Doing Thier Duty
The stupidest thing Ian ever saw to come out of the Purists, a mass organization of humans that were fanatical about their anti-newcomer rhetoric, was this ridiculous story that was spread through the media about Newcomers turning into giant dangerous bug creatures.
Ian was relativity sure that if that were even possible, he would have seen something during his years living in Little Tencton, and his time staying off and on with Henry and Vera, who had been very open to Ian about themselves and their culture. He was sure that Henry at least would have at least alluded to a little something like that, and from what little he had seen of the ship, there hadn't been any sign of giant bug people, just scared shitless ones.
The IQ lowering madness had mainly come about through panicky so-called witness reports, a couple of Newcomer deaths that frankly could have been been answered by one of many other, more believable and rational causes of death. The Newcomer skin found at a crime scene did raise a brow or two, but Ian was more likely to believe that some poor fellow out there had been brutally killed and his skin left behind in some sort of gruesome hate crime message, then that it had been shed. Ian had seen a lot of brutal things during his time in his old world, he knew the depravity that the mind was capable of.
Ian was of the opinion that they should be trying to track down the victim of the skinning, not fly off the handle like citizens were doing.
It had gotten so bad that Fransisco’s house had been attacked, and Henry nearly lost an eye when someone threw a brick at his patrol car.
Tensions were just as high in the precinct that Fransisco, the most patient by the book officer to ever wear a badge, nearly threw Sikes out of a window because he had made one to many of his usual bigoted comments, this time fueled in part by the fear mongering in the media.
Ian though was not just going to twiddle his fingers. He had managed to smarm access to the files of the Newcomer Bug case out of Cpt. Grazer, and after reviewing everything and making a few phone calls, he had determined that the precinct’s resident ambulance chasing rag reporter Burns, had been the one to break the story first about all the bug nonsense.
Chances are that whoever was behind all this might just seek out this world’s Rita Skitter for an exclusive.
Fortunately Ian knew a guy in Little Tencton that he had saved from slag-bashers a few years back who ran an electronics shop that had a few extra goodies for those on his good side who knew how to ask.
ooo ooo ooo
One less then legal break-in later, Ian was comfortably situated in his favorite car wreck with a pair of binoculars, a mountain of Slim Jims, a big bottle of cola, and a head set on his ears.
2 nights of stake out turned into 3, then 4 nights and still no luck.
His fifth night though finally bore fruit when Burns received his next exclusive making phone call.
It wasn’t long before Burns was careening out of the apartment and running for his car, a camera swinging on his pudgy neck.
Ian waited until he had gotten some distance away, turned on the GPS siting on his dashboard, and followed.
Ooo ooo ooo
“An abandoned warehouse, how quaint.”
Ian muttered under his breath as he held his non-issue glock close to his chest, eyeing the reporter who cursed, stumbling over some garbage can.
Ian shook his head. An Erumpet would make less noise then this idiot.
Ian slipped inside the warehouse, leaving Burns for the moment, slinking from shadow to shadow as his silent foot falls treaded over inch thick dust and cracked cement. It was dark, with only a few blinking streetlights from outside and the moon his only illumination and the only sounds were Burns tripping and cursing in the distance.
Then, suddenly there was another sound, a heavy thunk, thunk. The brush of something large against crumbling walls and rusted mental, and to Ian’s surprise, a very large, very bug shaped silhouette was briefly highlighted through a cracked window.
Then the warehouse exploded with a roar, yells of pain, gunshots, then the creature of the house burst out from behind a wall of boxes, heading directly in Ian’s direction. In the distance he heard another yell.
“Sonovabitch!”
“Matt!”
Ian sprang from the shadows and bowled into the creature’s side, sending the larger figure tumbling backwards as it was unbalanced.
It roared at him and sprayed something. Only his seeker reflexes kept him from getting a face full of acid as he dodged to the side.
The creature tried to get up, but it was a rather awkward go and it seemed to have difficulty moving, much like an over turned turtle. Ian came at it again, lunging on its back this time. The creature bucked like an irate bull trying to get him off.
An pissed off Sikes careened around the corner and only paused long enough to note Officer Freely clinging to his perp's back like a monkey before diving into the fray, going for the legs.
Between Ian and Sikes they rode the thing down and with vicious gusto, ripped open the back of the creature to reveal a very human back under the tearing sound of velcro.
“Let me up dammit!” the man in the bug suit demanded, yelping when Ian accidentally on purpose dug his knee into his arm.
Fransisco squeezed in next to them, pressing his gun into the man’s back saying coolly, “move and you die.”
Then more voices joined the fray, the man's soon discovered Purist compatriots, with the bonus of the current Purist leader, which was the cheery on top as far as Ian was concerned.
Rights were read and soon the place was swarming with police. Burns was not found, obviously the reporter making a break for it when the shooting started.
Ooo ooo ooo
Ian sat slumped in the chair before Cpt. Grazer.
“I was not pleased to hear that this precinct’s brightest police officer was found to be working off the books on a case that was currently being worked on,” Grazer said finally when he was sure that he had made the rookie squirm enough.
“I’m sorry sir, its just...”
Grazer held up a hand, and Ian stopped speaking.
“Given the circumstances, I can understand the motivations behind your actions, and the past week has been especially tense on everyone, and I am well aware of your stance on Newcomer Rights, as well as having a Newcomer Partner, and your also still young, so going off half cocked was bound to have happened to even the best of us I suppose, given everything, but I can’t condone you going vigilante. It will be noted in your permanent record, but otherwise I will let you off with a warning, do you understand?”
Ian nodded with the proper amount of gratitude and subdued cowedness, refraining from showing his amusement at the "young" comnent. He was older then Grazer.
The captain nodded, looking tired but satisfied, “very well then. I will see you here tomorrow...double shift for the next few weeks I think, since you seem to have enough time to follow reporters around.”
Ian mentally groaned, but agreed.
When he left the chief's office, Ian slumped into the chair at his desk, Henry looking at him sympathetically as he handed his partner his coffee.
Sikes did corner Ian sometime later to give him his own piece of mind about butting in on his case.
Ian, who felt no need about holding back with Sikes then he did with Grazer, pulled the startled man into an unused closet and told him precisely what he thought of a person who believed, even for a second, who thought of that ridiculous bug story being true.
Matt had gone red eared when Ian pointed out that it had also influenced his perspective on the case, so of course Ian was not likely to believe that anyone was doing anything about it. Matt had grumbled but eventually let off since Ian did have a point, and admitted that yes, he was wrong, yes he was ashamed for believing the hype. Ian’s response was to tell Sikes to apologize to his poor partner and take him out to dinner, and stomped off.
Ooo ooo ooo
A few days after the grim reality of arresting Officer Pointay for the death of Sike’s old partner, Ian and Henry were assigned Pointy’s old beat, which circled through some of the seedier, more abandoned areas of Los Angeles. It wasn't ideal, neither the beat not the circumstances behind how they got it, but it was finally something other then desk riding so the two men took to it gladly.
The both of them got to know quite a few homeless regulars during that time.
Henry and Ian developed a habit of taking turns escorting the more sickly ones to a free clinic, or occasionally sharing their lunch with whomever they could, though none of them made enough to feed everyone, they still nonetheless became favorites of the locals.
“It’s a shame that there aren’t any fruit or vegetable gardens in the area," Henry sighed, as he handed over his raw beaver to a wain faced woman who thanked him before scuttling off, “I think I would like to be able to give something back to this world that took my family and my people in.”
Ian handed over his burger without even bothering to open the bag to an old man who also thanked him and left. He patted his friend on the back and said softly, “I know its hard my friend, but as much as you want to help, you can’t help everyone, and you shouldn’t feel guilty when you can’t. All you can do is try your best to help those you can and move on. Trust me, I learned that the hard way.”
Henry sighed sadly, but nodded as the two got back into their patrol car to head down to the next intersection.
Ooo ooo ooo
Later that evening, Ian had been dragged over to Henry’s for dinner (A really nice vegetable medley for Ian, and some vegetables and Sloth for the family).
Henry excitedly dragged him into the den after diner and shoved a map under his nose while Vera ushered the kids to bed.
“Umm...” Ian said inelegantly, “gee Hen, that's a...nice map?’
Henry rolled his eyes, giving his friend an exasperatedly fond expression as he plucked it from Ian and explained patiently, “its a map of our beat.”
The man picked up a green marker swiped from his son’s art kit and outlined a rectangular space.
“This is the empty lot on Second street. Its surrounded by the ruins of a factory that burnt down ten years ago. If the cement were torn up and the remains remove, there would be a space for a large enough garden to feed many of the homeless in that area!”
“Your talking about a community garden?” Ian hummed, eyeing the space thoughtfully. It actually wasn’t a bad idea. Not even the homeless used that area. To much exposure to the elements.
“That’s not a bad idea, but how are you going to pull it off? Neither of us has the money to do something like this,” Ian pointed out logically.
“I plan on petitioning city council to fund-raise the money.”
Ian raised his eyebrow, “Well that’s ambitious,” Ian mused as he rubbed his chin in thought, “I don’t know much about fundraising, but I do know that anything involving bureaucracy is by its nature exceedingly slow and annoying.”
Henry shrugged, grinning as he slapped Ian on the back, nearly sending the winded man over the table, chirping “I am sure that you and I will be victorious against this Bureaucracy my friend, after all, it is only for the benefit of others, how can it be refused?.”
ooo ooo ooo
“I hate this,” Ian growled, glaring out at the glitter of Chrystal wine glasses and the gleam of polished white marble.
“I agree,” Matt Sikes also growled, baring his teeth at the flash of a camera nearby.
Both glum men watched as their partners meanwhile were happily and politely talking with another round of human and Newcomer mucky mucks.
“Hey Freeley, want to sneak off and see how far we can take the free bar?” Matt whispered.
Ian eyed his superior officer. While the two of them didn’t necessarily have what you would call a good relationship, since Ian was of the opinion that Sikes was a jackass who seemed to embrace his foot-in-mouth syndrome with abandon.
But...surrounded by the the ritzy political swish of internal politics that Cpt. Grazer had forced Ian, Henry, Matt, and George to attend as his matched set of new and veteran mixed species partners during the annual Mayor’s gala to show off show progressive their precinct was, well...lets just say that the human partners were evenly matched when it came to their mutual dislike and discomfort of being show ponies for the evening. One of whom was having discomforting Post-war hero worship Ministry gala flashbacks.
So Ian gave a fervent nod and both of them began inching away from the general vicinity of their partners. Unfortunately both George and Henry heard the faint squeak of their shoes moving away, and each Newcomer reached out simultaneously, and discreetly reeled their humans back to their sides.
“Well, theirs always the cocktail weenies,” Ian sighed.
“...Swimming in unpronounceable red sauce,” Matt finished, also sighing.
“Do you think we’ll get lucky and the bank next door will be robbed or something?” Ian whispered hopefully.
“Not likely,” Matt whispered back. Both slumped depressingly.
George and Henry, both easily answering questions from a robust woman with a large amount of blond hair who was a prominent member of the education board, exchanged brief looks with each other, simultaneous twitches from the corner of their eyes.
Ooo ooo ooo
“Hah! I got it! I got it!” Ian lifted the broom stick above his head, and did a victory dance on top of Fransisco’s desk.
“Come down from there officer! And return Albert's Broom!” Cpt. Grazer demanded ineffectually.
Officer Freeley just flipped off his captain and clung to it possessively, blowing a raspberry while somehow dodging Dobb’s attempt to subdue him.
Cpt, Grazer gritted his teeth when Sikes, who was being no help at all, to busy rolling around laughing.
He whirled on a few nervous looking sergeants.
“Can somebody explain to me how it is that I come in this morning, expecting an orderly precinct only to find one of my officers dancing on the furniture?”
“Well, sir, he was helping us with a dealer we were bringing in to detox in the tank, when the man pulled out a syringe from down his pants and stabbed Officer Freeley before we could react,” a nearby Sergent offered up.
Her partner nodded nervously, the man’s mustache twitching.
“I see another seminar on the proper techniques of thorough pat downs will yet again need to be applied,” the captain sighed, turning to watch as Freeley’s partner clambered onto the desk yet again, trying to coax the high off his kite man down.
“Its that Git Malfoy!” Ian pouted, pointing at Grazer, “He’s trying to steal my Firebolt!” and clung to the broom tighter, like it was buried treasure.
“Now why is that?” Henry asked, using his training to play along as he began inching his way closer.
“He’s just trying to keep me from playing! I fly circles around him and he knows it!”
Suddenly Ian sniffled, “I can still play right?”
“Sure you can,” Henry soothed with no idea, like anyone else, understanding what Officer Freely was talking about, and wrapping an arm carefully around Ian’s shoulder, and making a general guess from context, “though the game wont be for awhile yet so how about a nap first? So you have lots of energy?”
Ian suddenly swayed slightly, but seemed to get out a nod and Henry swept his partner up over a shoulder and took him to one of the recovery rooms.
“My ulcer” Grazer groaned, rubbing his face as he stomped to his office, slamming the door behind him.
George picked up his squashed Donkey spleen forlornly that the human had been treading upon, it being George's desk he had used for his stage, sighing forlornly “My Lunch.”
Matt slapped Georgie on the shoulder and offered, "you know what George? how about I buy you dinner? my treat. All the Donkey, sloth or whatever guts you want."
George, knowing Matt's squeamishness about Tenctonese diets, gave him him a startled look but said in delight, "Thank you Matt, I would like that."