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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