FILLMORE!
Prometheus Rising
Intro: This will be an ongoing saga chronicling the tale of a much older Cornelius Fillmore and company. The setting is Boston, MA where Fillmore is currently employed as a police officer. His old partner Ingrid Third has vanished, and they haven't been in contact for some time. Now, a mysterious organization, known only as the Prometheus Group, has begun its magnum opus. A nefarious plot to distribute a powerful narcotic throughout some of America's greatest cities, but to what end? Cornelius Fillmore, former Safety Patrol Officer, stands between the Group and their plans. Fortunately, he will not stand alone. Throughout this saga friends old and new will offer their support, but a group as powerful as Prometheus won't be without an ace or two in the hole. Love, lies, betrayal, and redemption, not to mention a little action, are waiting. Please enjoy and make sure to leave some constructive feedback!
The storm continued to pound away upon the city of Graypoint, a small community just outside of Boston. The howling winds whipped sheet after sheet of rain against the frame of the late model sedan parked just outside of an ancient brownstone. The car's black body paint was beginning to fleck and peel in several areas, and the rear taillight had been shattered. The only thing that distinguished it from any of the other junkers on the curb were the black tinted windows. If one were able to see inside the vehicle they would see to individuals quietly watching the streets and buildings.
The first, one Cornelius Fillmore, was busy scanning the windows of one of the streets many duplexes. Now, at twenty-five years of age, the once top officer of the X Middle School safety patrol has continued his pursuit of justice as a member of the elite Boston Police Department. After thirteen years, Fillmore has grown into a man. Almost six feet in height, he still sports his iconic shaved head and thick glasses. His job has kept him fit, sculpting his body into a wiry but muscular specimen.
The second was another fellow, this one more portly than Fillmore, his slate gray shirt's buttons straining to constrain his belly. His checkered tie was spotted with stains, remnants from of various meals. His thick sausage fingers fiddled idly with the communication device that was sitting between the two officers. The badge that was stuffed in his pants read "Detective Gregory Carmine."
"Do you really think those scumbags are going to be dumb enough to come back here?" Carmine said to Fillmore. His voice was deep and gravelly, a testament to his many years of indulging in cigarettes. His small watery blue eyes moved from the microphone to the back of Fillmore's head, the latter still actively engaged in scanning the evening streets through the thick torrent of rain. "I mean, there's no reason for them to use this place anymore. Why don't we just call it quits and head back to the station?"
Fillmore sighed heavily. This was the third night that they had been staking out this area, a known hive of drug runners and other illegal activity, and as much as he disliked his fellow officer and didn't want to agree with him, he was beginning to get the feeling that this might be a dead-end. Still, his gut told him that this could be huge. "Listen man," Cornelius began, barely able to cover an exasperated sigh. "This is our job. These guys are moving some seriously sick stuff. If we don't get it off the street, then a lot of innocent people are going to ge- Hold on!"
Something had moved just outside of his vision. Three shadowy shapes were just coming out of one of the large buildings down the street. Two of them were carrying large black canvas bags. "Disco!" He exclaimed, harkening back to his middle school lingo. "Looks like it's on." Just as the men were exiting, white van came careening around the corner. It looked like they had planned this out well. There was no time to get back up in place. If they got into the car, the drugs could disappear into circulation before they could stop them.
"We have to move! Now!" Fillmore turned the keys, and the the car jumped to life. The roar of the engine turning over was drowned out by an extremely fortuitous clap of thunder. The thugs were unaware that anything was amiss, and continued to move towards the van. He threw the car into gear, and gunned it. The squeal of tires on pavement reverberated through the block, and the criminals froze immediately. That split second of hesitation was all that was needed.
"What in the hell are you doing?!" Carmine exclaimed as they shot towards the van. His eyes were as wide as saucers, and his stubby fingers gripped the dashboard with all of his might. The veins in his neck stood out in stark contrast to his pale pasty face that had completely been drained of color.
"Buckle up, baby." Fillmore said to his partner. An instant later, the black sedan rammed the white van, catching the driver unawares and successfully pinning it against another car. Dazed, but otherwise unhurt, Fillmore pulled himself out of the car. The driver of the van was comatose, and the men on the sidewalk were standing frozen, shocked by what had just happened. The officer whipped out his gun, and pointed it at the would-be drug dealers.
"Freeze!" He shouted. "Boston PD! Drop the bags and get on the ground!"
The three men exchanged glances and without a word between them, they split up in different directions. Fillmore looked to Carmine, who was just now managing to haul his bulk out of the car, and said, "I'll go after the one's with the bags. You go after the other one."
"We should just call it in! Let someone else handle it!" The other detective replied piteously.
"There's no time!" Fillmore reiterated. "They're getting away now!" Before Carmine could rebut, Fillmore was already taking off after the two men with the bags, leaving Carmine standing insolently in the rain.
The two men must have been weighed down by the bulky bags, because Fillmore had no trouble making up ground on them them. Puddles exploded as their feet pounded out a tattoo against the slick pavement and crushed gravel. Fillmore's breath came in quick bursts, his lungs strained to pump oxygen as fast as possible to compensate his muscles for their exertion. "Stop!" He cried out repeatedly in between rounds of thunderous claps from the storm. "Stop or I'll shoot!" In response, one of the men reached beneath his jacket and yanked out something from an interior pocket. A flash of lightning sliced through the sky, briefly illuminating the entire area and exposing the mystery item. A gun.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
Three wild shots zinged in Fillmore's direction. He threw himself behind a dumpster as the bullets pinged against the metal and pavement. Fillmore took careful aim and squeezed off a couple of shots. The first one seemed to graze one of the suspect's shoulders but the second one hit the other suspect in the leg. The suspect went down as if his legs had been cut out from underneath him. Fillmore cautiously, but quickly moved towards the downed suspect. He was groaning and spewing profanities, but he seemed like he wasn't going anywhere. Fillmore kicked away the crook's weapon and continued after the first suspect.
The man had found his way into an alley that had been blocked off by a tall chain link fence. "Nowhere to go," Fillmore said, keeping the gun trained on the criminal. The man's face was shadowed by the brim of his baseball cap, but Fillmore managed to make out a the thin outline of a smile slowly spreading across his visage.
"You think this is the end?" The man said slowly. "This is just the beginning. You have no idea what you're dealing with here."
Suddenly, Fillmore noticed a small canister rolling towards him. Without thinking, he flung himself around the corner of the alleyway, just as the canister began hissing a thick cloud of smoke. After he realized what it was, he moved back into the alley. The smoke dissipated slowly, but when it finally did Fillmore saw that he was standing alone in the alley.
He muttered a stream of curses under his breath. Moving closer to the fence, his foot made contact with the inert body of the smoke grenade. As the rain continued to soak his clothes and mat them to his body, he reached down and picked up the canister. Silently he berated himself for allowing the man to get away, and he began to curse himself as he realized that the drugs were out of his reach. Another fork of lightning split the sky. Again the area was bathed in the luminescence brought on by the brief flash. In that flash Fillmore saw something that he could barely believe. Slowly, as if scared that any e. It must have fallen off when the bad guy scaled the fence. "Disco. 'Bout time I managed to catch a break." Fillmore grabbed up the bag, and returned to the other con who was still grabbing his leg and piteously moaning. He scooped up the other bag in his hands, and hoisted the perp to his feet.
"Damn man! Take it easy!" The criminal whined. "I'm injured!"
"Like I care," Fillmore growled. "Get moving."
Together they returned to the scene of the car wreck. Carmine had stuffed himself back into the car and was clearly sulking. When he saw the Cornelius coming back, he pushed the door open and climbed out. "Where have you been?!" Carmine said angrily.
"Working," Fillmore said. He tossed the two duffel bags onto the ground at Carmine's feet. He shoved the wounded con into the back seat of their car and cuffed him. "Where's the other one?"
"He got away." Carmine muttered, not making eye contact with Fillmore. Cornelius opened his mouth to berate the other cop, but he knew it wouldn't matter. He bit back the tirade that was welling up and instead moved to the car.
"HQ, this is car 35. We need an ambulance and some back-up at our location."
Fillmore hung up the mike, and gazed back at the canvas bags. They were unexceptional, and clearly the type that were available practically anywhere. He opened the bags, and just as they expected, they were stuffed with bags of pills. They didn't look like anything that he had seen on the street before, even more indication that this was a batch of the rumored new drug. The only identifying mark on the pills was a small flame on each capsule. The rain had finally stopped, and as the two detectives waited for back-up Fillmore couldn't help but reflect on the escaped suspect and his cryptic warning. It was clear that this was just the beginning, but the question was: the beginning of what?
End Chapter One