Wednesday, April 20, 2005

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


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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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