Interception-(Urchin)

[Romeo]

“I am sitting in a ******* relic Subaru that I have driven too damn long!” I really believe at this point I could be a candidate for a small clot of unresolved stress shooting straight for my brain, clogging up whatever is behind it and denying me the venous flood that my system needs to survive. The rolling piece of **** I am sitting in will be a fitting coffin. I own it. It's mine and has been since my mom bought it for me for college. So much for staying under the radar until I can cash out at my goal and move somewhere abroad all warm and nice. The pressure in my head builds and I feel it. I am a mess waiting to happen. Three past yearly reviews and accompanying psychological assessments have pretty much pointed it out. “There is no god damned way I own or recently purchased that vehicle.” I pause because this is where I expect… no, I will hear my accountant tell me this is some ******* joke on his end and the meds he is on obviously are not at all what he needs. I yank the keys out of the ignition and wait for it. What I want to hear will be delivered.
“Still there?” He asks. Of course I am. Where in the hell would he expect me to go when he has told me that I have been essentially robbed.
“Yes. How about you? You still there?" I remind him without having to say it that I know where he is 24/7. I can get in anywhere he is right now.
"I am not going to lie. I wish like hell I wasn't because this is the part where I tell you to listen to what I am about to say next.”

A few seconds of silence is followed by what most likely is the rustling of the phonemic his hand and the sudden closing of his office door. All of which I believe to be signs that I am not going to like whatever he has to say next. Comes with the job and the territory. My gut burns thinking about it. I hate when I am right but I want to be wrong. I reach for the inside drivers door handle but don't go through with opening it. Instead I stare at the faint stain still visible where the body landed. Is it another sign? If so I am truly fucked and it isn't looking promising.

“Still with me?” The hushed tone of his voice leaves me tightening my jaws together instead of answering. He knows what I expect to hear. After five years of handling my financial affairs and being paid incredibly well for doing it-he knows what to expect if he doesn't tell me. “Good. Don't say anything until I finish. **** is really bad, Romeo.” He was still breathing because the exhale he dropped was heavy enough I could feel it. “You not only own that car but it seems you have been making some notable and rather generous contributions recently. In fact you even have a timeshare in…” The phone apparently drops as he uses the keyboard. “Sorry about that. Here it is. You have a two year paid up timeshare in Funkley, Minnesota. It is a actual town. I looked it up myself. You also seem to be feeling something for the plight of naked clowns. At least the fifty thousand you dropped in there is going to make a difference. Clowns may be naked but they are doing it for a valid cause.”
“Terrence…” I pull on the handle of the car door and find it catching on whatever is inside the door that has yet to be fixed. I pull again and send the heel of my hand into the door panel just below the window. It sails open then snaps back nearly cracking my left shin since I stuck my leg out like a complete idiot. “I'm going to kill someone. You are going track down who it is with your keyboard and your programs that get you in and find out who the **** is playing with my accounts.” I jack the door of my car so hard that it no longer closes. “I pay you a LOT to protect that nest egg.”
“I am trying! I have been sweating bullets putting all sorts of stops and shifting things around but whoever the hell you pissed off is damn good at this. Our buddy Anderson at the bank just secured it yet again and is working on getting back whatever is salvageable without drawing attention. He said it is like playing and endless game of net chess with the asshole that is doing this.”
“I want it all back. You hear me? Do whatever the hell you need to do. No ******* excuses. You sign whatever needs to be signed and make sure Anderson pulls his strings or I will do what I have to.”

I am feeling the heat and steam rising from my cheeks and ears. When I get like this bad things happen. I am capable of murder right where I am standing on the street and that is not ideal no matter how much I would thoroughly enjoy it. Cars go back and forth until the traffic fades and I get the break I need to start crossing the street. As I do, with cellphone still in use, a flashy car is impossible to miss as it is parked hugging the curb in front of the building. Harper Rock has some serious wheels parading around just like it does flawless timeless beautiful bodies. So the pricy machine isn’t exactly out of place. However, this car just so happens to fit the description of the one I supposedly just bought. If that is the case someone is really brave and even closer to their grave.

“I have a meeting. I will get back to you soon.”

I end the call and send the phone where it belongs. Once it is out of my hand I confirm I have my gun with me and accessible where it always is at my side. I don’t let the ride I pass by as I enter the building distract me more than it did when I first spotted it. I am more interested in finding out who felt it was worth dying for. I have a hunch that they are not going to be surprised in the least when I catch up with them.

"Excuse me. Ma'am." The voice was unexpected and catches my attention long enough to find some guy just popped out of thin air, or so it would seem.

A little too fast if you ask me. I can smell this type of **** a mile away. I know. If I am so great at what I do and on top of things why are some naked clowns fifty thousand dollars richer. I promise we will get to clearing all this up soon enough. Hang tight. It is about to get really interesting.

[Urchin]

"Going to lunch." I tell my two co-workers as I stand up from my desk and move towards the door. I nod at the security guard, then a two finger salute, before I tug my glasses off the top of my head and let them drop down to my nose. I ride up to the main floor, and make a quick detour to the head honcho of all security guards, and pop my face in after he buzzes me in. "How did it go with the cops?" I ask, looking at the dozen or so small television screens that he was watching.

"Gave them what you wanted me to give them, after they watched it a couple of times. They didn't ask too many questions." I nod my head, then rub at the stubble on my jaw. "Could be a good thing, or a bad thing." I admit, then shrug. Time will tell. Either they'll think he did a jump, or they'll figure something else out. Then it was out of my hands. That was why they had Mr. Muscles, I reckon. I don't care enough to ask. I only care about my job and keeping it, and staying alive, or out of jail. Working for this company almost guarantees that. "Let me know if they call, or come around again." I inform him, before heading out of the small office, the door making a loud thunk behind me.

Have to admit, the car I purchased was a lot better than I gave it credit for. I just thought I was buying the name, which was fine with me. But it's got a smooth ride, and some killer devices and possibilities in it. I used to walk to wherever I wanted to go grab lunch at, but these days, I'm proudly displaying my new ride. It's only a matter of time, I know. And that's fine with me. I've covered my tracks well enough, and anyone who goes digging, might find themselves in one hell of a worm hole.

"Mr. Weaver." The security guard that sits stationary to the door says as he comes in. "There's a cop here...Detective, actually. She's interested in your car..." My eyes are hidden beneath my sunglasses, but they definitely rise. Could it be? I looked past him and see who I've been waiting for. "I'll take it from here. Thanks, Mark." I nod, and offer a slap to the side of his arm, before heading out of the building. "Morning, Detective." It was just before noon, so it was technically, morning. Even if there were only three minutes before it hit noon. "Like what you see?" I smirk at her, while grabbing the keys out of my coat pocket.

"Going to lunch. Want to tag along? My treat." Maybe. Depends on how I felt, and her attitude. Otherwise, I've got access to another account. I grin at the thought. "I was thinking of heading to the sushi place about a mile down." I add on, still offering lunch to her. "You'll never get a better ride." I say as I move around to the driver's side and open up the door, casually leaning both arms over the hood of the car, staring at her through my sunglasses.

[Romeo]

I get what game is starting now. I have played it more than a few times in my career to know what is going down besides the second hand on guy’s watch that I left back in the lobby. I admit it isn’t one of the many that I am a huge fan of. When it comes to winning over the opposite sex I kind of have average skills at best without my fists being involved or a weapon in hand. My guess is the blue eyed man candy is going to pull out the keys and try to show me things I have never seen before.

Perhaps he plans to make things move fast enough that I am thrust beyond my point of reason. One of those deals where I am left to either fly or reach out for some sort of salvation that when delivered will leave me so far in debt that I am everything I didn’t plan on being. Which in this case is a slight possibility given the fact I have never seen the car he is currently using as a resting post for his hands. Only thing that rules out that less than savory result is the fact I already have been there and done that. I didn’t get to the point I am, who I am because I lived the life of a saint.

I have seen all the latest rides in the city and the flawless works of immortality that drive them. Both in front of me are new. Mr. Slick is smooth, polished and missing the typical edges of a hands on thug. Gangsters, thieves rats and It is like that really are like a dime a dozen these days. He is smarter than he lets on which is what keeps him around. I got a gut feeling. It is supposed to be a good cop that looks beyond that and double checks the facts before they go with it. I never was that good. Never will be. I am damn lucky. Nothing more. My gut hasn’t failed me yet.

Vampire?

I squint for a clearer view when the ricochet from the sun's rays hitting the windshield find me with the few steps I make. These days it is always a possibility but in this case I am pretty sure he isn’t. His eyes are showing something a little more than average is hidden beneath the skin suit he is wearing but he hasn’t earned that particular power tie yet that is a true game changer. He isn’t a full fanged vampire in motion. In a few more steps I am willing to bet he hasn’t signed up for the team roster. He isn’t that far gone yet. The best of them, even beneath the guise of a nearly human appearance, still have hints of the truth rising from them if someone knows what to look for. Especially at high noon out on a public street.

Now some may ask how I would know such a thing? Good question. The fact I have a dirty little secret gives me the edge I need to enjoy walking the line in this godforsaken city and still keep my pulse intact. Promise not to tell? I have been known to play with my food since I was a kid. It drove my mother nuts watching me do it. I would build it up into castles, form motes and trap doors and bridges. The possibilities for unseen adventures were endless with butter, corn and extra potatoes. The point is to know what goes in. Break it down and build it up if you are going to exist on it and rely it to keep you going. Suffice to say it is a damn good thing she wasn’t able to watch me do it the last couple months. It would have been enough to send her to the grave she is already planted in.

Sushi wasn’t a rush of mystic hitting the system but that wasn’t what was being offered. I got time before I need to be back in the office answering questions as to what I found out about the flesh patty melt back at the morgue that used to be one of our more reliable informants. Maybe this was his replacement. a twisted concept given what has happened up until this point but it wouldn’t be the first time a window opened and out dropped something more promising. The fact I am looking at a face and something so damn close to the vehicle I haven’t been given the keys to only sweetens the offer of taking a ride. It has been said that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, or something like that. The more I eye him I am thinking there is a good chance I might just set that ******* bush on fire and snap a godamned neck while I am at it.

“Sounds like an offer I shouldn’t refuse.” I got this. I am sure of it. I am locked and loaded as I reach for the driver’s side door.

[Urchin]

I glance at the arrangement on the table, and smirk. It's a unique thing, and wasn't too expensive. Not that expense matters, because she sure wasn't worth a lick of salt. It had been a while since I had seen the thorn in my side, and a lot had changed since then. It seemed my favorite detective got herself in a little trouble at a bank. A real cluster ****, from what I could tell. I'm still not sure the specifics, as I was just getting up for the night when I heard it over the scanner. But it was definitely her. Not another cop in the city with that name. Could stake my life-or whatever this state of being was, on it.

My silver framed sunglasses covered my abnormal eyes (in more ways than one), before I grabbed the make shift bouquet from the table, and flicked the scanner off with my other hand. My door's locked, I head to the garage to my almost brand new car, and head to the hospital that was on the other side of town.

Getting in the hospital won't be a problem, but getting into her room might be. Well, for those 'average' guys. Then again, I do have a problem with blood. Let's hope she's not bleeding when I bump into her. Or let's. It's hard to determine when I've had enough of her. And when I've had enough draining her accounts and throwing suspicion on Romeo's illicit activities, then Mr. Muscle's will have enough too.

I park in the designated visitor parking lot, and glance up at the tall building. It's got a few more floors than my apartment complex, but could be problematic. It's not easy finding patients going floor by floor. Well, good thing the night is early and I'm sure it won't be hard to see the room with a cop outside her door. The thought of them shooting one of their own was absolutely priceless. H.R.'s not so finest went from the top down; detectives and cops alike were unworthy of being in their trade profession.

I didn't waste much time finding the floor I needed. Once I got off the elevator, I looked both ways down the hall, then went to the next hall on the other side of various nurse's stations and looked for the semi-familiar uniforms. I came up bust until the seventh floor. Seems the bullet she took was a little more serious than the scanner led on. Good.

I move past her room and the cop stationed outside of it, and turn the corner to go down the other hallway. I bypass two rooms, before I find one that doesn't have someone in it and do my disappearing act. I cut through a nurse's station that was empty, the sounds of various buzzers, or beeps going off before and after I left the area. I turn towards her room, and slide past the cop that probably worked his lungs a little too hard due to his height versus weight proportions, and am in her room.

I slowly close the door, not enough to make the door catch in any mannerism, but enough to grant us a little privacy. I move around the curtain that was drawn, the shadows around and over me long gone the second I touched something foreign with my other hand. “Detective.” My voice is calm, but cool, as I sit down next to her on the guest chair. “Money trouble?” I hold up a finger with my free hand, then shove the bouquet made out of fake flowers, ladies' socks and chocolate somewhere in the thing. “Let me start over. These are for you. No need to thank me.” It was true. They didn't cost me a thing, so no thanks were needed.

Sock Bouquet: http://www.theuniquegiftstore.co.uk/sho ... ickbox.jpg

[Romeo]

I never had trouble seeing. I was sure of that much until I hear the voice disturbing my chemical induced rest. Surprisingly it takes a little more effort to make out who it is but as the seconds pass eventually I do. It’s him. Admittedly I am a bit surprised to see him slithering his way in my room. No one outside medical staff has managed to clear the door. That is the first thing that leads me to believe maybe my vision needs a little more attention than it has been getting. Between the beeps and the subtle hiss of machines doing their jobs I listen with as much attention to what he is saying that is humanly possible with all the narcotics I have onboard.

Yeah, it is him. Any other time I would welcome it. Hell, I would instigate it but right now I am about as threatening and capable of fighting a battle as Superman weighed down with a ton of green Kryptonite. Rumor has it the superhero has developed a slight tolerance for it in recent editions of the comics but I don’t have what it takes at the moment to give two fucks let alone research it for myself.

I suddenly feel the pain wash over my body then ebb back in the wake of numbness that leaves me feeling so weak I couldn’t manage to pass gas if I wanted to. And I need to do that, trust me. My bowels likely have turned into an internal version of a petrified forest. I still take no responsibility. It belongs to some other asshole for once. Maybe it is his deal. If it isn’t because of him then it surely is because of Nurse Feelgood. I have done nearly everything possible to get the ***** with a needle sharp hard on for my venous highway to back off. Part of me is starting to believe she has an issue with my *** being left in her professional care.

As for the one I am looking at with a glazed stare, well he is still on my most wanted list. And by the looks of his bouquet he thoroughly enjoys having that knowledge. Those brilliant from another world blues speak volumes even as the muscles in his face are chiseled and cool as an ice sculpture on display.

“I shouldn’t be surprised.”

I wheeze in a breath and try to make it appear as if it was only half the work to contain that it really was. I am needing a miracle cure and I know where to get it but they don’t serve that up in the hospital. Insurance sure as hell doesn’t cover it but there is no denying the mind blowing wonders it delivers. It is a cure for nearly anything that could ail me. It is a life saver. Then again it is also a life claimer if you get too greedy. My dirty little secret is never far and with his presence it rears it’s ugly no shame hunger.

“You have some ******* nerve.” Of course he does. I chuckle until it hurts more than it is worth.

[Urchin]

There are a lot of machines. The detective took a lot more bumps and bruises than I initially thought. Good. She's like a virus I can't get rid of, continuously working against me as I try and get the upper hand on it. One step forward was two back with her. No matter how far I go, she plunges her way deeper inside and she's not ready to end whatever it was she was biting back with. Not by a long shot.

When she chuckles, I scoot my seat further to the side of her bed. There's something I hadn't noticed about the detective before now. "You look like ****." I state, but that wasn't what I was really thinking. She did look like ****, but what I notice are the tall tell signs that she's walking a very thin line between life and death. I only know because it's what I used to do. Who I used to be.

"Is tonight the night you're going to give me that painful lesson?" I inquire, eyes flicking over every god damn inch of her, appreciating the full woman that she was. Before, it was hard to imagine her in anything other than the get up she wore as a detective, and quite frankly, she was a bigger dick than most men. Evidence of that was in her file at work and first hand experiences.

I look at all the machines, not sure what any of them do outside the one hooked up to the back of her hand. The IV drip. "Hope they're giving you something good." My eyes remain on the IV and debating on ripping it out of her arm. I could just turn it off, but where would the fun be in that? "Looks like you'll be down for a while." I smirk again, this will be good for not only me, but my boss.

I lean in real close to her, testing the waters, my cold hand covering her and the IV drip. "We both know that whatever you need...can't come from something made in a pharmacy." My tone is flat, my blue eyes boring into her own dark set. What will she say? What she will do? I don't give her the opportunity to agree, or disagree, before my hand travels away from the point of entry, to the tiny tube. I collect it between my thumb and index finger and just hold it there. "Get off my boss' back and I'll give you a taste, Detective. Or...tell me to **** off and we'll see how it ends?" I don't care about her being on my back. I rather like her there.

[Romeo]

I eye him through the costly glaze of semi-numb that has enveloped me the better part of my time in the hospital bed. He knows it is in place. I can tell it isn’t discouraging him at all to be ******* with the vantage point it currently offers him. The likes of him has no limits. I can appreciate that. If the roles were reversed he would be giving the end of my gun the best blow job he could come up with on short notice. And he would swallow because he would have no choice when the trigger beneath my finger finally submitted to the pressure and demand to perform.

It sounds cold blooded and ruthless but the truth is that I don’t have time to play around with right or wrong. Not even when I am down and all but out of my A-game. The rest of the world can worry about having the guilt of humanity’s fate falling apart on their shoulders. I am out to get what is mine and if it isn’t how I want it then I will take it and beat it into submission. The superfly and newly improved Mr. Sinatra gazing at me with those pools of amped up promise is no concern. I got his number too. Granted I am more likely to be successful at kicking a lost fly’s *** lingering in the linen closet than I am the net gangster watching over me. That doesn’t mean I won’t give it my best shot when the timing is right.

I feel him. Coolness of his touch sets in and competes with the chill of the narcotics flowing through the interior walls of my veins. My sedative dried tongue grazes over the flesh of my parted lips. The discovery of the caked chemical layer of viscous glycerin used for temporary comfort cracks under the contact. I am in limbo between doing nothing and taking on the world as I watch him take hold of the tubing and hold it between his fingers. He looks so god damned good and tempting for being dead. He knows it too.

“Talk about playing hangman and handing a ***** the noose.” I inhale the scent of him that is far more bold than the antiseptic and starch in the paper crisp sheets wearing down my tender *** beneath me. It calls to that undeniable need to consume my answer to everything that I can’t fix without the boost it offers. “It’s been a while.” Talk about an understatement. It had been too ******* long for me to register. The need likely could be smelled a mile away by him. I know how it works. I let him in and now the twisted hook was set. “How about a sample of what you got. I need to know if it is worth it.” What I plan on doing next with whatever he has got to offer will blow both our minds. “Quality improved?” I find I am staring at more than his hands and his guess is as good as mine as to where we will go from here.

[Urchin]

She acts as if she is calling the shots here, while laying on her back, high enough to take her to the moon. So I lean back a little to let her know she's not-I made the offer, and I'm not the one looking for a fix. "The quality has had a few upgrades, Detective." I inform her, unbuttoning the suit coat that I was wearing over my basic white t-shirt. "I've never lied to you before." It's true. I might be messing with her money and tempting fate on getting her fired from her job, but if she asked me if I did this or that with her money, her computer programs or anything else, I'd never lie. There's no need to. If she turns me in, she'll be turning herself in and she would never do that.

I don't particularly like this woman. She's a dirty cop. It's not because she's a cop, I have no problems with cops that do their jobs. It's the part that she's dirty. Skimming what's good from both sides of the cup so to speak. Dabbling in some illegal stuff, while being protected by the badge she wears. So why am I offering to help her? What's a few days of a vampire high, compared to being off my boss' back for months, or years? It's nothing. We benefit more from this transaction than she does. "Do we have a deal, detective?" I ask, standing up, the fabric of my jeans scraping roughly against the pressed, crisp white bed sheet on her hospital bed. It doesn't phase me one way or another what she decides. If she says no, we'll go at it again another night, another time. If she says yes, then we've come to a small understanding.

"Tick tock, Detective. I'm a busy man, and the cop outside is bound to notice the door closed more than it had been before." Not that he would ever see me. I'd be gone long before then, blanketed in the darkness that I know the detective seeks. Deep down. She just has to strike the deal and I'll know what to do from here on out.

[Romeo]

“Sure.”

What would you expect me to say? I'm not exactly in the best shape to be looking a gift horse in the mouth. I am better off saddling him and taking him for the ride he is offering. While I wait for some sort of reaction, or in the very least a show of expression that he got what I said, my teeth sharpen at the mere thought of sinking into his skin. I may be weak and stoned to the bed beneath me but there is no question what he has to offer is going to have me dancing so high I might as well be a ******* astronaut landing on the god damned moon. He was the fuel to get me there and out of the shittiest predicament I put my *** in thus far. I eye the closest parts of him next to the bedside and find the sound of his clothing connecting to the sheet has my heart picking up it’s otherwise lethargic pace. It always does when I am this close to getting some. Especially some of him. I haven’t taken from anywhere else since the last fix. However, I won’t share that with him. He doesn’t need any pats on his cold back or to hear he is the much needed wind beneath my high seeking wings.

“Your boss can **** off for all I care but only if you are going to put out. I think that is worth a weekly hook up, don’t you?”

I size him up from where I am laying. I figure all I need to hear is that he agrees and I can, at the very least, pull myself from the narcotic fog flowing through my body with whatever strength I have left and make **** happen. He leans in or I sit up. No big deal either way who is left to make the moves needed. I am more than willing to suck my way to being able to stand on my own two feet and fully capable of checking my *** out of Hospital Hell before he unhooks me from his vein. If he keeps up the hard to get act I may just aspirate that proposed vein walls and all. The creativity doesn't stop there. I would cough it up later, dry the ***** out and use it for toothfloss. The appetite for what he virtually is dangling in front of me like a carrot to a starving rabbit is going to be risky the longer it all plays out. One of us is going to get bit. Damn hard.

“Tell me it is all good and we got a deal.”

[Urchin]

The deal is struck and it's better than I imagined. My boss was safe and by default, so was I. She wanted a weekly hookup, which told me that I'm probably the best she can get out there. She was an addict and she ******* needed me, and that meant that while Detective Romeo might run a hard game, there was no way I, or my boss were going to see bars any time soon.

"Sure." I nod, agreeing with her, letting her know that the deal had been agreed on my side. "It's good. Damn good." I look down at the IV that I had been playing with before, flick it with my finger and then climb into bed with her. My right leg is over her left, and my left is over her right. I'm essentially straddling her, as I claim that IV and rip it out of her arm. Not enough to hurt her, just quick and to the point. She won't need it after our bargain, anyways.

I know I'm in a compromising position, but what she probably doesn't notice is that I still have the IV in the hand that yanked it out and would have not a second doubt on ramming it in her. Not enough to kill her-I'm not a killer, but enough to cause her some pain and to get things back in my playing field. "Bon appetite, Detective." I offer the wrist that doesn't have the hand with the IV in it, my blue eyes staring between Detective Romeo and my offering. This was just the start of what I had lined up for this crooked cop.