Little Napoleon (AU,CC,MATURE) complete, 4/21,/12

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Little Napoleon (AU,CC,MATURE) complete, 4/21,/12

Postby ken_r » Mon Jul 04, 2011 5:11 pm

`Little Napoleon
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Little Napoleon

Title: Little Napoleon
Author: ken_r AKA Kenneth Renouard
Rated: mature
Couples will be CC as far as I can make them
Disclaimer: I make no claim on the characters. I am just trying to tell a Roswell story in another, more adult and earthier manner.
Rating: mature

WARNING, WARNING There may be content that offends some readers. If so, please give me the respect to go somewhere else to read and let me post for those who do like what I write. kr

If there are words not explained in the story, please request that I make them clear.


Summery: Strong women are running a police detective squad. A series of murders all with silver handprints and two leading detectives turn out to be alien themselves. Captain Kyle Valenti finds himself surrounded by aliens. Especially the one he just can’t keep his hands off of.

Political Grease: This is a term used in many organizations where promotions are highly subjective. It may come from the term, “Grease the skids of promotion.” This makes climbing the political ladder smoother by influence of some entity who has your best interest.

Perp: slang for perpetrator sometimes used for any subject in question. Whether they are arrested or not.

Characters:
Maria DeLuca, an exotic dancer who worked her way through college dancing at a strip joint, became a vice cop and finally, joined the unit run by Little Napoleon.

Max Evans, from a strange beginning, receives an Ivy League education, wants to serve society so he joins the police force, becomes detective and joins his boyhood friend, Michael Guerin.

Michael Guerin, another strange beginning, but he is found by the welfare service, joins the army and becomes a MP, follows his friend, Evans, into the detective squad.

Isabel Eventide is a jet setter, educated, lecturer, psychologist and party girl. She changes men like some women change shoes. Evans’ sister with similar strange beginnings.

Alex Whitman, joins police department to pay off student loans is a lieutenant in detective squad.

Kyle Valenti, captain of detective squad, is tough on both men and perps, believes women are for only one thing. He is asked to give up everything for the love of one woman.

Big Jim Valenti, former Roswell police officer is now deputy chief of metropolis police department.

Lieutenant Elizabeth Parker, known as Little Napoleon. Is head of detective squad, which investigates strange things.

Small blonde woman, found with the enemy after a shootout.

FIVE murders all having silver handprints on bodies.

It just keeps coming, "A DEAL SHE CAN'T REFUSE." How long can she hold out?


Little Napoleon

Little Napoleon stood in her office and gazed across the ocean of other desks through the windows of her office. The fact that she had a private office located in the rear of the large room that made up the detective squad was just another thing that annoyed the rest of the department. It was not like the other lieutenant’s office, which was originally build into the room near the door. The back office was clearly an add-on from the instructions of some serious grease from up above. Little Napoleon stood almost five foot three. She was slender with medium length dark hair and brown eyes that looked right into your soul. Maybe, that sight is what made her a great detective. Little Napoleon normally wore a dress when she was working in her office. In the field, she would be dressed in slacks always topped by boots. The boots did add almost two inches to her height. The desks before her were all manned by other detectives, who were thinking, reading or discussing, the various cases of the Metropolis Police Department. They clearly were part of a team. Little Napoleon, (you only called her that to her face if you wanted to get bounced on your ass,) had risen to the grade of lieutenant in her detective squad of “Strange and Unusual Cases.” They got all of the really weird stuff. That her small squad was even tolerated, was questioned by most of the department. First, it was the speed she had advanced in a department where promotions were notoriously slow. It didn’t take rocket science to see that she was an outcast. Her squad had become like the original “X Files.” The fact that any of these cases were ever solved was a testament to the efforts of Little Napoleon or better known as, Lieutenant Elizabeth Parker.

Her assistant was Maria DeLuca, a voluptuous, curvaceous woman who when last working vice, picked up two priests, a bishop and the chairman of the board of the local Methodist church. We could mention other religious occupations, but her boss, then Sergeant Kyle Valenti, just rounded them all up and hauled them all into court. The judge, himself a religious man, with disgust fined them all $500 apiece, ordered them home and charged them to think about their vows. When DeLuca wiggled her body before most men, you could figure that vows everywhere were flushed down the toilet. Sergeant DeLuca could have been a pin up girl in the thirties. She wasn’t one of those stick thin models that crowd the tube now. Looking at her showed that she was filled out like a well trained athlete. She was the example of what a cop would fight for. The truth was that she was the example of who a cop wanted by his side in a bar fight

Don’t let those curves and soft boobs fool you. The now, Sergeant Maria DeLuca, could kick your butt before you even knew you were in a fight. Once Deluca and Parker had cleaned out a biker bar. Then, to add insult to the many injuries, they, with DeLuca driving and Parker riding behind, stole the president of the biker club’s custom Harley, taking it back to the police station. To reclaim his bike, he had to show bills of sale for every custom item on it.

In court, most defense attorneys were so wrapped up in their wet dreams while ogling DeLuca and the almost teen-aged appearing Parker, that before they got their case laid out, the jury had already convicted the perp on the grounds that everyone wanted to please those two women. With Parker and DeLuca, you either fell in love or you ran in panic.

Lieutenant Alex Whitman was the name of the other detective lieutenant, from in the front office. He was in charge of all the rest of the men on the detective squad. Thirty men worked under Whitman and yet, Parker was given the same rank and pay grade as he was. That was so she could approach Lt. Whitman and request assistance when they needed it. Whitman didn’t like it, but he was told that if he didn’t support Lt. Parker, she would be raised to the rank of captain. The Former sergeant, now, Captain Valenti, made this clear to Whitman. Valenti didn’t want, “No damned woman working beside me.” He was all right with a woman under him, but above or equal to him was a no, no! Whitman could solve his equality problem with Parker the best he could. Valenti was sure that for Parker to hold the rank of Lieutenant, with only Sgt. DeLuca below her, she had to be sleeping with some one up above. It was crazy to make Parker and DeLuca their own unit, even crazier when it came down from above that Parker was to be given all the men she needed on her request. How in the hell did Little Napoleon get that much serious grease?

Under Lieutenant Whitman, a very good squad solved Murders, rapes and auto thefts. While Parker and DeLuca, wrestled with the burning man seen in the hills near Metropolis. They took months, but they solved it. Needless to say, the apparition of a man-like flaming figure running across the hill side, made whatever awards that the scouts were passing out that night, take second place. The flaming figure ended in a magnificent explosion, lighting up the whole campground and half the mountain. It made headlines. It made the national press. Parker’s report, was only read by the department.

It turned out to be Freaky Freddy who set himself on fire while cooking meth on an open fire. He did this in the hills above a campground, currently being used by a group of scouts having a campfire ceremony. The flaming Freddy, flaming in more ways than one, fell over the containers full of the volatile mixture he had been cooking. Some how that set off boxes of military grade C4 and primers. Of course the Valero brothers had stored those items close together for security. Then, they had placed both items nearby Freddie’s outdoor lab. The Valeros trusted Freddy and they knew that he never left his fire when he was making a batch. With Freddy watching their explosives, they thought it would be safe from so many thieves in the area. It was getting so that a criminal couldn’t trust hardly anyone any more. Freddy was reliable. His ever present shotgun assured the Valero’s that their stash of explosive would be safe. Safe, that is, from theft. Freddy didn’t promise anything else. The Valero’s were a throw back from the sixties. They had been the head of a Hispanic organization that wanted the southwest to secede from the states. Trouble was that now the idealistic Hispanic kids who followed the Valero brothers had graduated from college and like their Anglo hippy brothers, were now, all CEOs of major corporations. The ideology of their youth had given way to the six figure salaries of their adult lives. Who gave a damn about the revolutionary dreams of a bunch of kids when you had to pay off two Bemmers, a house in Four Hills and a Harvard education? No one wanted to revolt against this.

True, in the time Parker and DeLuca worked on Freddy’s case, Whitman’s boys had brought to justice four murderers, a major auto theft ring and five rapists from the campus of the nearby university. Still, Parker and DeLuca could now say, with certainty, that the flaming man was Freaky Freedy and the resulting explosion was caused by the actions of the Valero brothers, none of which were ever seen intact again. Bits of bone did show up from time to time.

Whitman had been what was called a ‘geek’ while in high school. Tall, slender, Whitman was no athlete. No one would have predicted that he would end up as a Lieutenant in the Metropolis Police Department, least of all Whitman. Alexander Charles Whitman, graduated with honors with a degree in Computer Science. Like most in his graduating class, Whitman found that for every job there were a dozen applicants with real time experience. He returned to college for another degree. The government promised that the recession would not last more than a year.

Once a famous man named Ronald Reagan, said that a recession is when your neighbor can’t get a job. That can easily lead to a depression when you are the person who can’t get a job. Alex found that the recession declared by the government became a personal depression for himself. A few Pollyanna fools believed what the government said that the recession would be over in a year. When Alex had approached the bankers with his transcripts they were more than happy to lend him student loans. Now, those same bankers looked at him with sterner faces; he was out of college and still no prospects of a job. Whitman had a hell of a lot of student loans to repay. The police were hiring as well as the Department of Corrections at the state prison. Whitman had been an honor student so he quickly signed up with the Metropolis Police Department, no prison guard detail for him.

Foot patrol gave Whitman sore feet and riding in a police cruiser all day gave him a sore ass. It was one day while lending muscle, standing guard while the crime scene investigating boys (CSI) did their thing, that the then, patrolman Whitman, saw a chance to demonstrate what he was born to do. The CSI guys were bitching about finding a computer that was encrypted. They hated turning stuff like that over to the Feds. The Feds could crack the box, they were the only group with the money and talent to handle encryption like this. CSI knew that whatever the Feds found would not be shared. When no one was looking, Whitman sat down and using what he had learned about the psychology of pass words, he had the thing up and running before the yells to, “Get the hell away from there,” had even died down. Now CSI would not have to think of approaching the feds, hat in hand, begging for favors. In house talent like this assured Alex of a promotion and a transfer to the detective squad.

The stringy Detective Whitman, had a metabolism that would not bulk up. He could eat a horse, or better a dozen donuts, and not gain an ounce. To build a reputation, Whitman spent most of his spare time in the gym. He took every self-defense course offered and on his own time he studied every book he could find on clandestine or black operations. The results were that Whitman could kill a man, using a spiral notebook, thirteen different ways. You should see what he could do with a ballpoint pen. He earned the respect of his men, not by his looks or his degrees, but rather by what they knew he could do in the field. His men worked hard and they were loyal to a fault. They would follow Whitman into hell itself. That didn’t keep them from bitching when he told them they had to work for Little Napoleon.

Captain Valenti was tough and smart. He went to college funded by a scholarship earned by the number of yards he ran in high school football. He majored in sociology and physical education. It didn’t matter what his major was, as his daddy, Big Jim Valenti, was one of the deputy chiefs of the department. Big Jim wanted a son he could be proud of so he placed, Kyle Valenti in the roughest part of town. Valenti never asked for backup which, in hindsight, was foolish. When he entered a bar, you needed a paddy wagon for prisoners and several ambulances for the wounded. So far, the wounded never included Valenti. With in a year, the honest people on Valenti’s beat were so over joyed with his brand of justice that they paid for every meal he ate. No one held up a joint when Valenti was expected to stop by for dinner. No one ran out without paying when he was sitting at the counter drinking coffee. Come Christmas time, Kyle Valenti had to drive his squad cars along his beat to carry the presents and gratuities that he was given. The professional girls in the area made offers a lesser man would not refuse. His athletic good looks made many of them think, they might even do it for love with Valenti. Kyle was careful about them. His father would kick his butt if he got into some scandal with one of the local whores. The pushers, the crack heads and the scum of the city all petitioned the ACLU to get Valenti moved. After Kyle had pissed off or hospitalized every bad guy in his district, daddy had him moved to detective. As a detective, he graduated to working vice. In vice, he rose to the rank of sergeant. Now, he was captain of the entire detective division. Unfortunately for him, this included Lieutenant Parker and her strange cases.

Officers who seem to have advantage in the department are said to have a “rabbi.” This came from the old days on the east coast where the predominately Irish Catholic police ran everything. The Jewish lads who wanted to serve the law found themselves at loss until they found within their own ranks, individuals who would speak up for them and assure the young Jews equal opportunity. These champions were called rabbis. Now, when your rabbi is your own father you can be certain that the skids of promotion will receive plenty of grease. But, even big Jim could not tell Kyle why he had been saddled with Parker, DeLuca and their ridiculous squad.

Most men held that women officers should be out working vice. When they were back in the office they should be practicing this vice with willing officers to get better at it. No one in the detective unit ever bragged of screwing either Parker or DeLuca, or at least, no one who ever lived to tell about it. Yes, DeLuca had been one hell of a decoy when she was working with the vice unit, but as soon as she met Parker, nada. She was as unapproachable as the lieutenant herself. Everyone knew that DeLuca wasn’t any virgin, but whoever she was getting it from, wisely remained silent. The squad wasn’t sure about Little Napoleon.

Kyle had a right to be proud of his unit. He, also, supported them. Kyle, as captain, might be in a political position, but as the son of a deputy chief of considerable power, Kyle didn’t bend to political winds. Kyle lived for his department. When his own men had to pull his hands off a defense attorney’s throat, it took papa considerable effort to pull in enough credit to hush it up. The attorney had implied one of Kyle’s officers had lied in court. Kyle did put the gym off limits that afternoon as he and a certain officer went ‘mano a mano’ in a work out. Kyle reported that he would always back his men, but if the men did things, which were stupid, like lying, Kyle would kick their asses until the end of the week.

Captain Kyle Valenti was not a happy camper when he found himself saddled with Lieutenant Parker. Kyle considered himself the greatest lover since that amateur, Clark Gable. Women working for him, were not something he completely understood. He had no idea how she got there and neither did Big Jim. Big Jim did get word down to his son to be careful. Parker reportably had a rabbi much above the power of Big Jim. “Son, make the best of it and cover your ass whenever you have dealings with her,” Big Jim cautioned. Kyle immediately pulled Parker’s record. That didn’t help. She had been turned down on the first cut of rookies of her class. She had been said to be too small. No matter, when the classes started up, there was Rookie Parker on the roster, her name had been penciled in by someone with considerable grease. Of course, she excelled in the written part of the training. Many of the men were recertified ‘Jocks’ who had to be forced to learn. They had made it by athletic ability so far. It was a come down to be told that they had to burn much midnight oil to make it through the school. Academically, the women rookies usually were superior. At first, Parker was low in personal defense, but by the end of the school, Parker was in the top five. She even had three reprimands about un-necessary roughness during training. When Parker made it to the detective squad, she brought along a certain vice cop named, DeLuca.

DeLuca made the physical part of rookie school with ease. She had been a singer for some time. That gave her an excellent set of lungs. She had been trained in ballet in her youth, but she practiced exotic dancing when she graduated from college. If the police department had wanted a recruiting poster, DeLuca would have been the woman to star on it. One chap in the crime lab, with the help of PhotoShop, had cobbled one up. It had the scantily clad DeLuca in a mini police uniform with a badge taped to her chest and little else. The poster read, “Come and work with me.”

There were 250 requests for printing of that poster the first day. Many lockers let their owners see the voluptuous DeLuca, inviting them to hit the streets, taped to locker doors. Her picture stayed with them as they did work those streets and was waiting for them when they returned. Even DeLuca had her own copy. The only statement from her was, “Boys, my boobs stand out a lot better than that.”

No, she would not consent to pose so the artist could get it right. Not many of the officers had ever seen her in the buff so they could only dream about the real thing. Her fantastic physical assets hid what Parker had seen. Maria DeLuca had a lot of street smarts as well as a good mind when it came to solving crime. The real loss, for many years, was that no matter how good she had been working vice, as a detective, she had few peers. Only Parker saw this in her.

Whitman’s lead detectives were Evans and Guerin. Evans was quiet and introspective. He came from a wealthy home and had an Ivy League education. With curley brown hair and light brown eyes, he must have been some sort of heartthrob in the debutant circuit. Unlike others in the squad, his sex life was unknown. Bragging about weekends was beneath the Patrician, Max Evans. Sometime in his life had rung the words of Theodore Roosevelt, “The privileged class owes a service to society.” Evans had no idea of when he first heard this or if it even could be attributed to the great president. He found a home in police work and enjoyed the challenge it gave him.

A detective was expected to wear a suit or, at least, a sports coat. Evans dressed impeccably. His suits cost thousands of dollars apiece. His shoes were not imported; it was believed that his family imported the Italian shoe makers instead. Still, you would find Evans always willing to crawl through the slime of the underworld the same as any other detective.

His partner was the taciturn, often belligerent, Michael Guerin. Where Evans stepped somewhere out of the social registry and dressed for it, Guerin, who having climbed out of the welfare system, did good to wear a jacket along with his Levis and tennis shoes. Guerin was a good street cop. It was known that although he would sit with the boys at the bar, Guerin drank very little, if any at all. Where the Evans family could sometimes even lean on the powerful Chief Valenti, Michael Guerin did not have the slightest idea of who his family was. He said he didn’t give a damn either. That was probably just bravado on his part. He was as surprised as anyone when it was announced that his boyhood friend, Max Evans, requested him as a partner in the detective squad.

Together, they found that they made a perfect team. In the interrogation room, they broke almost every suspect down. They would start with the burley Guerin grabbing the suspect and hustling them to the interrogation room. He always shouted out to the entire department, “Hey Lieutenant, Evans and I will have the perp in the torture chamber.” The surprise to the perp, was that it was Guerin, so rough on the outside, who appeared sympathetic to the prisoner. The fear came from his quiet mysterious friend standing in the background with a face as impassive as a hangman.

Interrogation always started the same way. Guerin would quietly start with the paper work. Name, date of birth and social security numbers were quietly recorded. For awhile, it would appear that the muscular Guerin was the perp’s best friend. Then, he would lean across the table and with his breath smelling of the onions in the cheese burgers that he continually ate, shout out his questions. After a time if the answers were not forth coming, Guerin would lean back and sigh. “I tried to be your friend. If you won’t talk to me, then Dr. Strangelove will talk to you next.”

Few of the perps remembered or even knew of that character from the old Peter Seller’s movie of the “Cold War” time. The next comment grabbed their attention. “You know, he studied under some of them reconstituted ‘Nazzies’ from the second war,” Michael would whisper.

That was the cue for Evans to come forth. Vincent Price had nothing on Evans. Maxwell Evans would look like he just stepped out of a gentlemen’s fashion magazine. The drama of slowly removing his gloves usually transfixed the attention of the perp. A Master’s degree in psychology, along with a degree in drama, as he opened his supply of dental picks, erupted in the now very quiet interrogation room. Guerin always sat on the same side of the table as the perp. From time to time, he would pat the perp’s shoulder lending him moral support. “I’d help ya if I could, but he’s the devil if he don’t slice someone up every day or so,” Michael would whisper. It was not uncommon for the subject to be removed from the interrogation room broken and in tears.

So far, no one had survived this drama for more than a day. Of course, they never put this show on unless they had a lot of evidence, Exploratory interrogations, were usually made by someone else in the department. Leave it to Little Napoleon who would cause them to change their usual pattern of interrogation.

Their number of arrests, the number of outstanding upcoming court appearances and the favor they felt had earned with Lieutenant Whitman, all added up to enough grease, they felt, to avoid being loaned to another squad, namely that of Little Napoleon. “Lieutenant, you can’t send us over there to work with those women. Look at the court cases we have to be free to attend. Will she notify us and give us time off to follow through all the impending cases? You need us to work for you here!” They both exclaimed.

“If you two bozos don’t get your asses over to that office across the room, there won’t be any one to work for here. That woman has enough grease to slide our entire department back to uniforms,” the lieutenant yelled. “And don’t forget that it is Lieutenant Parker and Sergeant DeLuca. I don’t want any of my men in the hospital, just because they were impolite to those women,” he continued.
Last edited by ken_r on Sat Apr 21, 2012 11:28 am, edited 39 times in total.
Good teachers are born that way, not made. No! Good human beings, are born that way. Some of them become teachers.

Of course, life is not fair. You shouldn't expect it to be fair, but you should expect it to be ironic.
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Re: Little Napoleon, mature, CC jul, 4, 2011

Postby ken_r » Sun Jul 10, 2011 3:09 pm

Natalie36
begonia9508: Americans both hate and admire Napoleon. In our education we read about Napoleon from the English when at the time the English were slightly above Al-Qaeda in american thought. Americans were mostly on Napoleon's side. there is Napoleon, a small person who has risen to power, but a Napoleonic complex is is an informal term describing a type of inferiority complex which is said to affect some people, especially men, who are short in stature. In this story the name Little Napoleon is hated by Liz until the attitude of those calling her that change. Eventually she doesn't see it as being mean.
nitpick23
mary mary
keepsmiling: No, i think you will find that this is more like "Castle" than CSI. One thing i hate about CSI is they preform their duties too quickly. In reality they work very slowly. There is little magic as shown in the Casy Anthony case when the juror kept saying he wanted hard DNA. There are so many things on TV that can't work in real life. Like the little kid who asked me why didn't I just shoot the gun out of the perp's hand. They do this every night on TV.


Chapter 2

The plus side of being in a special unit, is that cases get passed down to you after the other units decide that they have no idea of what happened. Sergeant DeLuca was used to her beauty sleep. Working vice she had usually slept until noon. Now, she came in at 8:00 in the morning and left promptly at 4:30 that afternoon. That is, unless something of the case demanded her attention. The call from Lieutenant Parker at 2:30 that morning was not received with enthusiasm.

“Rise and shine, Maria. We got this one from the beginning. Get your butt over to the railroad tracks and Central Avenue,” the almost cheerful voice of Lieutenant Parker called.

Maria shook the cobwebs out of her mind. If she had still been working vice, this would be about the time she returned home to her own bed alone. Don’t tell Maria that she missed the sunrise. She usually saw it from the other side, going to bed instead of getting up. Oh well, she had a few more hours before she actually saw the sun, this morning. Maria showered and fixed her hair. Just because there was an emergency was no cause for a girl to not look her best.

When Maria arrived, she saw flood lights already set up. Outside the police perimeter, it was crawling with uniforms. The location was at the official center of town. Addresses in the four directions in the city, all started from this point. In the past, there had been a magnificent building, which could be found in many early movies with characters like Clark Gable and Humphrey Bogart standing beside the mighty “Santa Fe Chief” locomotive. Now, the beautiful building had been torn down to make way for the modern world and then rebuilt in a much smaller and less grandiose construction. Where the massive original had been, now there were parking lots and cheaply built shops, which contributed to the city’s inner decay.

Inside the yellow taped area, people with jumpsuits all labeled, Crime Lab, were taking samples. Several of them were up on the railroad bed looking for something. The steam from their breath almost looked like a locomotive from the old days. In a huddle on one side she saw several suits. They must be the detective squad. Again, Maria wondered why did they turn this crime over to the special squad so early in the investigation. Usually, she and Parker had to sift through the mistakes and blunders of the other detectives after they had given up.

To one side, Maria, saw the diminutive figure of Lieutenant Parker. The collar of her leather trench coat was turned up and her head was covered in a wool scarf. Maria knew that the trench coat had a down lining so Parker wasn’t freezing from the cold. The cold was caused by the worst weather in 50 years. What was sad, was being frozen out by the other detectives from being part of their group. That cold was worse than the weather could ever be. Parker stood alone, while the several detectives who admitted that this case was beyond them, laughed and joked on the far side of the scene. “Hey Boss, Whass hoppening?” Maria called, imitating a bad Hispanic accent.

“Hey Maria, come here and let me show you,” Liz answered.

The two women walked to the covered body. Liz looked up to make sure that there were no news reporters with their damned cameras to flash when she showed her best friend the crime they had been given. Taking the cover, she tentatively lifted it up enough so that the squatting Maria could view what they had to investigate.

Maria saw a body, maybe Hispanic, maybe Native American, Hell, maybe alien for all she knew. The body was not what was important. The body was covered in silver handprints. There were no knife wounds, no bullet holes, only those strange handprints. “Killed by the laying on of hands,” Maria gently joked. Other detectives would understand her humor or attempt at that, as a relief for the many terrible things a detective faced. It would never do to let the media or the public, hear of such comments. Maria catalogued at the start, in her mind, that his clothes were not from Goodwill. He wasn’t coming from the opera, but he was dressed well. His shoes were Italian and relatively new. Secretly Maria judged dead men by their shoes. Tennies, from the shoe barn, were not normally worn by professional stiffs, but sometimes, they might be worn by engineers or other geeks. Stiffs who once had good jobs, but had fallen on hard times, would wear expensive shoes showing considerable wear and holes in the soles. Most stiffs who were professionals with good jobs, did not have these holes in their expensive shoes. Real cowboys in this part of the southwest might wear boots and if they actually worked on a ranch, you might find cardboard and duct tape patching the soles getting that few more months of use out of their foot wear. Of course sometimes, the murderer stole the victim’s shoes leaving his in their place. This would have to be worked out later.

“I am going to ask for help from the very start. This is too strange, even for us,” the lieutenant murmured.

Back at the lab, Liz was showing the body to the two detectives who Lieutenant Whitman had loaned her. She had a feeling about this case and she had requested Evans and Guerin. She knew they were good and that they could handle unorthodox situations. Liz expected them to both be sullen at having to work with her and she wasn’t disappointed. At first, neither had said more than a grunt of greeting. Evans and Guerin made such a contrast as they walked around the body on display. They were like two cats circling a canary, just waiting to pounce. The husky Guerin with his bombardier jacket, probably from Goodwill, showing wear from more than one owner and the perfectly dressed Evans who could have had a day job, as a male model in GQ.

“Sniffer,” Evans said.

“Could be,” answered Guerin.

“Clothes,” stated Evans.

“Pretty fancy,” returned Guerin.

“Addict?” Evans asked.

“Dressed too well,” Guerin answered.

They had been like this all morning. Liz understood two men who worked together so well that they didn’t need complete sentences to communicate.

Liz saw Guerin stoop and sniff the silver marks. “Doesn’t smell right,” he said.

Evans took out a ivory handled pocket knife, flipped open the blade with his thumb and gently scrapped the place where one of the handprints appeared. “Doesn’t come off. Must be below the surface,” He related.

“Do you think it could be?” Guerin questioned.

“Don’t go there yet, Mike. Wait until we rule out everything else,” Evans almost commanded.

Michael Guerin shrugged and looked up at the lieutenant. “Ma’am, silver paint is a favorite of sniffers. Those in the know say it has a special high. I never could tell the difference, myself. Dead paint sniffers all smell the same to me.”

Liz took a deep breath, “Gentlemen, please call me lieutenant or Liz. We are working together. Do you have something else to share with the class? Liz asked.

Evans looked up at her. Actually, he was a good-looking guy. So was that other fellow, that Michael Guerin, Liz thought. Evans began talking. “Ma’am or Liz, sorry, we work best if we run down each piece of evidence before we try something else. Let us loose with this sniffer stuff and if it fails then we will regroup and try to find something else. We will keep you appraised on everything we learn and we would appreciate it if you did the same. There is nothing worse than tackling something that has already been covered,” he stated.

Theses men were strangers to the lieutenant, it was best to let them work as they wanted for a time. Something they saw bothered Liz. They weren’t telling her everything, yet. Liz and Maria took the lab reports back to their office. According to the meat room, the victim had died of his innards being microwaved. Liz had a slight twinge. She had promised to share with the two detectives whatever she found. Well they had been so sure about that paint sniffing. They all had a ways to go before they all truly worked together. She and Maria would pursue the theory that somewhere there existed a huge microwave that would pre-cook victims to confuse Metropolis’ finest.

Maria would call all the businesses that she could, inquiring if they had or knew of a large microwave. The rumor got started that the Metropolitan Police Department was planning a massive Luau. That would later raise hell with the deputy chief as he tried to explain to the accounting administration that this was part of an ongoing investigation, not a bunch of cops trying to host a Hawaiian beer bust. This made Chief Valenti shake his head and say to himself, “I thought you cooked the pig in an outdoor fire pit. Where did everyone get the idea we were looking for a king size microwave?”


It was late afternoon when Evans and Guerin returned with a disheveled individual. The man had a cut on his lip and smelled like he hadn’t had a bath since last Christmas. Jimmy the Nose was a mess. He had been that way since middle school when he discovered paint thinner. As they led him past Liz’s office, she thought, he had the odor of a paint and body shop. In fact, that had been his last job. Jimmy had been a paint man over at the Malo Brother’s ‘Chop Shop.’ Jimmy loved his job too much, even for the Malo brothers. As high as he could get without falling down, Jimmy was found painting a just stolen Ferrari red and white, candy cane. The car, had been scheduled to be shipped out that afternoon, to a client in Japan. The Malo brothers knew that with Jimmy’s paint job it would attract unwanted attention. Every custom agent who saw it would want to check it out.

Liz called Maria and together they went to the observation room, where behind the one-way mirrors they could watch the team of Evans and Guerin interrogate. “Okay, Jimmy, now we want to know something about paint sniffing,” Guerin asked in a surprisingly friendly voice. Liz marveled how such a big man could convey such calm.

“Hey, I ain’t got nothing to say to no coppers,” Jimmy retorted.

“Jimmy, Jimmy, this ain’t for me,” Guerin pleaded. “Doctor Strangelove over there wants to know. He just wants me to ask you nicely. When he starts asking questions, it ain’t a pretty sight.”

Jimmy fearfully looked over at Evans. Liz had the redundant, but continuing thought, Evans does look like he just stepped out of a fashion magazine.

Jimmy still looking at Evans said, “Okay, okay, just don’t get pushy. What do you want to know about paint sniffing? You know it ain’t against no laws.”

“Jimmy, Jimmy, there are many ordinances against the inhaling of noxious chemicals. They may be petty and they may be misdemeanors, but they can still add up to serious jail time with no paint can to be had,” Michael stated.

Jimmy was sullen, but he looked over at Dr. Strang… he meant Evans and swallowed. The son-of-a-bitch was playing with one of those dental picks. Jimmy could imagine what he wanted to do with that thing.
“Well ask your questions,” he murmured.

“That’s a boy, Jimmy. Now tell us about preferred paint for sniffing,” Michael commanded.

“Paint is the bottom of inhalants,” Jimmy started. “There are many things better than just spray paint. They just, ain’t as easy to steal. Some of that new environmental stuff ain’t even got no odor or any effect. If you can get it, acetone is always good. You puts it on a rag and wraps it about your face. It burns the skin a bit and you has to watch youse eyes. If I can get enough I just pours it over my body and sits there breathing deeply,” Jimmy lectured like a professor of inhalants.

“Yeah, Jimmy, but what about painting your body?” Michael asked.

“Yeah, sometimes you don’t want to get caught. Some copper sees you holding a rag to your nose, he gets edgy. Now, if you paint your upper body with fresh paint, unless he get close enough to smell you, you can just wrap youse jacket up round your face and smell your self all the way to heaven,” Doctor Jimmy the nose stated.

Michael leaned back, always watching Jimmy. He was making Jimmy nervous as well as was Evans, when Jimmy kept casting glances his way. “Okay, Jimmy, now tell us about the silver paint,” Michael requested.

“When you puts it on your self it don’t get hard and hurt your skin,” Jimmy explained. Then he went on, “The silver paint always stays rubbery. Sometimes when it looses it power you can just rub it off.”

Michael looked up at Evans and Liz could swear that Evans, standing like a statue gave an almost imperceptible nod. “All right, Jimmy, you just don’t take no trips out of town for a while. Doctor Strangelove says you can go,” Michael informed him.

Liz and Maria watched as Jimmy metered his progress to get out of the station as fast as possible, yet not stir up in some rookie the belief that he might be running from some officer. Jimmy was a pro at police stations. His experience was to get away from them as soon as possible.

Liz and Maria were sitting in their office when Evans and Guerin stepped in to give up what they had learned. “Do you guys always put on a ‘dog and pony show’ when you interrogate someone?” the lieutenant asked.

Guerin nodded and said, “This was for information. There is no way that Jimmy could have killed anyone. If Jimmy had known about any super paint sniffers, I am sure he would have given them up. From what Jimmy said, I don’t think it was paint on the victim anyway. I am sure your own sources have told you this already.”

Guerin started explaining what they had learned as Evans sat back and listened and thought. Evans had always been a bit backwards toward people, but Guerin had been manipulating everyone since he had been in the welfare system at six years old. Max Evans listened to the drone of Michael’s voice as he studied their female bosses.

Both women were more than attractive. They were attractive even under the stark make up and utilitarian slacks they were wearing. That DeLuca had an almost impossible waist. Max studied carefully to see if he detected the evidence of a girdle. As she moved about the office during Michael’s discussion, Max saw her skin ripple under her slacks. Max decided that what you saw in DeLuca was what was offered. She was real, at least, in the waist department.

She had a rack that was impressive. Max was sure that, it was not made by Goodrich rubber, but it was God’s gift to DeLuca. Max had seen her in the gym, her breasts bound tightly as she went mano to mano with what every officer who was available. Max had heard that she excelled in hand to hand combat. One detective had said at coffee one day, that in dirty fighting, Maria had no match. She had the reputation of being teeth, claws and elbows in a fight. There was a rumor that she had tried to strangle a man with a long hair by wrapping his own ponytail about his throat.

Max was thinking, that in bed, as long as she was willing, her stamina would have no equal. If she had quit vice and joined the other side, Maria would indeed be a rich woman.

Max turned his attention to the lieutenant. She was small. The entire detective force, thanks to the captain, knew that Parker had been turned down at first. The captain had made sure that the detectives all knew that, at least at first, she had been way behind in the physical training. Max had done his own research and he knew that someone wanted Parker to be on the squad. Someone, who remained mysterious, wanted her to succeed. That someone must be a powerful rabbi. Max also knew that in physical training, Parker had risen to be fifth in class.

Getting past the officer, Lieutenant Parker, Max saw an almost elfin creature. Sure, she was small and her rack did not support a pair of double “D’s.” He had been told that she was a runner. Max could wonder what it would feel like to have those legs wrapped around him. Parker had her hair pulled back and Max could not help but wonder what she looked like with her hair down and flowing. Both women had medium long hair, but Max knew that when they hit the streets, they had someway of putting it up so it wasn’t a disadvantage during a fight.

“… and that is why we put the show on for Jimmy. Jimmy is a lot smarter than he looks. He is constantly on the streets and he doesn’t like things that don’t fit. He doesn’t like to be rousted and he will be the first to tell us if he sees anything strange on the streets. Max and I have another line we want to investigate. Now, is not a good time to explain it. We will let you know as soon as we know more,” Michael concluded.

“Okay guys, now here is something we have learned. The victim was burned inside. The lab rat who informed me of this said it was as if he had been put in a microwave,” Liz stated. ‘DeLuca and I have been looking into where you would find a large microwave.”

Liz saw the exchange of looks between Guerin and Evans. This time, Evans spoke up, he seemed to now, be very impatient. “Lieutenant, we gotta go. This information might generate some real helpful evidence. We will let you know as soon as we know, what it is. Don’t spend too much time on that microwave thing.”

Guerin and Evans left the office almost as fast as Jimmy the nose had.

“Well, what do you think, Maria?” Liz asked.

“I am thinking that I would like to have probable cause to strip search that big guy, sometime,” Maria stated laughing.

Liz laughed also. She had visions of DeLuca ordering a private strip search of Guerin and following that with an official pat down. With Maria in this frame of mind, things might even develop into a mutual strip search and lord knows what would follow.
-----------------------
Men and women working together very closely, but avoiding stepping over certain lines. The Elevator
Good teachers are born that way, not made. No! Good human beings, are born that way. Some of them become teachers.

Of course, life is not fair. You shouldn't expect it to be fair, but you should expect it to be ironic.
JKR 1981-2001
History is made of wars, recovering from wars and preparing for the next war.
JJR 1975-

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ken_r
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Re: Little Napoleon, AU, mature, CC, pg 1, ch 2, jul, 10, 20

Postby ken_r » Sun Jul 17, 2011 12:46 pm

Begonia9508: I agree that Liz might become a bit despotic with the treatment they give her. Aliens are explained today.
nitpick23
keepsmiling7
mary mary



Chapter 3

“Damn it Isabel, this murder has all the marks of being done by aliens. I thought we had all the aliens accounted for. Is there any psychopath somewhere we don’t know about?” Max asked of his sister.

There was silence for a time on the other end of the phone. Isabel was on the east coast with one of her many lovers. She changed them like Max changed his shirts, sometimes with as much blood on them as Max earned as a cop. Isabel loved her wild life. So far, no one or no situation had been serious enough for her to rein in her passions. Finally she said, “Max, we were assured by that son-of-a-bitch on Antar that he would keep his promise. The refuges could have Earth and we wouldn’t start an uprising back home. If that bastard, Kivar has sent agents to Earth we need to know as soon as possible. “What are you going to tell your boss? About aliens,
that is.”

“I don’t yet know, Isabel. I think we need you back in the southwest and you need to alert some of our agents to help our investigations,” Max said.

Max hung up. Isabel stretched back and wondered how she was going to end her present situation. True, he had marvelous equipment and he used it well. God had poured great effort in the creation of his mid-section, but the top, including his brain, had not been kept up. Even if he had a dick a foot long, Isabel owed her brother and her people. She could resurrect some other soul later when her duties were over. Damn her clone donor! Why had she had the hots for that damned despot? No one screwed good enough to abandon and betray your own people!

Yes, Isabel, Max and Michael were clones. They had been sent by the royal family to secure a refuge for the royals, if the war went wrong. The despot had killed the original donors and those royals who were left had fled to Earth. The treaty was that there was nothing left on Antar for the refugees and Kivar would keep his hands off of those living on Earth. Coming from a land torn by a war lasting for a thousand years, most of the refugees were content to fit into the Earth population.

Isabel was tall, maybe, even taller than Max. Cloning wasn’t an exact science. At this time she willed her self to be a blonde. No hair dresser for Isabel. She used the science that Earth creatures would have considered magic. She changed her hair color down to the roots. Isabel had a trim waist. Nothing like DeLuca, but Isabel was too much of an athlete to be a perfect model. She ran no matter where she was or who she was with. Her breasts stood out, but they never drooped, even when she wasn’t wearing the support of most Earth women. Isabel used all her alien magic to make the figure of her self, the one she wanted to see.

Isabel always allowed her lovers to think they were running the show, but none of them had the strength of mind to see how she moved them for her own pleasure. Just now, she watched Grant as he sneaked out of their apartment. Isabel had sent him looking for a whore, without knowing where the idea came from. Whatever whore he found, ought to thank Izzy. She was sure there were not that many earth men with Grant’s equipment. Isabel had already assured that, he would get caught publicaly and Isabel would, with great indignation, break up with him. He would be branded as a stupid, asshole and the tears she would shed would, again, endear her to the public. Isabel would immediately go into seclusion somewhere in the southwest where Max needed her.

Once again Maria’s sleep was disturbed. If mornings didn’t quit happening this way, Maria was either going back to vice or maybe, back to exotic dancing. This police work was interfering with her beauty sleep. Maria didn’t think Lieutenant Parker slept at all. She was always seen to be out and about any police incident, watching to see if any of them needed her attention.

When Maria finally arrived, she saw the now familiar scene. The yellow crime ribbons had been erected. They were in a vacant lot south of where the first man had been killed. If she hadn’t been a cop, Maria might have had some fear of being in this location. The lot, was surrounded by buildings, most of which were vacant. They were on the mayor’s list for demolition. This would be too late for this poor chap. What the hell was he doing in this location. If he was just some poor homeless maggot, then why was he killed. In a knot, laughing and telling jokes, were the suited detectives and all alone was Lieutenant Parker bundled against the cold, waiting for her partner to arrive so she would have someone to bounce ideas off of. This time, it was but a few minutes after Maria arrived that Evans and Guerin arrived to join the lieutenant and Maria. Maria allowed her mind another quick field strip of detective Guerin as they approached the crime scene. If you do not have it for real, then that is what an imagination is for.

Guerin filled out his jeans in the manner of a man who was wearing long johns. He was dressed in his usual bombardier jacket and had a stocking cap on his head. Maria was sure that the jacket had a slit cut in the pocket so he could quickly get to his weapon, his pistol that is. Maria hoped that he was keeping his primary weapon nice and warm. Max was wearing a cap that definitely looked Russian. It was fur of some kind. He was dressed, as always, in a perfect suit and a long coat buttoned up against the cold. If he was wearing long underwear or not, Maria hadn’t studied him like she had studied Michael, so she couldn’t tell. Maria thought, if that damned body covered by a blanket at their feet, hadn’t been there, she would show Michael other ways to keep warm. Of course, the lieutenant was all business. Privately, even though she was a good friend with Liz, Maria thought a good fucking was what the lieutenant most needed.

“Maria, guys, here is what we have.” The lieutenant held the blanket, again blocking view to any news agency. Maria bent over to gaze at the deceased. Guerin and Evans squatted and carefully examined the body. Maria saw that he wasn’t some poor homeless guy. His clothes were not fancy like Detective Evans wore, but they were clean or at least they were before he was killed. He looked like a professional of some type. His hands showed manicured nails, his shoes were not new, but they were not run down either.

“We have to tell her?” Evans said clearly directed to Guerin.

“At least about Roswell,” Guerin grunted.

The four had been looking at a body, which had silver handprints about its throat. Except for the handprints, the body showed no trauma. Liz was anxious to get the body back to the station. Liz stood alone, looking at the covered body as if trying to make it give up its secret. DeLuca, Guerin and Evans were all circling the body trying to pick up any evidence. Occasionally, they would bend down and place a flag near something they wanted the investigating team to bring back to the labs.

When they were back together, Liz asked, “Guys, it seemed that you might have something to share. What gives?”

“Lieutenant, Michael and I have seen this before. It is easier to show than to tell about. Give us the morning to get some files faxed from Roswell and we will explain,” Evans stated.

Later that morning, Liz and Maria were in the lab listening to what the techs had to say. Unlike on TV, the technicians picked up evidence and processed it. They had almost nothing to do with the solving of cases. “Lieutenant, Sergeant, here is what we have, so far. The first body had most of its organs cooked, as if in a microwave. There were several handprints all over the body. I understand that your detectives were suggesting paint sniffing. Well, that won’t hold. The silver handprints go down through several layers of skin,” the leader of the Crime Scene Investigation Squad stated. “It looks like he was tortured. The only case we have seen of that much trauma was on a snitch who the mob was trying to find out what he had ratted, however, they had used a blowtorch.”

He went on, leading the two women to the body that had been collected this morning. “Here, we have only silver hand prints on the throat. There are none on the chest or other parts of the body. As I said, in the first body you have most of the organs damaged. Here, this man died of suffocation, brought on by severe damage to the throat and breathings tubes. I am sure that he was subjected to great pain, but compared to the first victim, his death was rapid. The trachea and upper lungs show the same damage that the first body showed, all over. The closest we have seen like this is when a pimp poured Draino down one of his girl’s throat. Before you ask, none of these burns are chemical. This time it was totally different. But, maybe his death was to send a warning to someone or maybe, this was the perps method of execution.”

That afternoon, Liz and Maria were with Evans and Guerin. Evans dropped a file in front of the lieutenant. Liz opened the file and thumbed through it. After a few minutes, she slammed the file down on her desk and almost screamed, “What the hell do your two bastards think you are doing? I know the other detectives make fun of my department, but do you two fucking bastards think you can pull a prank like this?”

Maria quietly picked up the file. It was marked Roswell Police Department. The first thing Maria saw in the file was the picture of a young woman. She was lying on her back and about her chest were silver handprints. Flipping through the file, Maria saw two headings. The first was marked, “aliens” and the other was marked “shape shifters.” The two men were quietly sitting across from Little Napoleon. Michael was clearly about to explode. His anger was about being unjustly questioned. This was why he hated giving information to humans. They just refused to believe what was before their eyes. Max Evans, was calmly watching the lieutenant. “Ma’am, before you further vent your frustrations, I suggest that you look at the name of the officer who put that file together,” Max said in a quiet low voice.

If she could, Little Napoleon would have shriveled both men and then gone on to the rest of the department. All the crime scenes piled up, where she was made to stand alone as the rest of the detectives laughed, joked and shared information. Then, when they had messed the incident up completely, they turned it over to her. All the bitching she heard second hand about how useless her squad was. Then, they griped about how long it took for her to solve cases that they were completely lost in. She reached out and yanked the file out of Maria’s hands. Liz flipped to the back of the file and looked at the names of the officers who originally compiled the file. The final name was in a sentence, “Compiled under the authority of Officer James Valenti, Roswell, Police Department.

Liz closed her eyes and began to breath deeply. Her rant had been for no reason whatever. Evans and Guerin someway knew about this old case and they knew that Big Jim had led the investigation while he was still back in Roswell. As far as Liz knew, Big Jim didn’t know how to pull off a joke. He was all business. Liz wondered if Big Jim was like that with the girls he was supposed to know.

It was several minutes before Liz opened her eyes and began to breath naturally. “I am sorry guys, my outburst was unforgivable. You did good work to remember this file and I didn’t appreciate what you did. It seems we need to ask the deputy chief to sit in on this discussion. Looks like he might know a lot about what happened,” Liz stated in a modulated tone.

Big Jim distanced himself from the daily workings of the Metropolis Police Department. He felt his job was to handle the politics of the city, which might hinder the efforts of his officers. His main line for information was his son, Captain Kyle Valenti. The proper way for Little Napoleon to approach him would have been for her to send a memo to the captain, Kyle. Then if he felt it was valid, he would pass the memo on to someone on the police board. Eventually if the memo had merit it would reach Deputy Chief Valenti who might or might not act on the memo. Lieutenant Parker had sent the memo directly to Big Jim himself.

Jim Valenti, at first, was inclined to ignore the memo. That damned little bitch thinks she can make a mockery of procedure and chain of command. Then, Jim began to think of the improbability of Liz Parker rising to the level of Lieutenant and the belief that to do this she had some powerful grease handed down by a powerful “rabbi.”

Jim walked down to where the detectives had their office. He was sure that she had some gripe about the lack of cooperation she had been getting from the other detectives. Jim thought, “Damnit Parker, grow some balls. You survive in a man’s world by kicking ass. If you can’t kick ass, then you don’t belong there.”

When Big Jim entered the office, he saw the lieutenant, along with her assistant, DeLuca, and two detectives, Evans and Guerin whom he knew by reputation. Before he could deliver his admonition to this upstart lieutenant, she started. Liz was as gracious as she could be. “Chief, we need your advice.” Liz handed Jim the file that had been faxed from Roswell. Then, she handed him two other files.

That damned alien business! In Roswell, it had almost cost him his job. Fast talking and political haranguing were all that swept it under the rug. Now, this slip of a girl was bringing it out again. Before Jim started up, he was at least smart enough to look at the other two files. “That damned son-of-a-bitching shape shifter! I thought we had seen the last of him.” Jim looked up at Liz and said, ”Look girlie, that son-of-a-bitch almost cost me my job.”

Normally, Little Napoleon would have exploded at the name of “Girlie.” Normally, she would have seen that word as an insult. The way Big Jim said it this time and the look on his face, backed her down. Big Jim truly had concern.

“Chief, we have two new victims that match this old file under your name. We need help,” Liz pleaded. “We covered chemicals and addictions and got nowhere,” Liz continued.

Jim took a deep breath. He felt just like he had so many years ago. “It’s chemical,” he said. “a strange isotope of cadmium. Don’t let any word of this get out or you will be drowned in military clowns all taking what they want and leaving you with less information than you had to start. Your best bet will be to interview some of those UFO loonies. Some of them are completely crazy, but there are a few who know what they are saying. Look, I will talk to your captain. Kyle remembers what it was like when we found that first body. He might even have some good advice.

The chief who left was much calmer than the chief who arrived. Big Jim left in almost a daze. That damned shape shifter, hadn’t been heard of for years. Where in the hell had he been hiding? Big Jim didn’t believe in reform. Where ever that bastard had been was sure to show some of his crimes. Leopards didn’t go around spot changing and shape shifters didn’t go around joining civic clubs. Somewhere, maybe, even in another country there must be a series of crimes that would shout shape shifter to anyone who was in the know. There were almost secret networks which chief’s of police exchanged information. Big Jim was going to pound his own drum on these networks.

The four detectives sat in silence for several minutes. Finally, Evans spoke. “Lieutenant, Guerin and I know a woman who is definitely not a kook. She knows a lot about aliens and the beliefs in aliens. We would like to see if she is willing to fly in and act as an advisor. We agree with the chief. We don’t want any military involved in this matter.”

With that, the two men left. “Well, Maria, what do you think about this?” Liz asked her friend.

Maria looked back with a grin. “I think, before too much more time has passed, I want that big hunk between my legs doing what I am sure he can do best,” She said.

“Damn it Maria, you know the rules about fraternization between members of the department,” Liz remarked.

“Yeah, Liz and we both know that rule is one of the most disobeyed of all of them. Captain Valenti tries out almost every rookie female who joins the force. The chief is reported to have sampled more than one officer, even though he has something steady going on back in Roswell.” Maria stated with a bit of rancor.

“What do you mean by that?” The lieutenant quickly questioned.

“Nothing right now. Sometime, I will tell you,” Maria answered. Then, she turned back to her friend. “Liz, you are too serious. It wouldn’t hurt for you to get screwed occasionally. Be truthful, you haven’t had anyone since that no-good cousin of mine, have you?”

Liz looked down. This was the one place where she was vulnerable. “Maria, that bastard put those tapes up on the internet. I thought he loved me. I was just too naive as I listened to his words. I am just lucky that no one on the force has discovered them yet. I could end up the laughing stock of the department if someone ever does,” Liz murmured.
---------------------------------------
The Elevator Max and Tess are struggling with the question can men and women work together without becoming intimate sometime?
Good teachers are born that way, not made. No! Good human beings, are born that way. Some of them become teachers.

Of course, life is not fair. You shouldn't expect it to be fair, but you should expect it to be ironic.
JKR 1981-2001
History is made of wars, recovering from wars and preparing for the next war.
JJR 1975-

User avatar
ken_r
Obsessed Roswellian
Posts: 860
Joined: Wed Oct 04, 2006 11:34 pm
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Re: Little Napoleon, AU, mature, CC, pg 2, ch 3, jul, 17, 20

Postby ken_r » Sat Jul 23, 2011 10:47 pm

begonia9508
nitpick23
mary mary
keepsmiling7


Chapter 4

Michael and Max were waiting for the passengers to get off the plane. They had slipped past authorities by benefit of their police badges. As always, as she walked down the ramp, Isabel gave off almost a glow. Also, as always, Max felt this un-brotherly feeling that his sister was one of the most beautiful women in the world. With her mind control, Max knew that she was controlling every male in the terminal who saw her. Her hair peeping out from under her fur hat, had the look of spun gold. Her brown eyes and well tanned skin, set this off and made her memorable to almost everyone who saw her. The Transportation Security Administration body searchers at her terminal of departure, had lined up to either look at her body scans or to assist in a pat down if she refused the scan. Isabel expanded her aura of apparent sex appeal and two technicians had to retire to the men’s room to clean up the wet spot in their jeans that suddenly appeared when they touched the voluptuous blonde. The third tech, walked off his post and quickly drove home to his wife. He never did successfully explain the urgency he had of getting her to go back to bed.

Isabel was now wearing a warm long coat. Max knew that before leaving Florida, Isabel had been careful to check the weather in the southwest. It had been three weeks since the temperature had seen 35 degrees or above. Normally, they would have a balmy 60 to 70 degree temperature this time of the year. This was the coldest stretch in years.

“Max, Michael,” Isabel said as she hugged both men as she released them from her spell. This in itself would not be possible for any other man to endure. After the initial wave of euphoria, Isabel allowed them to return to their proper feelings of childhood friends. Max knew that she pulled that goddess thing on other men, but she should at least leave her brothers out of it. “It was time to leave Florida, but I do wish crime could have looked for better weather in which to happen,” Isabel stated. Max took her carry on bag and Michael taking her baggage pass went searching for the rest of her luggage. When they next met up with Michael, he and a skycap were struggling with a cart filled with the rest of the things that Isabel felt were necessary for her comfort. They stowed everything in their squad car and, with Isabel sitting petulantly behind the prisoner screen, they departed for the hotel.

“It stinks back here,” she complained.

“Hey, Izzy, we shoveled the shit and the vomit out and sprayed it with Lysol before we came to pick you up,” Michael interjected.

“Next time, just meet me at the hotel and I will suffer a taxi,” Isabel whined.

“Yeah, and then you would probably have to suffer an attempted rape, being a woman alone at night and all of that,” Michael said in reply. Michael enjoyed teasing Isabel. He would push her much further than Max ever would have considered.

“Yeah, Michael, and any man who approaches me without my permission will see it shrivel right before his eyes,” was Isabel’s final statement. Michael just laughed. He knew that for a human to attempt to harm Isabel, would assure a strange complaint at the local hospital indeed.

Max and Michael sat across from the bed where Isabel would soon place herself. Isabel had shed her topcoat and now dressed in a suit with mini skirt and boots she settled her self to hear what the men had to say. Max handed her copies of the three files. Isabel flipped through the first one. “I remember hearing about this one when we were kids back in Roswell. That was the start of Valenti losing favor with the town counsel.” Then, she opened the next two. I guess you are right. You have a psychopathic alien running loose.” Then she looked at the two men. “Before we decide we have a crazy man, or rather alien, we need to see if there is any connection between these two victims. There might be an enemy from the despot if those men have any connection,” she declared. Then, she went on. “What have you two told your boss? she asked.

“Nothing, yet,” Max stated. “We showed her the file from Roswell and Chief Valenti came down to talk to us and warn us of how dangerous this case could become. She is a good boss, Isabel. We don’t want to leave her out in the cold too much. She deserves help on this case,” Max finished. Max was surprised how his attitude toward Little Napoleon was changing.

“Well, tomorrow, let me talk to her and I will tell her some of what I know about aliens. We don’t want this case going unsolved. At this time, I don’t see any reason to reveal who we are to her, maybe, later. If Kivar is behind any of this, we need to stop it even if it means involving the military. Max, I know how much you and Michael distrust the military, but we have to stop anything that smells of that despot. He is a slimy bastard,” Isabel said.

Lieutenant Elizabeth Parker went home to a cold apartment that night. She was tired and not just from the hours she had been keeping. Liz checked every crime scene she could. She wanted to make sure that the bumbling detectives didn’t mess up something that would eventually land in her lap. Every crime scene was the same. All the detectives would gather around and wait for the Crime Scene Investigators. During this time they would all make jokes, drink coffee and toss around conjectures about the crime. Little Napoleon always stood alone. Liz had the almost paranoia of thinking that the jokes they were making were about her. Almost paranoia she knew, because, many times, the jokes were about the small lieutenant who miraculously rose in rank so fast. In a job where most of the workers were men or super sexy ladies like Sergeant DeLuca, Elizabeth Parker found few places to fit in.

Liz knew well that Maria’s vow to have that Detective Guerin between her legs would come to pass. So far, Guerin had been all business. He hadn’t shown any interest in Maria, yet. Liz was sure that Maria would correct that situation. Michael was rough around the edges, but Liz saw as well as Maria that he had an almost feral animal aura about himself. Liz said nothing to Maria, but privately she thought, one can get bit, while playing with wild tigers. Liz both shrugged and then, laughed to her self. Leave it to Maria, she was sure to tame the wildness in Michael Guerin.

Liz thought about Michael Guerin. What would it be like to be totally wonton with a man like him? What would it be to totally trust your body to a man and trust that whatever he did would be mutually pleasurable and never return to cause you pain? This time, Liz shuddered she had no desire that she could perceive, of wanting to step into the tiger’s cage. Sean had been no tiger; he had been closer to a weasel. He had set up a potential for Liz to be destroyed. He did this for no other reason than his own amusement.

No matter how long they had been friends, Liz was not in any way like Maria. Maria would never fear the tiger. Maria would have wrung the weasel’s neck before he ever had a chance to hurt her. Liz was brave in police business. Facing a 250 pound drunk, was no problem for the lieutenant. Maria might have known, but no one else knew that it wasn’t someone that she might meet that scared Liz. Little Napoleon was frightened of her self. Oh, Liz, wanted a relationship. That business with Sean, Maria’s cousin, had been entered with her eyes opened. Yes, that time she did enter the wild cage. She had heard that Sean was a bad boy, but other women only praised the experiences of being with a bad boy. At first, the rough sex she found from Sean was, at least, different. Liz tried to tell herself that for too many years she had always been very conservative in her pleasures. She needed to be more open to physical things. Later, she found that the most she was getting from Sean was exhaustion. Next mornings, Sean had not only drained her physically, but he also had exhausted her, mentally. One night when he was particularly rough, Liz shoved her 357 Smith under his nose and told him to get out and keep going. That had always worried Sean. Screwing a cop had that hazard. If you did something to anger her, she had the power and ability to make you go away. Not like screwing those college girls who, when they got mad, just cried. Oh, well, he still had the tapes. He would get even with her in his own way. Nobody threw Sean DeLuca out of bed.

Liz began thinking about that other detective she had working for her. Evans had always been a perfect gentlemen, even when she had angered him about the file from Roswell. Maria had always told Liz how she field-stripped men. Maria said it was just like field-stripping your firearm. You put them on safety, unloaded them, then you pull back their slide. From then on, you just follow the directions. The directions to field-stripping a man in your mind, according to DeLuca, were easy to read.

As Liz lay in bed, trying to will herself to sleep, she imagined Evans walking into her bedroom. Liz remembered the interrogation room. She remembered how Evans slowly pulled off his gloves. Liz remembered how cold his eyes had been when he was with Jimmy the nose. That wasn’t the face she wanted to see in the doorway of her bedroom.

This wasn’t working very well. Liz tried to bring images of the detectives she had requested to work for her at different times. She found their names wouldn’t even match the vague pictures in her mind. The truth was that she had never really looked at any of the other detectives very closely. The Lieutenant was always all business.

There was the captain. Kyle probably didn’t care if a woman remembered his name. He was sure that he wasn’t going to put anyone on his long list. Kyle just wanted a quick fuck and a fast get away. The deputy chief, his father, always had a kind, even voice. When he was working with Liz, he showed a practiced smooth, friendly demeanor. Liz knew that everything he did was prescribed by politics. He would be sure to sacrifice any relationship to the fires of political expediency. Liz knew that he was reported to sleep with more than one female officer. To Liz, he was always about that politics. She had difficulty with that. He was ruggedly handsome, but so was her father. The age difference was also, too great for her mind to come to grips with.

She thought about the other lieutenant, Whitman. He was smart, he was very well educated, but he considered Little Napoleon the curse of his life. He probably wouldn’t be a good subject for romance. As Liz finally drifted off to sleep, train wrecks, dead bodies and bar fights floated through her head. Sadly, there wasn’t any romance.

Max Evans lay back in his apartment. Alien clones didn’t need as much sleep as humans. At one time, being the clone of the king, it was hoped that he would return to Antar and take over the Royal position. That didn’t happen. The refugees and the three clones had made peace with themselves. Antar was lost and all but a few diehards were content to mate and join the human population. Now, was the despot going to break the treaty? Earth must be saved. They had allowed the despot to drive them off Antar. To allow him to attack them on Earth at a danger to the humans, who were their unknowing hosts, was unthinkable.

Max thought of his new boss; well, at least his boss for the moment. He had expressed to Isabel that she was a good boss. Where did that come from? Like all the detectives, he had resented her rapid rise to power. Promotions within the department were rare and difficult to earn. Did she really rise that high by politics and favoritism? Was she really sleeping with some powerful figure? Saying that she was a good boss had to come from Isabel. Izzy had a way of making people say what was really deep in their minds. When you were under her spell, she had the annoying habit of stripping all the surface of your thoughts away and getting to what you felt at the gut level. As her brother, Max had always found this to be a difficulty in living with her. When the two of them were standing before their mother, Max always told the truth and what was deep in his mind. He did this no matter what would result. This allowed his sister to get away with many things that he might have considered unfair as a child.
----------------------
The Elevator
Good teachers are born that way, not made. No! Good human beings, are born that way. Some of them become teachers.

Of course, life is not fair. You shouldn't expect it to be fair, but you should expect it to be ironic.
JKR 1981-2001
History is made of wars, recovering from wars and preparing for the next war.
JJR 1975-

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ken_r
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Re: Little Napoleon, AU, mature, CC, pg 2, ch 4, jul, 23, 20

Postby ken_r » Sat Jul 30, 2011 10:07 pm

keepsmiling7
begonia9508
mary maey


Chapter 5

There was a buzz running across the department. Parker and DeLuca were in their office early that morning. Well early for Maria, not ridiculously early, mind you, but still 7:30 in the morning at work was not easy for the sergeant. The light speed of gossip told the department that Detective Evans had arrived with a woman on his arm who was indescribable. There were a few remarks which asked, “Is Evans back working vice?”

Just as quickly, those in derision were shushed by overwhelmingly strong comment that this was no whore. It was known by the department that Evans traveled in much higher circles when he was not working. This woman must be one of the debutants he normally associated with.

Liz looked out her window as she saw the beautiful woman and her escort, Evans. Liz almost blushed at the temerity she had shown last night in her fantasy dreams. This was the kind of woman Evans would want. It was unthinkable for her to even imagine that he would look at a lowly lieutenant. Liz did notice that the look on his face was different from that in her dreams, from the interrogation.

Max led the woman into the lieutenant’s office. “May I present, Isabel Evantide, author, lecturer and student on alien beliefs and sightings,” Max stated.

Isabel extended her hand. “Lieutenant, sergeant,” she greeted. Detective Evans states that you have come upon something strange in your investigations. He has asked me to fill you in on a little of the history behind the silver handprint.”

Liz indicated a chair close to the desk for Isabel. Isabel graciously sat down. Max took a chair against the wall. As Liz and DeLuca were sitting back at their desks, Liz had a few seconds to analyze this scene. Liz saw a slight frown run across Maria’s face. It wasn’t that she felt challenged, Maria just wasn’t used to being in the company of another beautiful woman. Liz, in her mind drew a line through the name Evans. This was the kind of woman Max knew in his private life. She was way out of the lieutenant’s league. “Ms. Evantide, what do you know about this case? How much did Detective Evans feel free to discuss with you?” Liz asked. She was a little piqued that Evans might have discussed the case outside the department.

Ms. Evantide smiled. “Only the fact about the silver handprint. He seemed to believe that everything else was confidential,” she lied.

Liz nodded, “Please understand that until I know you better, I would be reluctant to divulge too much of an open case.”

Isabel smiled again. “Totally understandable. I grew up in Roswell and remember the stories about your current deputy chief when he had those cases involving aliens. I assumed that the chief filled you in on what happened to him there,” she said.

Then, Isabel began her lecture mode. “First of all, I make no claim about the existence or non existence of aliens. I just relate stories I have found which have been attributed to alien or shape-shifter behavior. By shape-shifters I refer to a category of alien behavior. I am not referring to lycanthropy or ‘were creatures.’ Almost all societies have ‘were’ creatures in their tales. These are people who must change into animals to do evil things to the society. UFOs and aliens have a long association with art of humanity. Back in early paintings, they found representation.

http://www.karenlyster.com/jesusufo.html
http://www.dudeman.net/siriusly/ufo/art.html
http://www.bibleufo.com/anaimage1.htm
http://www.bibleufo.com/anapaint1.htm

Isabel passed around printings she had made from the Internet. “There are many religious references that seem out of place when taken into context with the rest of the religious message. In the southwest, there have been stories leaked about a killer who leaves a silver handprint on his victims. These stories are mixed with stories about miraculous healing which also leaves handprints.” Isabel stopped to give to two women time to think about all that she had shown them.

Liz spoke up. “You mean that this creature can be both benign and evil?” she asked.

Isabel slowly shook her head. “No, I mean that there may be many creatures, some good and some bad, just like humans have always been,” Isabel stated.

Maria spoke up. “How many of these creatures are we talking about? Are there a dozen, a couple hundred or do we have an illegal alien problem with outer space?” she asked.

That same infuriating smile never left her face. “If you were to attend my lectures, I would say just as I am saying now. I have told you stories I collected while traveling about. Of course, I have no proof in any of them,” Isabel took a deep breath. She had one more important thing to say and she must be careful how she said it. “There is one more story,” she said. “There is a story about a great war somewhere far, far away. A vicious man conquered a world and forced some of the inhabitants to leave for another place. These people had foreseen themselves being sent into exile. They prepared a small group to come to Earth and prepare a place for them. Of course, this is just a story.” With that Isabel stood and Evans escorted her back through the lusting department. Then, he returned to Liz’s office.

When Max sat back down, he was facing a very stern Lieutenant Parker. “Detective, just how much about this case did you tell that woman before you brought her here?” Liz asked.

“All I asked her to do was talk about the silver handprints. I have attended her lectures and heard most of what she said today,” Max replied.

“Detective, how much of what she said do you believe?” Liz asked again.

“Believe, lieutenant, that implies faith. Faith is a mighty poor tool to take to a court. How much can I prove, might be the better question?” Max asked himself in front of the lieutenant. “Very little of what she said, can I prove to you at this time. This is just information. Information, that we can use as guidelines in our investigations,” Max explained.

About an hour later, Guerin appeared. Detectives were on a long leash as to when they reported to the office. Liz was not yet sure of Evans and Guerin so when Michael appeared, she raised her eyebrows. “Lieutenant, I wasn’t goofing off. I have been down in the labs. Last night, I picked up some talk about a reporter who was trying to make contact with this lawyer. I heard that both of them had gone missing for several days. I took the names down to the labs this morning and now, they are pretty confident that your first victim was David Goldblum and the second victim was Archie Miller. Neither of them were anywhere in the system. We subpoenaed dental records. Bingo, Goldblum and Miller, right as rain,” Guerin explained.

“Look, I want us to share abilities. Do either of you mind being split up?” Liz asked. She wanted to team them with herself and DeLuca. Maybe that way information would flow between the two teams. Liz, also, didn’t want to get started with the two men being difficult to work with. She had sensed that the two men, angry at first, as the investigation progressed became more obsessed with a solution and less concerned with working for little Napoleon.

Evans looked at Guerin and with a perceptible nod answered. “We are still working as one team. I mean, you aren’t trying to make a contest or anything out of this, are you?” He asked.

“Not at all,” Lieutenant Parker answered. “Maria and I have ways of doing things and I am sure that you and Guerin have the same thing. This way we will share styles quicker. Liz pointed to Max. “I, also, want you with me in case I run into anything of that stuff that Ms. Evantide was talking about.” At this statement from the lieutenant, both Evans and Guerin agreed.

That afternoon, the newly formed team of DeLuca and Guerin took off. “I suppose that you, in a macho display, will demand to drive?” Maria asked.

Michael shrugged, “Hey, you wear the sergeant stripes. I’ll just do what you say unless I think it is stupid,” Michael answered as a statement of their relationship.

“You think is stupid? Just what do you mean by that?” Maria snapped.

“Stupid is hitting something that is expensive with the squad car. Stupid is picking on some perp who is bigger than both of us. Stupid is getting me into a gunfight where I don’t have a chance to survive,” Michael answered with a bit of rancor.

“Well, I will be careful to let you draw your weapon before I start any gunfights and I promise to only attack perps that I know I can handle,” Maria replied sarcastically.

“Sarge, you do that and we will get along just fine! Don’t forget about hitting anything expensive either. I hate it when some citizen takes it personal when you dent their Cadillac,” Michael made his last response.

“Well Asshole, you drive then. Better believe that if you break any traffic law, it will go on your performance record,” Maria said as she threw the keys at him.

Michael deftly caught the car keys and after buckling, up they took off. Michael was driving just above the speed limit. “Where to sarge?” he asked.

“There is a high class strip joint out on East Central near the mountains. One of the uniforms remembers the names of Miller and Goldblum coming up as he was checking IDs. They regularly do that looking for under aged college students. He said both of these guys were over 21, so until the names came out this morning, he did not think anything about this. We’ll go roust a few early drunks and see what turns up,” Maria stated.

It was 2:30 in the afternoon when they entered the Brass Pole. Outside it was a plain building. As they entered the doorway, Michael saw everything change. There was a booth for the collections of cover charges before the patrons entered. It was empty, meaning that it was too early for any floorshow. Inside, there were several tables tucked into intimate corners of the room. The room itself was pure pueblo style archeture, including the vegas, holding up the ceiling rafters. Above the vegas in herringbone pattern there were smaller logs about an inch and a half in diameter. Michael was sure that above all of that, was a normal modern roof. This gave what, at first, looked like a rustic façade. Not only the half hidden tables, but the other tables and finally the “U” shaped bar which jutted out into the room, gave final explanation as too the true character of the place. On the curved bar, there were three brass poles, each about two and a half inches in diameter. Behind the bar, only seating two patrons at the time, was a muscular Hispanic. “Maria, babeey, did you come back to work for me?” he shouted as he raised his hand for her to grasp.

“Hey, ¿que pasa?, José. No I am not working the pole again, José. Remember, you threw me out for breaking that fellow’s hand,” Maria answered as she clasped his upraised hand.

“Maria, cariño meo, that was just a misunderstanding.

“Remember my rules, José, no man touches me when I am dancing unless he is putting a hundred dollar bill someplace,” Maria stated.

But, Chica, he was just a poor college student,” José whined.

“Then send him back to college to earn a degree and when he has a high paying job, then he can afford touching me,” Maria replied.

Obviously, José bore Maria no anger. He was laughing as he reached for Michael’s hand. “Ain’s she a peach? She put her self through college with two degrees and let me put two daughters in college on what I made off her while she was dancing,” José plainly was fond of Maria or maybe, just her dancing.

Michael nodded, “Yeah, she is a peach.”

Maria laid out two pictures for José to look at. “José, do you remember theses two dudes being in here anytime?” she asked.

José became serious. “Yeah, I remember them. For a while, they came in every Thursday night, like clockwork. They always paid the cover charge then, they sat in a corner talking to each other. I thought they had something for each other at first. They never held hands and I never saw any groping each other under the table. They just sat there and talked. Thought they must be college students. They both was a might old for college. They just sat there with them damned notebooks. Lulu tried to sell them a lap dance once, but they ran her off. I told the girls to lay off as long as they paid for drinks. Thursdays ain’t seeing johns lined up at the door like on weekends. Then last week, they changed. I think they came in every night except for the weekend. They was arguing something awful. Always in whispers, never raised either voice so’s any one could hear. They constantly looked around like they thought someone was after them,” José concluded.

Maria kept prodding. “Was there anything else, José?” she asked.

“Yes, come to think of it, there was. One night, I don’t remember which one, there was this kid in here. He looked way too young. He had an ID, but, you know that vice cop Robert Strongblud, he was in here that night. I don’t see how those guys make it. They have to keep setting up dates, but before they ever get their pants down and their hands on anyone, uniforms always come in and arrest the girl. That would truly drive me to drink. Well, anyway, he looked at this dude’s ID and told me it was good. I went back to watching my regulars. Next thing I know, the shrimpy dude is over causing ruckus with two guys in the corner. I sent big Ed, my bouncer, over to look at things. That shrimp said something to Ed and Ed slapped him twice. Then, Ed threw him, literally, out the door. All the while, he was screaming threats to all of us. Let me see, I think I recorded his name in case of any trouble later.” José rummaged in a draw under the cash register and came up with a piece of paper. “Ah ha, it was Nicholas Crawford. ID says he was 35, but he surely didn’t look that old.” José leaned back.

Maria copied down what he had on the sheet of paper. She leaned forward and kissed José on the cheek. “Always luv ya, José,” she said.

“Luv ya back. And, Maria you are still a fine looking woman! If you ever want to come back, I have grandkids to think about college. I will always have a place for you.” With that, Maria and Michael left the strip club.
------------------------
The Elevator
Good teachers are born that way, not made. No! Good human beings, are born that way. Some of them become teachers.

Of course, life is not fair. You shouldn't expect it to be fair, but you should expect it to be ironic.
JKR 1981-2001
History is made of wars, recovering from wars and preparing for the next war.
JJR 1975-

User avatar
ken_r
Obsessed Roswellian
Posts: 860
Joined: Wed Oct 04, 2006 11:34 pm
Location: New Mexico
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Re: Little Napoleon, AU, mature, CC, pg 3, ch 5, jul, 30, 20

Postby ken_r » Sun Aug 07, 2011 11:23 am

XAF RU208

Begonia9508

keepsmiling7

Natalie36

mary mary


Chapter 6

Michael was silent as they drove off. Maria kept looking at him until he finally said, “What?”

“Well ask me,” she replied.

“Ask you what? Michael responded.

“Yes, I worked my way through a master’s degree in deviate psychology by dancing at José’s club. I got two degrees with no student loans to cloud up and rain all over me. No one groped me more than once. Yes, I broke a few hands, but José has this security camera that he doesn’t let anyone know about. He made it clear that the john had violated my comfort zone and if he made an issue of it, certain pictures might appear on the Internet. A hundred dollar bill would let you get your fingers in my panties, but only as long as it took to place the bill there. I never slept with anyone from the club. I never slept with anyone for money anywhere. Yes, I was a decoy for the vice squad, but they always arrived before I had to take off my clothes. Do you have any other questions?” Maria ranted.

For several minutes Michael drove saying nothing. Then, a strange smile came across his face and he said, “My child, you are forgiven. Go and do penance for your sins.” Then, he made the sign of the cross.

This set Maria off again. “Look Michael, I take my religion seriously. Don’t you go making fun of anything Catholic. Don’t forget this, if we are going to get along together,” she stated angrily.

Again, Michael was quiet. Finally he said, “I am sorry Maria, it is just that you unloaded on me your entire life. I don’t have that much to share. I never had much formal schooling. I didn’t have that good attendance. I finally, took the GED. Took it three times, in fact. They accused me of cheating. That last time, they put me in an auditorium with all sorts of radio listening gear. I still aced it as I had every time.”

The rest of the afternoon, they were relatively quiet. Maria thought that they might have formed a bond or something. Well, she would have to wait until something happened. Then, she would know.

It was early afternoon. Liz stood up and went over to where Max was sitting at Maria’s desk reading a book written by Isabel Evantide. He had a tablet of paper out and he was copying numbers onto it. She saw 1947, 1956, 1990, 1995 and 1999. He looked up at her approach. “These are dates of sightings of silver handprints that she has recorded. She coordinated them with recorded UFO sightings. The correlation is not perfect. She remarks that though there are many UFO sightings before 1947, the silver handprints do not appear before that time. She says that the handprints do not last long. I called down to the lab and they say that the handprints are just barely visible now. They have faded just like Isabel has said,” Max related.

“How far do you and Ms. Evantide go back?” Liz asked.

“We go back to childhood,” Max stated.

“Do you and Ms. Evantide have any sort of relationship? Are you dating or anything?” Liz asked a bit petulantly. Her feelings made her mad at herself. Where did she get off caring one way or the other who Evans had relationships with?

Surprisingly, Max seemed embarrassed. “Oh no, nothing like that. I only introduced her to you because I believe she might still have information. We have to learn enough to ask her the right questions,” Max replied.

Liz regained her composure. She wasn’t going to show anything that would make Max think she cared what he did with his private life. Now, if he presented Isabel as both a resource and a person of his private interest, Liz might have to consider how she considered the help of Ms. Evantide. “Max, we have to meet with the victim’s families this afternoon. I have been putting it off for too long. We both skipped lunch, so let’s get a bite to eat and then, go over to the Goldblum’s home. Liz was so used to eating alone or with Maria that she didn’t even consider Max when she drove over to Luigi’s Home Cooking restaurant. Luigi always sprung for free lunches for plain clothes detectives. The detectives were very careful about keeping the knowledge of this from the uniforms. If the uniforms found out about it, they would easily overwhelm Luigi and he would rescind his offer of the free meals. The detective squad was very careful about how many times they ate at Luigi’s.

Luigi was a romantic. When he saw Liz and Max entering his establishment, he ran to her. “Ah, my favorite lieutenant,” he cried as he hugged her. “And, is this a young man who is a special someone?” He asked.

Max was surprised to see Liz blush. “Calm down Luigi, this is just my current partner in a series of murder cases,” Liz told him.

“Partner in solving murder, my dear, you have Maria for that. What you need is a young man to keep your feet warm on these cold winter nights,” he said as he led them to a table. “Is the usual all right?” he asked as he was leaving.

Max was in the act of asking for a menu, when Liz kicked him under the table. “Don’t insult him, Max. Luigi makes it a habit of serving plain clothes police officers free meals. He always has extra prepared of the daily special. That way, it doesn’t cost him very much. We all are careful about how many times we come here,” Liz explained.

“Liz, I don’t need free meals. I can easily pay for both of us,” Max stated.

“Fine, next time I will let you pick the place and pay for it as well. Right now, we are playing by my rules,” Liz stated.

Max was a good sport and he had to admit that when Luigi brought the daily special, it was very good. When Max was working with Michael, Michael only ate cheeseburgers. They usually ate in their unit or sometimes, they would drive to a park and sit under the trees, Max with an expensive carry out he had to phone in before hand and Michael with a sack full of cheeseburgers and a huge package of fries. If they had an interrogation scheduled for that afternoon, Michael would ask for extra onions on each burger.

The Goldblum house was not a mansion. It was the size fitting a successful lawyer, whatever that means, Liz thought. They were met at the door by a friend of the family. He ushered them into the living room. There they found Mrs. Goldblum, two children, which Liz guessed were around ten or so and the family Rabbi. This time, Liz knew he was the real thing, not a representative of any police faction. “We are sorry for your loss.” How many times did Liz have to repeat this phrase? The lost one could be the biggest criminal in history and Liz would feel compelled to say the same thing to his family. A love one killed was always traumatic to the family. It was not Liz’s place to make any judgment at this time.

The wife opened up of her own volition. “It was those damned creeps who he defended. He said that he had to take a shower after work every evening before he sat down to dinner with us. I begged him over and over. Go into corporate law, I said. But, would he do it? No, he kept going back to those scum bags,” she cried.

“We have run into another line of reasoning, Mrs Goldblum. Did your husband ever mention an Archie Miller?” Liz inquired.

Mrs. Goldblum shook her head.

“Did he ever mention a place called the Brass Pole?” Liz asked again.

“The Brass Pole, what kind of place it that?” Mrs. Goldblum asked tentatively.

“It is a dance place,” Liz explained.

The explanation was going to have to be more precise than that as Mrs. Goldblum still looked perplexed. “You mean like a dance studio?” she asked.

Max had to laugh inwardly. Michael would have been very frustrated at the woman’s attempts’ at understanding what Liz was getting at.
“No ma’am, it is an exotic dance club, a stripper club,” Liz made about her final explanation.

The woman turned bright red. The Rabbi stood and put his hands on her shoulders, “How would my David know anything like that? My husband was a criminal lawyer, but he didn’t go down to their level,” Mrs. Gloldblum stated.

Liz stood as did Max. “Please forgive us for causing you discomfort. Understand that these are questions we have to ask,” Liz replied.

She and Max left. It was clear that the wife knew nothing about anything her husband did outside of their family. The next stop was at the Miller’s residence.

What a difference as they entered the small house. The dishes hadn’t been done in days and nothing had been straightened up probably for the same length of time. “Mrs. Miller,” Liz started.

“Sheila, call me Sheila,” the tired and drawn woman stated.

Liz started again. “Sheila, we are sorry for your loss.” That same homely that everyone must have used.

“Yeah, and me too! He wasn’t much but he was what I had,” Sheila moaned.

“Did Archie ever mention a David Goldblum?” Liz asked.

“Yeah, he was that lawyer fellow that Archie was talking to about aliens. I read all about the wars they are having around the Mexican border. I told Archie to be careful. He just laughed and said these aliens did not come from Mexico. I didn’t care if they came from Canada or even China. They sounded dangerous and I begged Archie to be careful,” Sheila cried.

“Did your husband ever mention the Brass Pole?” Liz inquired.

“Yeah, it’s that stripper joint way out on East Central. Archie felt that they wouldn’t run into any one who knew them out there. Archie didn’t usually go to places like that, so he felt that it would be safe,” Sheila explained.

“Did Archie have any notebooks or anything we could read to better understand who he was dealing with?” Liz asked.

Shelia disappeared for several minutes. She returned with a stack of notebooks and manila folders. Both the folders and the notebooks were labeled by date. “I just hope you can find out why he was killed,” Shelia stated as she handed the stack to Max.

Max and Liz returned to the office. Neither family really knew much about what was going on. Shelia had probably helped a lot more than she knew by her gift of the notebooks. “Max, let’s divide up the stack. Give me the early half and you take the more recent half. We can exchange tomorrow. The sooner both of us read all these notebooks, the sooner we will know what Goldblum and Miller were doing to get themselves killed. Keep an opened mind, we might need to call that friend of yours back.”

Max nodded and left with his bundle of books in his arms. Liz waited for Maria before she returned home. It was about an hour when she heard Maria call out good byes to someone out of eye shot. Maria came into the office and said, “Well, Michael has gone home and we have a ton of stuff.”

“How was your old boss?” Liz asked.

“Oh, José was fine. He remembered both characters and he also remembered an altercation that might give us more information. There was a little runt named Nicholas Crawford. He looked under aged. José had a vice cop who was in his joint check his ID card out. The vice cop said it was valid. Anyway, this Nicholas character tries to start a fight with Goldblum and Miller. José’s bouncer throws him out with him screaming all sorts of death threats to everybody in the place. I think we should put out BOLO, (Be on the look out for) on this guy.

Liz nodded, “Okay, that is enough police work for the day, how did you and the big guy get along?”

“Well, talking to José, he learned most of what is important about me. All I learned is, he is pretty smart and he grew up in a pretty hard life,” Maria explained.

“I mean, do you still want to get him between your legs?” Liz inquired.

“Hell yes! It is like looking at a big racehorse. Looking is fine for a while, but eventually, you just gotta try him out. That is where I am with Michael. Pretty soon, I just gotta try him out,” Maria said with enthusiasm.

Liz had no idea of what the other members of her team did when they went home, she ate a cold dinner and then, started on the notebooks.

Max was fortunate that he was given the latest set of notebooks. Most of what was in them, he had heard of from Isabel. Isabel kept a current watch on alien affairs. They were guests on Earth and most of Earth had no idea that they existed. Max, Michael and Isabel arrived on Earth in 1947. They remained in their pods until about 1990 when the pods were quickened and they hatched out. They were forced to go through all trials and education of Earthlings. Isabel believed that somewhere around the Earth date 2000 AD, the despot finally deposed or killed the royal family. The royals who could get away, all fled to earth and set up homes in many different countries. Later, they would decide that this happened much earlier. In the southwestern United States there already were several sets of “Skins.” They were an alien race, who could not live without a husk of whatever species they were living among. Back on Antar, they were well known and they all had gray bodies just like every other Antarian. Here on earth they had bodies, which looked for all purposes, just like Earth people. No one knew how long they lived, however they have to continually grow new husks. The husk usually only lasted about 50 years.

Max had received a call from the lieutenant, to be on the lookout for any references about Nicholas Crawford in the notebooks he was reading. Max called his sister. The name Nicholas was what was bothering Max. The only thing he could think to do was call Isabel. “Nicolas, Nicolas Crawford, Crawford is a skin name. But, that Nicolas, if he is who I think he is, is a problem. He isn’t a skin. No one knows what he is. He was loyal to Kivar. That damned gene donor of mine screwed both friend an foe alike. Nicolas, when allowed by Kivar, would pound her for hours. Then, of course, Kivar would summon her to his bed and he would do unmentionable things to her. She put up with it, maybe, even liked it. That has surely wrecked hell with me trying to establish any relationships. Nicholas must have been smuggled in with a ship of royals as a spy for Kivar. I don’t know if he can be killed. I don’t think his kind leave silver handprints, but he could fake them or get some rebel Antarian to do his killing,” Isabel stated.

Max had a lot to think about. At one time he had been called the king. As a youth, he decided he didn’t want to be any king. He still had a desire to help his people. He also wanted to help the humans he had learned to work with.
-------------------------
The Elevator Max still has to learn that business isn't about justice or even right. Business is about efficiency. Max must protect his own turf, but sometimes moral actions of other workers must be ignored for the sake of a well running business.
Good teachers are born that way, not made. No! Good human beings, are born that way. Some of them become teachers.

Of course, life is not fair. You shouldn't expect it to be fair, but you should expect it to be ironic.
JKR 1981-2001
History is made of wars, recovering from wars and preparing for the next war.
JJR 1975-

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ken_r
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Re: Little Napoleon, AU, mature, CC, pg 3, ch 6, Aug 7, 2011

Postby ken_r » Sat Aug 13, 2011 12:17 pm

keepsmiling7

XAF RU208 ; Oh, Tess is there, somewhere

Natalie36

begonia9508: Until this chapter, Max lets Isabel be just a person of interest. Nicholas being a skin is in question. Remember that when Tess blew up all the skins, Nicholas somehow survived. I have amplified his character and made him semi-immortal. He is still an agent of Kavar. I used the comment from canon that Vilandra gave Nicholas the eye sometimes to Nicholas being offered the charms of Vilandra as a reward by Kivar. Remember that Isabel is not Vilandra, but as she says, "Vilandra's character played havoc with Isabel later seeking a stable relationship. There is some genetic memory or maybe included memory instilled in the clones.



Chapter 7

Liz had spent the night reading the many notes scribbled by Archie Miller. There were also mixed pages of typing, probably from a computer unless Archie was one of those dinosaurs, who only favored the old fashioned typewriter. Many of the pages led to stories, which had obviously dead ends. Throughout the entire collections, Archie mentioned aliens. Liz was sure that at sometime, Archie had seen the same data that Max and Michael had brought to her from Roswell.

Archie was making repeated inquires of how hard it would be to interview Chief Valenti. Apparently, none of his sources could get through to the chief. He had traveled to Roswell and interviewed many people. Archie admitted that several of those interviewed were kooks. They all had a story and wanted fame or some other price for their information. He did talk to a retired officer named Hanson. Hanson had been shot during a robbery gone wrong. Hanson wanted to talk, mainly through loneliness. He had mentioned Valenti and his alien chasing for so many years. He thought Valenti got the shitty end of the stick, but there was nothing he could do.

Several times, Archie ran into statements attributed to Everett Hubble. As far as he could tell, Hubble was dead. Something about his wife had caused Valenti to get crosswise with the town counsel.

There were now four desks in Liz’s office. She had to move out the visitor chairs and next time they interviewed anyone, they would have to use one of the meeting rooms. She and Max had both arrived early. Michael came in and asked, “Where is DeLuca?”

“She will be in in a few minutes. Why the hurry?” Liiz asked.

She just got a call at the switchboard from that José fellow we went to see yesterday. He was terribly excited and he wouldn’t speak to anyone except for DeLuca,” Michael explained.

Liz picked up her cell phone. “Let me see what I can do,” she said.

“Hey Maria, what’s your 20?” meaning where are you? in police talk.

She was answered by a sleepy voice in the middle of a yawn saying, “I am in route. Whass the matter?”

Liz knew that Maria was on her second cup of coffee by this time. It took several cups before Maria was coherent. “Your friend José is trying to get hold of you. It seems a bit urgent. Do you have him listed on your cell phone?” Liz asked.

“Yeah,” the still sleepy voice said. “I’ll call him and get back to you in a minute.”

It was almost ten minutes when a breathless Maria came running into the office. She indicated Michael, “Come on big guy. We got another murder to check.” Then she turned to Liz, “Lieutenant, José’s bouncer was killed last night, silver handprint right on his chest. He is the one who threw that Nicholas man out of club, the other day.” Maria wasted no time in getting off.

Max looked at Liz. “Do we need to go?” he asked.

“No, Maria has Guerin to help her and we will see the body when the lab brings it in. Right now, I think we need to concentrate on this Nicholas person. What do you know about him?” she inquired.

Max was thoughtful for several minutes. “I think we should call Isabel back in. You need to trust her and tell her the complete case we have,” Max stated.

Liz put down the pencil she had been taking notes with. “Max, I have just about had it with you, Michael and Isabel. This is a homicide case and I expect my detectives to be open with me in what they know. If you have information that might help solve this case, I want to know all of it right now.” Liz was more angry than she had ever been with officers working under her.

Max leaned back in his chair. He still had that unruffled composure. “It is not how much I can tell you. It is how much you can believe,” Max replied.

“Believe!” Liz almost shouted. “What are you going to do, spin me a yarn like that girl friend of yours did the other day?”

Max placed his finger tips together and stared a the lieutenant across the arch his fingers made. “She is not my girl friend. She is my sister. Both Michael and I consider her to be a sister. We don’t know what exactly the biological connection is. In fact lieutenant, none of us know much about where we came from. As you might have figured out, Isabel, Michael and I are aliens. Isabel and I were adopted by the Evanses, a prominent lawyer family and were raised in Roswell. We didn’t meet Michael until later. He ended up in the welfare system. We didn’t come with any instruction books. There must have been some adults to guide us somewhere. They were probably killed in the crash or maybe later, killed by the government. Our pods were removed from a wreck that happened in 1947. We never experienced anything like birth until 1990. Most of our lives after that were like ordinary human children. We are not sure of much more than that,” Max concluded.

He saw the anger growing in Lieutenant Parker’s face. The truth was that until he said it, Liz had entertained no such ideas. Her anger was based on his insistence on bringing Isabel back and the fact he seemed to be rationing out what he knew. Liz, as the lead detective, needed to know the whole picture, now. Calmly, Max started again. “For the moment let’s put what I just told you aside. We can debate that later. We can demonstrate that we are out of this world later. This Nicholas character is probably going under the name of Nicholas Crawford. He is some type of alien. He is different from all of the rest of us. He can shape change, he can rape minds and he can kill. We have never heard of him leaving the cadmium factor in wake of any of his killings, but that doesn’t mean he can’t do that. He is probably a spy from our home world,” Max concluded.

“Max, I ask you for information and you spin me a god damned science fiction story. What do you mean, shape change?” Liz demanded as she picked one point to ponder.

Max shrugged that infuriating way he had. “I can’t do it, that is shape change. I don’t think Michael or Isabel can do it either. We aren’t talking about lycanthropy, which is from your own human legends, people changing into wolves or cats or something. We are talking about creatures that can appear to be different beings. Whether they actually change shape or just make those around them think they are different shapes is unknown. There is a story about one shape shifter who was the lover of a type of alien called a skin for almost a year and she never found out about it,” Max informed her.

Max was so serious that Liz started to calm down. She was still unbelieving, but Max wasn’t lying, she was sure. He believed in what he was telling her. He believed that he and his friends were not of this Earth. What if there was some sort of creature who was at the root of these strange murders? She owed it to herself to further investigate. “What do you mean, mind rape?” she asked trying to wrap her mind around another point he had made.


“Mind rape is a word to best describe what Nicholas can do. He can suck you mind dry. He can leave you without any thoughts at all or he can just leave you with the thought that he has seen everything that you ever saw and did. In both cases, we have seen humans and aliens crippled after he got through with them,” Max stated.

“And, the killing?” Liz asked again.

“Your technician said it best. Like a microwave, all aliens can excite the molecules so they burn up. The silver handprint is a result of cadmium of a particular isotope being deposited at the sight where some aliens touch the victim,” Max concluded.

Max saw that the lieutenant still had a frown on her face. “Why didn’t you tell me all of this when we first saw silver handprints? I don’t like it that someone on my team is withholding evidence we need to solve the case,” Liz said.

“Lieutenant, you don’t believe me now. How would you have responded if I had told all of this to you when we first met?” Max asked. “Michael and I decided we had to explore the paint sniffer idea first. If nothing else, we could get Jimmy the Nose beating the streets for us. He doesn’t like to be rousted, so he will do anything to get us off his back. We could always hope that the solution would be something simple. Believe me lieutenant, we are not looking for this kind of exposure. For us, this is the most important case there could be. Our very existence could be at stake. Isabel finally told me to trust you and give you all the straight information you needed.

-------------------------

There was no discussion about who would drive. Maria was already climbing behind the wheel when Michael caught up with her. They drove in silence, Maria not wanting to interrupt her thoughts and fears and Michael not wanting to rock any boats. Maria wasn’t reckless, but she was considerably over the speed limit. They slid into the parking lot of the Brass Pole, scattering gravel everywhere. Maria was out of the car immediately and Michael had to hurry to keep up with her. Maria threw open the door and rushed to José. “What happened?” she cried as she threw her arms around his neck.

José was having trouble talking. His employees, just like Maria had been, were considered as an extension of his family. “We were closing up. The restrooms had been checked and locked. Ed said he had to take a leak and rather than open one of the restrooms again, he went outback to water the hedge of the Baptist Church.” José told her.

Maria knew that for years there had been a gentle feud between the strip joint and the church, which had their parking lot adjoining the property of the Brass Pole. The church felt that the strip club was immoral and they did have a legitimate gripe that the patrons of the club would piss in the church parking lot, leaving a terrible stench for church goers on Sunday mornings. “Go on José, tell me the rest of it,” Maria commanded.

“Nothing much more to tell. Ed didn’t come back in so we thought he just took off. He never said he would come back in. This morning when the clean up crew arrived they found his body. I covered it up and mi primo, Juan Sanchez, is guarding it. Maria, I know I should have called the police immediately, but I don’t trust no coppers. You are the only one I could talk to. It isn’t as if anyone was getting away or if Ed was going anywhere, either,” José concluded.

Maria untangled herself from José and with a nod to Michael, they walked behind the club to the back lot. Juan was sitting on a folding chair next to the covered body of Ed. With a nod acknowledging them, he took his chair and returned to the building. Maria was sure that Juan didn’t like coppers either. All the years she had worked for José, Maria had never seen him mixed up in anything illegal. Bars and strip joints lived in that gray area which is neither strictly legit nor a haven for crime. These places seemed to attract those who scoffed at the law and that included relatives. Juan Sanchez might be a relative of José’s, but that didn’t stop him from being connected to crimes of his own.

Maria approached the body. His shirt was pulled open and a bright silver handprint was over his heart. Michael was already studying the area surrounding the body. Maria took out her cell phone and contacted the crime lab. They were rolling in a few minutes. Maria took a quick photo of the victim with her cell phone and sent it to Liz. Michael carefully checked the pockets of the victim. Everything was still there; there was no attempt to disguise this as a robbery. Maria read, Edward Livingston, on his driver’s license. For all the years she had know the congenial bouncer, she had never before known his full name.

Maria and Michael left the crime scene to the lab workers from the department and walked back into the strip club.

José was still in a rant. He was blaming himself and all the other employees. Maria knew that Ed had been with the club from a long time before she had worked there. To José, an important member of his family had just been murdered. “It had to be that little pendejo Nicholas or what ever was his name. He was the one threatening Ed the other evening. He comes back here and I am going to break his neck and feed his cajones to the pigs,” he cried.

Maria knew that this was just talk, to her knowledge, José nor any of his relatives, had anything that resembled a farm with pigs to feed the emasculations José was threatening. For the first time, Michael spoke up. “José, that Nicholas is a lot more powerful than he appears. Look how easily he took down Ed Livingston. He ever comes back, you call Maria and she calls me. I might be able to protect you. I don’t think even I can kill that son-of-a-bitch.”

Maria and Michael returned to the office. When they arrived, they found Max still leaning back in his chair and Liz still glaring at him. “What’s… going on?” Maria asked hesitantly.

That seemed to break the spell. Liz answered, “Nothing Maria. Let me see your report.”

Michael sat on the edge of Max’s desk and looked at him. Max shrugged so Michael got up and sat back at his own desk. Liz finished Maria’s notes and looked up at her team. Before she could say anything, Michael spoke up. “Lieutenant, I don’t know if he did all of these killings, but we’ve got to do something about that shrimp Nicholas Crawford.”
------------------------
The Elevator Powers are growing in the "Dream Team." There is evidence that justice is giving way to expedience. Decisions will be made for the best for the company.
Good teachers are born that way, not made. No! Good human beings, are born that way. Some of them become teachers.

Of course, life is not fair. You shouldn't expect it to be fair, but you should expect it to be ironic.
JKR 1981-2001
History is made of wars, recovering from wars and preparing for the next war.
JJR 1975-

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Re: Little Napoleon, AU, mature, CC, pg 4, ch 7, Aug 13, 201

Postby ken_r » Sat Aug 20, 2011 12:35 pm

Nitpick23: Actually I can't see any other alternative. For cops to work together they have to have trust. This trust is more than they would give their parents or their lovers. Breaking trust with their lovers, might lead to breakup or divorce, but breaking trust with your partner could lead to someone getting killed. Cops are masters at detecting lying or being less then complete with the truth. They make so many interrogations that they can spot a lie or even someone hiding something. Even with the truth, Liz is searching for something to prove what Max says. She is taking a leap of faith when she cautions the uniformed officers not to detain Nicholas. Even this leap of faith will cause a disaster, later.

I have parted from canon with Nicholas. I am making him a much more dangerous character. Canon already questions whether Nicholas can be killed or not. Michael is now, starting to see Nicholas for what he is. Michael tells José that he is not sure he can kill Nicholas. Michael's understanding of Nicholas will grow and change.

Isabel is under going a complete life change. She can't interact with Liz yet, so she has to advise Max. Memories and information Isabel is bring to the surface are disturbing her about what Nicholas was and is.

keepsmiling7: The danger of police work is who you have to work with. later Maria will talk about working vice and how these people make her feel.

Natalie36

Begonia9508: Witness the outburst of Liz when they showed her the files from Roswell. Only when she saw the name Valenti did she re-evaluate her opinion. Tess is near and we will depart from canon again disclosing her origin.


Chapter 8

The squad car was parked under some trees where the two occupants could watch the front door of a house down the street. The house was of the old pre WWII (World War Two) style. The two people in the car took turns with the binoculars. In the back seat of the car was a cooler with a half dozen cokes and sitting beside the cooler was a sack of junk food. From time to time, if nature called, one or the other would get out and walk the block down the street where there was a McDonalds fast food store with restroom. The smell inside the car was getting pretty strong from the smell of Michael’s cheeseburgers.

The lieutenant had sent out a BOLO (be on the look out) with a picture, that José had contributed, of Nicholas. That secret security camera at the Brass Pole was to be praised. Lieutenant, Whitman, himself had brought over the information that one of the uniforms had given his squad. “Do you want me to order them to bring him in?” Whitman asked.

Liz glanced over at Max and saw his frown and a slight shake of his head. “No, Alex, we just need to know more about him at this point,” she explained.

After Whitman had left, Liz turned to Max. “You don’t think a squad of officers or even a SWAT squad could bring him in?” she asked.

“No, I think a squad of officers or a squad of SWAT could get themselves killed. Liz, you just don’t appreciate how powerful he is. For now, we need to learn more about what he is doing,” Max explained. SWAT teams were the special weapons and tactics teams who did all the dangerous stuff. Max didn’t even think they could handle just one young man.

Stakeouts are a bitch. You have to stay awake and you have to stay attentive. With two people in the car, you are supposed to keep each other awake or arrange some sort of sleep relay. Maria had answered Michael’s questions for most of the evening. When she tried to get him to open up, she found that he did so with great difficulty. “The welfare system teaches you a lot about reading people. If you have a good situation, you want to psych what is wanted and try to do this. If it is a bad situation you want to psych the system and try not to get hurt. No matter what the situation is, it is only temporary. Your life becomes a series of homes, parents, and learning how to cope. At 18, they give you $250 and tell you to try to keep out of trouble. There was the military police and they taught me a vocation. I had known Max from childhood, back in Roswell. When I got out of the military, I found Max again and Max was trying to find some sort of community service. We joined the police together. Max’s family and money made it easy for him to make detective. He made a request that I be brought along. I guess he or his money, has a lot of grease. He doesn’t have a rabbi on the force to my knowledge,” Michael concluded his narrative.

From there, Maria tried to talk about music. Michael liked Metallica and she liked country. Working with men for so many years had given Maria a perspective on sports. Michael didn’t seem to have any opinion about any sport except hockey for some reason. Maria, living in the southwest where they barely had any water much less natural ice, only knew what she had heard of the sport. It was a surprise to her that with the artificial ice rinks, there were local hockey teams even in New Mexico. At 11:00 the McDonalds down the street would close so, Maria made a final pit stop to use their restroom before she would have to squat in the dark alley if she needed to go anymore that night.

About 1:00 in the morning, a man and a woman approached the house. They had to open the door with a key so there probably weren’t any other people in the house. Maria was taking as many pictures as she could. About 3:30, the couple came back out and locked the door with a key, then left. Maria was still taking pictures, but looking with the binoculars, neither of them was Nicholas. At 8:00 that morning, the stake out was called off. Michael and Maria were told to knock it off and go home for a few hours. As they were leaving, they saw that a street repair crew had set up across from the house. They would keep the stake out for the daytime.

“Hey, big guy, you want to crash at my place? It would probably save a half hour or so having to drop you off across town and then come back to my apartment,” Maria suggested.

For several seconds, Michael was quiet. “Look, Maria, I have been up over 26 hours. I am pretty country about how I treat women. This tired, I don’t think I could treat you like a woman of class ought to be treated,” he replied.

“Look, Michael, I am bummed out also. I am offering you my bed not my body. Liz is going to want us back at the office this afternoon. We crash at my place and I shower and change. Then, we run over to your place so you can change before coming in for the evening. Just trying to help,” Maria explained.

“In that case, sure. Carry on,” Michael stated.

They both were so tired that they stumbled together into her apartment. Maria went to the side of her bed she normally slept on and Michael took the other side. All Maria could think of was sleep. It wouldn’t be enough, but you learn in police work to take rest when you can, much like the army. Maria’s feet were so swollen that she had to worry her shoes off. She removed her socks. Then still facing away from the bed, she stood and slipped off her slacks. Her bra was tight so she removed it. When she finally turned around, she was dressed only in very brief panties and nothing else. If Michael had had a copy of that poster, he could have made a scientific decision about her real breasts against those on the poster. For Maria’s part, she gazed at the naked chest of a young man, now clad only in his boxers. It was obvious that the bulge in his boxers was growing. Well, he had told her he didn’t want “any” and she hadn’t promised “any,” so Maria went over and pulled the heavy curtains closed so the sun light wouldn’t disturb them. Then, she walked back and crawled into bed.

For Michael’s part, he didn’t mind shedding his clothes. He usually slept in his boxers. When Maria turned around, he felt the biggest throb somewhere deep in his body. What he wouldn’t give for this scene to be played out when he was well rested and could give her his full attention. Being with Maria, many times his mind had wondered about what she might be like in bed. He understood, or at least thought he did, that as an exotic dancer she would be a lady of a class that he would never have. He had been sure that to have her slowly torture him as she removed her clothes and moved her body to some rhythm in her mind would bring him to heroic abilities. The simple task of walking across the room to pull the curtains was almost more than he could stand. Michael also, knew that to try to take her now would have been as sloppy as screwing Sadie, the milk maid, behind the barn. No, if Michael was to ever make it, with a woman of this caliber, he wanted to be rested and give her his full attention. As she crawled in her side of the bed, Michael did likewise. His groin was aching so badly that he was sure he couldn’t sleep. No such thing. Within seconds of them hitting the pillows, they were both sound asleep.

Max and Liz both came in early. They had a stack of papers from Lieutenant Whitman. Several of his boys had reported seeing someone who looked like Nicholas. Max still insisted that the uniformed officers wouldn’t stand a chance against the likes of Nicholas. Liz kept on stating that she wanted him under surveillance and not to make contact with him.

It was afternoon before Michael and Maria came back to the office. The little over four hours sleep they managed did wonders. Showers and clean clothes helped also. Maria had a memory card full of pictures. There had been only that one couple, who had entered while they were watching.

The first time Maria went to the lady’s room, Liz was quick to follow. “Okay, give, girlfriend. What happened last night?” Liz stated.

“Like most stakeouts it was as boring as hell. That big fellow puts away cheese burgers like nobody’s business. There was a McDonalds down the street, so until almost midnight, I used their restroom. I tapered off on the coffee so I wouldn’t have to squat in that dark alley very many times. Michael just waters the Euonymus bush when he has to go,” Maria explained.

“No, Maria, I can read the report and know about the stake out. What happened afterward? You and Michael came back together,” Liz inquired.

“Liz, even you, shouldn’t expect a gal to make out after being up over 26 hours. We stopped at my place and caught a few Zs.” Then Maria smiled. “He is a pretty good looking specimen stripped down to his boxers.”

“You had him stripped down to his boxers; what were you wearing?” Liz asked.

“I was down to the low riding panties I usually wear. I did think his shorts were about to burst when he saw me standing across my bed from him. I teased ‘it’ a little more by walking in front of him to pull the curtains. But, when we hit the pillows, we were dead to the world. We woke up at noon with him holding both my breasts and pulling my backside tight against his erection.” Then, her hand flew to her mouth, “Oh my, doesn’t Viagra or someone warn against four hour erections? They say it will ruin ‘it’ forever or something. Do you suppose that he was hard that whole time?”

Liz laughed, “I guess you will have to wait until next time and see if ‘it’ still works.”

Then Maria smiled, “Well, he was pulling me against the erection in his shorts, when we woke up. His shorts were wet so even if his conscious mind was out like a light, his subconscious was having wet dreams thinking about me.”

The labs might make something out of these pictures, but Liz wanted Lieutenant Whitman to look at them. Alex was still one of the best, when dealing with digital information. Late that afternoon, Alex returned with the results of a facial recognition program run against the state data bank of driver’s licenses. Jack Towers, was the name of the man. The girl wasn’t in the system. When they learned that Jack was a student, Liz surmised that the girl was a college pickup who was from out of state. Max was sure that Jack was human, so Liz issued a pickup order. Two uniforms brought him in just before the 4:00 PM afternoon shift change.

Jack Towers was a smart ass. The first thing he said was that he wanted a lawyer. “Mr. Towers, at least wait until we charge you with something,” Liz said.

Max took over. “Mr. Towers, we are in the middle of a series of murder investigations. We just want information, like who is this young woman?” Max said as he tapped the figure in the photo.

“I don’t know who she is,” Jack answered sullenly.

Do you live at that house?” Liz asked.

“No, I live at a fraternity house on campus,” Jack answered as if he had been insulted.

“Then, you were breaking into that house in the picture. You and the young lady can be charged with breaking and entering,” Liz said again.

“We had permission,” Jack growled.

“Permission from who?” Liz inquired.

“From the dude who lives at that house,” Jack said angrily.

“Well, that should make it easy,” Liz said. “Tell us who he is, we will make a phone call and you are out of here.”

“I don’t know,” Jack answered stubbornly.

“Okay, let’s look at it this way. You had permission to be in the house. You have a key to the house, so we raid it and any contraband we find we hang it on you,” Liz explained.

“No,” ejaculated Jack. “All we did in that house was screw. This guy I know offered me his key, because he wasn’t going to be home last night. Jen was afraid someone will tell her father if they saw us together at the frat house.”

“That’s better, Mr. Towers, now we have that the woman in the picture is named Jen. We should be able to take it from there with the student directory,” Liz leaned back and smiled at Jack Towers.

Max added, “Maybe, a spell in jail will make her willing to tell us more?”

“No, you can’t do that! Her old man is a mobster from back east. He hears she gets thrown in jail, he goes after her and then after me for taking her there!” Jack Towers almost cried.

“You will have to convince him that it was all platonic and you were really just looking at the etchings on the wall,” Liz said laughing.

Liz and Max left as Jack was transferred to a holding cell. Liz spoke to the sergeant at the desk. “His lawyer will be in about midnight. Let him bond out then. That will give our stake out team, a little more time to learn anything if they can, before he finds the guy who gave him the key,” she instructed.

Michael and Maria were again parked along the street. They had checked out a different car so no one would remark that the same car was parked along the street two nights in a row. They were in a slightly darker place further away from the streetlight. There was less chatter tonight, because they had shared about all they each felt comfortable sharing last night. Maria made it up to the McDonalds a few times. She was dressed in an old coat she had found in the lost and found. With that and the stocking cap pulled down over her ears, she felt no one would remember her from last night. It was approaching 11:00. Maria was considering one last run to McDonalds. The Euonymus would either thrive or die from Michael’s tending all night. As she was going to open the door, it hit her like the side of a board swung against her face. There was a bright light and then, she could feel her self slip away. She did see Michael take several hits of something that looked like fire, then, for a long time nothing.
----------------------
The magic of the The Elevator is almost over.

New idea. In many stories, Max goes back to Antar. He leaves Liz some time for ten years and sometime for more. The "Regent" is a new idea of what he might have arranged. It is UC but at least give it a glance it really is a Max liz story. coming soon.
Good teachers are born that way, not made. No! Good human beings, are born that way. Some of them become teachers.

Of course, life is not fair. You shouldn't expect it to be fair, but you should expect it to be ironic.
JKR 1981-2001
History is made of wars, recovering from wars and preparing for the next war.
JJR 1975-

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Re: Little Napoleon, AU, mature, CC, pg 4, ch 8, Aug 20, 201

Postby ken_r » Sat Aug 27, 2011 11:47 am

mary mary

begonia9508

keepsmiling

Natalie36


Chapter 9

From somewhere in a fog, Maria felt someone pushing her to consciousness. She slowly opened her eyes. There was a rat-faced kid sitting in front of her. He looked like he belonged in high school. Maria felt that her ankles and wrists were duct taped to a chair. She tried to open her mouth, but it was covered with duct tape, also. The kid didn’t say anything. He just looked at her, his eyes boring a hole through her soul.

Maria was reliving the time when her father left. He and her mother had been fighting, Maria was too young to understand over what. After he left things were not better. For a while, her mother almost went insane. Maria remembered being locked in her room as she heard the cries and moans of her mother being with one man after another. She would see the results the next morning. None of the men her mother went to were kind. She remembered the bruises, the black eyes and the cut lips. Maria remembered crying when the children at her school called her mother a whore. At the time, she didn’t know what whore meant, but the way they said it she knew what they, meant. Maria was sure that there had to be some happy memories during this time, but she wasn’t allowed to find them.

Maria had read the notes that Liz had made from her talks with Max. She knew that Liz didn’t believe every thing Max told her. She remembered the notes about Nicholas. That is who was in front of her. This was what Max had called a mind rape. Every embarrassing or difficult thing that had ever happened to Maria was being brought to the front of her mind.

There was Benny Garcia. He was the boy who had led her into the world of sex. Benny hadn’t had any more experience than she had, but Benny had an older brother who advised him. His advice came straight from the whores of Juarez. The experience was not pleasant for either Benny or Maria. Maria’s mind traveled through many boyfriends. Mostly the thoughts were the times she had gotten dumped.

After the first couple times, Maria had felt that her exotic dancing was an art form. She brought pleasure to the men who watched her. Now, these anxieties all came back. A five hundred dollar lap dance was no longer a romp to excite the man in whose lap she was sitting, rather, it was as sordid as she could imagine. She wasn’t even an honest whore. She had jacked the “john” off wiggling her ass in his lap and actually giving him no sex at all. Her memory traveled like that until she got down to last night, or rather yesterday morning. There was Michael. He was standing before her without his boxers. His manhood hung limp. Like a puppet, she had been made to dance before him as he struggled through one erection after another. Now all those warnings came to her. Michael was emasculated. He could no longer get it up. He could no longer make love. The shadow slowly closed about her. Soon, she again was unconscious.

Michael slowly was waking up. His arms and legs were securely taped to a wooden armchair. There was a piece of tape across his mouth. His stomach was threatening to erupt. Gagged like this, if he vomited, he could very easily choke and die. Looking at Maria, she was having the same problem. He saw her body jerk as she fought the heaves. He had to get free and get her out quickly. His alien powers were all that he had. He concentrated on the tape. Michael was removing every molecule of moisture from the tape he could. Finally, it became brittle and with a might heave of his limbs, he broke free. He ripped the tape off of his mouth. Michael then ripped the tape off Maria’s face and none too gently, he broke her bonds to the chair. Michael scooped Maria up in his arms and rushed to the bathroom. Side by side, they knelt over the commode, heaving until they could heave nothing else up. There was a plastic cup on the bathroom sink. Michael didn’t worry about germs, he filled the cup with water and he and Maria took turns rinsing the sour taste out of their mouths. They helped each other back to the bedroom and sat on the bed. Someone had taken all their clothes except for their underwear. Maria felt something with her bare feet and looking down, whoever did this to them had made a mistake. Her cell phone had fallen out of her pocket. They hadn’t noticed it almost under the bed on the floor.

Max was sitting in the office discussing what they had with Liz, when Michael called him direct. Max didn’t wait for Michael to finish what he was saying. He placed his hand over the microphone of the cell phone and told Liz. “Michael and Marie were made last night. They were captured and are in the house we were watching. Send a couple jump suits with a blue and white. Their captors took all their clothes. That road crew ought to be out by now. Tell them to bust into the house. Michael says both he and Maria are in pretty bad shape. He is asking for Isabel to meet them here.

Two gurneys were rolled into one of the interrogation rooms. The subject on each gurney was already affixed with hydration tubes. One of the EMTs said, “They should go to the hospital, but Guerin insisted we bring him here. They both had an intense spell of vomiting. They are dehydrated.” (Emergency Medical Technicians)

“You gotta get Isabel here as fast as you can,” Michael exclaimed. “Max, it was Nicholas. He got into Maria’s mind. Isabel should know what to do.”

You could see that Michael was in great pain, but he insisted they look at Maria first.

Maria was pale almost with the face of death. She was silently sobbing. They had talked to her through Michael, but she hadn’t said anything personally to anyone. She was having trouble breathing, because of the sobs.

Isabel walked out of the elevator on the floor where the detective offices were located. Lieutenant Whitman was preparing his first cup of coffee. He knew that one of his officers was in the interrogation room under the care of EMTs. For some reason, Guerin, who Alex felt was usually a level headed fellow, had insisted they come here. He heard the melodic voice and received the almost euphoric feeling of her presence as Isabel softly said, “Lieutenant Whitman, could you please escort me to where the wounded detectives are being treated?”

Alex was a lieutenant. Normally if he took any notice of a request, he would call one of his men to take the woman to where ever she needed to go. This was the almost magical woman they had all seen on Evans’ arm the other day. He said it when he saw Evans and he thought it now, “Cops don’t get to associate with women like this.” She was now asking to be taken to the interrogation room; she was asking him, Alex Whitman, Lieutenant Alex Whitman, to take her there. She was asking to be seen holding on to his arm as they walked through office in front of everyone.”

Isabel immediately hugged both Max and Michael. As her mouth was close to Max’s ear she whispered, “Did you fix Michael up?”

Max nodded and whispered back, “Michael is a lot stronger than Nicholas ever thought. He took several shots of inhibitor and he still managed to use his powers.”

Isabel placed her coat on the table and announced, “It will be a lot easier on Maria if every one else gets out.”

One of the EMTs looked at her, “begging your pardon ma’am, are you a trained psychologist?”

Isabel gave him one of her famous smiles, “Yes, among other things. I also am one who has suffered a similar humiliation as did Maria. I am someone who was there at one time.”

Michael was now sitting up, so the EMT helped him carry the IV equipment out of the interrogation room and hang the bag on a coat rack in Liz’s office. All but one of the EMTs left. The remaining one stated, “Someone can take me back to the station later, but now, I want to watch both patients to make sure that they don’t develop further complications.”

The EMT was watching Maria and Isabel from the observation room. Michael said something to Max and Max leaned over to turn off the sound. Michael was heard to hoarsely say as they helped him to Little Napoleon’s office, “She deserves privacy.”

The EMT nodded and he moved to the side of the room where there was enough light to work on his report.

Because of the location of the coat rack holding his IV bag and tubing, Michael was sitting at the lieutenant’s desk. Lieutenant Whitman, having escorted Isabel to the interrogation room, remained near Liz’s office. Max motioned for Alex to enter the office. “Lieutenant, you have had our back for as long as we have worked with you. This is a lot deeper, but we still hope you have our backs.” Then, Max turned back to Michael and Liz. “Nicholas is the dangerous one. Isabel states that she has never heard of Nicholas killing with the silver handprint. We know so little about him. Like all the aliens, Nicholas uses something resembling microwave radiation to kill. He cooks the victim from the inside,” Max said.

Alex Whitman, not being a party to any of the previous discussions, paid very close attention. Max continued. “I believe we would be correct to say that aliens can control the movement of molecules. Antarians and Antarian hybrids do this with the help of that unusual isotope of cadmium. This causes the silver handprint.”

Alex looked at Liz and said, “Parker, are you comfortable with this alien talk?”

“Not really, Alex,” Liz declared. “I am trying to keep up with things that I have no other explanation for.”

Max looked up at Alex. “Lieutenant, we seldom had to use what aliens can do working with you. If we did use what we call powers, we were always able to camouflage it. This case is pure alien. We don’t have a motive, yet. What we do know is that the lawyer, Goldblum, and the journalist, Miller, had stumbled onto something. Nicholas is arrogant. He could care less if something exposed the entire alien population. Goldblum and Miller might not even have known what they discovered. I am sure that what ever it is, it concerns the alien community more than the human one.”

Alex shook his head. “Factions of aliens and humans, I am still trying to get used to Republicans and Democrats,” he stated.

Max made a strained grin. “Lieutenant, I am sure you will find that there will be conservative and progressive factions that will make you right at home in our Antarian politics.”

Michael was still at Liz’s desk, because of the IV tubes. Liz, sitting on the top of his desk, her hands gripping the edge and with her feet hanging above the floor, spoke up. “What more do we know after what happened to Michael and Maria?” Liz was a little angry, but she had no idea who to be angry at. Michael was a detective assigned to her team and Maria was almost a life long friend. They had both been hurt, but she had no idea as to the extent of the injuries.

Max looked up and said, “The biggest thing we now know is Nicholas is not as strong as we always believed. He pumped Michael full of Inhibitors, which he felt should cripple Mike’s powers. Michael still managed to break through them and make their escape. Isabel knows him the best and she always felt that Nicholas was immortal. She did not believe any of us could kill him.”

“How does Isabel know so much about him?” Liz asked.

“To better understand that, we need a bit more of ‘Alien 101.’ Michael, Isabel and I are what you call hybrid alien clones. Antarians have been collecting human DNA for centuries. They had both good reasons and bad reasons, depending on the political climate back home. The Royals took several of their leaders and mixing their DNA with samples of human DNA, they made creatures like us. We can do almost anything either a human or alien can do. We were fairly well formed before they shipped us out. Isabel is sure that they played with our memories as soon as the memories were formed. Isabel has many memories of her clone donor. maybe, because her donor was both good and evil. Her donor was believed to consort with the despot who started the revolution, as well as those who were his followers, that included Nicholas,” Max explained.

--------------------

Maria’s sobs were interfering with her breathing. Isabel had asked the EMT to arrange for oxygen to help her. “Maria, you don’t have the privilege of waiting for a better time to face this,” Isabel explained.

“What did you mean when you said you have faced this yourself?” Maria asked between sobs.

“I mean that I have very intimate knowledge of what it is like to have your mind dissected,” Isabel stated.

“You mean Nicholas did this to you? How did you stand it?” Maria asked.

“Yes and no. Maria, I didn’t develop in the warmth of a mother’s womb with her heart beat to comfort me that all was well. I was conceived and developed in a Laboratory. I was created from the mix of carefully selected DNA, both human and alien. At the proper time, I was given memories of my alien donor. The purpose of them doing this, we are still assessing. My donor tried to be a bridge between the royals and the alien revolutionaries,” Isabel explained.

“What did he actually do to me?” Maria asked.

“We coined the term, ‘mind rape.’ He took things from your mind that you were unwilling to give up. He used your mind for things that you did not want him to do. He left you feeling dirty and abused. That is little different from the rape cases I am sure, as a police detective, you have already seen,” Isabel stated.

“What did he take from my mind?” Maria asked again.

“We don’t know for sure, but probably he wanted to know what your team had discovered about the murders. Nicholas could not imagine Michael being privileged to all that the lieutenant knew. You were the sergeant. Nicholas probably thinks military. You were the most likely to know what he wanted. Besides that, Nicholas may be becoming frightened of the alien clones. To cripple you, he tried to make everything you ever did seem dirty and bad.” Isabel stopped for several minutes. “He might not have been able to do that to Michael,” she mused. Then she continued, “Men think differently. Men in a rebel army probably think even differently than would Michael, but Nicholas wouldn’t realize that. Growing up with Michael, all I ever knew of his feelings were of searching for family. Men in a rebel military unit would be more tuned to rape and pillage. Nicholas needed a lever of guilt, which he wouldn’t believe he could ever find in a man.”

Now, Isabel needed to ask permission for something that this human would never want to do, especially since she had just experienced someone bad doing almost the same thing that Isabel would be requesting. Yes, Isabel would have to ask permission to do the same thing as Nicholas. In this case, the rape and the cure were very close.

After several minutes of both of them just waiting, Maria, still sobbing Isabel quietly said, “Maria, you don’t know me at all, but I can help you. This would take a great amount of trust. Let us keep with the rape analogy for the moment. You know that many times, rape victims suffer guilt. They play the ‘What ifs.’ Was it the way I was dressed? Was it where I allowed my self to be? Did I do something to make him think that I wanted him? All of these things are nonproductive.” Isabel felt that Maria as an officer could best understand if she kept the analogy to something that Maria had dealt with in others.

“Nothing that you did, except be human and be a police officer made him select you. He could have carefully removed the information he wanted, but he chose to rip it from you. He chose to make you feel used. That is how he feels superior. I can correct that,” Isabel stated.

Again, there were several minutes. This time, Maria seemed to better control her sobbing. Isabel was promising to make her feel better. Like a child, “Mommy, kiss it and make it feel better.” Except that Maria wasn’t a child and Isabel was far from her mommy. Maria couldn’t help from wondering what else did Nicholas see. What else, that she didn’t want anyone to know, had Nicholas found knowledge of. If she had known what her damned cousin was doing with Liz, Maria would have screamed loudly to anyone, don’t go there. Don’t allow any picture be taken that you are not willing to share with the world. Making love, having sex was sharing enough. If the situation was allowed to go no further, any exposé was only hear say and subject to the character of the exposer. Maria had been made to share everything in her mind with someone she considered an enemy. Had Nicholas found something so secret that someday in the future he could bring it out and cause it to bite her?

“Isabel, what would you do?” Maria asked.

I would have to go into your mind, just like he did. The difference would be that I would have to remove things he left to cause you pain. I would have to see every thing that ever happened to you, even things you have forgotten and don’t want others to know.” Isabel looked at Maria, “I would have to kiss it and make it feel better,” she said. The analogy was so strong and so close to the surface of Maria’s mind that Isabel couldn’t resist using it.
------------------------------------------
The Elevator almost finished.

How many stories have you read about Max going away and leaving Liz behind? I dare say there are several on the board right now. The Regent is a Max/Liz story that because of how it runs will end up on UC. I leave it to you to decide what solution is best. Do we really want Liz to live unloved and alone for so many years?
Last edited by ken_r on Sun Aug 28, 2011 2:54 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Good teachers are born that way, not made. No! Good human beings, are born that way. Some of them become teachers.

Of course, life is not fair. You shouldn't expect it to be fair, but you should expect it to be ironic.
JKR 1981-2001
History is made of wars, recovering from wars and preparing for the next war.
JJR 1975-

User avatar
ken_r
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Posts: 860
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Re: Little Napoleon, AU, mature, CC, pg 5, ch 9, Aug 27, 201

Postby ken_r » Fri Oct 21, 2011 11:57 am

AN: it has been so long that i had to go back and reread much of this.

Natalie36
Keepsmiling7



Chapter 10

“Michael, it is Thursday. Why don’t you and Maria go home and don’t even think about crime until Monday morning? I don’t want to know where either of you are or what either of you are doing. I only want to know that you are both safe. If we need more man power, Lieutenant Whitman will give Evans and me what we need,” Liz ordered.

The EMT had removed Michael from the IV and pronounced him fit, except for probably needing rest. The EMT would hang around until that woman finished talking to Detective DeLuca. If he saw no problem with DeLuca, then she could go home, also.

Michael was determined to stay at the office until he saw how Maria was doing. His mind wasn’t lusting after Maria, well, maybe a little, but Michael knew that her welfare was foremost in his thoughts. Michael knew and completely trusted, Isabel. He wasn’t sure if Maria could do the same. Isabel knew that he was hanging around. If she needed him she would call him.

----------------------

Maria had handed Michael the squad car keys. She hadn’t said anything except, “Take me home.”

Once at the apartment, Michael helped her to her door. He unlocked the door and helped her inside. Once inside, Maria threw her arms around his neck and cried, “Michael, don’t go back to your apartment. Don’t leave me.”

Michael hadn’t turned on any lights. Maria hadn’t wanted to release him so they sat like that in the slowly darkening twilight. Finally she released him and quickly hurried to the bathroom. Michael thought, at last, because he also, was feeling the urgency. When he returned, Maria had turned on the light and was sitting at the dining room table. Michael sat down and Maria took his hands. “When she first entered my mind, it felt just like it did with Nicholas. After some time, I started feeling euphoria. With Nicholas, it just felt dirty. Isabel started me feeling right. I felt transported to a strange place. The sky was a redish green. Isabel was standing in front of me. Two men were arguing about who would lay her first. Some how, I knew that one of them was Nicholas. The other I had never seen before. He was a powerful man in a strange uniform. I never saw what happened to her, because a cloud surrounded us. The cloud felt safe. The cloud was protecting her from what she didn’t want to share with me. I, also, felt naked before her. She knew everything about me. The cloud got thicker and thicker, I guess I fell asleep. When I woke up, Isabel was sitting there watching me. She didn’t say a word. She hugged me and then, left. The EMT came in and said I could go home as soon as I wanted to. I don’t know how I feel, now. Mostly, I feel confused. I have an irrational hate for that little snot, Nicholas. If I ever see him again, I will shoot first and keep shooting until he disappears. Now that is something I do not understand. That is not from my police training. With Nicholas, it is too personal. How can he disappear if I shoot him? Shoot first and ask questions, later. I don’t have any questions I want to ask that asshole,” Maria finished her story.

----------------------

Now, Alex saw the tall woman standing waiting for something. He approached Isabel and asked, “Can I do anything else for you, Ma’am?”

Isabel awarded him with her world renowned smile. “Yes, lieutenant, could you take me to coffee?” she asked.

“Yes, Ma’am. Do you want to stop in the ward room or would you prefer to go across the street to the little shop?” Alex could bite his tongue off. Why would a lady want to taste the varnish remover they served in the wardroom? Alex thought, the coffee pot had been washed sometime this month, but the resulting brew wasn’t something you served a lady. There was something about Isabel, which made Alex offer her his arm. Alex wasn’t in the habit of having a lady on his arm, but somehow, Isabel inspired this in him.

For Alex, it was black, no sugar. There was something about putting sugar in the varnish remover he normally drank, that made one sick. Granted, the Kenya Roast he was now drinking, was a whole floor above the varnish remover. Alex still had it black, no sugar. Isabel’s coffee was steamed, it was bubbled and it was flavored. In Alex’s opinion, it was no longer coffee. It was also five dollars. That couldn’t, any longer, be coffee.

Alex kept asking himself, what did this woman want? She smiled and they both murmured amenities. Finally, she looked at him and said, “What kind of officers are Max Evans and Michael Guerin?”

That was a personnel question. That was not something that should be discussed outside the department. In fact, it shouldn’t be discussed out side of a closed meeting with superiors who were deciding an officer’s fate.

Alex had no explanation of why he answered. “Evans and Guerin are excellent officers.”

“Then you wouldn’t hold, race, religion, orientation or species against them?” Isabel asked.

As Alex shook his head, he thought, “That is the strangest question I have ever heard.” Out loud he heard his voice, “No, of course not.”

Why don’t your men like Lieutenant Elizabeth Parker?” Isabel made her next question.

Again, these were not questions for discussion by non-departmental personnel. What did this second question have to do with the first? “It isn’t that we dislike, Lieutenant Parker, it is that we feel that she takes advantage of some pull she has in getting promotions. There are not many promotions in a department. I am a lieutenant and I have over 30 men under me. She has only one officer, a sergeant, under her and we have the same rank. My men pull ten times the number of cases that she does. They are high profile cases, murder, auto theft, and serious burglaries. What kind of cases does she pull? That burning man case. A half-wit cooking Meth, a family of retirement-home, revolutionaries and a troop of, scared out of their wits, scouts.

“What about these silver hand murders?” Isabel asked. Then she continued. “Evans and Guerin are your men, but could you have given them the latitude to really attack this case. Did you see how badly Guerin was hurt? This is far from over. I will be surprised if Parker and Evans don’t bring back some surprises when they come back tonight. DeLuca is badly hurt also. We don’t know how she will come out. Were you ready to go as far as Parker in what she has done so far?” Isabel inquired.

“I don’t know,” Alex answered. I am not sure I understand what is happening.”

Isabel leaned forward, “But, you will, lieutenant, you will.”

Isabel left a thoroughly confused Alex Whitman. As she was leaving, something in the back of her mind said she would be back there in a few hours. Yes, Max would have a surprise.

------------------

Lieutenant Alex Whitman looked out his office. He had delivered the information his detectives had received from the uniforms. Liz wasn’t the type to worry about someone stealing her collar, but she had insisted that she and Evans try to track down the perp, Nicholas. “Evans is your boy, Alex. Trust him, I am. He says he knows what he is doing. He is carrying more firepower than would a rookie on his first day at the range for qualifying. We, either, are going to bring in an army or we are going to shoot up a hell of a lot of real estate.”

Bring back an army of prisoners, Alex would remind Liz of that when he saw the small shaking blonde woman they finally brought back in custody. One tiny blonde did not count as an army.

Max and Liz were in full form, offensive mode. When one member of the department was hurt, it was common for the rest of the department to redouble their efforts. No one took down a fellow officer without reprisal. Lieutenant Whitman dropped by. There had been another sighting of Nicholas. Alex still wasn’t convinced of Nicholas’s power, but Lieutenant Parker was. She and Evans knew more about what they were doing than he did. For the moment, he would respect their directives. His men would observe and not make contact. Of course, none of them understood that this just proved to Nicholas how fearsome his power had become. There was that tiny doubt about how quickly Guerin had regained his strength. Nicholas knew that Evans would be the strongest of the clones. He had underestimated that Guerin clone.

----------------------

Lieutenant Parker saw Evans go to his desk and take out three more magazines. He had told her that he had power of aliens as well as human. Well, his human side was loading for bear and grizzle bear at that. Liz did not intend to be out done. She was just an undersized human. She picked up three more magazines for her Glock as well. Glock magazines for 40 caliber are marked 15 rounds. Officers usually shot all the magazines in practice to assure they would work with no trouble. Sometimes, for no reason that the average officer could tell, a magazine would have to be marked minus one or minus 2 if it gave trouble when fully loaded. Usually if loaded down the specific number of cartridges, the magazine worked fine. With the magazine in the weapon, the two the officer usually carried as spare and now the three extra magazines they had picked up each detective was carrying between 78 to 90 cartridges, that is almost two boxes of ammo. Since statistics said that most gunfights are settled within three or four shots, they were together ready for a whole war. Liz figured that Max knew what he was doing, so she followed intending to hold up her part. Max intended that if alien powers would not subdue, Nicholas, then he would pump human ammunition into him until, maybe, he expired with fatigue. There were things out there other than Nicholas, also. Max couldn’t discount, hired humans, traitorous aliens or some creature he knew nothing about. Most cops look only for bad guys, for Max, bad was the prefix to many creatures.

With the picture José had given them, they started from the last sighting and made the slow interrogative crawl following from one informant to the next one. Nicholas was not alone. Max did not know if his companion was alien or human. By the time the afternoon was almost over, the companions had multiplied. Max used a gauge that he explained to the lieutenant. “Aliens and clones do not do good with Alcohol. That is except for Nicholas. Remember we have no idea of what he is. If you believe in demons, that will do for the moment. That is why I ask every bartender how many drinks they ordered and who was doing the ordering,” he explained.

Max didn’t say anything to the lieutenant, but he was becoming troubled. The bartenders were stating that a small blonde woman was now in the group with Nicholas. She wasn’t drinking, so she was probably alien. Max was sure that, given a chance, Nicholas would take down Isabel just for old times sake. Sex meant something different to a creature like him. He probably would feast on her present revulsion for him and her being forced to commit the act with him. Max was sure, he would check later with Isabel, but he believed that Nicholas had made no effort to touch Maria physically. In fact, Nicholas had tried to make, sex as something dirty to her in his method of torture. Isabel had assured Max that what he had done to Maria was strictly in her mind. What did he have the blonde for? Who was she or better, what was she and why did he tolerate her in his group?

In the west, for cities, the railroad was raison d'etre, their reason to be. A railroad stop at a city made the city. Conversely the railroad bypassing a city could spell its death. It was ironic that the thing which infused the city, at first, was later the avenue to it’s decay. As the city aged, the railroad also brought vagrants, noise and filth. This all started at the rail and slowly migrated out. First Street was the name of the first street west of the railroad bed. What, at first, had been enterprise brought by the incoming trains, now was slum and decay that hung on to the way of transit. Max and Liz had been slowly making their way through lower and lower qualities of the city. The patrons of the bars and establishments were taking on a distinctively desperate quality. Both cops were receiving instinctive warnings given from their experience. Reason would say, back up and return in the bright daylight! Run to the police! When you are the police, you do not get to listen to the instinctive warnings, but they are enough reason to be wary in your quest.

The streetlights now had been burned out, shot out or maybe just shunned by those entrusted with their replacement. As they passed the mouth of a very dark alley, both detectives saw some movement. Pointing their powerful hand torches down the alley, they saw several individuals. That is when the first power blast struck out at Max. Liz had no idea of what a power blast was, but Max was a detective on her team so she drew her Glock and fired at the point she believed the blast to have originated. From the corner of her eye, she saw Max let loose a similar series of blasts seeming to come from his hands. So this was what it was like to have aliens on her squad. Max fired three blasts evenly spaced about 20 degrees apart, like an officer would fire their shot gun at a overwhelming enemy. There were now screams, smells of burning flesh and smoke. Something darted out. It had a weapon. Liz saw no reason to yell, stop, we are the police! Being the police likely, in this part of town, was reason enough to be fired at. Two to the chest and one to the head, common police procedure when you were very angry at an enemy. The figure bent over, but Max screamed, “Keep firing until they quit moving. They are not that easy to kill.”

Sure enough, the bent over figure started to straighten up. Liz emptied the rest of her magazine, dropped it and reloaded. To her surprise, the crumpled figure started to blow away. It now was just a pile of dust. This was a new kind of war. No bodies to explain. Liz felt a searing heat on her cheek. No time for introspect. In anger, Liz answered with five quickly placed shots. Before the figure had collapsed, Max hit it with a power blast of his own. Before the figure hit the ground, it was dust blowing in the slight breeze. Liz saw that power blast took their toll out of Max. He seemed to be weakening. When the next alien opened up at them, Max joined her with a fusillade of 40 cal from their Glocks. The creature never even fell. It just sort of blew away in mid air.

Max and Liz slowly worked their way down the alley. They both were watching for any sign of movement. When they got to the end of the alley, there were several garbage cans along with several old boxes. Max slung the boxes out of his way and saw movement. There was a figure crouching in the shadows. “Keep your hands where we can see them and come out,” Max shouted.

Liz was within a fraction of loosening a barrage at the creature. The adrenaline rush, the searing pain in her face and the excitement of surviving another firefight, all directed her to destroy the creature if it made any false movement. Max and Liz both had their flash lights on the creature who was bent double, it’s head on the ground, the flowing blonde hair of a woman streaming on the ground, a voice was heard, ”My Lord, my King, do with me as you will.” This was no Nicholas.
Last edited by ken_r on Mon Oct 24, 2011 9:50 am, edited 1 time in total.
Good teachers are born that way, not made. No! Good human beings, are born that way. Some of them become teachers.

Of course, life is not fair. You shouldn't expect it to be fair, but you should expect it to be ironic.
JKR 1981-2001
History is made of wars, recovering from wars and preparing for the next war.
JJR 1975-


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