Monday, May 17, 2004

   Prologue:
[myOtaku Presents . . .]

The downtown districs were ablaze with people and noise as the crowd haphazardly made its way down the evening streets. No one knew exactly when the mass of violence grew or where it started. Not that it mattered to those outside that mass, who had much more immediate concerns. Car alarms were screaming as windows were smashed in, while mailboxes and garbage bins were torn out from the concrete and hurled through buildings. All the while, police and news helicopters constantly hovered about, recording everything that was happening. The riot had long since achieved civic status as the city's worst ever, and was well on its way towards national infamy.

Riot squads were dispatched all around the region, holding back the excited crowds as best they could. The men and women behind the heavy suits and shields were definitely doing an astonishing job holding back the waves of bodies and suppressing the especially violent ones, but they all knew these moments were minor victories in what could easily become an undending night. It wasn't from a lack of training or effort that had the officers worried: it was the severe lack of numbers. The department had unfortunately been forced to make cut-backs over the course of the year, and the amount of men trained and equipped for the matter at hand was simply an impossible figure to make. Thus, few options remained; the squad leaders made the request for all available officers.

[A SomeGuy Story . . .]

Within minutes, various cars from all sides of the city were funneled into the downtown area, adding manpower to crucially stretched out areas. An unmarked car was one of the first to arrive at the worst of the resistance.

The two men got out of the car and ran towards the sergeant in command of the squad struggling desparately to hold back the swarm of men.
"Sergeant Hall!" one of them shouted, getting the officer's attention.
"Oh, perfect!" Sergeant Hall shouted back, a smile gleaming through his eyes. "Glad to see you two, and not a moment too late."
"Where's the worst of it?" the other man asked while tucking his tie under his shirt.
"The worst of it is a couple blocks down at Heather," the sergeant replied, "but leave that to the regulars, I don't want you two going in equipped the way you are." The two officers looked at each other. Neither man was wearing more than a snugly fitting flak vest; indeed, neither man was even wearing a standard officer's uniform. The two then looked down the block towards Heather Street, where a large group of men were now climbing on top of the parked cars.
"Sarge," the first man said, "you know we've never done anything anyone has ever suggested to us. We'll come get you later." Hall tried to protest, but knew it was all useless. He nodded for the two of them to go.

"So, Whip," the officer asked his partner, "whadaya say we let ourselves come over to those bad boys over there?"
"I'm definitely curious as to what they're gonna do, Noug'," the other officer said. Thoroughly entertained by their incredibly stupid humour, the two of them ran down towards Heather Street.

[Detective Cream Filling . . . "Whip" . . . . .]

A thinned-out group of riot officers was already there, trying to take down the offending people while at the same time taking precautions not to drown under the violence. Cream and Nougat stopped briefly in shock as they took in the image of the rioters up close: they were incredibly violent, thrashing at the riot shields and shrieking incoherent noises.
"What the suck is going on?" Cream tried to ask before he quickly found himself on the defensive. One of the rioters had broken through the shield wall and was charging, head down, directly at the younger officer. Cream deftly sidestepped the man, grabbed him by the elbow, and swung him around until he was lying prostrate on the pavement. "Noug', you better be watching my ass!" he shouted while climbing on top of the struggling rioter, zap-strapping his hands behind his back.
"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't ya?!" Nougat shouted back as he grappled with another man, stepped forward and tripped him to the ground.
"I'd like . . . nothing . . . . . . better!" Cream retorted, getting back up and adjusting his collar.

Cream scanned the street trying to find more immediate emergencies. He was rewarded with the sight of the rioter with the glowing hand next to the leaking, overturned car across the street. Cream called to his partner.
"Noug', I think we got an explosion-in-progess!" Nougat looked where Cream was pointing.
"Oh, carbecue, awesome . . ." Nougat pulled on the zap-strap, taking another rioter out of the equation and got back up. "Fire begets fire . . . Whip, I'm goin' in, get your flamethrower out!" Cream nodded and they both ran towards the potential explosion, drawing their pepper sprays in the process.

Nougat laterally passed his pepper spray to his younger partner, who immediately started suppressing the crowd as best he could with both devices hissing like angry animals. Just before the man could drop the burning book of matches into the small flowing stream of dark liquids, Nougat grabbed his hand and harshly slapped the burning paper rectangle away from the car.
The man immediately began to explode in a torrent of vulgarity that only helped to pour fuel onto Nougat's ire.
"Piss off, pig!" the rioter spat out.
"Drink some water, retard!" Nougat spat back before tossing the man down hard against the road - the man continued to roll backwards, slammed his head against the pavement, and didn't get back up.

[Detective Nougat . . . "Noug'" . . . . .]

"Noug'! Fireproof at 2 o'clock!" Cream warned as another heavily cursing man ran through the aerosol spray. Nougat, fuming, stepped forward and grabbed the thin man by the shoulders. He yelled as loud as he could,
"Dude! Cool it!"
"Man, don't touch me!" the rioter yelled back as his limbs bit into Nougat's sides. The older cop stumbled backwards as he was resisted, and fell when his heel caught the curb. Upon hitting the sidewalk, he looked at the man rolling off of him; some lines of blood were dripping out the corners of his mouth. Nougat also noticed a dark stain of blood on the shoulder of his jacket.

The older officer got up and noticed that many of the rioters had now made a makeshift circle around the overturned car. Cream had noticed as well, as the less-hysterical members of the riot stood around himself, his partner, and the two other men. The one was still rolling around the street dazed, coughing and wretching. The other was touching his face with one hand while palming the ground with the other. Eventually the bleeding man got up and extended his open hand directly in front of Nougat; two sanguine teeth rolled back and forth in the man's palm.
"You're done for, pig," he muttered, shoving his dislodged teeth forward, "you're done for . . ."

Cream holstered his pepper spray, tucked the other one under his arm, and stepped behind the bleeding rioter, taking out another zap-strap from his belt.
"Look," he said, "teeth or no teeth, you're under arrest, buddy." The man clearly wasn't interested in his detainment at all, as he continued to shout to the crowd around them.
"Look what he did!" he shouted as the other rioters jeered and booed. "Look what he did!" Nougat sighed a deep sigh and looked to Cream.
"And this week started off so well . . . . ." he said.

And with that, the fight continued . . .
The night continued . . . . .



Cream Filling & Nougat: Third Helping


(Yeah, I don't know what compelled me to stylistically do it like that . . . but hey, if it gets the job done, right? Ahh . . . so yeah, here we go again, I guess . . .)
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