(Disclaimer: Not mine!)
TITLE: The Great Teddy Bear Caper
AUTHOR: The Chronicler
CHALLENGE: Sep. 1003 (The Teddy Bear Challenge)
UNIVERSE: ATF
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: When a dead man turns up at the carnival, J.D. isn't about to let it spoil his day off with Casy. When he finds out the man was the kidnaped professor working on some top secret gadget for the government, J.D. still refuses to let it interfere. When the bad guys start taring up the carnival looking for said gadget... well, okay, maybe that'll get in the way.
ARCHIVE: Of course. Anywhere you'd like.
COMMENTS: Gimme, gimme, gimmegimmegimmegimme....
EMAIL: chronicler_of_knuckles@yahoo.com
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The Great Teddy Bear Caper
By The Chronicler
==========
Introduction: 11:16 p.m., Saturday night, parking lot of the Denver, Colorado Fairgrounds
"Just hand over the bear and no one gets hurt!"
J.D.'s eyes widen, startled, shocked even. it wasn't the goon that had shocked him, nor his sudden appearance in the dark parking lot. Nor was it the sawed off shot gun that was leveled with his gut, nor the pain from where that same gun had slammed across his jaw.
Nay, none of that shocked him in the least. As a Special Agent of the elite Team 7 of the ATF, all that was old hat by now.
What shocked him was the strange demand.
Stepping protectively in front of his date, Casy Wells, he asked in a calm controlled voice "Just when does a bad guy get so bad he's stealin' teddy bears?" He could feel his girl tug on his pant's pocket, freeing his cell phone.
Slumping, the worn out goon wined "What is wrong with you people?" He waved a hand in the air. "If I'd wanted your wallet you'd of handed it over wit'out a second thought! Gimme your car keys, watch, jewelry, hell!, your girl! But, when it comes down to one little, itty, bitty, fuzzy teddy bear.... Augh!" With his weaponless hand he grabbed a handful of his hair and attempted to yank it out. When he failed even that, he took a steady grip on his shot gun again, and jabbed it at the couple. "Just give me the god damn bear or I'm gonna blow your freakin' head off!" And this time, for sure, absolutely, without hesitation, he meant it! After all, there was only so much a man could take. Enough was enough was enough was eno...
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Chapter 1
----------
That morning, 09:20am, Denver Fairgrounds...
The Professor stumbled through the drug induced fog. His tortured body some how kept his feet moving, weaving him this way and that, taking him in any direction than back to where he was. His numb mind clung desperately to one clear thought: `Hide! Had to hide it!'
He bumped into some angry shadow. When the shadow grabbed him painfully by the shoulders, he panicked, snuggling weakly against the hold.
"Hey! Watch where yer goin'... ya stinkin' drunk." was snarled before he was shoved away.
Spun about, the professor stumbled, then fell back against some cloth wall which gave way under his weight. Falling back again, he landed hard on the ground. The fog around him suddenly went from a morning white to a comical striped yellow and red. Through the fog he could see several, hundreds even, small figures all holding their arms out to him.
He didn't know who or what they were. he couldn't tell the details through the ire haze. But he could feel their warmth, kindness, security... He was filled with that little boy feeling; the one he'd get after coming back into the house after a good, hard snowball fight to a hot bowl of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich, and then snuggle down with his favorite teddy while his mother read to him a story.
And there they were, arms open, offering that same comforting peace. His little saviors.
`Hide! Had to hide it!'
----------
There were eight of them making their way through the slowly waking carnival. Big, bad men each and every one of them with long police files starting back in their preteens. Even the seasoned carnies took one look at these intruders and turned and went the other direction.
"There he is!" one of the men growled, pointing across the midway to a tent behind a booth.
A stumbling, gray haired man was backing out of the tent. His clothes were torn and ruffed up, his wrists rubbed raw, his eyes baggy and black.
"Get him!" another man ordered and the eight converged on their target.
The two who reached him first grabbed an arm each.
"No!" cried the elderly man, struggling against their holds, but he had neither the strength nor the clarity to fight them.
None of the eight men spoke again as they began to drag their prisoner away.
A pair of carnies watched as they left the lot. One asked the other "Shouldn't we do something?"
"What? Call the cops?" the other huffed, lifting the flap of the tent the professor had just left. "Even if the cops did answer a call from us, the first thing they'd do is arrest every other ride jock and caller on the lot... and then the rest of us just 'cause we were associated with the first batch." He shook his head. "Besides, not like we don't have enough to do." The two carnies looked around at the tent full of teddy bears. "We have over a hundred stuffies to pass out to fifteen booths. A a bag full of stuffed fish to go to the gold fish booth." He looked at his companion. "Think the cops will give us a hand if we spent six hours telling them we saw a couple of guys leading away some drunk?"
His buddy huffed.
"Didn't think so." They stepped into the tent. "Let's get this done."
----------
"I will not say it again, John Daniel Dunne!" Buck Wilmington growled. "Get out of this office!"
His young partner pouted. "But, my work..."
Josiah Sanchez, who had organized this little ambush, remained calm as he, once again, explained the situation to the youngest member of Team 7. "J.D. you haven't had a day off in over a month."
When the kid opened his mouth to protest, Josiah stepped in and said "No, you have not had a day off in over a month. When you are not here, you are in the field with the rest of us. When you are not out in the field or here, you are under Travis' thumb reprogramming the entire internet..."
"Only his office..." J.D. started.
"How many computers, exactly, was that, Mr. Dunne?" Ezra wandered, there only by protest... extreme protest. Yes, he was concern along with the rest of them... he just didn't want the rest of them to know.
J.D. tapped a finger on his keyboard not answering.
"J.D." Nathen groaned, rubbing his temple. He was getting tired of this.
Vin put words to the groan. "It is not supposed to be this tough to get a kid to go out and play."
"I ain't a kid." J.D. growled.
Nathen sighed. "Well, you certainly don't have the blood pressure of a kid." He leaned down over J.D. "You have the highest blood pressure of anyone on the team... for the exception of Chris. That is not healthy, J.D."
"Discussion over." Chris finally spoke up from where he had been leaning against the door frame to his office. "For those of you who have forgotten..." He framed his face with his hands. "... BOSS!" he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his computer whiz. "J.D. you have thirty seconds to get up, get out, and meet Casy down stairs."
"Casy?"
"She happens to have a few tickets to the movies, the fair, the rodeo..." Josiah offered.
"The Comedy Club." Buck threw in.
"Museum." Ezra added.
"Museum?" have the room repeated.
"What kid wants to go to a boring Museum?" Buck demanded.
"Twenty seconds, J.D." Chris tapped his watch.
With a sigh, the boy climbed to his feet. Ah, but then he remembered... "Can't go. No mon..."
Buck grabbed his hand and put an envelope of money in his hand.
"Fifteen seconds, Agent Dunne... if, that is, you want to remain an agent?!"
Groaning, J.D. turned, grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, and slaunched out the door.
"You're the master, Chris." Vin observed with admiration.
"Museum?" Buck repeated.
"I am trying to educate the child." Ezra growled back. "Give him a little culture.... something he surely does not get in that atrocity you call a home!"
Chris shook his head. "It's Saturday, people. We have nothing on the table. J.D. is officially out the door. Go away." And he turned and head back into his office.
==========
TITLE: The Great Teddy Bear Caper
AUTHOR: The Chronicler
CHALLENGE: Sep. 1003 (The Teddy Bear Challenge)
UNIVERSE: ATF
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: When a dead man turns up at the carnival, J.D. isn't about to let it spoil his day off with Casy. When he finds out the man was the kidnaped professor working on some top secret gadget for the government, J.D. still refuses to let it interfere. When the bad guys start taring up the carnival looking for said gadget... well, okay, maybe that'll get in the way.
ARCHIVE: Of course. Anywhere you'd like.
COMMENTS: Gimme, gimme, gimmegimmegimmegimme....
EMAIL: chronicler_of_knuckles@yahoo.com
==========
The Great Teddy Bear Caper
By The Chronicler
==========
Introduction: 11:16 p.m., Saturday night, parking lot of the Denver, Colorado Fairgrounds
"Just hand over the bear and no one gets hurt!"
J.D.'s eyes widen, startled, shocked even. it wasn't the goon that had shocked him, nor his sudden appearance in the dark parking lot. Nor was it the sawed off shot gun that was leveled with his gut, nor the pain from where that same gun had slammed across his jaw.
Nay, none of that shocked him in the least. As a Special Agent of the elite Team 7 of the ATF, all that was old hat by now.
What shocked him was the strange demand.
Stepping protectively in front of his date, Casy Wells, he asked in a calm controlled voice "Just when does a bad guy get so bad he's stealin' teddy bears?" He could feel his girl tug on his pant's pocket, freeing his cell phone.
Slumping, the worn out goon wined "What is wrong with you people?" He waved a hand in the air. "If I'd wanted your wallet you'd of handed it over wit'out a second thought! Gimme your car keys, watch, jewelry, hell!, your girl! But, when it comes down to one little, itty, bitty, fuzzy teddy bear.... Augh!" With his weaponless hand he grabbed a handful of his hair and attempted to yank it out. When he failed even that, he took a steady grip on his shot gun again, and jabbed it at the couple. "Just give me the god damn bear or I'm gonna blow your freakin' head off!" And this time, for sure, absolutely, without hesitation, he meant it! After all, there was only so much a man could take. Enough was enough was enough was eno...
----------
Chapter 1
----------
That morning, 09:20am, Denver Fairgrounds...
The Professor stumbled through the drug induced fog. His tortured body some how kept his feet moving, weaving him this way and that, taking him in any direction than back to where he was. His numb mind clung desperately to one clear thought: `Hide! Had to hide it!'
He bumped into some angry shadow. When the shadow grabbed him painfully by the shoulders, he panicked, snuggling weakly against the hold.
"Hey! Watch where yer goin'... ya stinkin' drunk." was snarled before he was shoved away.
Spun about, the professor stumbled, then fell back against some cloth wall which gave way under his weight. Falling back again, he landed hard on the ground. The fog around him suddenly went from a morning white to a comical striped yellow and red. Through the fog he could see several, hundreds even, small figures all holding their arms out to him.
He didn't know who or what they were. he couldn't tell the details through the ire haze. But he could feel their warmth, kindness, security... He was filled with that little boy feeling; the one he'd get after coming back into the house after a good, hard snowball fight to a hot bowl of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich, and then snuggle down with his favorite teddy while his mother read to him a story.
And there they were, arms open, offering that same comforting peace. His little saviors.
`Hide! Had to hide it!'
----------
There were eight of them making their way through the slowly waking carnival. Big, bad men each and every one of them with long police files starting back in their preteens. Even the seasoned carnies took one look at these intruders and turned and went the other direction.
"There he is!" one of the men growled, pointing across the midway to a tent behind a booth.
A stumbling, gray haired man was backing out of the tent. His clothes were torn and ruffed up, his wrists rubbed raw, his eyes baggy and black.
"Get him!" another man ordered and the eight converged on their target.
The two who reached him first grabbed an arm each.
"No!" cried the elderly man, struggling against their holds, but he had neither the strength nor the clarity to fight them.
None of the eight men spoke again as they began to drag their prisoner away.
A pair of carnies watched as they left the lot. One asked the other "Shouldn't we do something?"
"What? Call the cops?" the other huffed, lifting the flap of the tent the professor had just left. "Even if the cops did answer a call from us, the first thing they'd do is arrest every other ride jock and caller on the lot... and then the rest of us just 'cause we were associated with the first batch." He shook his head. "Besides, not like we don't have enough to do." The two carnies looked around at the tent full of teddy bears. "We have over a hundred stuffies to pass out to fifteen booths. A a bag full of stuffed fish to go to the gold fish booth." He looked at his companion. "Think the cops will give us a hand if we spent six hours telling them we saw a couple of guys leading away some drunk?"
His buddy huffed.
"Didn't think so." They stepped into the tent. "Let's get this done."
----------
"I will not say it again, John Daniel Dunne!" Buck Wilmington growled. "Get out of this office!"
His young partner pouted. "But, my work..."
Josiah Sanchez, who had organized this little ambush, remained calm as he, once again, explained the situation to the youngest member of Team 7. "J.D. you haven't had a day off in over a month."
When the kid opened his mouth to protest, Josiah stepped in and said "No, you have not had a day off in over a month. When you are not here, you are in the field with the rest of us. When you are not out in the field or here, you are under Travis' thumb reprogramming the entire internet..."
"Only his office..." J.D. started.
"How many computers, exactly, was that, Mr. Dunne?" Ezra wandered, there only by protest... extreme protest. Yes, he was concern along with the rest of them... he just didn't want the rest of them to know.
J.D. tapped a finger on his keyboard not answering.
"J.D." Nathen groaned, rubbing his temple. He was getting tired of this.
Vin put words to the groan. "It is not supposed to be this tough to get a kid to go out and play."
"I ain't a kid." J.D. growled.
Nathen sighed. "Well, you certainly don't have the blood pressure of a kid." He leaned down over J.D. "You have the highest blood pressure of anyone on the team... for the exception of Chris. That is not healthy, J.D."
"Discussion over." Chris finally spoke up from where he had been leaning against the door frame to his office. "For those of you who have forgotten..." He framed his face with his hands. "... BOSS!" he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his computer whiz. "J.D. you have thirty seconds to get up, get out, and meet Casy down stairs."
"Casy?"
"She happens to have a few tickets to the movies, the fair, the rodeo..." Josiah offered.
"The Comedy Club." Buck threw in.
"Museum." Ezra added.
"Museum?" have the room repeated.
"What kid wants to go to a boring Museum?" Buck demanded.
"Twenty seconds, J.D." Chris tapped his watch.
With a sigh, the boy climbed to his feet. Ah, but then he remembered... "Can't go. No mon..."
Buck grabbed his hand and put an envelope of money in his hand.
"Fifteen seconds, Agent Dunne... if, that is, you want to remain an agent?!"
Groaning, J.D. turned, grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, and slaunched out the door.
"You're the master, Chris." Vin observed with admiration.
"Museum?" Buck repeated.
"I am trying to educate the child." Ezra growled back. "Give him a little culture.... something he surely does not get in that atrocity you call a home!"
Chris shook his head. "It's Saturday, people. We have nothing on the table. J.D. is officially out the door. Go away." And he turned and head back into his office.
==========