Sunday, June 27, 2004

   Cream Filling & Nougat: Third Helping (Chapter XXII)
[Hokay! Home stretch! Let's put this blasted thing to pasture already! As always, thank you all for your patience and your ability to not judge me for not visiting and posting like I should be.]


The battle outside raged on, with gunfire sounding off from every conceivable angle. Though anxiety was easily making its way through the many men in the small carnival stand, Hennig remained calm and collected. Cream, meanwhile, remained tied down with his ever-bold smirk decorating his face.
"Alright," the weakened detective said, "now, I'm thinkin' that by the volume of fire out there, there's probably a lot of cops out there. One way or another, you're all toast . . ." Hennig interrupted the snide speech with another punch to Cream's temple. Though slightly dazed from the blow, Cream still retained his smirk.

". . . now, right now you might be stuck with the whole drug dealy thing and maybe attempted murder based on all the gunplay out there. That'll net ya some years . . . . ." Hennig threw a cross straight at Cream's nose, giving way to a wet, audible slap that stung the ears of everybody who heard it. Cream didn't bother to raise his head - his smirk remained. His lips started moving again.

". . . of course, actually going through with murdering a cop is gonna give ya life, no questions asked. And don't think someone won't notice the bloody chair with rope all around it, 'cause they will . . . . ." Hennig threw his foot forward and heel kicked Cream in the sternum, knocking him and the chair he was on backwards to the ground. Cream couldn't help but break his front and wheezed in between coughs. More blood was tossed up from his throat.
"Someone kill him already!" Hennig shouted. Another wave of clicking slides washed through the stand. Though, after Cream's speeches, most were still slightly hesitant. Hennig screamed again. "Do it!"

Cream left his eyes closed as he heard footsteps close in around him. Still, his smirk remained, for beyond the footsteps he also heard the sound of an accelerating engine. Through his smirk, quiet words passed . . .
"bada bing . . . . . baaah-daaaaaaaaah . . ."

The speeding ERT van tore through the corner of the stand like a lance. Within the hurricane of flying wood chips and plush dolls, there was nothing but chaos. Most of the startled gangsters had long since dove to the ground. Others, not quite as lucky, were sprawled on top of each other, having taken either direct impact from the speeding van or wooden shrapnel from the walls. Cream turned his head to the side to look. In front of him was a bed of barely moving bodies and the structural supports for the roller coaster behind them - the outside sky seemed curiously brighter to him, for whatever reason.

Some of the gangsters were slowly getting up, but not before a metal cylinder was tossed into the remains of the small stand. Cream recognised the device for what it was and turn his head away while shutting his eyes as hard as he could. The flashbang in turn exploded, ringing Cream's ears unmercifully and lighting up the inside of his eyelids bright red. Though his hearing was now strained, he could still make out the screams of the other men who had with little doubt taken the full flash along with the deafening explosion. As his hearing slowly returned to him, Cream heard a new noise that permanently sealed the smirk on his face . . .
"Police! Stay on the ground! Don't move . . . . ."


Nougat untied his battered partner and lifted him up to his feet.
"Dude, you look like spit," he said, smiling. Cream draped his arm over the back of Nougat's shoulders and slumped in.
"They hit me a lot, what the suck do you expect?" he replied in between his pained laughter. "And what the suck took you so long, old man? They tenderised me!" Nougat laughed himself and put his arm under Cream's side to help him out of the mass of surrendered gangsters.
"I dunno," the veteran detective said as he shrugged, "next time don't get captured."
"I hate you . . ."
"Not as much as you hate being rescued by me, I'm sure . . ."

Nougat carried Cream out past Ruit and Raute who had submachine guns trained on the men in the tattered carnival stand. Around them at different points, Schotse, Losanje and Pastille looked outwards, offering peaceful alternatives to the park's remaining exterior gunmen that were trained in their rifle sights. In the distance, sirens sang their songs, heralding the reinforcements and medical aid.

As flashing lights neared them, Cream looked to his partner and started speaking.
"Hey, Noug' . . . . . now, don't get me wrong, because I'm damn appreciative of not getting hosed and all . . ." Nougat shook the very loose detective lightly.
"Ya know, it's very poor manners to keep other waiting . . ." he said.
". . . . . you're on probation right now . . . isn't this gonna mess things up like, big time for ya?" Nougat chortled.
"Priorities, Whip', priorities . . . we'll worry about the other crap later. Meantimes, let's go see if those ambulances aren't here yet or not . . ."


[Hmm . . . well, gotta tell ya, this one changed from the game plan a little bit. I think it changed for the better . . . . . 'cause let's face it, I looooove beating up these poor guys. Mwah hah hah . . . it's the Die Hard in me, what can I say? Oh, another note: you should see me when I re-read these things after a day or so. Now and then I'll just go, "whoa! Bad grammar! Bad grammar!" or "ah! Awkward!" Hehe . . . yeah, 'Modify Posts' is your friend . . .]
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