, there's not a lot more to tell about the guy. We kept getting close, but then he'd duck under some laws that were made after other laws so that we couldn't legally touch him. He's like a high class hippie, is what he is . . ." Cream grinned again. He was always fond of the force's context of the word 'hippie'.
"And then one day he disappeared, right?" he said. Nougat replied,
"Eventually, yeah. We finally found a way through the tape and got really close . . . so, he ditched town or somethin' . . . and yeah, that was all about seven, eight years ago." Cream, satisfied with the notes and images, wheeled himself back behind his own desk.

"So if we're lucky," the younger detective said, "all the old locales you have on file will give us something good?" Nougat nodded.
"It's a long shot, but it's still a better shot than before."
"You questioning my ability to shoot, Noug'?" Nougat responded with but another raised brow while his eyes communicated the rest.
"Ya know, I'm still not gonna be able to directly help you with this case."
"I know . . ." Cream started writing out some ideas he had in his mind. ". . . but I'm kinda thinkin' that goin' by what's in the margins of the book will be the best way to go . . ."


[This note is actually off-topic to the story, but I figured here'd be a good point to make a mention that I changed that song in my intro. Now, it's the slow, piano version of the GTO theme song that gets played during all the emotional scenes! Whee!]
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Sunday, June 6, 2004

   Cream Filling & Nougat: Third Helping (Chapter XII)
Later that day, Cream and his team debriefed in one of the spare rooms in the precinct along with some of the ERT leaders.
"Alright," Cream said to the gathered men, "on the whole, we shot down a few gang members, arrested a whole lot more, and shut down another relatively large cryssal producer. Likewise, there were absolute minimal wounded. Sergeant . . ." He looked to one of the ERT leaders. "What was your number?"
"That would have been two wounded, in serious but not critical condition," the specialist answered.
"Good, good," Cream added quietly and drifted into a brief lapse in thought. Before anyone could notice, he continued. "Anyway, aside from losing the bulk of the physical evidence afterwards . . . and I don't blame any of you for that one bit . . . we did a good job. Well done, guys."

Cream asked if there were any final questions - naturally, Officer Pastille was the first to reply to the offer.
"Sir," he asked, getting Cream's attention, "so now that we've shut these guys down, where to next?"
"Uh, that is . . ." Cream choked back a small lump in his throat, mostly unnoticed by the attending officers. ". . . I will . . . I shall have that figured out for next day. Until I call the group for another meeting, just hang tight for a little while." Pastille nodded and leaned back into his seat. Cream just cracked his knuckles behind his back . . .


Nougat looked up from his book as Cream entered the office. Cream sighed as he slumped himself into his chair, making a large display of himself as he did it. After spinning himself around in a circle once, he looked directly at Nougat across from him - he was looking right back.
". . . What?" Cream asked, a slight sharpness in his tone.
"How old are you, seriously?" Nougat asked in as condescending a voice as he could muster. Cream sighed a second time and looked up at one of the far corners of the ceiling.
"Damn it, old man, don't piss me off. Not now . . . " Nougat cracked a mean grin.
"Oh yeah, you must be havin' a real tough day. Are you at risk of losing your job as well?"
"Look!" Cream said, slamming his desk, "if that's all you're gonna do, why don't you just leave the damn office?!"
"It's my office too, and I was here first." Showing another false smile, Nougat looked straight at the younger detective across the two back-to-back desks. "So live with it, or shut up." Cream huffed one last time before noisily pulling out one of his folders.

"So what're you readin', anyway?" Cream asked, killing the brief and eerie silence in the office.
"Municipal laws and codes," Nougat responded. "I'm sure as hell not goin' down without a fight . . ." Cream made some sort of acknowledgement, but the topic quickly died out as the two of them went back to their own studies.

"So . . ." Nougat said, breaking the bothersome silence, ". . . you working on the cryssal case right now?" Cream rolled his eyes up from his papers.
"Yeah, yeah I am. I've got a lot of pieces to pick up after you left the case and I screwed it over once or twice." Nougat didn't even bother to respond to that. The silence recommenced.

"Ya know, it's not like I wanted to leave the case," Nougat finally said after another few minutes of wall-to-wall nothingness passed.
"Yeah, I know, I know," Cream replied. "Just that . . . ya know, we're pretty much stuck here. And having you on the case could've helped a bit . . ." The griping found its way deep into Nougat's mind.
"Oh, I'm so sorry I had to get sued . . . . . geez . . . all you've done is bitch about everything I've done up until now! What's your problem?!"

"Alright," Cream said as he got out of his chair, "alright old man, come over here for a sec, I want to show you how things look from my side for a sec . . ."
"I can see ya just fine from here, detective," Nougat said while his face remainded fixed in his book.
"No, seriously, come on . . ." Cream, meanwhile, had closed the door to the office and locked it, unbeknownst to Nougat. "Just for a second, get your ass out of your book for a second and come over here . . . . ." Nougat, finally incensed, got up and walked over to the open space between the desks and the door.
"Fine, fine, what the hell do you . . ."

Nougat was cut off abruptly as Cream swung his fist hard into the older detective's side. Nougat grunted hard and clutched at his midsection, caught completely off guard.
"What the suck was that?!" he shouted as hard as he could while still gripping his side.
"Trust me, I owed you that," Cream said, stepping towards Nougat, chest out, chin up. With almost no hesitation, Nougat pulled back and swung his right hand at Cream's cheek - he was also quick to notice that the younger officer wasn't ducking away or putting up a guard . . . . . the hook impacted hard against Cream's face, forcing him to take a few steps to his right lest he fall over.

Cream regained his footing and looked back to Nougat - a large grin running from ear to ear, through the fresh redness on the side of his face. Nougat could only stand motionless, puzzled by the other man's actions. Cream, in turn, took advantage of Nougat's hesitation and landed a quick hook against the larger man's temple and forcing him to brace himself against the locked door. Nougat turned around and looked at the smiling Cream once again. Cream's face was still bright red, and his arms were soon stretched out away from his body as well. The man was completely defenseless - Nougat finally understood the point of the exchanges.

Nougat took two quick steps forward and swung his left fist into Cream's stomach. Cream grunted hard through his teeth.
"That one's for losing face in front of the others," Nougat said as he stepped back. After getting rid of the shake in his knees, Cream stepped forward and swung his wholy body behind his right, snapping Nougat's head away once again.
"For being happy that my entire team was wounded," Cream said raspily. Nougat, meanwhile, was already back in form, swinging his left towards Cream's right cheek. After the harsh slap of skin on skin, Nougat added,
". . . for not having faith in me."

Cream's face was glowing from what he figured would become very large bruises on both sides of his face. Still, he rushed forward, laced his fingers together, and hammered his fists into Nougat's solarplexus.
"That one's for calling me Whelp in the hospital," he let out, completely out of breath. Nougat grinned, the slightest hint of blood outlining his teeth.
"That's a lot of payback for some name-calling, don't ya think?" Cream coughed as he laughed lightly and answered,
"Hey, if you can think of something more petty, I think my forehead's still it's original colour right now . . ." Nougat nodded, stepped in, and belted Cream in the stomach again.
"We'll say that one's for your spite when greeting a superior officer, how 'bout?" Cream dropped to a knee and drooped his head. His breaths poured out of him like steam from a kettle.

"Nougat stood firm while Cream continued to force himself back onto his feet. After about half a minute, Cream finally had both soles of his feet against the floor while the rest of him remained in a low crouch. With a guttural cry, he sprung himself forward, swinging his right hand up towards Nougat's chin. Nougat closed his eyes and clenched his jaw while he waited for the uppercut to land. Finally, the knuckles hit and he staggered back. The older officer braced his stagger with his rear leg, but Cream's body continued in it's direction. Cream fell into Nougat and knocked both of them to the office floor. With the back of his head resting on Nougat's heaving gut, Cream spoke softly.
"For . . . . . for getting promoted . . . and . . . . . still being so damned ugly . . ."

Nougat immediately exploded into laughter despite the pain he felt all through his body. That in turn set Cream off, who laid while stille clutching his sides. Nougat reached his hand down and flicked Cream in the nose.
"That's for not being able to think of anything better," he said in between the torturous laughing. Cream coughed again despite his own laughter and tried to hammer his hand against Nougat's nearest knee, saying,
"For . . . um . . . . . for . . . for never breaking your habit of letting out little farts while you laugh . . . now stop tryin' to hide it, old man . . ." Nougat, still unable to contain his mirth, shoved Cream's head off his abdomen and laughed more when he heard the thud of Cream's head and the linoleum tiling.
"Whip'," he said, "you're one insane bastard, ya know that?"

Cream laughed more while he looked up at the window in the door. Outside was a large crowd of officers looking in at the two tired, beaten detectives.
"Fact remains, Noug', I might be insane, but you're still nuts."
"Yeah, I'm fine with that."


[I wonder how long this one went for . . . in any case, it went by really quickly - only about an hour - so I'm happy. Hehe . . . what can I say? I thought it was time to turn this story towards its final stretch or two.]
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Saturday, June 5, 2004

   Cream Filling & Nougat: Third Helping (Chapter XI)
"Ruit, you and Raute are ready in the car?" Cream said into his radio.
"You bet, sarge," Ruit crackled back through the radio. "'Car-R' is ready and waitin'. You just flush out some rabbits for us." Cream replied,
"Trust me, it's the wolves that'll come to save the rabbits you should worry about."
"Just give us the word, sarge." Cream looked across to the other side of the door, where Pastille was holding the other side of the small ram.
"'Stille, you ready?" he asked.
"You heard the others, just say the word," the eager officer replied.

Earlier that morning, Cream and the remaining team members did some scouting and reasoned their way towards their next objective. If all the sources were correct, the small, rented storage space they were about to breach into would be housing another small lab and grow-op. Cream's inability to open the door after picking the outer locks only fueled the hunch as well. Cream spoke into his radio one last time.
"Ruit, Keep ERT on alert, we want them here immediately once we need 'em." Ruit confirmed the order as Cream looked back to Pastille. "Alright, let's put the big key to use." With a sly smile, the two of them swung the small, metal ram back and slammed it into the door. With a deafening punch, the reinforced door gave way and the now-broken padlock dropped off from the inside of the door.

"Police! Don't move!" Cream shouted as Pastille and himself dropped the ram and drew their sidearms. Just as they had suspected, there were several tables with assorted glassware, burners and industrial chemicals laid out on them. The three men in the room, meanwhile, remained completely stunned and complacent. "'Stille, you watch them while I look around. Going by the timing last time, we've got about five minutes to snoop around before the firework show." Pastille nodded and herded the cryssal producers into a corner of the crowded storage area.

Cream immediately began taking pictures of the setup as quickly as he could while he bagged as many traces of anything that he could. Cream even began to smile a little as he continued to grab at everything within arm's reach. The entire operation was going extremely smoothly . . .

"Sergeant," Ruit said shortly afterwards through the radio, "just so you know, I just told ERT to come around the block to help us." Cream stopped his gathering.
"Already? Why?"
"Well, um . . . they're already here . . ."
"What?!" Cream checked his watch - only about two and a half minutes had gone by since the initial entry. Nevertheless, a gunfight was definitely breaking out outside. Cream froze momentarily, trying to regain his grasp on the situation, especially since he hadn't gathered nearly as much evidence as he was hoping to.

"'Stille!" he ordered to the other officer, "help ease those other guys' suffering until ERT gets here! It shouldn't be long!" Pastille nodded and poked his head out the door, firing. Cream, meanwhile, was still trying to figure out what he needed to do at the moment. There was a firefight happening outside with his team, yet there was still a great deal of important evidence that needed to be taken. Of course, there were also the three casually dressed men in the corner as well. After another brief hesitation, Cream ran towards the door to check on his team, shouting all the while. "'Stille! Wait! Get back here!" He was already long gone, though.

Once Cream was finally able to poke his head out the door, he was shocked at the number of vehicles and men outside. The gang members were at least double the number he had faced prior in the week at the construction site, though the ERT numbers were also just as great - a fortunate logistical guess on their part. As it was, the ERT members had all arrived as quickly as Cream could have hoped, and had already forced most of the gang members to surrender. Scanning the crowd, he also saw Pastille, Ruit, and Raute all healthy and energetically slapping each other. Content with his team's safety, Cream breathed a needed breath to calm himself down.

It was then when he heard the sound of breaking glass. Cream snapped around to see the three men pouring large quantitites of alcohol out of plastic containers over the tables and lighting them on fire - especially the ones with papers. Cream swore hard when he realised that he had completely forgotten to search for documents, and could only stop from immediately shooting all three men as the various notes were whisked up by the burning air and vaporised into nothing.


[So yes, a day late, but what can ya do, huh? Hehe . . . I shall try as best I can to get the next chapter in tomorrow. If my plans work out, tomorrow should be good . . .]
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