Wednesday, April 27, 2005

   Nougat: Origins (Chapter VIII)
[This probably won't matter to many of ya, but I started writing this a few hours later than I really wanted to. The brother was playing The Sims, and once he was done I was still playing God of War . . . played this one ridiculously hard area for over an hour and still couldn't beat it . . . bah! I should've been writing! Stupid "God mode" difficulty level . . .]


Though the two constables had already driven past the better half of the warehouses, at the present they seemed to sprawl on for ages as they chased the mysterious character that had ran off on them. As well as the run, it was also well past their scheduled shift, and the eleven hours of duty time were definitely taking their toll - Nougat, most of all.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Nougat muttered as he forced himself to keep running, "this was so stupid to come here, I'm so . . ."
"I get it!" Henry said sternly. "I'll insult you more later if ya want, but we gotta catch this bastard before then!" Nougat grunted and nodded. The warehouses, meanwhile, continued to stretch on.

The gap between the suspect and the two officers was slowly widening, and the constables forced themselves to quicken their pace. But the strain was simply too much for the newer Nougat, and a gap slowly formed between his partner and himself; he pressed himself harder and harder, forcing his legs down and behind him as hard as he could. Still, as much will as he had, Nougat's body simply could not keep up.

A stinging pain shot through Nougat's abdomen, and though he gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the cramp, he knew it was impossible. With that, he lost his footing and fell, rolling across the cold street.
"Go!" the downed officer cried out before Henry could turn around and stop. The other officer snapped his head back forward and began sprinting forward, trying to close the gap between himself and the runner in front of him. Nougat, meanwhile, clenched his fist and slammed it against the ground as he watched from his sideways view how his partner dashed onwards.

The young constable pulled himself into a kneeling position and started to regain control over his breathing. His stomach muscles continued to gnaw fiercely at him while he rested quickly, fearful that his partner would be caught alone in any sort of bad situation.
"Henry, you better be okay," he said to himself as the cramp began to fade. Standing up, Nougat could feel his knees and arms had taken the brunt of his fall, and while he could see that he had skinned several points along the bottom of his right arm, he could only imagine what his legs looked like - he certainly knew what they felt like, in any case.

Nougat ignored the slight stinging sensations under his pant legs and made his way towards the warehouses again. Henry was definitely long gone, but he still needed to finish what poorly planned operation he had already begun. The constable jogged along the warehouses, trying to figure out which one held all the important people, if not items. Each warehouse looked basically identical, and there was no way he could just go up to them and find out their contents, even if hypothetically all the doors were unlocked.

A gunshot in the area sparked Nougat back to the dire state of the situation and he broke into an all out run once again, completely forgetting about any sort of physical weaknesses that may come back to haunt him. Several more gunshots cracked the dead quiet air, including several rounds from what sounded like the service pistol the force used. Nougat picked up his pace and ran towards the direction of the shots.

The shots had stopped well before he could get anywhere near where they would have been, but Nougat was still relatively far from the area. As well, another stomach cramp dared to debilitate him once again; the constable opted to play it safe and dropped to a quick walk. Still, he did not have to walk for long, as he suddenly heard a slamming door and a pair of footsteps hastily making their way around the nearest warehouse. Instinctively, Nougat quickly dashed towards the corner while being careful not to make his own footsteps known. With a bit of luck, the constable put his back to the wall unnoticed and waited briefly.

The exact moment the moderately built man dressed in jeans and a dark jacket flashed into view, Nougat shot his left arm out and made a grab for the back of the man's collar. Unfortunately for the constable, his hand grasped higher than he had planned . . . . . even more unfortunately for the other, however, was that the constable's grasp landed directly on top of the man's head and firmly in his hair . . .

With a yelp, the man's head snapped back and Nougat slammed his hand down hard into the cement, taking the man with it - Nougat wasted no time and went on to deliver a sharp cross to the man's face with his right. After wiping off the loose hairs matted to his hand, Nougat quickly searched the unconscious man's pockets and found a set of keys; again, he wasted no time in taking them to the nearby door and letting himself into the warehouse.

Nougat ducked down the moment he entered the small office-like room that connected the main warehouse with the front door. All along the walls were windows that featured solid columns of crates and boxes behind them. Through the interior door that led into the main warehouse Nougat could hear a great deal of shouting. He wasn't able to make out any words, and made his way closer to investigate, being careful not to make any noise whatsoever. Once at the door, Nougat poked his head around carefully; he spotted at least three men pacing around in the centre of the warehouse - one of which he immediately recognised.

The front door violently swinging in stopped the young officer from listening any harder. Once Nougat turned around to the slamming door and rush of wind, he automatically started reaching for his sidearm when a shot rang out, echoing painfully in the small room and grazing a hard line across the constable's shoulder. As Nougat fell backwards directly into the open warehouse door, he froze as two gunmen entered the office room, weapons trained on his being.

"Boss, We got more than one problem!" the gunman shouted as he kicked Nougat into the centre of the warehouse. Nougat hit the ground face first and groaned again. He could only see directly in front of him, but he already knew there had to be a circle of guns pointing in his direction.
"What about the gunshots outside?" one man asked.
"Sprinkle's still taking care of that one," the first man answered. Nougat let his head drop back down to the floor and clenched his teeth hard while profanity and calls for his death rang out. He knew it; he was done.

"Damn cops," one man shouted, "they ain't wreckin' our job this damn fast!"
"I think we should make this one bleed a bit before we kill him," another commented. Nougat on the ground heard and felt a quick succession of footsteps nearing his position which peaked with a hard kick to his stomach. Clenching his teeth once again to keep from crying out, the young constable listened as his aggressor spoke.
"These damn no-talent ass-clowns," he said, "sending in these kids to get all beat up . . . it's shameful . . . they couldn't even win if they cheated!"

Nougat's attention zeroed directly in on the man standing above him: the string of words all pointed to a face he couldn't see but could still recognise . . . . .


Flint, dressed in street clothes but still acting with nuances unique only to him, grabbed Nougat hard by the collar and yanked him up into a kneeling position. He slapped the young officer across the head back and forth before bringing his own face down to his squad member's, looking him straight in the eye.
"What the hell do you think you're doing here, huh?!" Nougat spat out. "You realise that now you have to die if this deal's gonna go through safely?! Were you thinking about that when you came in here?!"

The words sank hard in Nougat's chest. Though the sergeant was playing a role, his words carried more than enough truth. Nougat remained silent, and Flint dragged him across the warehouse floor and threw him into a wall of crates.
"Hey," he said to the gunman who had originally brought the young officer in, "give me his gun, it'll be fitting this way . . ." The gunman complied and tossed Nougat's service pistol to the undercover officer. Flint then went on to drag Nougat across the line of crates until he reached the end where there was a gap in the wall of crates. Once there, he slammed Nougat's back against the stored wares and pressed the pistol barrel under his chin.
"See," Flint said, a great deal of annoyance in his voice, "now things have to get messy . . . . ."



. . . . . before Nougat knew what had happened, he found himself swung around by his collar, with Flint's gun arm poking over his shoulder; the painful ringing in his ear explained completely what the sergeant was doing with his pistol. As Flint unloaded the pistol into the line of crooks, he swung the two of them through and behind the wall of crates, out of the way of any direct retaliation.

"Holy hell are we in trouble now!" Flint shouted before laughing somewhat inappropriately. The pieces finally fit in Nougat's head, and he quickly took back and reloaded his pistol while Flint drew his own concealed weapon. "Noug', I'm swearin' to ya right now, if we get out of this alive I'm gonna kill you!"


[Heh . . . dang this got long . . . . . if you couldn't tell just from reading the chapter, I was REALLY tempted to cut the chapter off at Flint potentially blowing Nougat away . . . and y'know, for the chapter it would've worked, and would've given a nice little cliffhanger. However, then the next chapter would have to start in a slightly different place which just wouldn't work as well (and I wouldn't get to end on Flint's brilliant line!). Heh . . . that, and often I'm just too damn cruel with my cliffhangers. I had to ease up . . .]
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