A/N: Eh?! Another story Ella?! Really?! I've just resigned to the fact that I'm an impulsive writer. Shout out to my homegirl and awesome beta reader NebulaZee for putting up with my last minute decision to write this xD
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or 21 jumpstreet. If I did, this would totally be a thing in real life.
Enjoy and thanks for reading~!
You have the right to be my bitch!:
Arthur's POV:
Alright, Arthur my boy. This is your one and only chance, so you better not blow it. Right, best get on with it. I straightened my sweater vest, raked a hand through my nest of hopelessly messy blond hair, and put on a stiff upper lip. Standing across the hallway from me was the girl of my dreams: Shelly Bonnefoy. Shelly, the girl who with just one smile could make my cold, bitter heart melt into a pile of goo. I was unfathomably and helplessly in love.
I shook my head, and with a determined glare, I was on my way. Shelly was standing by her locker, holding up a compact mirror to her face. Her naturally plump lips were placed in a pout as she applied a modest amount of clear lip gloss to them. My face reddened indefinitely. Good god, was this girl ever beautiful. So beautiful that a hopeless nerd like me stood absolutely no chance with her. But, given the fact that I had tutored her in English last semester, I at least had some grounds to work with. It was the only hope that I could hold onto, really.
Shelly closed her compact mirror and began to grab the books for her next class out of her locker. Her long brown pig tails swung over her shoulders. The blue t-shirt dress that she was wearing hugged the curves of her swimmer's body in all the right ways. A lump formed in my throat, but I quelled it back with a grunt as I approached her.
"Uh…ahem…er….hey, Shelly?" I squeaked with about as much masculinity as an endangered baby panda.
Shelly smiled at me, her amber eyes crinkling into fond crescents at the corners. "Oh, hey Arthur!" she giggled, sending my heart dropping to the floor, as well as the rest of my dignity. "What's up?"
I floundered for the words that I had incessantly rehearsed in my head so many times over. "Do you want to dance?" If being cringe worthy was an Olympic sport, I'd be a world champion.
Shelly cocked her head to the side in confusion. "Huh?"
Oh bollocks. Here we fucking go.
I chuckled weakly, rubbing a hand over the back of my now reddening neck. "Well you see…I've been thinking…"
Shelly's eyes widened with concern. Suddenly she looked very uncomfortable. She kept glancing over my shoulder, probably searching for a means to escape from the awkwardness that I inevitably brought wherever I went. You see, I wasn't exactly the most popular guy in the school. If the lisp from my retainer, sweater vest, and inherent love for Shakespeare didn't already spell what these bloody Americans liked to label as a 'nerd.'
Shelly, on the other hand, was well associated with the in crowd. Her kind smile and beauty had earned her plenty of friends and admirers in this sorry excuse of a school. Thus, me speaking to her out in the open like this was totally uncalled for. It violated all sorts of social protocols, and that meathead bloke at the other end of the hallway was having none of it.
While I stammered out incoherent gibberish in front of a now uncomfortable looking Shelly, Alfred Jones, the school's beloved it boy and football extraordinaire was having the time of his life. Alfred was a brawny 'all American' boy with cerulean blue eyes, shaggy wheat blond hair, which had an insufferable cowlick to it (and I thought that I had hair problems) and a permanently cocky grin. He was all muscle and hardly any brains, and that quirk shone right through as he failed miserably at attempting to stifle his booming laughter.
Alfred propped up a casual elbow against the row of lockers across from Shelly and I. He was taking full amusement in my failure to speak in front of a girl. A very pretty girl, might I add, if my prior descriptions of her weren't enough to paint such a sentimentally sappy picture. Alfred's eyes glinted behind his glasses, his lips curling into a half-smirk. I shot him a sharp glare before I sought to bury myself further into another pitless hole of cringe and regret.
"You were saying something about dancing?" Shelly prompted, hints of discomfort evident in her voice.
The blood pounding in my face made her words fall deaf on my ears.
Shelly's brows furrowed in concern. "You alright there, Arthur?"
I bit my lip and waved off her comment with a casual shake of the head, which was more like a twitch or something closer to a convulsion. I was just that nervous. "I'm quite alright, fantastic even, ha!" I smiled despite the internal pain.
I cleared my throat. "Er…What I was going to ask you was if you would like to …."
I paused when Alfred's laughter grew louder again. The football crazed twat had raised the sleeve of his bomber's jacket to his mouth. He was wiping away the drool that had accumulated from his cackling.
Shelly's eyes widened in realization. She frowned and mumbled under her breath. "Oh merde," she sighed. "I knew that I shouldn't have complimented him on that sweater vest the other day."
I was in too deep to back out now. I would just have to suck up what little pride that I had left and do what I had come here to do. Alfred could suck a fat cock for all I cared. "Would you like to…um…?"
Shelly shifted her feet nervously, causing me to stop again. Alfred's laughter had become so loud that I could hardly hear her speak. "You're not asking me to prom, are you?" she just about whined.
My face blanched. "What?!" I scoffed, feigning surprise, albeit not very well. "N-No, of course not! That's preposterous! I-I mean how silly would that be?!"
I wasn't fooling Shelly anytime soon.
"Look, Arthur, I don't know how to say this without being blunt…"
Alfred smirked. "There's no other way to put it."
The American took a step forward. "But not to worry darling, I'll save you! The hero, Alfred Jones at your service~!"
Alfred strolled up to us, draping a 'friendly' arm over Shelly's shoulders. As if that wasn't patronizing enough, Shelly blushed as Alfred whispered sweet words of moronic nothing into her ears.
"Get lost eyebrows, babes like her don't belong with the likes of you," he sneered.
Shelly giggled. "Tsk! Alfred! You don't have to be so mean!"
She was speaking as if I wasn't even there. I had been completely forgotten and the hurt of being ignored hit deep. Much deeper than what I would like to admit.
"I'm telling you Shelly!" Alfred scolded. "You can't be so nice all the time. Who's going to be there to save you from the Big Bad Nerds when I graduate, huh?"
Shelly playfully elbowed Alfred in the ribcage. "I can handle myself just fine, thank you very much," she scoffed in a teasing tone.
"But of course! I'm simply your manly back up!"
Alfred lifted his arm while Shelly grabbed the last of her books from her locker. I merely stood there in shock. Shelly must have realized this too because she shed me with one last guilty smile before she headed off for her next class.
"Um…see you later," she said, making a point to avoid direct eye contact with me.
"Yeah," I muttered bitterly. "Later."
After that, I turned on my heels and walked away, tears stinging at the corners of my eyes. How foolish of me to think that I had had actually stood a chance with a girl like that. But, of course, Alfred just had to have the last word, and what a cheap jab it was.
"Here ye, Here ye. Doth Arthur protesteth to a life full of crying and masturbating alone at night?"
"Fuck off, you bloody wanker," I growled, my pride now in utter ruins at this point.
Whatever. School ended next month. I didn't have to put up with these assholes for that much longer anyway. Huzzah. The course of my high school life was full of shit. Should I really have expected anything different?
Alfred's POV:
"Alfred Jones. Alfred Jones. Please come down to the office."
…
With a swaggering grin, I strolled into Grandpa Aldrich's office. Aldrich was the stern, 'no funny business' type of principal. But, with a savvy amount of mooching and a ton of ass kissing, I could usually negotiate my way out of trouble. Yeah, you could say that I knew how to work the system to my advantage. Heh.
I plopped myself down onto the seat resting before Aldrich's pristine, virtually empty oak wood desk. If I licked my finger and ran it over the wooden surface, it would most likely smell of lemons. The elderly German grump was just that much of a neat freak.
Speaking of freak, or rather freaking out, Gramp's shrewd blue eyes looked like they were just about ready to bulge out of their sockets. His face was drawn tighter than the pony tail that was used to keep back his long, previously blond but now thin grey hair.
I grinned, sat back in my seat, and prepared myself to coast right through the glorious sound of Aldrich losing his fucking mind on me. Just to irk him, I propped up an oh-so-casual foot on top of his desk. "What can I do for ya, Gramps?"
I stumbled forward, when like a cat swiping at a ball of yarn, Gramps shoved my foot off of his desk. I just about smacked my forehead onto it. I honestly hadn't been expecting such an abrupt reaction from the old fart.
"How many times must I tell you not to call me that?" he snapped. Cue the purple vein in his forehead doing a sensually spicy tango with the one from his upper left eyelid. "You are only to refer to me as Principal Beilschmidt. That and nothing else."
"Aw! Why do you gotta be in such a bad mood? I've been a good boy, I promise! Heck, just today I saved a young lady from a totally creepy nerd! That's gotta count for something!" I protested.
My chest swelled with pride only to deflate when 'Aldrich' scowled at me and threw down a set of papers onto the desk. Big circles drawn in red ink peppered the pages, and unfortunately for me, it looked like they had found their target.
Gramps crossed his arms and gave me a scornful look. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought his expression to be smug. "Do you know what those are?" he asked, a hint of amusement sweeping into his normally cold and statutory voice.
"A solo game of tic tac toe?" I proposed.
Gramps quickly lost all sense of humour. "Those are your marks, you dummkoph. You're barely passing your classes."
I blew a stray piece of fringe out of my face. "So?"
Gramps was always one to be blunt. "If you don't get your grades up, you won't be going to prom."
I stood up from my seat, slapped a palm onto the desk with a prominent crack, and spluttered like a gaping fish flopping between the unrealistic balance of social and academic life. "B-But-!"
"No buts! I don't want to hear it! The only butt here will be your sorry ass leaving my office!" Aldrich shouted in a voice teeming with finality. I didn't dare to question him after he had gone full commando mode. It was in my best interest not to.
"That means now, Jones!"
"Alright, alright, no need to get your deutschbag nutcrackers in a twist."
"What was that?!"
"Nothing."
Arthur's POV:
~Five years later~
Who knows where life would take you. Life just so happened to take me to a police academy. But not before completing a Bachelor's in Criminology, of course. It was hard enough to get recruited with my supposedly 'gangly' body type. Competition in the force was tough and unforgiving these days, unfortunately.
Anyways, most of my wiry thinness was now replaced with lean muscle. I wasn't a brick, like some of my more 'manlier' colleagues, but I could certainly fend for myself if need be. I was no longer that weak dork who cringed at the sight of danger. I was braver, stronger, and more determined to prove myself to the world that had initially reared me as a bottom feeder.
At this point, I'm twenty-three years old and I'm training to become a cop. So far, the physical labour and tasks have been fairly manageable. I have good stamina, and running ten kilometers every morning hasn't proven to be too much of a challenge. In fact, this 'pipsqueak' out ran most of the ape-like herd just this morning in fact.
But alas, my reign of false superiority would quickly come to an end. Today we just so happened to be making rounds in the mat room. The objective was to pin our opponent to the ground.
A crowd of twenty or so brutes dressed in matching grey t-shirts and black shorts hovered around in a circle. Our trainer was calling for volunteers and I purposely avoided eye contact from then on in. Unfortunately, in a place where big is normal, I was the odd twerp out and was consequently picked without so much as a second glance.
"You there! The twerp with the posh accent! Buck up, the stage is all yours!" The trainer made another snide remark, one that I purposely blocked out, and the rest of the recruits barked with laughter.
I grumbled something incoherent under my breath and walked towards the center of the circle. I could already feel their judgemental glares. They burned into the back of my neck and made my face flush with anger.
"Who's willing to go up against this brave young man?"
Brave? You're the one who sent me to the slaughter in the first place, you bloody idiot.
Carlos, a pot-bellied recruit of Cuban ancestry, raised his hand and grinned a toothy smile. Matthew, his pale-skinned, willowy friend and quote on quote 'man bitch' winced. In fact, everyone in the room winced.
Carlos, who had somehow managed to get away with smoking a cigar during training, snuffed out the smoke by rubbing the butt onto the front of Matthew's shirt. Matthew simply sighed as if he was used to being the Cuban's doormat. Poor bloke.
I gulped as Carlos sumo-wrestle stomped to the center of the mat, eventually making his way to stand in front of me. I looked up into a pair of unforgiving, beady brown eyes. "Ready to go lose, gringo?" he chuckled.
I straightened my spine and curled my lip into a scowl. One should never underestimate the power of a British man. We have a stubborn tendency to never give up.
"Ha!" I snorted. "Quite on the contrary, mate. I'll be the one sitting on top of you come the end of this."
I winced at my poor choice of words. Thankfully, I had enraged Carlos's ego enough to obscure his already limited sense of comprehension. That's what he got for smoking his brains out, all right.
Carlos took a step closer and crouched into a readied position. I did the same. I almost gagged from the smell of smoke. It reeked all the way down to the knots of his tightly woven dread locks. Absolutely repulsive if you ask me. I'd just have to make this quick.
The trainer blew the whistle and I hit the ground before I even realized that I had been knocked out. All I saw was a flash of brown, an odd cushioning feeling, courtesy of the Cuban's overweight stomach, and the putrid smell of sweat and grime.
Carlos guffawed from above. "Man, that guy went down like a fly! How pathetic!"
I groaned and slowly came to. The back of my head ached. I blinked spots out of vision. For a moment, I saw a green, winged bunny fly into view. I shook my head and focused on a bright pair of blue orbs instead. They eventually pulled me into focus.
I spluttered when I realized that it was Alfred hovering over me. "W-what…the…hell…" I wheezed.
"Long time no see, eyebrows!" Alfred grinned down at me. I had the sudden urge to sucker punch him in the throat. I would have done exactly that had it not been for the nausea I felt when he helped me to my feet.
After that, I tried to avoid Alfred as best as I could. I ignored him despite the concerned looks that he kept sparing my way. I had already earned myself the nickname of 'butterfly' in the group because of my poor performance from earlier. It didn't help that Alfred's jab at my 'caterpillar-like' eyebrows had inspired such a 'friendly' rite of passage in the first place.
Fine then! I'd buy into their repressive psychological games just to spite them. One day I'd fly over all of those idiots and really show them who's boss. Well, at least some manic Spaniard in our group seemed to be excited about doing just that.
Training continued and despite the grudge that I felt towards Alfred from well, you know, him being a twat and all, I had to commend the guy for keeping Carlos's ego in check. The Cuban hadn't stood a chance. Alfred had had him pinned in two seconds flat.
"Wow," I remarked with raised eyebrows. "You're really good at this."
Alfred, who appeared surprised at the fact that I had actually decided to give him the light of day, grinned brighter than ever before. I had half the mind to ward my eyes with sunglasses.
"I sure am!"
…
The teacher sighed, disappointment evident on their face as they handed Alfred the results of his written exam.
Alfred frowned and brought the paper up to his face for further inspection. The D+ burned into his mind, but it didn't quite register just yet.
In desperate need of having his ego validated, the American turned to the smirking Briton, who was holding up his own test as if it was epitome of Jesus himself.
"What did ya get, Artie?"
Arthur's chest swelled something similar to that of a blowfish. "A+."
Alfred frowned. "Wow," he remarked with a familiar yet completely unoriginal sense of déjà vu. "You're really good at this."
Arthur gloried. "I sure fucking am."
…
Arthur's POV:
During the course of our training, Alfred and I had struck up an unlikely friendship. He wasn't all that bad, actually. We complimented each other's skills quite well and got along for the most part. Where he was good at the physical, I was good at the mental elements of police work. And after pulling a gruelling amount of all-nighters, courtesy of several red-bulls, countless existential crises, and the odd sobbing fit, Alfred miraculously passed our final written exam.
And no thanks to him, I was able to pass our physical exams too. I owe it all to that bloody megaphone of his. I still had night terrors from him shouting into my face and pouring ice water down my trousers. Every morning he would haul me over his shoulders and drag my sorry ass to the football field, where we would run, box, wrestle, and if the time called for it and we were angry enough, strangle each other until the other person turned an unhealthy shade of purple.
But we made it, and that's all that matters in the end. Training was torture, and yet I see nothing but bright futures for the both of us. The sleepless nights, degrading comments, and cruel pranks were nothing more than fads of the past. Graduation came and went in the blink of an eye.
We were cops now, for fuck's sakes! That warrants at least some form of celebration. My hopes and expectations were high, and I know for a fact that Alfred felt the very same way. He had a strong sense of justice for where I had a superior founding of moral intellect, and together we would be unstoppable. The policing role suited us perfectly if you ask me.
God! I just couldn't wait to get out there and serve the common good of society! The thought of doing such a thing was exhilarating. Mind boggling. Thrilling. Oh woe is me, I sound just like an anxious school girl gushing about her first crush! What can I say? I love my job!
…
I fucking hate my job. I doubt that we were serving the common good of society by guarding the mall against local delinquents. How terrifying! What's more, most of those punks had no respect for the badge. Not one smidge at all. It didn't matter that Alfred and I were equipped with a Taser and a pair of handcuffs, because in the end, a mall cop was viewed as a joke among law enforcement. We just weren't taken seriously.
Alfred was as stubborn as always and was therefore having an immense amount of difficulty in accepting this. His justice-driven mind refused to accept the fact that he and his respective position were irrelevant in the grand scope of things. I, on the other hand, had already succumbed to the realization that us newbies wouldn't be getting a break anytime soon. A patrol shift was a long way ahead in our policing careers. And so, for the mean time at least, we would just have to put up with getting the short end of the stick. Basically, we were bottom feeders in an oppressive system of donut-eating shitheads and unfair preferential treatment. Alfred and I would have to prove ourselves if we wanted to move up in the ranks.
The inevitable paradox of this statement was that we could hardly prove ourselves given our current post. Preventing the occasional teen from robbing a clothing store wasn't exactly a heroic feat.
I sighed and crossed my arms, looking down at my spotless black slacks. I had always made a point to maintain an orderly, well-kept appearance. Us officers were held to a much higher standard in society and the least that I could do was look the part. Our uniform consisted of a navy blue, crew cut t-shirt, matching trousers made out of the same unbearably rough and itchy material, and a velcro duty belt containing a can of pepper spray, a taser gun, and a pair of handcuffs. We were armed, but not very well, which was surprising considering the fact that America's police forces have become increasingly militarized over the years. I suppose that having a gun wouldn't be necessary in the context of dealing with pothead hooligans and the occasional skateboarder. As you can see, my job is just tingling with excitement.
Speaking of which, Alfred was certainly worked up about something. At this current moment, he was attempting but failing miserably at reprimanding an impish-looking little boy. I smirked and watched the scene unfold from afar. Alfred's eyes gleamed daggers behind his glasses, his face reaching an all-time boiling point of frustration.
"Come on, little man," Alfred groaned. "You really don't want to test me right now."
The boy looked no older than eight years old. He had blond hair, blue eyes, and a toothy smile that showed off way too much of his pink, sugar-eroded gums. Oddly enough, he was wearing a sailor's uniform. Perhaps he was a cadet?
The boy grinned and teasingly rolled a ball of chewed-up gum between his index finger and thumb. He then made a move to reach under a nearby food court table. The little bugger intended to stick it there.
"Dude!" Alfred waggled his finger, but the little boy was having none of it. "I said no."
The boy moved his arm. Alfred spoke slowly and cautiously, purposely drawing out his speech. The sake of a perfectly good table was on the line, after all. "Nooooo," Alfred warned, treating the child as if he was a dog whose behavior could be shaped just by tone alone.
The boy complied and receded his arm. Alfred sighed with relief only to give an exasperated sigh when the boy made a move to stick the gum under the table again. "Jesus Christ! Look kid, I didn't want to do this, but you've left me with no choice. Where's your mom? I'd like to have a quick word with her."
"N-no! Y-You can't tell my m-mum," the boy sniffled, conveniently coming to terms with his inferiority and lack of power over the situation. "I-I'll get in t-trouble…"
A shit disturbing grin crept onto Alfred's face. "Watch me."
I averted my gaze when the boy began to bawl his eyes out, screaming bloody murder on the big bad cop who had allegedly made him feel bad. It goes to say that Alfred got the slap of his lifetime from the boy's mother. I could barely contain my laughter when Alfred took the walk of shame back to our post by the mall's third floor escalator.
Alfred glared at the ground and leaned up against the glass over railing, but not before aiming a pointed look in my direction. "Not one word of this, Iggy," he growled in warning. I turned my head to the side and smirked. There would be plenty of time later on to berate him for referring to me with that horrid nickname. To clarify, my middle name was Ingrid and Alfred pretty much called me anything but my actual real name. No matter, there were far more important tasks at hand than admiring the red, five-star hand print on Alfred's face.
We stood there for what felt like hours. My eyes lazily scanned over our surroundings, except this time, something wasn't quite right. I spotted two suspicious figures lurking by the far end of the food court. The first hoodlum was wearing a beige camouflage jacket, which was complimented by the blue and white pin-striped scarf that he wore around his neck, and ripped skinny jeans. He was tall, had spiked platinum blond hair and wore a stoic expression on his face.
The second hoodlum was much shorter and had choppy blond hair that hung just under his chin. He was wearing a black t-shirt under a green hoodie, and baggy army pants, but what struck me odd about this guy was that his movements were erratic and nervous. He looked cautious and tense, almost as if he was afraid of being watched.
My mind switched to high alert. It didn't help that hoodlum number one had his hands suspiciously shoved into his pockets. Not to mention the fact that hoodlum number two kept reverting to patting his own jean pocket every now and then. I turned to Alfred, who was already more than aware of the two potential culprits. From the looks of it, we were about to intercept some sort a drug deal.
I stepped forward only to stop when Alfred held out his hand. I cocked my head to the side as he mouthed something incoherent to me. I heard and understood absolutely none of it. He then proceeded to communicate his thoughts with bizarre, even more nonsensical hand gestures. I suppose that he was trying to convey a plan of approach. Unfortunately, I wasn't fluent in dumbass sign language.
"For the love of God, there's no need to complicate matters!" I snapped. "Let's just head over there and scope things out."
And that's what exactly what we did. Alfred's ego had taken a swell for the worse as the possibility of catching a supposed bad guy was a target fresh on his mind. He stepped with large strides of confidence; whereas, I conducted myself in a swift and stern manner. I had half the mind to put Alfred on a leash. He was a bloody embarrassment to the entire police force, that's what he was.
The two hoodlums halted their conversation as we approached them, twin sneers of distaste plastered onto their snotty faces. I sized up the taller one and returned his glare. Moreover, I still didn't like the way that the shorter one's right hand kept hovering near his front jean pocket. Just what was he hiding in there?
As always, Alfred was quick to jump the gun. "Is there a problem here, boys?"
The taller hoodlum sneered at Alfred, causing the scar above his left brow to wrinkle. "I don't know, officer, is there?" he inquired. I furrowed my own brows. He had an odd accent. Dutch maybe? Regardless, his voice wasn't a very pleasant one to listen to. It was full of spite and challenge. It certainly looked like we did have a problem here, after all.
Alfred's chest puffed up in retaliation, but I was quick to cut him off. The last thing that we needed right now was to escalate tensions, especially since we were standing in the middle of a public space. "Well, to be fair, it is a bit suspicious to be lurking around the back of a food court," I said, looking the shorter one up and down as I did so. His jumpy movements were becoming increasingly concerning.
"We'll do whatever we damned well please! We aren't doing anything wrong, so there's no need for you to stick your noses in places where they don't belong!" the shorter one huffed, speaking for the first time. He was gruff and quick to the point. Something told me that he was someone who spoke only when it was absolutely necessary.
Both hoodlum's were now baring their teeth at us. The spiky-haired one in particular was grinding a tooth pick with his back molars.
Alfred revolted. "Now you listen here, you little punk! We're the law! You owe us your full respect! Isn't that right now, Iggy?" Alfred turned to me for confirmation. I was too busy wrinkling my nose to pay any attention to his futile attempt for validation.
"Alfred?" I questioned. "Does something smell odd to you?"
Both hoodlum's eyes widened in alarm.
Alfred snapped back into focus. He was a blood hound searching for the source of the acrid smell wafting through the air before us. "Yeah," Alfred unconsciously moved into a crouched stance. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that I smelled weed."
The shorter hoodlum inhaled sharply.
Alfred and I exchanged looks of smug understanding.
"Boys," I grinned. "You wouldn't mind if we did a quick pat down, now would you?"
I took a step forward. "After all, we have more than a probable cause to do so."
Alfred beamed, looking at the hoodlums as if they were a nice, juicy hamburger.
In a flash, the taller hoodlum struck out his hand, landing a blow right under my chin. I crumpled to the ground and blinked the stars out of my eyes. Alfred screamed something incoherent, most probably in the name of justice, and took after the scrambling teens. The sound of Alfred's whistle rang across the food court. Crowds of people parted to avoid the ongoing police chase.
I swore under my breath and climbed to my feet, ignoring the nausea I felt as I did so. I sprinted around the corner and took another sharp left. My eyes scanned around the area, overlooking the perturbed faces of the average folk only to falter when I spotted the trail of a familiar striped scarf heading towards the second floor.
"Oh no you don't!" I growled. The second hoodlum's footsteps pounded against the moving surface of the escalator, running down despite the fact that it was going up. I ran up to the glass railing and placed my hands over the brass rim. I looked down three stories and watched the hoodlum sprint and push his way through disgruntled swarms of people.
I knew that I didn't have much time. I took a quick detour to the manual stairs, and clambered down them like no tomorrow. I rounded the corner just in time to stop in front of the sprinting hoodlum.
"STOP!" I commanded, holding up my hand.
The hoodlum didn't make any move to stop.
Perhaps there was a language barrier at hand?
"I SAID STOP, DAMNIT!" I repeated, my voice wavering off into a pathetic sounding squeak.
The hoodlum was on a dangerous track of ploughing right into me. I moved my hand to the holster of my duty belt and pulled out my taser gun. It was all for show, really, but I'm pretty sure that pulling out a gun was a universal sign for 'stop whatever the fuck you're doing and surrender.'
This assumption was proven to be very wrong, when for the second time today, I hit the floor. The hoodlum had grabbed me by the cuff of my shirt, and as if I had weighed nothing, lifted and slammed me into the cold marble floor with a nasty-sounding Thwack!
The hoodlum hovered over me, his thin lips curling in distaste. I was currently gasping for air out of my more than likely punctured lungs.
"Pussy," he muttered, before leaving me to my defeated misery and sprinting away.
A crowd of half-concerned/ half-irritated civilians congregated around my sprawled out figure. I sat up, ignored the rush of blood to my face, and eventually brought myself to a stand, only to violently sway to the side.
"Good going, genius! You let him get away!"
I turned to address the scornful and critical looks from the gathering crowd. "Sir, I assure you that we've got everything under control."
"HA! SUCK MY DICK, YOU PUNY LITTLE FUCK NUGGET!" Alfred's gleeful voice rang from somewhere to my left. After placating the potential mob of angry civilians with a charming smile, I headed off in the direction of Alfred's cackles. I found him straddling 'his' hoodlum next to a smoothie stand.
Alfred had pinned the shorter hoodlum to the ground, successfully holding the cussing teen's hands behind his back. The familiar jingle of handcuffs could be heard. Alfred reached into the teen's jacket and pulled out a small ziplock bag containing several grams of weed.
"HO! HO! HO!" Alfred cackled, sounding like a deranged version of Santa Claus. "What do we have here?"
The butt of my heels clacked against the ground as I hurried over to the scene. Alfred, like the proper cop he was, began to read the thrashing hoodlum his Miranda rights. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law…"
I spoke too soon. My faith in Alfred was a limited one.
Alfred furrowed his brows, the cogs of his brain turning, but failing to retrieve the most basic piece of information that we had learned back at the academy. I paled in mortification as Alfred proceeded to dry hump the hoodlum, using one hand to press the teen's face into the ground. "You have the right to…uh…you have the right to be my bitch hahahaha!"
I facepalmed. "Alfred, what in God's name are you doing?"
As always, my words went straight over his egotistical head.
Alfred beamed at me, his cerulean eyes twinkling. "Yo Iggy! Did you catch that other dude?"
The hoodlum squirmed, thankfully sparing me from answering to my previous failure. "Get off of me, you moron!"
Alfred merely humped harder. "You like that, huh? That's how it feels to have justice fuck you right in the ass!"
"So," Alfred hummed, casually slowing his humps to a gentle rocking. "What happened on your side of things?"
I grunted awkwardly. "He, uh, got away."
Alfred seemed way too happy for my response. "Ah! That's okay! At least we got one of them, am I right?"
The humping stopped. Alfred used one hand to squish the hoodlum's face into a forceful pout, while using the other to pull out his phone. The click of a camera could be heard. I glared at Alfred, who spluttered at me in question.
"What?! Am I not allowed to document my very first arrest?" he whined.
"I'm going to choose to ignore the fact that you violated just about every protocol in the book."
Alfred stood up, leaving the wriggling hoodlum on the ground for the time being. I scowled at the moronic, cheek-to-cheek grin stretching on his face.
"Iggy…."
"What is it now?!" I snapped.
"I think that this feat deserves a high five."
I sighed and grumbled a snide remark under my breath before relenting to my partner's stupidity. "I suppose you're right."
Alfred high fived me and for the third time today, I dropped to the ground. But this time it was because of laughter. No standard of professionalism would prevent me from laughing at the look on that hoodlum's face when Alfred tea-bagged his sorry ass.
Justice had been served indeed.
…
Alfred and I strolled into the police station the next morning with swaggering grins and a perky bounce to our step. Our egos were deflated ten times over when we were consequently summoned by Chief Vargas. We received many scoffs and flippant turns of the head as we walked towards the head office.
Alfred had his head bowed to the ground, looking like a puppy who had just been caught pissing on the rug. I, on the other hand, held perfectly straight posture as I knocked on the Italian Chief's door.
"Come in!" a pleasant voice sang.
Chief Vargas looked up from his desk and sent us a kind, but slightly unnerving smile. I never knew how to feel about that man. Rumour has it that his entire family used to have ties with the mafia before ultimately switching their allegiance. It would explain why the man held both an air of familiarity and charisma around him. He wore a brown pant suit and somehow managed to pull off wearing a matching fedora hat as something casual.
Chief Vargas gestured towards the two seats resting before his desk. "Have a seat, boys. We have…" the Italian man paused and waited for the office door to shut before he finished his sentence. "…much to discuss."
Alfred whimpered and held onto my forearm for support. He murmured something about being targeted by a hitman. Clearly he bought much more into the rumours about Chief Vargas than I did.
I shrugged off Alfred with an indignant growl and just about dragged him into a seated position. My God, did he really expect not to get reprimanded for near molesting that hoodlum he arrested? I mean really. He could be such a baby sometimes. Well, if I could help it, I would save my ass above all else.
"Sir, if I may explain…" I started.
Chief Vargas held up a massive palm to the air, effortlessly silencing and diminishing the little amount of fight that I had left in me. "I don't want to hear it. I've just about had it up to here with you new recruits."
Chief Vargas reached over his desk to grab a cigar from a tin jar. "I swear, they grow more incompetent every year," he muttered under his breath.
"So," Chief Vargas mumbled whilst balancing the cigar between his front teeth. "You must know why I brought you boys in here today?"
Alfred shook his head back and forth in denial. I merely pretended to be indifferent.
Chief Vargas sighed and lit his cigar. "The department was left with no choice but to drop all drug charges on that punk."
"WHAT?! WHY?!" Alfred and I spluttered in mutually flabbergasted harmony.
"He wasn't read his Miranda rights," Chief Vargas answered, aiming a pointed look in our direction.
I was quick to act, and by act, I mean whack Alfred upside the head. "You bloody idiot!" I snarled. "How could you forget to do the one thing they taught us back at the academy?!"
I had no choice but to feign cluelessness. Sorry, but not sorry, Alfred. I had no intention of losing my job. It was every twat for himself.
Alfred's forehead nearly smacked against the desk. "Hey!" he roared, more than eager to throw me under the bus. He knew what I was planning to do, and he wasn't about to let me get away with it.
"You were right there with me when I arrested that guy!"
I scoffed and prepared my retort, only to falter when a cold wind swept over the office. Chief Vargas cleared his throat and I consequently shrunk down in my seat. "There's a very interesting video circulating around the internet, Mr. Kirkland. Would you happen to know anything about it?"
I shook my head. "No, sir. Not at all."
Chief Vargas's pleasant sounding voice dropped to an all time low. "Really? That's interesting. Because I was under the impression that you would know about it considering the fact that you're featured in it."
My heart sunk in my chest. "Is that so?"
"Mhmm. You play the supporting role in this week's viral porn video in fact. Next to that of Mr. Jones here, who plays the lead in all of this." The sarcasm in the Chief's voice was disheartening. This couldn't be good.
"Tell me now, do you think it's appropriate for a police officer to dry-hump a civilian? Lest we forget that this video was filmed in the very public space of a mall."
I turned to Alfred and scowled. "This is all your fault."
"Me?! I'm not the one who suggested to teabag the guy!"
"What in God's name are you talking about?! Unlike you, I actually conduct myself with a proper sense of dignity and respect!"
"Dignity my ass! That kid went to town on you!"
"Did not!" I protested.
Alfred raised a hand and knowingly flicked my sensitive temple, causing me to wince with pain. "Did fucking too!"
"Bugger off!" I bared my teeth at Alfred, who was quick to reciprocate.
Chief Vargas impatiently tapped his fingers against the desk. "If you two are done with your lover's squabble, I'd like to get this meeting over with if you don't mind."
Alfred and I roared in protest. We then stubbornly moved our chairs farther apart from each other. Chief Vargas looked like he was contemplating committing dual homicide at this point.
"I'm having you two transferred over. I'm sure that you'd much prefer that over dismissal. Am I correct in assuming that?"
Alfred and I mutely nodded our heads. After yesterday's bloody embarrassing failure, we would take any opportunity that we could get.
Chief Vargas clapped his hands together. "Great! We have an undercover program that's in desperate need of young, fool hardy officers just like yourselves!"
"Undercover program?" Alfred questioned.
"Fool hardy?" I mirrored Alfred's concern with a heavy brow.
Chief Vargas handed us two identical files. "All the information you need is included in these files. Now leave before I regret sending you to the slaughter," he hummed, chuckling lightly under his breath as if we were missing out on some kind of perverse inside joke.
Unfortunately, Alfred and I were quickly shooed out of the Chief's office by one of his many crony assistants. I hadn't had much of a chance to inquire further about the matter.
Once we were out in the hallway, I punched Alfred in the arm, and hard at that.
"Just look what you did!"
As always, Alfred was quick to diffuse any sense of responsibility. "I was only doing my job. Not to mention the fact that I actually caught my perp."
"Well, at least I didn't molest mine!"
Our bickering subsequently ended when one of Chief Vargas's cronies smashed our skulls together.
"Shut up and get to work, dipshits!"
…
Chief Vargas raked a hand through his hair and chuckled to himself. "Those boys are about to be in for a rude awakening."
Another frightening thought popped into the police chief's head. He was quick to disconnect his phone and landline after that. The last thing that he needed was to be receiving angry phone calls from his hot-tempered grandson.
To be continued...
Oh God. What did I just commit myself to? O_O
