This could have further chapters if there's interest but I wanted to have a go at writing a crime story. Cheers for reading and please review. I don't own Chuck.
Chuck vs. LA Vice
Crusted blood caked the black leather of the steering wheel, trailing like dry riverbeds from two gunshot wounds to the neck and cheek of the victim. His lifeless eyes were still open, the ghostly whites staring through the roof of the sedan.
Beside him was another corpse sprawled across the passenger seat, head resting on the still intact side window. Three rose blooms laid claim to his chest in a tight cluster, soaking into the button-up shirt and seat underneath.
Flecks of water was seeping through the various bullet holes in the now-latticed windshield, lightly pattering onto the dashboard.
The front of the car's black exterior had been riddled by projectiles, leaving dinks and dents in a messy pattern. The front tyres had flattened, leaving the vehicle slightly inclined on the level concrete pavement. Dispensed shell casings were strewn haphazardly on the ground about six feet away from the front bumper.
Chuck Bartowski was rooted to the ground as he took in the aftermath of the violence in the narrow alleyway, rain spitting onto the hood covering his head that connected to the rest of his attire, a blue bodysuit to avoid contamination.
"Check the trunk, kid," came Larry Dresden's voice.
Finally shaking him from his induced stupor, he rounded to the back and used a crowbar to wrench it open. It seemed to be still in working condition as the door opened.
The first item that drew Chuck's attention was the sawed off shotgun, sporting a brown fore-end and silver muzzle. There was also a bright white powdery substance laced sloppily around a plastic package that seemed to have exploded.
"Dresden, we need to call vice. There's a broken packet of what possibly could be cocaine in here," Chuck called over before relaying the same message to one of the police officers.
While waiting for the detectives to arrive, Chuck began photographing the evidence and victims. He had to briefly cover his nose as he neared the bodies, already queasy from his earlier experience, to make record of their wounds and collect fibres and tissue from them.
It was close to half an hour later, after Chuck had finished documenting the majority of the crime scene, before heels could be heard clacking briskly down the alleyway. A woman, wearing short-heeled boots arrived, her gray blazer laid on top of a creamy blouse tucked into black slim-fitting trousers that camouflaged where her boots started. But it was her gorgeous face fitted with a bun of blonde hair that caught Chuck's attention.
"Dresden, good to see you again, although I wished it was on better occasion."
The aging coroner nodded his greeting before taking her through the state of the corpses in the car, before redirecting her attention to Chuck.
"Walker, this is Charles Bartowski from forensics and technical," Dresden introduced before whispering to Sarah, "Take it easy on him, he's still relatively new."
"Sarah Walker, vice," she said, extending a hand in front of her and offering a tight smile.
Shoving aside his nervousness, Chuck took the hand and reciprocated, "Call me Chuck, Detective."
The dreary morning weather had finally given them a temporary reprieve to openly survey the scene. After passing over a pair of gloves to Sarah, they both stepped around the recently formed puddles for Chuck to explain his findings.
"The separated groupings of bullets suggest two shooters with automatics, or one shooter that paused a moment between killing these two. I can give you the ballistics, details for the ammunition and possible matches for weapons later."
Circling to the rear, Chuck continued, "The attackers' motive could have been robbery for narcotics. We'll wipe the car down for traces of fingerprints but it doesn't look hopeful, especially with all the rain."
"Do what you can, Chuck, but it looks like we're dealing with professionals."
One of the officers that was canvassing the adjacent and nearby buildings returned to tell Sarah that a couple of people heard what sounded like a series of small explosions at just after midnight but had not ventured out or notified police. The rest of the occupants claimed to not be around as this was not a residential area.
In fact, it was not until a barista from a cafe coming into work that morning that spotted the car and decided to check its unusual state, only to find two dead men and a windshield battered windshield, an image that was more fitting in an 80s gangster film than reality.
Chuck then moved on to extract the belongings from the deceased and the glove box. Producing a pair of wallets and mobile phones, he handed them to Sarah to flick through. He watched Sarah as she jotted down each person's name and address, frowning at the contents in the second wallet.
"Is anything wrong, Detective?"
"Please, it's just Sarah," she replied, smiling at Chuck for a split second but returning to a concentrated scowl, "The guy in the driver's seat, Carlos Valentina, was an officer from the Wilshire Division."
While having only worked in the forensics department for a short two months, Chuck had already developed a mild disdain for the body suits that they wore when foraging for evidence at crime scenes. However, being wrapped in a navy blue suit with a tie pulling on his neck was little better.
He was analysing the ballistics of the shots, pinpointing their trajectory. Utilising software that he personally developed over the past two years, he began correlating the ending positions of the bullets with the holes in the windshield, creating a hypothetical image of the shootout.
The trajectory confirmed his initial suspicion that there was likely two shooters as the position of projection was separated by 3 feet, unless the shooter had moved across the front of the car.
However, in the midst of all the .45 ACP bullets, traced to either a UMP or Uzi sub machine-gun, they had taken out two .357 Magnum rounds, one penetrating into each victim; they had not discovered this initially due to the Magnum not ejecting its shells casings. From the number of shell casings found, it was unlikely that neither of the clips from the SMGs had emptied, implying a possible third shooter.
After constructing the simulations and loading it onto a USB stick to show Sarah, he rushed to the elevator, eager to share it with her. Arriving at the vice department, he realised that he was clueless as to where Sarah Walker or her desk was.
He walked up to one of the detectives and began, "Excuse me. Do you know where Detective Sarah Walker is?"
Despite being shorter than Chuck, he was built like a rhino and seemed significantly more daunting than what he should have. He simply grunted and ignored Chuck, probably the best case scenario there, he thought.
He tapped another man his age with bushy brown hair that was standing and repeated his question.
"She's not interested. Go back to your office," he sneered.
"I have evidence to show her," Chuck insisted.
By now there was a small crowd forming around him, curious to his interruption.
"Leave him alone, boys. He's with me," an almost angelic voice sounded from the back of room, laced with menace at the men.
The crowd dispersed and he finally saw Sarah, still in the same clothes as that morning. She beckoned him over, before turning and heading back into her office that she shared with two others, sashaying her hips slightly.
As Chuck walked over, the bushy-haired guy bumped his shoulder, winding him.
"Sorry about those guys. They can be hard asses," She apologised sincerely as both of them reached her desk to which Chuck mumbled his forgiveness
"What do you have for me, sweetie?" A smile reached her face.
Chuck produced the USB stick and connected it to her computer, beginning to thoroughly explain the details.
"So we have two, possibly three, shooters to look for," Chuck ended.
Sarah replayed with simulation, pausing at particular intervals to scribble some notes on her pad.
"I'm impressed, Chuck, you work fast. Can you do me another favour?"