CHAPTER 3: A Drawn Out Sting
It was 11:53 PM. Dave Winslow and Pussy Lips were sitting in their '70 Chevelle, the two looking a bit tired and bored. Dave sighed. "I can't believe this shit, man", he declared. "We've been nailing dealers, murderers, and pimps for three years now. And what do we have to show for it?" Pussy Lips snarled and shook his head mutual disbelief. "It's fuckin' unbelievable, I'll tell ya what." Pussy Lips snarled and nodded.
Pussy Lips bent down to grab something by his feet. When he came up, he returned with a small plastic cooler. He opened the case and took out raw meat from some animal. He offered some to Dave and snarled politely. "Nah, I'm- I'm good", Dave said as he tried his best not to gag. There was no doubt that this cut of meat was very fresh, as it was quite pungent. Pussy Lips snarled, unhooked the tubes of his biomask and lifted it off his face enough for put food into his otherworldly mouth. His mandibles grabbed it from his hand and shoved the meat into his mouth much like a crab, making something a mess as he ate. "Dude", Winslow interjected. "I just had this detailed! Be careful, man!" Pussy Lips quickly turned over to look at his partner, keeping perfectly still for a few moments. He then continued to eat, although much more slowly. Dave just rolled his eyes.
After he finished, Pussy Lips put his mask back on his face and reconnected the hoses. "That smelled absolutely rank, dude", Dave interjected. "What was that, horse meat?" Pussy Lips snarled and nodded. "Well, more power to ya, I guess", he finished as he got out a metal thermos and drank coffee from it. He finished his drink and looked on at his watch. "It is now 11:55 now and not a single peep. Not from DEA, SWAT… not even our informants or undercovers." Dave sighed. "I'm starting to think this was a wash." Pussy Lips snarled and tilted his head. "Well, yeah", Dave explained. "Like… what if this was to… throw us off, y'know? What if it was a bad lead? What if it was…" Dave stopped. Pussy Lips stared at Dave intently as the gears in his partner's head were turning. "Holy shit, bait!" "Pussy Lips, scout the area! Use infrared. I'm gonna tell Boone." Pussy Lips nodded and ran out the car. He jumped onto a lamp post, then onto a shipping container, and then bounded off into the distance.
"Dave rushed as he reached for the car radio. "Boone", Dave yelled into the microphone. "What is it? What's happening, Winslow", Boone asked from the car radio. "They're not on the fucking southeast side!" "What the hell are you talking about", Boone declared. "We've had this fucking thing planned for a month. We had all sorts of undercovers and informants tell us about this, you saying this was a setup?" A roar in the distance cut off their conversation. Loud metallic thuds got closer. A shadowy hulking figure jumped down next to the car, followed by an impatient road, startling Dave. "Jesus fucking Christ, man", Dave cried out. It was Pussy Lips. He snarled with no-nonsense certainty. "The northeast side? How many?" Pussy Lips snarled. "Jesus, get in!" Pussy Lips got in the car.
"What the fuck is going on out there, you two", Boone impatiently asked. "They're on the northeast side. We're gonna haul ass. Tell SWAT and DEA to follow us!" Dave put the radio away. "Think we can make it there in five", Dave asked his partner. Pussy Lips snarled and nodded. "Alright, then", Dave replied with a smirk. "Let's haul ass." Dave put the pedal to the metal and the car zoomed and swerved off back into the streets. Their hunt was about to begin.