Friday, June 4, 2004

   Cream Filling & Nougat: UM . . . . . . . NOT JUST YET . . . .
I was out at a band concert tonight at the high school. There's a tradition where all the alumni who've graduated can come back to play this one song (always ends up as a trainwreck, but it's part of the fun).
Funny story to add to that, though. The senior concert band was playing a "The Empire Strikes Back" medley, and they were inspired by actions a friend and I did about five years back (we had a lightsaber duel in the orchestra pit in front of the stage).
WELL, since the seniors had to play, some of them asked if we could help them out . . . . . long story short, I was dressed up in long black capes and a red lightsaber, my friend (who I fought back in the day) was dressed in white and given a blue lightsaber, and another alumnist and my brother (also alumnist) were given toy blasters.
Once the song got to the "Imperial March" section, we all made our way from stage left, shooting and fighting each other for a little while. Eventually I get my hand chopped off, my buddy gets shot by my brother, and we got the hell off the stage. So yeah, goes to show that even after you've graduated, you can still do much for your old high school!

Aaaaaaanyways, I can't think of anything to write right now. So, to make up, I'll do two days in a row after this, 'kay? That, or I'll try to write later today. Meantimes, you all have a good day, now . . . teh heh heh, gomen ne.
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Wednesday, June 2, 2004

   Cream Filling & Nougat: Third Helping (Chapter X)
[This is great, because I'm about to start writing old-school style again . . . that, of course, meaning that I have NOTHING concrete planned anymore! Hehe . . . yeah, I got lazy with my outlines . . . . . let's see what happens, eh?]


"Chief! You've gotta be kidding! There's gotta be a better ranking person to take this than me!" Cream said as he slammed his palms down onto the desk before him.
"Ya know, I wish I were kidding," the chief replied as he motioned for the young detective to remove his hands, "but the fact remains that we don't have the manpower to be picky about these things, and you already have experience in this particular case."
"No way!" Cream shouted back, visibly bothered with the whole situation. "Yeah, I worked on it a little before, but I want nothing more to do with it! Come on, chief, there's gotta be like, a murder or something I could be investigating right now or something, right?" The chief thought for a moment and answered,
"Actually, now that you mention it . . . . ." Cream breathed a breath of relief. ". . . we still need to find out what happened to Lieutenant Valdez. Alright Cream, you can do that." Cream sagged his shoulders again, knowing he had been beat. "You already know who your team is, now hurry up and finish this job. And stop complaining."

Cream, dejected, exited the chief's office and made his way towards his own. Before he entered, though, Nougat made his way out and the two of them nearly ran into each other.
"Oh!" Nougat said quickly before the surprise left his face.
"Lieutenant," Cream said inhospitably as he made his way around the older detective, never once making eye contact. Nougat grumbled out harsh obscenities before rounding the corner, getting far away from the office. Cream ignored the comments, and buried them under his other thoughts before sitting down at his desk.

Cream called the three remaining, uninjured members of the team into the office. While he waited for them he kept trying to think of how he was going to approach the investigation. Aside from some names which only Nougat had knowledge of, they still had essentially no good leads. As it turned out, Cream's previous problems with Nougat's non-plans only made it so that Cream was forcing himself to come up with a highly detailed, relatively safe approach . . . . . this, of course, was impossible for him to think out in the time he had at the moment.

"Sarge, you called?" Pastille said as he stuck his head through the door.
"Wha . . . huh?" Cream snapped out of his thoughts and answered. "Oh, right, yeah. Uh, get in here." Pastille hid his reaction to Cream's absentmindedness and took a seat along the side of the office. Shortly afterwards, Ruit and Raute entered and sat as well. Cream quickly filled them in on the situation, though he didn't need to explicitly outline the situation with Nougat - that was already common knowledge throughout the entire department.

"So . . ." Cream said, still trying to think of a plan, "we've got records on most of these names, I'm sure, so . . . we'll go to the regular hangouts, and try to hook our way up the ladder. We won't spread ourselves too thin, and we'll take it a little slow, but I think we'll be alright." Pastille spoke first.
"So it's a bit like what we were doing before, right?"
"No!" Cream replied quickly, "No, we're not doing this like we did before. All of us are gonna get in there and all of us are comin' back out, ready to go out again the next day. I'm gonna make sure of that . . ."

The moment he said it, Cream knew he wasn't putting on an especially strong front before the three hardened officers. He couldn't help it . . . he simply wasn't as experienced as some of the other officers, and knew he was in way over his head.
"Alright," he said, "we'll get together again tomorrow morning, and I'll have our first spot picked out. Clear? Okay . . . see ya then."

After the office cleared out, Cream dropped his head into his propped up hands and sighed, frustrated with just about everything that had happened over the course of the week. It was then when he noticed the two small holes in the back wall. He got up from his desk and walked over to the wall.
"Well Noug'," he said to himself as he touched the marks, "at least you couldn't possibly be doing any worse than I am right now . . ."


[Ya know, I'm starting to think this one might be the longest Cream Filling & Nougat story yet . . . I wonder . . . . .]
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Monday, May 31, 2004

   Cream Filling & Nougat: Third Helping (Chapter IX)
Nougat shouldered his way through the front doors of the precinct the next morning. As the doors swung shut the shouts and chants of the gathered crowd outside filled the small hall, causing everyone present to look towards the entrance.
"I am really getting tired of people waiting for me outside those doors . . ." Nougat muttered as he made his way towards the interior of the precinct. Most of the officers gave a form of consolation to him as he passed, though there was little that could be done to change his mood.

Nougat had just finished pouring himself a cup of coffee when an officer called him to the television in the upper corner of the large office area.
"Nougat," an officer said to him, "the news is talkin' about ya." Nougat grumbled lightly and made his way to the table of gathered men and women. Sure enough, the morning report had a quick note of the lawsuit and of the people involved.
"Oh geez, I don't wanna watch this . . ." Nougat said, turning away from the screen. Still, he remained in his place.

The report went on to show a clip of Nougat walking out of the precinct the previous night, looking not especially content with himself. As the reporter gave the facts he had, the segment went on to an interview with the as-referred victim.
"I haven't been able to work for the past two months, and my dental plan is really stretching what I already have," the man said into the microphone. "I feel that that officer was out of line and well beyond his authority, and I think that demanding compensation is more than acceptable in this situation . . ."
"This is such bunk!" a young officer exclaimed. "He was in that friggin' riot, walkin' in it and parading in it! He shouldn't be getting off like that!"
"No kidding, huh?" another officer said. "It's like people have forgotten that we're the good guys . . ."

As the news segment finished up, the gathered officers immediately went on with their own conversations.
"Ya know, I hate the media . . ." another sergeant said. ". . . they're even worse than the damn hippies that do all the stupid stuff because they tell other people that the hippies are right . . ." Another officer responded to the comment quickly.
"Hey, isn't calling people hippies sort of something you shouldn't be doing?" The sergeant responded,
"What the hell do I care? I'm never gonna be able to talk about them out there and it'd probably be unhealthy for me to keep these feelings bottled up, wouldn't you say?" Several of the officers laughed at the comment.

As the laughter died down, another younger officer spoke up.
"Did I ever tell you guys about this thing that happened at a train station some weeks back?" She began to get up to face the small group of officers as they replied in the negative. "Anyway, there's this windshield-caddy guy down in one of the train stations, causing some sort of a disturbance. All the local transit guys . . . you know, the ones that wear the blue coats . . . well, they're trying to calm this guy down. Of course, he doesn't calm down and proceeds to punch one of them in the stomach . . ."
"Ooh boy, here we go . . ." someone said as everyone sat attentively to the story. The officer continued.
"So, naturally, Nihil and I get called in to take care of it. When we get there, two other guys are already there . . . it was, uh, Veras and Aequi who were there . . . anyway, they had already pepper-sprayed him and were trying to hold him down. Meanwhile, he's still thrasing around, swearing, spitting, ya know . . ."

By this point a few other officers had stopped to listen in on a story many of them had already experienced in one form or another.
"So anyway, we get a hold of the guy's ID and Nihil gets sent to run his name. And well, he's still screaming and kicking all over the train platform, so I got in and grabbed his legs as best as I could while the others got his arms and tried to cuff him. He keeps fighting, I get kicked in my upper thigh, leaving a shoeprint about an inch away from my fly . . . SO glad I'm not a guy, by the way . . ." More officers laugh. ". . . but yeah, all the while, a big crowd of people have gathered around us as we tried to keep this guy from spitting into our eyes . . . I mean, who knows what kind of crap could've been in his spit, right?"

The gathered policemen nodded as she continued.
"Anyway, what was the point . . . . . oh yeah! The crowd!" The officer began gesturing with her hands to describe the mass of people that were there. "So yeah, there's the three of us swarmed on this dirty, violent dude, trying to restrain him. And what's the one thing we can't help but hear from the wonderful bystanders all this while?" Everyone nodded, knowing exactly was was coming next. "Hey, that's police brutality! You can't treat a human being like an animal! You can't do that! And so on and so forth until we all wanted to puke . . . . . of course, we didn't say anything, or puke . . . but yeah, I mean, what the suck is wrong with these people?!"

The office space was immediately filled with other officers expressing their various grievances with people and the media to each other. Nougat, meanwhile, quietly finished his coffee completely unnoticed by everyone in the room and got up. As he turned towards the direction of his office, he saw what looked like Cream heading towards the chief's direction. He didn't think much on it, though, and quickly looked away in fear of potential eye-contact that might have occurred. He discreetly made his way to his office and closed the door, shutting out the stories, the news, and all the protesters in his mind.


[Hehe . . . yeah, that ending didn't really go anywhere . . . . . ah well. So, I'm sure by now you've all noticed that some personal views of mine have bled into this story. What can I say, my bro's a cop and he sees a side of things that we mostly miss because that's not what people want to report. In fact, the story the one cop tells is one my brother once told me! In any case, it sure makes for some neat chatter though, ya figure?]
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Saturday, May 29, 2004

   Cream Filling & Nougat: Third Helping (Chapter VIII)
"How?!" Nougat said, angered, "How the hell does this happen?! And why now, of all times?!" Nougat placed his fingers along the sides of his head as he let his elbows drop to his desk.
"That's a free government for ya," Sergeant Rato said from the doorway, "it's good for lotsa things, but there's still the odd man who'll shake it for all it's got." Pastille, who had driven Nougat back to the precinct from the hospital, broke his silence and looked towards the internal affairs officer.
"Yeah, thanks for that sarge," he said, "you're just know exactly what t' say t' brighten a mood."
"It's my job!" Rato said back, taking offense. "Like it or not it's what I'm required to do, and not doing it right would get us all in more trouble than we're already in. Don't you get that, 'Stille?"

"Alright, cool it, everyone," the chief said from the side of the opposing desks, "we're all on the same side here." Pastille and Rato both calmed down and nodded towards each other. Nougat, meanwhile, remained silent, eyes staring at nothing in particular. The chief resumed his speaking. "Okay, so we got a guy from the riot three months ago suing the precinct, specifically Lieutenant Nougat, for use of excessive force resulting in the loss of time away from work, teeth, peace of mind, yada yada yada . . . thoughts? Anyone?" The office remained quiet for a brief moment.
"People are stupid," Pastille said, breaking the silence once again.

Though the precinct in the evening was generally quite active from all the activity required by the city, tonight seemed eerily calm, which left the four men in the small office quite agitated.
"Seriously!" Pastille said, getting up from Cream's chair, "the entire city is going monkey-crap, we go in there and try to calm it all down, and one of the monkey-crappers gets upset at what he brought down on himself?!"
"According to the guy," Rato said, "he got mace in the face before he did anything." Pastille scoffed, not buying any of it.
"He was probably doped up on light like all the others in the riot, so . . . his his memory of how it all happened is probably sketchy at best!" The chief stepped in.
"If that were the case, he wouldn't have had the clearness of mind to sue the precinct. No, he was clean." The chief stopped and noticed Nougat saying something. "What was that?" he asked.
"Not doing anything . . . well, it wasn't not doing anything at home during it all, for one . . . . ."

"Look, Nougat," the chief said, "you're one of the best men here . . ." Nougat took his head off his hands and looked over, a dishonest smile over his face.
"But?" he returned. The chief continued.
"But . . . . . even you won't be able to handle something like alongside your own responsibilities . . ." Nougat nodded quickly in understanding and stood, chin up.
"I won't need the blindfold, chief, just shoot . . ." The chief was caught off guard for a moment before realising what Nougat really meant.
"Nougat, I'm taking you off the cryssal case."

Again, Pastille was the first to say anything.
"What?! Sir, don't you think that's a bit drastic? I mean, the dude's probably being a retard anyway, you can't take the lieutenant out of the picture, especially when he's so close to . . ."
"'Stille, shut up," Nougat said, freezing the junior officer in his place. "He's right in doing this. Even if the guy's just being a a complete ass-clown . . . and going by what I remember of him, he is . . . the media'll chew this one up and regurgitate it everywhere else. And the last thing we need is the precinct going down for what this can save." Pastille stood, silent. He knew what kind of a job he was getting into, but never expected the fringe benefits to affect him so quickly in his career.

"Swearing to serve and to protect the people who in turn find every reason to hate you for doing it . . ." Rato said before he turned around and started heading into the hallway.
"Hey, Rato . . ." Nougat said, catching the sergeant before he was able to disappear from view. ". . . . . if you're suggesting that I dress up in a spandex spider outfit and fight crime, I'm gonna hafta veto that." Rato smiled, trying not to laugh for sake of etiquette.
"Good night, Nougat," he said before finally leaving the office.

"I should get going too," the chief said, rising from his seat. "I'm sure I've got some other poor officers who need to be beaten up about something stupid . . ." Nougat grinned. ". . . Constable Pastille, you need to get going too, don't ya?" Pastille snapped out of his frozen state.
"Huh? Wha'? Oh, I don't really need to . . . . . . . . you're right, chief, I do have somewhere I need to be right now. Lieutenant, I'll catch ya later." Nougat raised his fingers in acknowledment. The chief hurried Pastille out the door. Before leaving himself, he turned back to Nougat.
"Nougat, lots of officers have been charged before you. Some got hit, some got out. You . . . you'll get out." Nougat allowed another smile to come to his face.
"I'm gonna tell everyone you said that, chief."
"Yeah, you do and I'll bust you down to constable so hard you'll be drivin' on the wrong side of the road for weeks." Nougat continued to smile. "Good night, lieutenant."

Finally alone in the office, Nougat let the smile linger on his face as he leaned back into his chair. He breathed in and out deeply as he stretched himself out, and settled back into the silence of the office. The flourescent lights were humming softly, being the one constant sound in the entire room, and Nougat couldn't help but notice them. As he continued to sit, the humming was all he could focus on . . . it was all he could do to keep from thinking about anything else. As the humming resonated in his head, he looked across his desk to Cream's. Like its missing occupant, the desk seemed especially quiet as well. Indeed, to Nougat, the entire office seemed too voluminous, too quiet.

Nougat got out of his chair, walked towards the back wall, and after pausing a short moment to listen to the ever crescendoing hum of the lights he let go . . . . . he punched the wall as hard as he could, breaking through the plaster with his largest knuckles.


About half an hour later, Nougat was finished with the last of his work and headed out the precinct doors. Immediately, a volley of voices shouting his name hit him, catching him completely off guard.
"Detective Nougat! Detective Nougat!" the first reporter shouted, forcing a microphone in front of him. A second microphone quickly followed, and a third. Within seconds, Nougat was surrounded by news reporters and cameras as he walked away from the building. He knew it was going to be another long week . . .
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Thursday, May 27, 2004

   Cream Filling & Nougat: Third Helping (Chapter VII)
"Yo, Whip'!" Nougat said as he chased after bothered young officer. Cream, however, refused to acknowledge the call and proceeded to broaden his strides - Nougat followed suit. "Whip'! Hang on a sec'!" Nougat finally broke into a quick jog and grabbed his partner by the shoulder and swung him around. "Cream," he said, "somethin's up and I wanna know what."
"Don't you have more important things to sort of somewhat plan, Noug'?" Cream said. Nougat closed his eyes momentarily as he exhaled.
"Okay . . . I think we've got a problem . . . . ."

The two of them scooted to one side of the hallway as a nurse with a cart made her way through.
"Alright," Nougat started, "screw the rank thing, we both still share an office. What's goin' on, man? That wasn't cool what you did in there."
"I know," Cream said, "and . . . I'm sorry. I shouldn't have contradicted you in front of the team, that was unprofessional of me . . ." Nougat cut back quickly,
"Well, screw profession too!" Cream stood silent. "Look, it doesn't take a detective to know that there's something about my approach that you don't like. What is it?"
"You sure you want me to?" Cream asked.
"Try me," Nougat answered.

Cream quickly composed himself and spoke.
"To be honest, Noug'," he said, "I don't like your plan. It's risky, it insults the intelligence of the men we're after, and it's already put three people out of commission for the time being. This 'shortest distance straight line' stuff just isn't good for us . . ." Cream noticed his voice was rising, and paused. "Look, we got the bad guys and got closer to the end of the line, and that's great. But the fact that it took three . . ." He stopped to touch the side of his head. ". . . that it took four walking wounded, one of which was put in critical condition, is just too much, and I can't in good conscience suggest that we continue this approach."

"So that's the problem, Whip'?" Nougat asked, "You're afraid of the risks involved?"
"Just saying that we've been ambushed once because of them and next time we might not be so lucky," Cream responded. Nougat nodded and crossed his arms.
"You've always known that I wasn't the big planner, Whip'. Aside from it being an unrelenting tactic, it also allowed for both of us to think up our own plans on the spot as we saw fit. I thought that would be better for us than mapping out all our moves on sand tables away from the streets . . ." Nougat uncrossed his arms and stretched them behind his back. ". . . I thought you would've liked that aspect of it."
"Well, yeah I guess, but . . . . ."

Cream was cut off when Nougat got a call on the radio.
"Give me a sec," he said as he put his finger to his earpiece. "Yeah, I'm still here . . . huh? Alright . . . . ." Cream looked at him peculiarly. Nougat grinned. "Someone's comin' to see me about something, it seems," he said. "Weird, huh?" Cream smirked.
"Pretty weird, yeah . . ." It was then when a gurney was wheeled through the hallway with a bandaged patient, giving reason for the two detectives to move aside yet again. "Hey, how do you suppose Munt's doing right now?" Cream asked.
"I dunno, they won't let us in, remember?" Nougat answered. "Man . . . that poor bastard . . ."
"Yeah . . . . ." Cream hung on the words for a fair while. After all, it was Munt's wound that caused him to slow his escape and in turn get grazed in the head, and that thought hung heavy with him - they were all there, and they had all experienced the same things in one form or another.

"Noug'," Cream said, the present beckoning him to return, "that team was under my command . . ." Nougat leaned his back against the wall.
"Yeah, they were. And you got them out of there alive."
"Barely, though . . ." Cream said, leaning back against the wall himself. "The fact is, those bullets could have hit anywhere - they could have hit us, they could have hit the ground, they could have hit the air - but regardless, I was responsible for the welfare of that team . . . and even if it wasn't directly my fault, I still failed them in that matter." Cream turned to Nougat, who was already looking at him. "Noug', I never want to fail my team like that ever again."

"Whip'," Nougat said after a heavy breath, "you've got a rank where you need to make decisions. I'm sure you already know the whole officer speech, that people are gonna depend on ya, bla bla bla . . . . . but let me tell you, even the best leaders have their off days. You're not perfect, and no one expects you to be perfect." Cream pushed himself away from the wall and turned directly to Nougat.
"I should have been able to get those guys out of there better, though!"
"You did fine . . ."
"We shouldn't have been in that situation in the first place!"
"But you were, and we got some good out of all the bad and it's too l- . . ."
"We shouldn't have been stirring up the hornet's nest like that!"

Nougat paused, speechless for a brief moment and looked dead into Cream's eyes.
"And so we come back to this . . ."
"Noug', even if your tactics have been able to muscle their way through so far with all our lives intact, this isn't gonna last all the way through . . ."
"Cream, you've never worked against Sprinkle before. He's a tough bastard, and if we're gonna bring 'im down we can't let him breathe for a second . . ."
"Damn it Noug', we keep this up some of us are going to die!"
"It's a risk we're all willing to make as officers of the law!"
"I don't remember the part where it said we'd be ordered to get murdered by gangsters!"
"Oh for the love of god, chill out, Whelp!"

Nougat immediately regretted his words, but chose not to say anything verbally - his expression said more than enough, though. Cream, regardless, remained silent with his brows brought low over his eyes.
"I'm done with this case . . ." he said, turning around and heading towards the outside of the hospital - Nougat didn't follow.

As Cream walked, he passed someone who said hello to him by name. Before he could realise someone had spoken to him, the man had already walked past him, towards Nougat. Cream turned around and looked at the man: he was an officer from the precinct, no doubt about it. It took him a little while to piece it together by the back of his head, but he finally recognised him as Sergeant Rato from the Internal Affairs Department . . . why he was coming to see Nougat was another question . . .

"What?!" Nougat shrieked, immediately getting the attention of everyone within thirty meters. Cream heard it just before going out the door, and turned around to see the internal affairs officer next to the lieutenant.
"What the suck is goin' on over there?" Cream thought to himself quietly.
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Tuesday, May 25, 2004

   A'ight, check this out . . .
So, how's everyone doing? Is everyone who is reading that story thing enjoying it so far?

Anyway, A couple chapters back I was given a request by everybody's favourite Brazilian (hehe . . . you think someone's gonna get upset with me if I keep referring to her like that?). She asked in a nice enough way to slow down the writing a bit so she could catch up and, well, it certainly came out nicer than "OMG are you insane?!"

So, I'm thinkin' I might grant this request. It'll give me a bit more time to think, I'll feel less bad about writing huge, gigantic chapters, and in the long run more people will most likely be able to keep up with this runaway train that I'm being forced to throw down the tracks in front of. Going by comments, I have a feeling this may be the case as well (though I know lotsa people've been knocked out of the game for various reasons like school or sickness or whatever).

So yeah, would anybody have any deathly grievances if I were to switch over to every two days or somethin'? Just checkin'.
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   Cream Filling & Nougat: Third Helping (Chapter VI)
Cream sat demoralized and silent on the simple, wheeled gurney as the doctor applied the last bits of disinfectant and took out the thread.
"Hey, don't worry 'bout it sarge," Losanje said from a chair across from the gurney, "we all got a little banged up, but we got the job done." Cream half-smiled at the comment.
"Cost was a touch pricey this time around, wouldn't ya say?" he asked, staring at the dressings wrapped around Losanje's hand. "And why aren't you resting on your own bed?"
"'Cause we're bored, sarge," Schotse said as he entered the curtained off area, a crutch under each arm. His pant-leg had been cut off and bandages ran around his wound tightly. The leg itself dangled slightly, but no worse for wear. "Sitting alone waiting for nurses to come take your temperature isn't fun." Losanje got up so Schotse could sit down - after a quick exchange regarding ladies first, Schotse was quickly forced down into the chair.

"So why don't you keep Munt company?" Cream asked.
"Doctors wouldn't let me . . ." Schotse answered, ". . . seems a bullet to the stomach is too serious for others to stand around."
"Yeah hey," Losanje said, jumping in, "how is that poor bastard anyway?" To Cream's surprise, Schotse started laughing lightly.
Just as they wheeled him into his part of the E.R., he looked to me and the idiot goes, 'hey, Schotse, I betcha fifty bucks that I can get through the operation wide awake and not freak out!" The young detective couldn't believe what he was hearing - were these people completely insane?
"So what happened?" Losanje asked.
"I couldn't go in, like I said, but from where I was I could hear him . . ."
" . . . . . and?"
" . . . he could've been boinkin' someone in there, for all I knew." Losanje put her face into her hand.
"You don't mean . . ."
"Yup . . . . . 'oh, come on, harder!' 'Give it to me!' 'Is that all you've got?!' It was absolutely utterly improper of him!" Losanje started laughing uncontrollably, almost losing her balance. Cream just sat dumbfounded as the doctor completed the stitches to the side of his head.

"So hey, 'Sanje," Schotse said, looking up at the one officer on her feet, "you're one helluva shot, bad hand or not." Losanje struck a pose.
"Hey, you ain't too shabby yourself, legless." Schotse grinned and extended his fist, which Losanje was quick to pound. Cream breathed in sharply and winced as the needle made a rough pass through his skin. The doctor quickly apologized and Cream went back to his exhausted, agitated demeanour.
"This had to be the worst bust ever . . ." he said quietly. Soon afterwards, footsteps leading towards the sectioned off portion of the E.R. alerted the attention of everyone present.
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Nougat said, smiling from the curtains.

"Noug'!" Cream said. The others made their greetings as well.
"Yeah, my team's already back at the precinct. But then my other team got all shot up, so, now I'm here. Wassup?" Cream felt a touch miffed by the comment, though the others were quick to get a rise from it. "But yeah, you guys did good out there."
"What the suck, man?" Cream said, getting the older detective's attention. "You mean good aside from the part where we all got ambushed by a dozen cars full of bad guys, got shot everywhere except our vests, and lost two cars plus a van full of evidence?"
"Look," Nougat said, in as calming a voice as he could at the moment, "I'm not saying it was the best bust ever, but things did work out in the end."

The doctor had finished stitching up Cream's head and left the room. Losanje quickly took a seat on the gurney and eased her feet.
"Alright, after you guys got the hell out of there - freakishly well, might I add - the E.R.T. guys cleaned up big time. Pretty much every gunman was rounded up in one way or another, and we did retrieve all the vehicles . . . including the van you half-trashed, so don't worry about that." Cream just looked away, to Nougat's unease.

What about that Sprinkle guy?" Losanje asked. "I heard you two saying something about that before the van got lit up." Nougat snapped back to reality.
"Oh, right!" Cream turned back to his partner as the others leaned in. "Okay, so we'll all accept that I'm an old, old man? Well, I've gone up against this guy before . . ." Nougat paused for a moment to think. "He was sort of a low-level smack-runner some years back, but through various backstreet happenings - ya know, killings, dealings . . . dumb luckings - he got up pretty high. After a while, he was doing well enough for himself that he was hiring his own men to go out and handle jobs. And, like all good criminal masterminds, has very little we can physically pin on him. You all saw The Untouchables, right?" Everyone nodded to a degree. "Yeah, kinda like that but with more drinking."

Cream hopped himself off the gurney to stretch himself out. Nougat continued.
"Anyway, I pressed hard and got really close to him. But, at the last minute, he skipped town or something, 'cause we all lost him. That was all about five years ago, I think . . ."
"And so now it's time to nail old ghosts, huh?" Schotse added.
"Something like that, yeah," Nougat said. "So, we're gonna keep drillin' the way we are now. We've got the bastard by the balls and all we need to do is squeeze!" Cream shot around, shock all over his face.
"You're . . . kidding, right?"

Nougat's face went serious.
"Something wrong, sar- . . . . . uhm, what's up, Whip'?" Cream brushed his fingers along his new stitches.
"Now, I don't mean to insult you or your ability to command, Noug', because you have indeed gotten us this far . . . but this shortest-distance approach seems to have been what got us into that firefight in the first place."
"Yeah, they did try to ambush us and we still won and took the spoils." Losanje and Schotse looked to each other and grinned.
"Noug', that was way too risky . . ."
"Sergeant! Cool it, okay? We won, that's what matters right now."

Cream paused and slowed his breathing as best he could.
"By the way," Nougat said, breaking the silence in the room, "you said you grabbed some things out of the van just in case, right?"
"That's right, lieutenant, I pocketed as much cryssal as I could along with the pages from that clipboard." Cream realised how sharply that had come out, but struggled with whether he meant it or not.
"Well, I'd like to put those with the rest of the file, if you'd please," Nougat said. Cream started walking away from the gathered officers and stopped before passing the curtains. "Whip'? A little help?"

Immediately, Cream reached a hand into his pant-pocket and another into his jacket. He then spun around and threw every page and every plastic bag at his partner as hard as he could. Nougat blocked the wave of flying pieces and saw Cream leave the area between the floating leafs.
"You two stay here," he said to the other two stunned officers, "I'll be right back . . ."


[Wow . . . . . it's amazing at how long I can take writing exposition, huh? Crazy . . . . .]
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Monday, May 24, 2004

   Mmm . . . long weekends . . . . .
No chapter tonight. I'm working time and a half tomorrow morning for Victoria Day and I don't think I'll be able to finish what I have planned in the time I have right now. That, or I'm making excuses for writing such a damn long chapter last day(?).

Perhaps I'll write it during the day tomorrow, how 'bout? So yes, gomen ne, no new chapter just yet . . . . .


. . . oh yeah, and last night I washer/dryer'ed my cel phone in my pants. Now it's inoperable. Aren't you proud of me, Red?
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Sunday, May 23, 2004

   Cream Filling & Nougat: Third Helping (Chapter V)
[Yeah . . . . . I think this one got pretty long . . . . . such is what happens when you write action sequences, I find . . .]


". . . aw hell, Valdez's name popped up . . . . . uh, there's a DiBiase, a Heenan, a Hennig . . . . ." Cream read the names into the radio that was held against his shoulder as they popped up on the sheet. Cream still had his suspicions as to just how high up these names were and how big their bust really was, but he was still pretty happy with how things were going. As he continued to read the sheet, he walked around the inside of the large van, trying to pocket as much evidence as he could - of course he still kicked himself for forgetting a camera. He flipped to the next sheet on the clipboard. ". . . a Rude . . . a Santana . . ." Cream paused, looking at the next name. ". . . ah, this name can't be real . . ."
"What?" Nougat asked on the other side of the radio. Cream slid his radio out from between his head and shoulder and took it into his free hand.
"There's . . . . . there's a Sprinkle?"

His teammates outside seemed to be making a little more noise running around the van. Cream knew Nougat was emphatically shouting something through the radio, but couldn't quite catch it as he kept hearing the noises outside . . . noises that sounded like other vehicles . . .
"Did you just say Sprinkle?" Nougat said clearly, grabbing his partner's attention back to closer matters.
"Yeah, I did, what does . . ." Cream jumped as something blasted its way through the van, causing him to drop the radio. He dove to the floor of the vehicle as well as more bullets ripped through the van's sides. The young detective crawled back to his radio and clicked it on. "Noug'! I'll hafta get back to ya in a sec, I think we're in thick and heavy-like right now! Get us some back-up!"

Cream drew his gun and crawled his way to the open back doors of the van.
"Everyone! Where are you?!" he shouted. Losanje was the first one to dive into the van.
"Sarge," she said, "I think we've got some problems . . . about a dozen or two . . . . . with lots of bullets . . ." Losanje stepped back out of the van, peering from behind the open door, and returned fire at someone Cream was unable to see. She slunk back fully behind the door when a bullet skipped off the pavement near her feet. Cream traded places with her and took a peek at what they were working with . . . at least ten cars had made a half-circle around the van, trapping them between men with guns and the large unfinished building behind them.
"A trap . . ." Cream said as he swallowed hard, ". . . we made too much noise so they set a trap . . ."

Cream shouted for Schotse and Munt to get into the van. He could barely make out the sound of their boots on the road amidst all the gunfire and riccocheting bullets - he definitely heard the one grunt, though.
"Sarge!" Munt cried out from around the van, "Schotse got hit! I think in the leg!" Cream swore to himself.
"Munt, Losanje," he ordered, "I want you to get loud with your sidearms . . . now!" The two officers returned fire at the circle of cars, putting shots either through windows or swung-out doors with the experience of marksmanship exams and contests shining through. The change in the opposing volume of fire was slim but enough, and Cream continued tossing himself out and around the van to the wounded officer. "Schotse, how are ya?"
"I can shoot just fine sittin' down," Schotse said with a heavy grimace, "just park me somewhere useful." In any other circumstance, Cream probably would have laughed at the remark.

After unsuccessfully trying to move the large police corporal, Cream took over Munt's position and told him to get Schotse into the van. Cream fired some well-placed shots of his own at the circle of men. He couldn't believe how varied they were in dress; some looked like they were fresh off the streets while others looked like they had just come out of business meetings. Though he couldn't believe it, he still didn't especially care, as they were all trying to kill him and his team.

"Alright, everyone pile in!" Cream commanded, "we're gettin' the hell out of here!" Everyone got into the van and Losanje worked to close the rear doors. Just before she could get the latch closed on the right door, a bullet bounced off the back of it, deflecting straight into her hand. She swore long and hard and fell backwards into the van, banging her shoulder against a desk and knocking over a line of glassware. "Losanje!" Cream shouted from the front seat, head down, "screw the door, just get in and stay low!" He looked to the other passengers in the newly-acquired means of escape and was about to say something else before another close-cutting bullet interrupted him. Cream recomposed himself.
"Munt, you've got shotgun, get up here! Schotse, you just watch that nothing that can see into the back of our ride sees us for long!"

Cream had already pulled apart the ignition port and was madly twisting and touching the wires together.
"Work, damn you!" He was shouting as Munt repeatedly fired through the now-broken side window of the van. "Ah, what the suck?!! Turn on, you blasted piece of . . ." the van roared to life. ". . . heaven!" Cream put the van into gear and slammed his foot onto the gas pedal. As he peeled around, he could hear more glassware falling and breaking, much to the chagrin of the two wounded occupants in the back. Losanje was still cursing her mind off while Cream started driving directly at the leftmost car in the ring. Bullets shattered the rest of the windshield as the four of them continued their approach. It was then when they heard a loud pop come from underneath them.
"Well, there go our wheels," Munt said as he reloaded his pistol.
"Damn . . ." Cream thought hard and quick. ". . . . . okay everyone! Hold on tight! You two in the back, keep your guns trained on that open door and pray I don't kill us!"
"What the suck are you talking about?!" Schotse screamed.
"Sarge!" Losanje shouted, "I hope you know what the fu-"
"Trust me!" Cream interrupted, "and hang on!"

The van steered poorly, considering half of its tires had been shot out. Still, Cream was able to bring it alongside the farmost car. Just before they collided, though, Cream slammed on the brakes hard and spun the wheel, causing the van to swing its rear in a wide arc. His team cursed and swore and continued to as the back of the van smashed into the front corner of the adjacent car, knocking it spinning clear out of their way.
"Munt! Losanje! Open us up a way out!" Cream shouted. Immediately, Munt and Losanje - using her offhand - opened up a hail of gunfire through the open back of the van. The open door had long since fallen off, and the men on the other side of the exit were quickly taken down by the precision shooting by the officers. "Alright, everybody out!" Cream shouted again, leading the way, barrels blazing. Losanje followed shortly afterwards, and Munt soon after her, his arm assisting Schotse's escape. Cream had a sure feeling that he was about to die as the four of them ran across open ground towards the corner of the closest building, back towards the populated side of downtown. By that point all of their guns were dry and there was no good opportunity to reload . . . . . all they could do was run as fast as they could and pray that all would go well . . .

The four of them could hear police sirens; Nougat's back-up had finally arrived, and the amount of bullets flying around them decreased dramatically. Cream looked back to see what was happening, a smile creeping back onto his face. The smile died instantly when Munt fell forward onto his face, dropping Schotse in the process. He stopped and ran back to check on his fallen team members, who still managed to get up on their own power.
"Don't worry 'bout me," Munt said to Cream, "I'll make it around the corner first . . ." Cream nodded and put a hand on both their arms, leading them forward. They were just about to get around the corner of the building when another bullet whizzed through their midst, startling all of them once again. Cream looked back a final time . . . his head immediately snapped around. Swearing to himself again, he put a hand on the side of his head and touched blood. As he started to fall, Losanje grabbed him and swung him around the corner of the building before making sure the rest of the team did the same. From there, the battered team hobbled into the open downtown region, hoping to chance upon some police officers . . . or better yet, upon some paramedics . . .


[So, you guys gettin' excited yet? Hehe . . . . . well, if I didn't bore you to death with this INSANELY long chapter, I thought I'd share something with you guys . . . this is a scanned picture of a couple pages out of my school planner with some of my written notes for "World's Finest". See if you can figure out what parts of the story they're of!

(You might hafta copy and paste this into the address bar. I don't think Angelfire likes hotlinking.)
http://www.angelfire.com/ny3/someguy/images/CreamAndNougatNotes.jpg

That'll be all for tonight. See ya tomorrow!]
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Saturday, May 22, 2004

   Cream Filling & Nougat: Third Helping (Chapter IV)
[Funny sidenote: my brother who is a police officer was recently part of an ERT training exercise (another name for a SWAT-like team) playing both a hostage and a terrorist. In the final exercise, he was waiting in a room, watching a door. Then, the ERT guys came out of nowhere and mp5'ed him with the paint shells. Afterwards a documentary guy asked for them to do it again, and my brother got shot up again (about 13 "bullets" hit him by the end of it). He still has welts and bruises on his back and arms. Hehe . . . . . being a police officer would be fun!]


Nougat crossed off names and added new marks on his map as the car made its way through the downtown area. Ruit and Raute - or as they now affectionately dubbed themselves "The R-Team" - had just radioed in a couple of names which Nougat had already run and referenced.
"Alright," the lieutenant said, "that's more incentive to go down to Nissin Street. You take main and hunker down from the north, we'll wait on the south." After getting Ruit's acknowledgement, he told Pastille to make his way northwards.

"Nougat, come in," Cream said through the car's radio about ten minutes afterwards. Nougat picked up the radio and replied.
"I hear ya, Whip', tell me what'cha know."
"Schotse and Munt just beat a couple names outta some guy on Richmond Street," Cream reported. "Oh, and Munt wants a new shirt waiting for him back at the precinct . . . seems the bastard pulled a knife on him as they closed the gap."
"Perfect," Nougat said, "if he's gonna get that violent, the names must be good, then."
"Perfect . . . interesting choice of words all things considering, Noug'."
"We'll worry about it afterwards, we've gotta keep the press on."

Nougat took the names, compared them to the notes, and added more circles and lines to his map for a moment.
"Alright . . . you guys have narrowed your area down pretty well. Okay . . . . . check . . . the construction site at Pattulo and Surrey. A lot of things on your half of the map seem to be coming out from there."
"Sounds good. We'll be there shortly, El-Tee," Cream said.
"Dude . . . that just sounds weird," Nougat said, slightly uncomfortable with his new accolade. Cream laughed on the other side of the radio.
"Alright, old man. We won't use that one."
"Wiseass."
"And how!" Cream chuckled into the radio again. "Alright, I'll get back to ya. Out."

Another hour passed. Nougat and his squad had just finished off the last of the names on their end - by then they had easily driven around the entire west end of the downtown area once over. Going by his simple calculations, all the bigger operations seemed to be pointing east, near where Cream was headed.
"Wow, I can't believe this has worked so well so far . . ." Nougat said to himself.
"What was that, lieutenant?" Pastille asked.
"Nothing, nothing . . . alright, start heading east, I think we're pretty much done on our end." Nougat picked up the radio again. "Yo, R-team, pickitup."
"Car-R at your service!" Ruit chimed out cheerfully. Nougat rolled his eyes unbeknownst to him.
"You guys are idiots . . . . . start driving eastward, we're gonna try to shorten our outing a little."

Shortly afterwards the radio started up once again.
"Noug', it's me again," Cream said through the sound of wind and such.
"Whip'?" Nougat said, "Where are ya?"
"I'm next to a big van parked just outside the construction site. It's kinda deserted, but from listening to the boys and girl, we've hit something big." Nougat clicked off the radio and whooped quickly to himself before clicking the radio back on.
"This sounds good . . . how big would you rate it?" he asked.
"Well . . ." Cream said, ". . the three of them have their guns drawn, Munt has a knee between a guy on the ground's shoulder-blades, and Losanje is shouting things my mother would find fascinating to hear coming out of a woman."
"Give me something else, those three would do that anyway," Nougat contended.
"Oh, and I think one of them said it looked like a small lab inside."
"That's pretty big, then, yeah." Nougat was excstatic. "Alright, you confirm that and get back to me."
"Just give me a second . . ."

Nougat's car was stopped at a light when Cream radioed back.
"Alright, I'm inside the back of the van," he said. Nougat asked,
"How's it look in there?" Cream paused for a moment before clicking back in.
"Total grow-op in here . . . I dunno, are we allowed to term chemical drugs with 'grow-op'?"
"Details, I'm sure," Nougat replied.
"In any case, it's a total cryssal factory in here. The stuff is everywhere along with about a dozen butchered junior chemistry sets, probably."
"Try to find me some papers, will ya?"
"One moment . . . . ." Nougat listently vigilantly as Cream did whatever he was doing in the van. By then the light was green and the car was moving again. "Alright, I found a clipboard," Cream said, coming back on.
"Great," Nougat said, "what've we got?" Cream started a string of various things:
"Let's see . . . grow charts, grow charts, recipes . . . aw hell, Valdez's name popped up . . . . . uh, there's a DiBiase, a Heenan, a Hennig . . . a Rude . . . a Santana . . . . . ah, this name can't be real . . ."
"What?"
"There's . . . . . there's a Sprinkle?"

"What the suck did you just say?!" Nougat asked, emotions sparked. "Did you just say Sprinkle?!"
"Yeah, I did, what does . . . ." The radio cut off just as a loud popping noise caused Nougat and Pastille to jump.

"Noug'!" Cream shouted, the radio clicking back to life with more popping noises in the background, "I'll hafta get back to ya in a sec, I think we're in thick and heavy-like right now! Get us some back-up!"
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