Hi guys... *Waves nervously hoping not to get rotten tomatoes thrown at her head*. I don't know how writing a special Sam/Scam oneshot for New Years 2015 turned into a hiatus until February 2017, but I really do apologize...
I just never had time to write anymore, and the small moments I did, I was too tired to put in the effort...
I still live in this crazy schedule of limited free time, but I've decided I'm going to try to finish my beloved stories even if it's at a snail pace.
I realize most of you loyal awesome readers have probably moved on, but I hope you and any new readers (Hi! I swear I'm not evil... Even if I did the one thing I hate most from Fanfic authors... I digress...)
...I hope you and any new readers enjoy this chapter that remained un-uploaded on my computer gathering dust for a year. I happen to think it's a rather good one *Smirks*.
The warehouse was surrounded by police tape. Jackson Martinez had arrived for what seemed to be a regular day of work, before he saw the woman lying in the middle of the loading bay.
She was blonde, and dressed as if she was going to the club. A bag of what could be sand was in her hand, and she still had a belt wrapped around her arm. She didn't wake when he shook her, and the warehouse looked like it'd been trashed.
The snap sound of pictures being taken and dress shoes pounding on linoleum echoed off the walls.
"M'am?" The blonde with a triangular haircut had groaned and sat up.
"M'am, do you remember your name?"
"Itsgotsomething todowith herbs." Her words were slurred together, and the uniform nodded, with a strange attempt at sympathy on his face.
"Ok. Is your name Rosemary?"
"Nah, I'm not a roast turkey." She seemed to look him over. "But I could be your roast turkey, if you know what I mean." She winked, and giggled, and the uniform blushed violently, before stepping back for Sergeant Wilson.
"M'am why are you in this warehouse?" He commanded, his bristle brush mustache leaving no room for fooling around.
"Idunno... I usually like to partay, but this doesn't look like my scene."
"Are you aware that you are in possession of narcotics?"
"This? This is just sand from the beach for all I know."
"Does that mean you are denying knowledge M'am?"
"Stop asking me questions. I need some water and to purge, I'm probs hungover." She waved her hand in dismissal, and Sergeant Wilson sighed.
He wasn't going to be home for lunch.
Sam-
Sam yawned, sitting up feeling more refreshed than she had felt in months. She yawned, and scratched her back, eyes lighting with recognition as she remembered where she was.
"Good, you're awake," Scam said, and her eyes widened as she pulled quickly to cover her chest with the sheet, looking over to where he was leaning on the door jamb. "We have a job to do."
He smirked at her late attempt, before pushing off, and leaving the room, the door swishing silently shut behind him.
For once in her life, she wished she had a creaky door.
()()()()()()()()()()()()
She was sitting in the passenger seat again, and her silver bangles clinked as she crossed her arms.
Today Silver was wearing a burgundy blouse, black slacks, and brown boots, with dangly silver earrings and, of course, the aforementioned bangles.
Sam had to admit that he had a good sense of style from the choices of clothing in the dresser drawers that were magically unlocked this morning, but she wasn't going to tell him that.
She didn't have to from the look on his face.
"So, where are we even going?"
"WOOHP." She forced herself to remain relaxed, only the slightest tightening of one of her arms as any reaction to his minimal answer.
"And why? Last I checked, we didn't have a master plot yet?"
"That's exactly why we're visiting. Jerry will be quite occupied this morning, and this plan will ensure that he'll have less time to search for us." She nodded.
In the back of her mind, she was wondering what kind of distraction he'd slid into Jerry's plate, but she could only hope he'd be alright.
~oOo~
The interrogation room camera was recording. It was one of the only things helping Sergeant Wilson keep his composure. The drug test had confirmed narcotics in the blonde's system, and her prints were in the system from a black friday fight over Yves Mont Blanc boots that had ended in collective damages, and unconscious shoppers.
"Ms.-"
"Clover. My name is Clover, and like the last five times you idiots asked, I'm not guilty of any of this!"
"There were witnesses to confirm the added charge of assaulting a police officer."
"Yeah, cause he was trying to arrest me when I didn't do anything wrong!" The effects of the drugs had weaned off by now, and she was angry and confused. Clover couldn't remember anything last night, except that she was trying to find Sam or something...
"There were narcotics found in your bloodstream, and your possession."
"I don't take drugs! Sometimes, a guy and I'll share something to get going, but I'm not a druggie!"
"How did you end up in that warehouse last night?"
"I can't remember!" She screeched.
"M'am, either calm down, or we'll have to put you back into holding until you can compose yourself."
"Arghh!" She growled, but she settled back in her regulation plastic chair.
"Now, you deny any memory or knowledge of taking place in anything illegal last night?"
"YES!"
"That's unfortunate, as we have footage confirming your whereabouts last night." Sergeant Wilson pressed a button on his remote, and a screen behind him lit up. He didn't turn however, prefering to watch the blonde's reactions to the footage.
The view was blocked by static, before it showed Clover opening the door and walking in, dressed like she was on route to a club. She was joined by a blonde man who kept his face away from the camera, but he put his hands around her waist, and she easily accepted his grasp.
Three more men, only confirmed by their shadows appeared, and drugs changed hands as well as briefcases of money. Clover started to argue with the man who's hands were roaming, and he slapped her, before she clawed at his face.
He threw her a bag from the briefcase, before backhanding her and turning to leave, the three shadows disappearing the way they came. The screen was overcome by static again,
and the screen went black as the Sergeant turned it off.
"Still have no recollection of last night?"
~oOo~
They were in Jerry's office. Scam had seated himself behind Jerry's desk as if he owned the place, with as much confidence as Mac Smit.
There was a whirring sound that started in the background, and suddenly, GLADIS was in front of them.
"Scam, you know I'm going to have to call Jerry." GLADIS' robotic voice intoned, using a more human form of language than Sam had ever heard from the gadget-distributor.
"And you know I've already disabled that function, GLADIS." He was nonchalant as usual, his voice showing disgust at the computer's name.
"At least my name isn't Scamlar." The female voice responded.
"At least Scamlar is able to travel networks. You're stuck here as a compact shaped supercomputer, under Jerry's crappy algorithims."
Sam watched the easy exchange between man and machine, obviously perplexed.
"And whose fault is that?" GLADIS responded, before her attention turned to Sam. "Why is she here?"
"Now, now, Silver here is going to help me destroy this hellhole."
"Sure she is. When you do, I'm demanding a new name."
"Nothing less, Gladis, nothing less." Scam said, now studying Jerry's monitors. "Now, would you be as kind as to direct me to Jerry's files?"
There was something resembling a sigh from the machine. "Why not? This'll be the only time I get to stretch my metaphorical legs for a while anyways."
He typed something, and the computer chimed, his fingers moving furiously over the keyboard.
"So, not to seem nosy, but what exactly are you up to? And how do you know Gladis?"
^W^ And that's the cutoff... Let me know what you think of this chapter... I promise I have most of the next chapter for this fanfic already written (also dusty) and I'll get around to finishing it as soon as I have time.
After all, I have to reread this story to regain the tone for it... ;)
~TheBookOfStories22