Disclaimer: I own neither Life on Mars nor Hot Fuzz, but the similarities were too great for me not to play with.
Author's note: Any constructive criticism is highly appreciated
"Danny! Lights!" Yelled Nicholas Angel, stomping hard on the gas pedal.
"Yeah, boiii!" Danny shouted and slammed the police light on the car roof with a dramatic movement. Some bastard was doing 80 in a 50 zone, and he would pay a dear price if Sanford's finest had anything to say. Nicholas spun the wheel, turning onto the highway. Life with Danny had changed him, much for the better but there were some aspects of his old personality he should have kept. Checking that the road is clear before turning onto it was amongst them.
As the BMW smashed into the side of the police car, all Nicholas could think was "Not Danny. Not like his mother."
The last thing Danny thought as he was showered by glass splinters, the sound of metal twisted out of shape deafening everything else, was "Shit just got real…"
"What the hell are you doing in my office?" A voice shouted as a white loafer connected with Danny's belly.
"There's no need to shout," Danny groaned, sitting up. "Or kick." He added, rubbing the sore spot on his stomach. He took a deep breath to clear his head and almost had a coughing fit. He couldn't remember ever having been in a room so stale with old smoke. He looked around the room, noticing the filing cabinets covered in papers, the dustbin full of old flasks and the old western posters coating the walls.
"Wow, this is so cool," Danny exclaimed. It looked almost like a film set in here! Another thump by the white loafers, this one to his thigh, brought him back to the situation at hand. He scrambled to his feet.
"Hi, I'm Danny," he said, holding out his hand towards the man glaring at him. The man made no move to take it, so Danny reached out and shook the strangers hand without permission. He was rewarded by a punch to the gut.
"That was uncalled for!" He yelled. "I was only trying to be polite," he said sullenly, one arm covering his abused abdomen.
"I don't make a habit out of being polite to people who break into my office." The man said. "Now tell me, what… are… you… doing… in… MY office?"
"I dunno," Danny answered. "Last I remember, I was in a traffic collision." which must have looked so cool, he mentally added.
"Great!" the other man yelled, exasperated. "Just what I need. Another idiot with a concussion from a car accident."
"Um, we're not supposed to say 'accidents'." Danny informed the man nervously. "The word 'accident' implies there's no one to blame. We're supposed to say 'collision' instead." The other man's eyes bulged at that, and Danny raised his arms in a protective position, scared that the man was going to hit him again.
"That's the biggest load of crap I've ever heard. Who told you that?" he shouted
"It's the official police guidelines," Danny told him, still holding his arms raised in front of his face and upper body.
"Please don't tell me you're a police officer," the man begged.
"PC Danny Butterman at your service, Sir," Danny told him proudly, giving a little salute when he reached the 'Sir'. "And if you don't mind me asking, who are you?"
"Gene Hunt, DCI for A Division in Manchester. I'm gonna take a wild guess and say you're from C Division in Hyde." Gene said.
"You're a DCI? That's brilliant! My dad wanted to be a DCI. Never made it past Inspector, though. Had to be sent to jail for killing all them people before he got there."
"You what?" Gene asked, perplexed.
"My dad went a bit mental. Started breaking the law instead of keeping it. Damn shame, really. He taught me how to be a police man officer." Danny sighed.
"'s not nice, having your mentor turn rotten like that," Gene agreed.
"Yeah," Danny said wistfully. "Makes you understand why Luke went all 'Nooooooo' when he found out his father was Darth Vader."
"Darth who?" Gene asked.
"You know, Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, King of the Asthma, father of Luke Skywalker and generally bad ass of the universe?" There was no spark of recognition in Hunt's eyes.
"Star Wars!" Danny clarified. Still no reaction.
"You ain't seen Star Wars?" He asked, shocked.
"So it's a movie, then?" Gene asked.
"It's only the most famous sci-fi movie ever," Danny exclaimed.
"I mostly only watch westerns meself," Gene explained.
"I usually watch action movies, but there are some movies everyone should have seen. I think even Nicholas has seen Star Wars, and that's saying something!"
"Yeah, well, I'm not here to discuss movies, so if you're not gonna tell me how you got here, then would you mind getting out?" Gene said when the door to his office was thrown open. A pretty brunette was standing there, a look of worry etched on her face.
"Cartwright," Gene said. "Anything wrong?"
"It's Sam," she answered. "He's not in yet, and he won't pick up the phone."
"Marvellous," Gene groaned. "Bastard's probably got himself handcuffed to his own bed again. I better go over and uncuff him. "He was halfway out his office when he heard a hopeful voice calling from behind.
"Can I come?"
"What are you doing here?" were the words Angel woke to.
"I'm sorry?" he asked, confused.
"You," the voice asked. "Have you come to make my life difficult with some cryptic bollocks or are you just here to scare the shit out of me for entertainment purposes?"
"What?" Nick murmured.
"I'm assuming you're a figment of my imagination, seeing as you're wearing a standard issue police uniform and stab vest from 2006, and that doesn't belong in 1973. Then again, 1973 is probably a figment of my imagination as well." Angel opened his eyes at that. Above him was a man dressed in tight cord trousers with flares and an almost, but not quite, white vest. He looked tired and perhaps a little drunk. The half empty bottle of whiskey clutched in the man's hand supported that theory. Nick slowly got to his feet, mindful of not making any sudden movements. Caution was key when dealing with intoxicated and delusional members of the public, and even if the man hadn't shown any obvious signs yet, Nicholas wouldn't rule out potential drug use.
"I can assure you that I'm not part of your imagination," he told him, keeping a calm voice. "I'm Inspector Nicholas Angel, I'm a police officer," he offered. "Do you know how I got here?"
"Statistically speaking, you probably climbed out of the telly," the man answered before taking a swig of the bottle.
"I think you've had enough of that for tonight," Nick said, pointing at the bottle still in the firm grip of the other man. The man looked at him, took a last mouthful and screwed the cork back on, tossing the bottle onto his bed.
"Suppose so," he answers and drops down onto the bed, face in his hand. For the tiniest of seconds, Nicholas thinks he might be crying, but he's only rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. Rubbing as if he'll see something different the next the next time he opens his eyes.
"Why are you here?" He asks, finally looking up, letting his hands drop into his lap.
"I don't know!" Nick growls, suddenly pissed. He stands up and throws his arms angrily around as he tries to explain himself. "I was involved in a collision. Me and my partner, Danny, we were supposed to catch someone speeding. Another car rammed into us before we even hit the road properly, and the next thing I know, I wake up here!" he shouts, pointing an accusing finger at the other man. "Who the hell are you anyway?" He asks heatedly. He can see that the other man is about to answer when there's a knock on the door. The man doesn't react. He just shuts up and doesn't even turn to the door.
"Are you gonna answer that?" Nick asks, half curious, half annoyed.
"I'm not really in the mood for a social visit right now," the man answers. "Besides, if it's important, Gene will just kick the door in as usual." Nick doesn't even have time to question that sentence before the door bursts open with a bang, and a tall, heavy man enters. The other man, the one he's been talking to so far, turns towards the new visitor, and it's clearly not who he expected. This worries Nick slightly, and it worries him even more when he realises that the visitor's brought company.
TBC...
AN: Remember, people, constuctive criticism is love!
