UNDERCOVER

CHAPTER ONE

This is a prose version of Blue Scrubs 2, now called Undercover and written in prose to keep within guidelines. Warning for the whole story: There will be some mild references to drugs and also some violence here and there. It is still meant to be dark comedy/parody.

Justice Bloodanguts was looking forward to his lunch, but not so much that he didn't have time to heap abuse on the prisoner in the dock. Ethan Raceheart was his most loathed kind of criminal; a former prison officer who had abused the rules and taken stolen money from an outside source.

"Ethan Raceheart, you have been found guilty of receiving stolen money and accepting bribes while in a position of trust. You will therefore go to prison for ten years. And believe me, if I could sentence you to a lethal injection, I would."

"You can't though, can you, you old fart?" asked the hardened criminal with the face of an angel.

Bloodanguts feared his ulcer would prevent him from enjoying his lunch but he would soldier on and eat it.

"Take him down" he snapped, and Raceheart was led away to the cells to await transportation to Holby prison. This time in a completely different role to his last one.

The next day, Ethan's wife, Honey Raceheart, confronted him in the cell. The solicitor, Skankworth, hovered anxiously.

"You underhand scum!"

"Awww, shut it! You didn't care when you were getting the f*cking house with two en suite rooms and the f*cking solarium, did you, bitch?" he spat at her.

"Don't you think you'll get anywhere near our Melanie" - Honey referred to their two-year-old daughter - "I'll make sure you don't even get to see her at Christmas."

"Well I'm not likely to if I'm rotting in here, am I, you dumb slut?"

"Could I have five minutes alone with my husband please, Mr Skankworth?" Honey asked.

"Do you think that's wise, my dear? He could turn violent."

"So could I" was Honey's rejoinder.

Skankforth discreetly slipped out.

After a pause in which they both heard the solicitor moving away from the door, Honey and Ethan were in each others' arms.

"I'm sorry it's got to be this way", Ethan whispered in between kisses.

"You wait till you've cracked that vice ring and you're a D.I."

"This job only gets me on the first rung of the ladder towards a D.I. but it's a start" whispered Ethan, wanting so much to start caressing Honey and then making slow, sensuous love to her. He knew what had to be done and nodded towards the door.

Knowing the signal, Honey flung herself on him, punching and kicking – being very careful not to hurt him too badly. Skankforth came rushing in, and separated them, clucking like an old turkey.

"Mrs Raceheart!"

"He pulled my hair" wailed Honey.

"I want to scalp you, bitch."

Skankforth concluded that the meeting between Raceheart and his wife had been unsuccessful.

Up in a luxurious bedroom in Cedar Lodge, the mansion belonging to Count Calvino Calvini, the Count was enjoying a very undignified bounce on the bed with his wife and her girlfriend. Calvino, secretly so in love with Connie Beauchamp that he would have done anything for her, had married her to avert the media attention from her romance with her personal assistant, Rita. Now sometimes his heart ached when he saw them together, but Calvino was not the malicious type and he had himself suggested this marriage. So he had the occasional lady visitors to the mansion and kept his mouth shut. It helped that they all enjoyed the same corny old TV repeats and their tastes in music almost matched. If you counted Calvino's favourite aria from Tosca with Rita's favourite song 'I've been to the year 3000', that is.

The phone rang.

"I'll get it! I'll get it!" Rita was like an eager little puppy.

"Rita Skeeter, it's only on the table next to me", Connie teased her, and reached out for it.

"Charlie! Hello, how's it going?"

Countess Connie Calvini-Beauchamp still worked at Holby prison, but without a wage. She just loved her role there too much to quit. The previous year she had not only saved Calvino from a Balsovian firing-squad but had been instrumental in finding out the truth about Benjamin Chiltern, another inmate, who had been proved innocent and released, and was now married to Dr Dylan Keogh, one of the prison doctors.

"I see. So he's coming to Holby next week? He'll need keeping an eye on, you know how bent cops are treated in prison. Mmm..hmmm. Yes. True. Oh, how's Operation Tower going? Tess hates it? Bless her. Still, it is a holiday for you two. I know. Right then, Rita and I will be over about two pm. Look forward to it. Mmm…hmmm."

She put down the phone.

"Rita, get ready, darling, we're going to Holby. You'll need to change; that French Maid's outfit is totally inappropriate."

"Connie, my darling?"

"Yes, Vino? Want to come along?"

"Maybe that might not be a good idea. But I was wondering, could we have a dog or cat?"

"Well of course! Whichever you want, the only creatures I can't stand are fish, as you know."

"Ah, in that case I shall busy myself on the Internet and see which I fancy most, a dog or a pussy."

Rita began to giggle, but Calvini wasn't suspicious. The weather forecast could make Rita giggle at times.

Meanwhile, in Blackpool, in the luxurious Tower ballroom, on live TV for the Boris Horace Sleaze show, neither Max Walker, Zoe Hanna, Charlie Fairhead or Tess Bateman-Fairhead were truly happy.

A/N: As I hate fish myself I thought I'd cheekily transfer that attribute to the lovely Connie.

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