Wednesday the 3rd of February, 1997. 6:30 PM. Manhattan, Greenwich Village, Courtney and Bridgette's Apartment.

"Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do? Watcha gonna do when they come for you? Bad boys, bad boys. Bad boys, bad boys." Geoff sang along.

"Geoff, will you shut up!" Courtney bellowed. "That song is annoying if the TV plays it, it's even more if someone else does."

Geoff, Courtney, Duncan and Bridgette were sitting around in the two girls' apartment, watching the show to which's theme song Geoff sang along to, "COPS". Bridgette was killing time. Soon she would have to pick up DJ to take him to the airport since he was going to set off to Paris to visit his beloved, Heather Satana.

"This show is so lame." Duncan said. "Besides they only do it on small towns because cops in big cities can't do shit."

"That's not true." Courtney said.

"Believe me Princess, cops here in New York are totally incompetent." Duncan claimed. "I was only sent to juvie once for a five months for auto theft...if the cops were any good I should've gotten at least five years without parole."

"Still they do a great job and they're not incompetent, after all crime has been going down in the last three years. I should know, in '94 alone I got mugged three times but since Giuliani is in charge I haven't gotten mugged once...Which proves that Republicans really do work." Courtney added.

"Let it go Court, I'm not ever gonna vote Republican until they acknowledge global warming and begin looking for solutions." Bridgette said.

"Back on track, Princess I can prove that the NYPD are as useful as the Vice-President." Duncan said.

The punk reached for the phone and dialed 911.

"911, how may I help you?" Asked the operator on the other end of the line.

"Yes, can you communicate me with the police?" Duncan said.

"Sure, please hold."

Almost immediately they heard on the other end of the line:

"NYPD, how may we help you?"

"Yes I want to report a crime." Duncan said.

"What crime?"

"Yes, some dude who is actually a robot made of some type of liquid metal which can turn his arms into weapons is dressed as a cop that looks like Patrick Stewart and is chasing around some kid who is being helped to escape by some other future robot dude dressed like a biker who looks like Arnold Schwarzenegger in Central Park." Duncan described.

"We'll send an army division right away, sir! Don't worry, we'll help that kid!" The operator replied, tearful.

"I'm sure you will." Duncan replied sarcastically and hung up.

He turned to Courtney.

"See?"

"That does not prove anything." Courtney denied.

"Do you want me to call them and tell them the plot of 'Die Hard' to see if they fall for it?" Duncan asked. "Because I'll do it, hell they already fell before when I told them the plot of 'Back To The Future'."


One hour later. New York City, Long Island, John Fitzgerald Kennedy International Airport.

"So DJ, are you sure you wanna go through with this?" Bridgette asked.

"Would you want to go see the love of your life after 'bout a year that you're apart from them?" DJ asked, rhetorical.

Bridgette sighed.

"I know...it's just that we'll miss you here." Bridgette said. "All of us will."

"I'll miss you guys too, but I want to see Heather again." DJ stated firmly. "It's been too long and I've missed her like hell. I just wanna hug her and spend time with her, even if it's just a couple weeks. It'll be enough for now."

"How long o you think you'll be gone?" Bridgette asked.

"I'm not really sure." DJ said. "'Cause I gotta find her first."

"Can't you estimate?"

"I'd say 'bout a month or somethin' like that."

She sighed and then gave her best friend and tight hug.

"I hope you find her, DJ." Bridgette assured him. "I'll miss you."

He returned the hug.

"I'll miss you too." He replied. "Now Bridge, I'm sorry but I gotta go. I have to get through security before I can board and that's gonna take a while."

"Bye." She waved her friend.

"Bye." He said, grabbing his large suitcase and walking towards the security checkpoint.


The next day. Thursday the 4th of February, 1997. Manhattan, Rolling Stone Magazine Office Building. 1 PM.

"Now dudes, the most important question ever asked in all history. Which will define who hear is a heretic and shall be killed and who shall be among the tribe of the holy." The man said.

There was a long pause during which the four other men around him leaned in and listened carefully.

"Who's the most kick ass guitarist ever? Jimi Hendrix or Jimmy Page?" The man asked.

"Hendrix." Answered Duncan and two of the others agreed with him.

"You crazy? It's Page." Jared, another journalist argued.

In one of the offices while on their break, Duncan and five other journalists there bickered over who was better. Among the present was the guy who asked the question, Phil. Jared, who said Page was the best guitarist; and three others: Martín, Bob and Jack.

"Are YOU crazy?" Bob exclaimed. "Page is a pussy compared to Hendrix."

"Totally." Jack agreed. "Have you ever heard 'Purple Haze'?"

"Three words, dick: 'Whole Lotta Love'." Jared answered.

"Please! In any case 'Heartbreaker'." Duncan said.

"Fuck you, newbie." Jared said. "You have to be here for three years before we start taking you seriously."

"Don't listen to him Duncan." Martín told him. "Jared's just pissed 'cause he doesn't know shit about music."

"Hey Martín. You didn't tell us whose your pick." Bob pointed out.

"Best guitarist? Pappo." Martín declared.

"Who?"

"Best Argentine guitarist ever." Martín said.

"Again with the Argentine music, Martín? Dude we'll never listen to it, it's knock metal enough." Jared said. "We don't care if it's your home country."

"Pelotudos." Martín whispered.

"Hey braniac, I know Spanish." Duncan said.

"Oh right."

Then the phone rang.

"Duncan Nelson, talkin'. What's up?" Duncan answered.

"Hey Duncan."Courtney said.

"Princess?" Duncan said, surprised. "What are you calling here for?"

"Because I can prove the NYPD is competent." Courtney said. "Do you have a TV there?"

"Yeah."

"Turn it on and tune in to Channel 6." Courtney ordered.

Duncan did so, while still on the phone with Courtney and saw that Rudy Giuliani was on the news giving a conference with three cops behind him.

"...And so today the NYPD have proved their worth by stopping that bank robbery without a single civilian, officer or criminal death." Giuliani announced.

"See?" Courtney said. "They're America's finest."

"So to anybody who said the NYPD was incompetent...they were dead wrong!" Giuliani yelled.

Giuliani slammed his fist against the pedestal he was standing behind of and then one of the cops behind him, who was putting his gun on his pant holster, accidentally pulled the trigger and shot himself in the balls. He fell to the floor and accidentally fired again.

"Oh my god he shot that old lady in the shoulder!" Somebody yelled.

As the crowd began to run scared or try to comfort the old lady, Giuliani declared:

"That does not change anything! Despite that ironically timed display of incompetence, the NYPD are still the best!"

Then the cop on the ground groaned and accidentally pulled the trigger again.

"Oh my god! He shot the old lady again in the other shoulder!" A crowd member screamed.

"OK! That's it! You guys are moronic douchebags!" Giuliani yelled at the cops before the transmission was cut off.

"You were saying, babe?" Duncan teased.

"Shut up!" She yelled and hung up.


Meanwhile...France, Paris, Aéroport Paris-Charles de Gaulle. Local Time, 7 AM.

"Damn that was a long flight." Dj stated to himself as he entered the Terminal of the main airport in the great, old nation of France.

"Now all I have to do is get a hotel and find Heather." DJ said, cheerful. "...And nothing can stop me!"

Just then, a french man dressed in airport uniform approached him.

"Bienvenu à l'aéroport international Charles de Gaulle, monsieur. Que puis-je faire pour vous?" Said the man.

"Oh shit! I forgot I can't speak French." Muttered the Jamaican-American. "Damn it, I'm screwed!"


Back In New York. Local Time, 7 PM. Manhattan, Central Park.

"So Princess, are you finally gonna admit that I was right and the NYPD suck ass?" Duncan asked. "I mean, you saw the dumbass cop shoot himself and then the old lady."

"An isolated incident." Courtney denied. "Just because one cop is stupid doesn't mean the police doesn't work."

"They sent an army division here yesterday because of my T2 prank and they actually beat up some dude who looked like Patrick Stewart." Duncan exclaimed. "If that doesn't prove their dumbasses nothing will!"

"You still don't convince me, Dunkie." She said, firm and stubborn.

"Fine. You want me to get dirty. I'll get dirty." He said.

Duncan looked around and saw a bunch of four cops standing in the corner.

"Come here." He said.

Duncan dragged Courtney over to where the policemen were standing.

"Hey officers." Duncan said.

"Yes?" One asked.

"You have to go arrest that old lady!" Duncan exclaimed.

Duncan pointed over to some old lady wearing a red hat who was walking down the sidewalk across the street.

"Why?"

"Because look...she's wearing a red hat, she's a communist!" Duncan proclaimed.

"Oh my God! He's right!" One declared.

"Let's get her!" Another yelled.

Then the cops began to charge across the street and before the old lady could do anything, they knocked her to the floor and then began to beat her down with their billy clubs. Soon enough they drew their guns and began to pistol whip her.

"Did you really have to make them hurt that poor, old woman?" Courtney asked.

"Hey, you wanted proof." Duncan defended himself.

"It's not really enough." Courtney said.

"Oh really?"

Duncan pulled off one of his clip-on ear piercings and tossed it over to where the old lady was getting smacked.

"Watch out! She's got a pin!" Duncan yelled.

"She's armed! Beat her harder!"

And so they did.

"OK, you've proved your point." Courtney surrendered. "The NYPD are idiots. Now make them stop!"

"Afraid I can't, Princess." Duncan said. "When morons do something they don't stop until they're done."

"Well that explains why you worked so hard on trying to prove to me that the NYPD were incompetent." Courtney retorted.

"What are you implying?" He asked, a little ticked.

"Oh, you know." Courtney said. "My cute little moron."

"HEY! I'm not cute!"


Well, it's been over a year since I began to write this fic. I gotta say this is the best fic I have ever written and I estimate that it'll be over by the end of this year. Until then, keep reading and reviewing. Now a special thanks to some dedicated readers, who frankly keep this story going because the knowledge that they are reading and following just doesn't let me stop typing:

CarmillaD
Fulltimereviewer
Heartandstar101
Kool Broadway Reader
xxxGaGaDxCxxx
Strix Moonwing
Cornijcountry97

I'll update again as soon as possible.

Gracias Totales.