I'm blatantly borrowing the characters from the owners of the Witchblade franchise for no other reason than I can because I adore the show enough to want to feed the frenzy.
Case Transition
-medea42
Tracking Sarah Pezzini was a pain in the ass. Jake McCartey had scoped her out within moments of walking through the doors of the New York City homicide department. He could cover his interest in her as sexual attraction, and her younger colleagues were more than happy to fill him in on the relevant stats: no boyfriend, super-tight with her partner, dad was a cop. There were some who resented her for intruding on the boys' club, and some who seemed to hold an avuncular regard for her. Jake had hoped to get a clue how Danny Woo felt about her, but as circumstances played out, he never could find out what the guy was doing..
Still, according to everything the Bureau had in that file on the White Bulls, Pezzini fit the profile. She was well-known as a solo act, took extreme risks amidst routine duty and lately in particular had some cases she took rather personally. She was chasing after Tommy Gallo like a pit bull. It looked to Jake as though Pezzini was his vigilante. Still, it took two to form a conspiracy. With Woo, he had two. A guy who knew exactly what time to hold up her morning coffee every day also knew what she might hide from the rest of the world.
"Officer injured, at the Midtown museum." The call came in on his CB.
Jake radioed in, "Who's the officer?"
"Pezzini."
He turned his car around and sped across three lanes of oncoming traffic. This was a great opportunity to be the dutiful rookie. And when he got there, it looked like he had a golden opportunity. Woo and Siri were asking frantic questions about what happened while Pezzini was propped up in the wagon, looking dazed. There were bits of the museum all over the street, and from what gathered from the other officers at the scene, barely enough bits of bad guy to match up dental records. The question of the hour was why Pezzini was leaning in one piece against that wall, rather than splattered all over it.
So he asked her. All she could do was repeat again, "I chased the perp, and...." she was clearly dazed. Some of those bits of wall had knocked her on the head plenty hard.
He watched the exchange between her and Gallo. Her father? Gallo was baiting her somehow. If she were his man, she was gonna blow soon - he'd heard stories of her temper when she nailed a perpetrator.
Siri grabbed Jake, "Take her to the hospital."
She might have a concussion, so that would buy him some time. With her slightly dazed and rattled, she might let some information slip, especially without her partner around to cue her to shut up. Jake placed a supportive arm around her as he guided her towards the ambulance.
He wound up with a disappointing evening. Sara, evidently, was not one to talk when she was feeling poorly. So much for that gender stereotype. He spent $3.00 on bad hospital coffee and watched CNN with her all night. Jake cursed to himself; he was missing another all night marathon of ThunderCats with no reward for his efforts. Still, she was good company. A bit patronizing, but that was a sign he was doing his job. A little boyish drooling was enough to throw her off.
Jake's all night session wasn't a total waste. He'd learned that she shot pool on her days off and that she loved Italian food. He even managed to flirt with her a little. He'd try to use those somehow.
Walking her up to her apartment was totally unnecessary under the perceived circumstances, but helpful to know if she were indeed his suspect. Unfortunately, Sara had plenty of practice disengaging from men who did not want to say goodnight.
"Thanks for staying up with me all night," she told him. "I knew I didn't have a concussion." Sara grinned blearily. "Sleep well Jake," and she ushered him out the door.
He actually didn't want to leave. Ah well, he wouldn't be the first guy to develop a crush on his suspect. "Hey, do you want me to stick around? I could make some calzonays," he offered.
"They're calzones. No thanks. Good night Jake," and with that he was thoroughly dismissed. So much for the Italian food tack. Still, he was trying to establish trust, and since his boyish crush was showing, he tried again, "Some pasta pennacea?"
Sara yelled back, "Go home Jake!" She probably laughed to herself for five minutes over his behavior. At least he established himself as a dufus in her eyes, and the door was open for nookie if she wanted to pursue him for pillow talk. The cover was complete, and he'd convinced the most perceptive cop in the department that he was nothing more than a wide-eyed new kid.
"Rock on, dotcom," he said to himself. He knew he was going to fail with her, but he'd invest every bit of himself in winning her trust anyway. Wow, it was so easy to fake a loser.
It took him less than a week to find her pool hall of choice, and by that time he came armed with a little bait.
He took a look at the list; few people were brave enough to sign up the day that Sara played. The woman who signed up ahead of him winced. "Might as well hand the five bucks over before I break," she told him.
The woman had a reputation wherever she went. Less than three minutes later, he heard her calling. "Jake? Jake?"
He had to grab the beer he'd ordered in a hurry. "Hey Pezz - I mean, Sara."
She looked a little annoyed to see him. "Jake, I come here to get away from work."
That's exactly why he was here. He wanted to break down some of the work associations so he could get close; also, if she was an inheritor of a vigilante group, then the only place to catch her was away from the office. "Gallo's looking to buy the Rialto from one Kenneth Irons," he told her. He wanted to fill her in on what he had on Gallo right away, in hopes that she'd let some information drop for him later. He'd been told by his assistant director that this assignment could take up to three years, but as fast moving as Sara was, he might be able to move back to California before winter hit.
Sara, even on her day off, was a good cop. "How'd you find that out?"
"I've got my ways." Namely, a damn good associate up at the bureau. He missed his FBI partner, but to keep the cover, they had to split. He needed to push. "C'mon, share some scratch. Let me go with you tomorrow."
Sara had evidently never heard that bit of slang before. "Some scratch?"
"Yeah, I share my information with you, you share some with me." You scratch my back, I scratch yours. That's how the White Bulls worked, after all.
She evidently had no scratch to share. "I've already got a partner, thanks," she said. "Eight ball, corner pocket," and with that, cleared the table on him.
He handed over his five. "Aw man!"
He was on the phone with his superior when Woo and Pezzini appeared at the appointed time. "Yeah, suspect is at the point I told her," he said. "They're waiting." Just as expected, Gallo pulled up at the Rialto as well. Woo and Pezzini shot out of the car, and if Pezz's body language was any indication, if shit were to fly, it would fly right now.
He hung up the phone and paced his way to the theater. He could hear one hell of a commotion, enough to cover him forcing the lock off the door. Whatever was going down, Woo and Pezzini needed backup, fast. There were gunshots, Pezz yelling "Danny," and then Gallo telling Pezzini that he'd killed her father. He scrabbled frantically to get to her.
Unfortunately, some black-cloaked freak knocked him out of the way. He heard the gunshot, he heard Pezzinni's voice, and then things got a bit hazy.
All he knew when he managed to get out of that theater was that Pezzini was not his man, and that she needed protection fast. If she was anything, she was a prime target; not just a loner in a boy's club, but somebody who could fuck up the treehouse. It was sick opportunism, but the only way to make sure she had the protection he knew she needed was to become her partner -- and then, to regain her trust after this fiasco.
Case Transition
-medea42
Tracking Sarah Pezzini was a pain in the ass. Jake McCartey had scoped her out within moments of walking through the doors of the New York City homicide department. He could cover his interest in her as sexual attraction, and her younger colleagues were more than happy to fill him in on the relevant stats: no boyfriend, super-tight with her partner, dad was a cop. There were some who resented her for intruding on the boys' club, and some who seemed to hold an avuncular regard for her. Jake had hoped to get a clue how Danny Woo felt about her, but as circumstances played out, he never could find out what the guy was doing..
Still, according to everything the Bureau had in that file on the White Bulls, Pezzini fit the profile. She was well-known as a solo act, took extreme risks amidst routine duty and lately in particular had some cases she took rather personally. She was chasing after Tommy Gallo like a pit bull. It looked to Jake as though Pezzini was his vigilante. Still, it took two to form a conspiracy. With Woo, he had two. A guy who knew exactly what time to hold up her morning coffee every day also knew what she might hide from the rest of the world.
"Officer injured, at the Midtown museum." The call came in on his CB.
Jake radioed in, "Who's the officer?"
"Pezzini."
He turned his car around and sped across three lanes of oncoming traffic. This was a great opportunity to be the dutiful rookie. And when he got there, it looked like he had a golden opportunity. Woo and Siri were asking frantic questions about what happened while Pezzini was propped up in the wagon, looking dazed. There were bits of the museum all over the street, and from what gathered from the other officers at the scene, barely enough bits of bad guy to match up dental records. The question of the hour was why Pezzini was leaning in one piece against that wall, rather than splattered all over it.
So he asked her. All she could do was repeat again, "I chased the perp, and...." she was clearly dazed. Some of those bits of wall had knocked her on the head plenty hard.
He watched the exchange between her and Gallo. Her father? Gallo was baiting her somehow. If she were his man, she was gonna blow soon - he'd heard stories of her temper when she nailed a perpetrator.
Siri grabbed Jake, "Take her to the hospital."
She might have a concussion, so that would buy him some time. With her slightly dazed and rattled, she might let some information slip, especially without her partner around to cue her to shut up. Jake placed a supportive arm around her as he guided her towards the ambulance.
He wound up with a disappointing evening. Sara, evidently, was not one to talk when she was feeling poorly. So much for that gender stereotype. He spent $3.00 on bad hospital coffee and watched CNN with her all night. Jake cursed to himself; he was missing another all night marathon of ThunderCats with no reward for his efforts. Still, she was good company. A bit patronizing, but that was a sign he was doing his job. A little boyish drooling was enough to throw her off.
Jake's all night session wasn't a total waste. He'd learned that she shot pool on her days off and that she loved Italian food. He even managed to flirt with her a little. He'd try to use those somehow.
Walking her up to her apartment was totally unnecessary under the perceived circumstances, but helpful to know if she were indeed his suspect. Unfortunately, Sara had plenty of practice disengaging from men who did not want to say goodnight.
"Thanks for staying up with me all night," she told him. "I knew I didn't have a concussion." Sara grinned blearily. "Sleep well Jake," and she ushered him out the door.
He actually didn't want to leave. Ah well, he wouldn't be the first guy to develop a crush on his suspect. "Hey, do you want me to stick around? I could make some calzonays," he offered.
"They're calzones. No thanks. Good night Jake," and with that he was thoroughly dismissed. So much for the Italian food tack. Still, he was trying to establish trust, and since his boyish crush was showing, he tried again, "Some pasta pennacea?"
Sara yelled back, "Go home Jake!" She probably laughed to herself for five minutes over his behavior. At least he established himself as a dufus in her eyes, and the door was open for nookie if she wanted to pursue him for pillow talk. The cover was complete, and he'd convinced the most perceptive cop in the department that he was nothing more than a wide-eyed new kid.
"Rock on, dotcom," he said to himself. He knew he was going to fail with her, but he'd invest every bit of himself in winning her trust anyway. Wow, it was so easy to fake a loser.
It took him less than a week to find her pool hall of choice, and by that time he came armed with a little bait.
He took a look at the list; few people were brave enough to sign up the day that Sara played. The woman who signed up ahead of him winced. "Might as well hand the five bucks over before I break," she told him.
The woman had a reputation wherever she went. Less than three minutes later, he heard her calling. "Jake? Jake?"
He had to grab the beer he'd ordered in a hurry. "Hey Pezz - I mean, Sara."
She looked a little annoyed to see him. "Jake, I come here to get away from work."
That's exactly why he was here. He wanted to break down some of the work associations so he could get close; also, if she was an inheritor of a vigilante group, then the only place to catch her was away from the office. "Gallo's looking to buy the Rialto from one Kenneth Irons," he told her. He wanted to fill her in on what he had on Gallo right away, in hopes that she'd let some information drop for him later. He'd been told by his assistant director that this assignment could take up to three years, but as fast moving as Sara was, he might be able to move back to California before winter hit.
Sara, even on her day off, was a good cop. "How'd you find that out?"
"I've got my ways." Namely, a damn good associate up at the bureau. He missed his FBI partner, but to keep the cover, they had to split. He needed to push. "C'mon, share some scratch. Let me go with you tomorrow."
Sara had evidently never heard that bit of slang before. "Some scratch?"
"Yeah, I share my information with you, you share some with me." You scratch my back, I scratch yours. That's how the White Bulls worked, after all.
She evidently had no scratch to share. "I've already got a partner, thanks," she said. "Eight ball, corner pocket," and with that, cleared the table on him.
He handed over his five. "Aw man!"
He was on the phone with his superior when Woo and Pezzini appeared at the appointed time. "Yeah, suspect is at the point I told her," he said. "They're waiting." Just as expected, Gallo pulled up at the Rialto as well. Woo and Pezzini shot out of the car, and if Pezz's body language was any indication, if shit were to fly, it would fly right now.
He hung up the phone and paced his way to the theater. He could hear one hell of a commotion, enough to cover him forcing the lock off the door. Whatever was going down, Woo and Pezzini needed backup, fast. There were gunshots, Pezz yelling "Danny," and then Gallo telling Pezzini that he'd killed her father. He scrabbled frantically to get to her.
Unfortunately, some black-cloaked freak knocked him out of the way. He heard the gunshot, he heard Pezzinni's voice, and then things got a bit hazy.
All he knew when he managed to get out of that theater was that Pezzini was not his man, and that she needed protection fast. If she was anything, she was a prime target; not just a loner in a boy's club, but somebody who could fuck up the treehouse. It was sick opportunism, but the only way to make sure she had the protection he knew she needed was to become her partner -- and then, to regain her trust after this fiasco.