Part Ten: Dispatch? This is 81 Kilo Responding...
Nicholas was feeling rather guilty. Since leaving Wizardmon alone in his loft his mind kept flashbacking to the late, lamented Crown Prosecutor, Richard Lambert.
Richard had been Natalie's brother. He'd been fatally shot not long ago when a suspect had gotten hold of a distracted officer's gun while in the precinct. At least it would have been fatally if a grief-stricken Natalie had not kept on him to bring Richard across as a vampire. He'd tried to refuse---he hated what he was and didn't want to bring another into this existance which he considered to be on the wrong side of Hell, but Natalie had been unrelenting and heartbroken and...darn it all, the look of pure terror in her eyes when Richard's heart monitor had flat lined! He'd given in at that last second, grabbing the man out of death's embrace.
Waylaying his soul from Paradise.
Of course it had been a disaster.
Richard had been consumed by the power of the vampire and it had driven him to madness, twisting a good man of the law into a fiend driven by bloodlust. In order to save the Lambert family from his rabid creation, Nicholas had been forced to destroy Richard. Natalie blamed herself, but De Brabant was certain that it had all been his fault. If he had stayed by Richard instead of just giving the new fledgling a fast enumeration of what basic dangers to avoid. If he had called in sick and not left for work that night...
Damn.
Was he making the same mistake here?
But the digimon was not a vampire, De Brabant reasoned. Where Richard's good looks had masked a blood-thirsty beast who had twisted a former sense of justice into a killing spree, Wizardmon seemed geniunely benevolant for a self-named 'monster'. Besides, there was something inside of him that just believed that the digimon was not a threat to anyone despite the evil imagery that his clothing and facial features gave off. Unfortunately, it was that same conviction that was screaming at him to go back home and he couldn't put his finger on why.
Donald G. Schanke, veteran homicide detective, family man, and average, run-of-the mill human specimen, glanced at his partner for the upteenth time, wondering what was going on inside his head. He'd always pegged Nick as being a tad on the strange side---but today his friend was going for a record in spaced-out driving. Praise God that they were only going as far as the morgue to drop off some evidence. Not too much chance of his illustrous teammate rear ending someone on such a short trip.
Then again..
The balding detective blanched as the caddy narrowly missed sideswiping a nun's Buick, his fingers digging into the caddy's upholstery.
"Nick!"
"Hmm?" The dark blue eyes turned and focused on him.
"Not me---the road! Watch the road! Darn it, Nick!" Schanke berated him. "If you're not going to pay attention to where your steering this land yacht of yours, pull over and let me drive! My kid's big birthday event is this evening and I want to still be in one piece when I cut the cake for all the little munchkins she's invited over."
"Sorry," Nick mumbled, turning his full attention back to his driving. He made an effort to sound interested, flashing his mortal partner a smile. Not that he didn't care for the Schankes---he just had his mind on his own 'munchkin'. "So Jenny's now.. what?"
"Eight," Don replied, only settling back into the passenger seat when it looked like Nick had learned how to drive again.
"Eight, huh?"
"Yeah, and Myra wants me to make it special on account that I missed the last two school events and Parent's Day conferences." He spread his hands out before his face and made a sweeping, circular motion with them. "Big deal, ya know? The works. Not just some cake and ice cream---no-ho---she has decreed that there shalt be streamers and ballooons and all sorts of whatnot. Even wants me to hire a clown to entertain the kids." Schanke groaned the groan of a parent asked to do something he didn't really want to get involved in.
"For heaven's sake, Schanke," Nicholas shook his head in false pity, "that is awful! Men have died hanging pink streamers. Is Myra aware of the risks?"
"Spoken out of the mouth of the childless one. Okay, so I can hang crepe and pump out a few balloons," Don allowed. "Have you any idea how much those stupid kid's clowns charge? Something in their contracts about receiving 'hazard pay' and not responsible for property damage initiated by Acts of Children." He shuddered. "That last part was enough to turn my hair white just thinking about why it had been added in."
"What hair?" Nick grinned, referring to his friend's rapidly retreating scalp line.
"Watch it Goldilocks," Schanke scowled back. He tapped his skull knowingly with an index finger. "Someday you may end up like this, too, you know. Or is Rogaine a secret ingrediant in those drinks of yours that Nat keeps bringing by?"
The 800-year old laughed, "Schankie, if I ever start losing my hair, I promise I'll have it woven into a toupee just for you." The look on his companion's face just made him want to rib his partner more. "C'mon, Schanke...that was a joke. You know? Laugh, clown, laugh?" His eyes lit up with merriment as he gave the steering while a light slap. "Hey, there's your ticket to finacial solvency! You could dress up as Monsieur Bozo yourself," Nick chuckled teasingly. "Even with all those donuts you've been popping as main courses the past couple of nights instead of the diet Myra thinks she has you on, you might even still fit into one of the larger clown costumes---or just use that golfing outfit Jenny and Myra got you for Christmas. Better yet--" De Brabant exclaimed gleefuly, recalling the time Schanke had been trying to look good to their new captain by showing up at work on his day off---"those moose pajamas! Save even more money by not renting. Just get one of those big, poofy orange wigs--"
"Oh, verrrry funny, Nick." Don snapped back defensively, "Har, har. And lay off about those p.j.'s, okay?Just because my pard's Mr. Perfect Physique, he makes jolly with his buddy's little weight problem. Can I help it if I was born with a powdered-sugar gene?"
"I thought it was a 'sweet tooth'?
"That too." Schanke slumped into his seat, eyeing his bulging stomach reproachfully. "Man o' man o' man. I'm cursed."
Nicholas' gaiety dampened at the mention of curses, but he forced a laugh anyway for appearances sake. He should have such a simple curse. One that allowed him to eat solid food without gagging, have kids to throw birthday parties for, or go out for a stroll in the afternoon sunlight without turning into soft little ash flakes. "So now you're blaming genetics, I take it?"
Don's eyes twinkled as he grunted, "Darn straight, pard. It's the parents' fault!" Two seconds later, the twinkle was road kill as dispatch reported an armed robbery in progress not far from where they were. "Aw, crud," Schanke groaned as he reached to respond to the call. "Dispatch, this is 81 Kilo responding to.."
"So much for a short shift," Knight muttered to himself as he turned the caddy into a side street.
------------------
Joey was grinning as he cornered his prey at the end of the alley. He playfully kicked at some of the debris underfoot as he sauntered closer.
"Heh... Little boy, you didn't really think you could escape, did you?, Martinez leered. "Or are you a little girl? Such lovely long hair... you have me curious now, pocito. Or pocita. Let's see what you're hiding under all that, eh?" Feinting to the right, he threw himself into a tackle, the teenager managing to grab Wizardmon's upper arm. His eyes went wide as his fingers had to crush down on the beige fabric a lot longer than he'd expected until they finally closed around what felt like a hard stick. However, he didn't get too much time to consider that startling discovery before his smaller opponent sent him kareening into the side of a garbage receptacle as if he'd weighed nothing.
Samuel was beginning to get antsy. They needed to skoot before the cops showed up--no doubt the hot dog jerk was already calling; however, he'd spare a moment longer to teach this irritating trash urchin a lesson!
"Marty?" he asked, not terribly concerned whether his underling answered or not. Martinez was ependable after all.
A little more bruised than he had been before, Joey scrambled to his side.
"I'm fine. But that little creep is no going to be! But, mi pocito amigo won't be," the latino snarled as he removed a section of petrified banana peel from his hair.
Samuel smiled oily at their prey. "Okay, hand over your money and maybe we won't rough you up."
Joey gave his own nasty smirk as he ammended, "Much."
The purple and beige-clad interloper within their territory cocked his head as if considering his options, then brought out an even larger wad of bills.
Joey and Samuel's eyes fairly popped out. It looked enough to be at least a few hundred! Maybe over a thousand! Whatever his scene, the kid must pull a good trick to have amassed that much! Or he was a damned good pick pocket.
Neither thought to question why it was that all the bills looked to be fivers.
"Give it over." the leader gestured impatiently at the digimon.
He was not one to be vindictive, but... Well, they had asked for it, hadn't they? Smiling a little sadly behind his cowl, Wizardmon obliged the human's 'request' by lobbing the multi-colored ball towards them, his fingers already working as it reached the half-way point.
Swiftly, colored paper creased and folded together over and over again in sync, their shapes taking on a deliberate pattern. In mid-air the money had been reformed into a flock of what looked like origami hummingbirds with visciously pointed beaks. Silent except for the furious beating of paper wings against air, they descended like a swarm of bees towards the teens.
Joey was the first to retreat as the pecking mass strove to pull on unguarded hair and attacked their bare arms, inflicting shallow paper cuts that stung more than anything else. "I'm outta here!" he shouted back over his shoulder, ducking and runnning out of the alley as if demons were after him.
Samuel, however, stood his ground, swatting angrily at the miniature avians as he stubbornly worked his way towards the digimon. Maybe it was the less-than-average haul this evening, maybe he'd just had a bad day, but he was feeling too pissed to be scared! Soon the floor between the two was littered with crumpled pieces of paper money blowing fitfitally about in the growing breeze that was entering in through the street entrance..
"I don't know who you are, you little creep, but you're trickery is gonna cost you!" Patterson snarled. "See, I've got my own kind of magic act.." A flick of the wrist and a silvery switchblade opened in his hand, "and you've just volunteered to be my assistant!"
Slowly, Wizardmon backed away until he couln't any more. A bright flash went from his hand, temporarily blinding the boy. "You've already hurt me. Now you need to hurry and find your friend," he said calmly.
Samuel's face blinked as the wise-sounding voice covered his own thoughts. "Well, I guess you'll think twice before messing with me now, kid." Half turning, he took a step back. "Better go find---what the heck! What are you trying to pull?!" Whirling, he slashed the knife into the beige jumsuit, freezing when the blade continued on without hitting anything more solid than cloth before it was stopped by the bricks behind his target. The metal made a scraping sound as hit, yet there was no resistance between the cloth barriers!
No way! He had to have hit flesh! But the blade told him differently, even as he moved it within the hole he'd made in the jumpsuit. What was this kid? Anorexic? And why was there a thick, bluish vapor wafting out from around his knife, unaffected by the wind buffing at their clothes?
Patterson heard the low sound of distant thunder. No, not distant---it was coming from... No way!
Jade eyes narrowed to slits just before the teen's hand jerked open, an electric spark causing the blade to fall inside the hole it had wrought while the boy himself was flung away several feet by a blue blast.
God! He'd been struck by lightning! But that wasn't possible...was it? Maybe Marty had been right and the kid was rigged with some sort of stunner device?
Yeah, that was it. Well, he'd just see about thi--
"Hey, down there!"
A flashlight beam was making its way down the alley.
The teenager cursed as he scrambled back to his knees, reaching in vain for his weapon as he considered the possibility of holding the freak hostage while he escaped. But neither knife nor 'freak' was nearby. Even the breeze had died away to an absolute stillness.
Impossible! The alley was a dead end! There was no way someone as small as that kid could have climbed out in so short a time! And he had not ran past. He glanced around again, feeling an icy chill as his right hand fell upon one of the crushed 'birds'. He stared at it, the events of the past few minutes finally starting to sink home. It wasn't possible. All that couldn't have really happened, could it? Sam started to shiver as his hand closed around the bird, mangling it even further as the cop flashed his light on him..
There was something not right about that kid. And he was going to find out what. And then he was going to get his revenge...
__________________________
Nicholas was feeling rather guilty. Since leaving Wizardmon alone in his loft his mind kept flashbacking to the late, lamented Crown Prosecutor, Richard Lambert.
Richard had been Natalie's brother. He'd been fatally shot not long ago when a suspect had gotten hold of a distracted officer's gun while in the precinct. At least it would have been fatally if a grief-stricken Natalie had not kept on him to bring Richard across as a vampire. He'd tried to refuse---he hated what he was and didn't want to bring another into this existance which he considered to be on the wrong side of Hell, but Natalie had been unrelenting and heartbroken and...darn it all, the look of pure terror in her eyes when Richard's heart monitor had flat lined! He'd given in at that last second, grabbing the man out of death's embrace.
Waylaying his soul from Paradise.
Of course it had been a disaster.
Richard had been consumed by the power of the vampire and it had driven him to madness, twisting a good man of the law into a fiend driven by bloodlust. In order to save the Lambert family from his rabid creation, Nicholas had been forced to destroy Richard. Natalie blamed herself, but De Brabant was certain that it had all been his fault. If he had stayed by Richard instead of just giving the new fledgling a fast enumeration of what basic dangers to avoid. If he had called in sick and not left for work that night...
Damn.
Was he making the same mistake here?
But the digimon was not a vampire, De Brabant reasoned. Where Richard's good looks had masked a blood-thirsty beast who had twisted a former sense of justice into a killing spree, Wizardmon seemed geniunely benevolant for a self-named 'monster'. Besides, there was something inside of him that just believed that the digimon was not a threat to anyone despite the evil imagery that his clothing and facial features gave off. Unfortunately, it was that same conviction that was screaming at him to go back home and he couldn't put his finger on why.
Donald G. Schanke, veteran homicide detective, family man, and average, run-of-the mill human specimen, glanced at his partner for the upteenth time, wondering what was going on inside his head. He'd always pegged Nick as being a tad on the strange side---but today his friend was going for a record in spaced-out driving. Praise God that they were only going as far as the morgue to drop off some evidence. Not too much chance of his illustrous teammate rear ending someone on such a short trip.
Then again..
The balding detective blanched as the caddy narrowly missed sideswiping a nun's Buick, his fingers digging into the caddy's upholstery.
"Nick!"
"Hmm?" The dark blue eyes turned and focused on him.
"Not me---the road! Watch the road! Darn it, Nick!" Schanke berated him. "If you're not going to pay attention to where your steering this land yacht of yours, pull over and let me drive! My kid's big birthday event is this evening and I want to still be in one piece when I cut the cake for all the little munchkins she's invited over."
"Sorry," Nick mumbled, turning his full attention back to his driving. He made an effort to sound interested, flashing his mortal partner a smile. Not that he didn't care for the Schankes---he just had his mind on his own 'munchkin'. "So Jenny's now.. what?"
"Eight," Don replied, only settling back into the passenger seat when it looked like Nick had learned how to drive again.
"Eight, huh?"
"Yeah, and Myra wants me to make it special on account that I missed the last two school events and Parent's Day conferences." He spread his hands out before his face and made a sweeping, circular motion with them. "Big deal, ya know? The works. Not just some cake and ice cream---no-ho---she has decreed that there shalt be streamers and ballooons and all sorts of whatnot. Even wants me to hire a clown to entertain the kids." Schanke groaned the groan of a parent asked to do something he didn't really want to get involved in.
"For heaven's sake, Schanke," Nicholas shook his head in false pity, "that is awful! Men have died hanging pink streamers. Is Myra aware of the risks?"
"Spoken out of the mouth of the childless one. Okay, so I can hang crepe and pump out a few balloons," Don allowed. "Have you any idea how much those stupid kid's clowns charge? Something in their contracts about receiving 'hazard pay' and not responsible for property damage initiated by Acts of Children." He shuddered. "That last part was enough to turn my hair white just thinking about why it had been added in."
"What hair?" Nick grinned, referring to his friend's rapidly retreating scalp line.
"Watch it Goldilocks," Schanke scowled back. He tapped his skull knowingly with an index finger. "Someday you may end up like this, too, you know. Or is Rogaine a secret ingrediant in those drinks of yours that Nat keeps bringing by?"
The 800-year old laughed, "Schankie, if I ever start losing my hair, I promise I'll have it woven into a toupee just for you." The look on his companion's face just made him want to rib his partner more. "C'mon, Schanke...that was a joke. You know? Laugh, clown, laugh?" His eyes lit up with merriment as he gave the steering while a light slap. "Hey, there's your ticket to finacial solvency! You could dress up as Monsieur Bozo yourself," Nick chuckled teasingly. "Even with all those donuts you've been popping as main courses the past couple of nights instead of the diet Myra thinks she has you on, you might even still fit into one of the larger clown costumes---or just use that golfing outfit Jenny and Myra got you for Christmas. Better yet--" De Brabant exclaimed gleefuly, recalling the time Schanke had been trying to look good to their new captain by showing up at work on his day off---"those moose pajamas! Save even more money by not renting. Just get one of those big, poofy orange wigs--"
"Oh, verrrry funny, Nick." Don snapped back defensively, "Har, har. And lay off about those p.j.'s, okay?Just because my pard's Mr. Perfect Physique, he makes jolly with his buddy's little weight problem. Can I help it if I was born with a powdered-sugar gene?"
"I thought it was a 'sweet tooth'?
"That too." Schanke slumped into his seat, eyeing his bulging stomach reproachfully. "Man o' man o' man. I'm cursed."
Nicholas' gaiety dampened at the mention of curses, but he forced a laugh anyway for appearances sake. He should have such a simple curse. One that allowed him to eat solid food without gagging, have kids to throw birthday parties for, or go out for a stroll in the afternoon sunlight without turning into soft little ash flakes. "So now you're blaming genetics, I take it?"
Don's eyes twinkled as he grunted, "Darn straight, pard. It's the parents' fault!" Two seconds later, the twinkle was road kill as dispatch reported an armed robbery in progress not far from where they were. "Aw, crud," Schanke groaned as he reached to respond to the call. "Dispatch, this is 81 Kilo responding to.."
"So much for a short shift," Knight muttered to himself as he turned the caddy into a side street.
------------------
Joey was grinning as he cornered his prey at the end of the alley. He playfully kicked at some of the debris underfoot as he sauntered closer.
"Heh... Little boy, you didn't really think you could escape, did you?, Martinez leered. "Or are you a little girl? Such lovely long hair... you have me curious now, pocito. Or pocita. Let's see what you're hiding under all that, eh?" Feinting to the right, he threw himself into a tackle, the teenager managing to grab Wizardmon's upper arm. His eyes went wide as his fingers had to crush down on the beige fabric a lot longer than he'd expected until they finally closed around what felt like a hard stick. However, he didn't get too much time to consider that startling discovery before his smaller opponent sent him kareening into the side of a garbage receptacle as if he'd weighed nothing.
Samuel was beginning to get antsy. They needed to skoot before the cops showed up--no doubt the hot dog jerk was already calling; however, he'd spare a moment longer to teach this irritating trash urchin a lesson!
"Marty?" he asked, not terribly concerned whether his underling answered or not. Martinez was ependable after all.
A little more bruised than he had been before, Joey scrambled to his side.
"I'm fine. But that little creep is no going to be! But, mi pocito amigo won't be," the latino snarled as he removed a section of petrified banana peel from his hair.
Samuel smiled oily at their prey. "Okay, hand over your money and maybe we won't rough you up."
Joey gave his own nasty smirk as he ammended, "Much."
The purple and beige-clad interloper within their territory cocked his head as if considering his options, then brought out an even larger wad of bills.
Joey and Samuel's eyes fairly popped out. It looked enough to be at least a few hundred! Maybe over a thousand! Whatever his scene, the kid must pull a good trick to have amassed that much! Or he was a damned good pick pocket.
Neither thought to question why it was that all the bills looked to be fivers.
"Give it over." the leader gestured impatiently at the digimon.
He was not one to be vindictive, but... Well, they had asked for it, hadn't they? Smiling a little sadly behind his cowl, Wizardmon obliged the human's 'request' by lobbing the multi-colored ball towards them, his fingers already working as it reached the half-way point.
Swiftly, colored paper creased and folded together over and over again in sync, their shapes taking on a deliberate pattern. In mid-air the money had been reformed into a flock of what looked like origami hummingbirds with visciously pointed beaks. Silent except for the furious beating of paper wings against air, they descended like a swarm of bees towards the teens.
Joey was the first to retreat as the pecking mass strove to pull on unguarded hair and attacked their bare arms, inflicting shallow paper cuts that stung more than anything else. "I'm outta here!" he shouted back over his shoulder, ducking and runnning out of the alley as if demons were after him.
Samuel, however, stood his ground, swatting angrily at the miniature avians as he stubbornly worked his way towards the digimon. Maybe it was the less-than-average haul this evening, maybe he'd just had a bad day, but he was feeling too pissed to be scared! Soon the floor between the two was littered with crumpled pieces of paper money blowing fitfitally about in the growing breeze that was entering in through the street entrance..
"I don't know who you are, you little creep, but you're trickery is gonna cost you!" Patterson snarled. "See, I've got my own kind of magic act.." A flick of the wrist and a silvery switchblade opened in his hand, "and you've just volunteered to be my assistant!"
Slowly, Wizardmon backed away until he couln't any more. A bright flash went from his hand, temporarily blinding the boy. "You've already hurt me. Now you need to hurry and find your friend," he said calmly.
Samuel's face blinked as the wise-sounding voice covered his own thoughts. "Well, I guess you'll think twice before messing with me now, kid." Half turning, he took a step back. "Better go find---what the heck! What are you trying to pull?!" Whirling, he slashed the knife into the beige jumsuit, freezing when the blade continued on without hitting anything more solid than cloth before it was stopped by the bricks behind his target. The metal made a scraping sound as hit, yet there was no resistance between the cloth barriers!
No way! He had to have hit flesh! But the blade told him differently, even as he moved it within the hole he'd made in the jumpsuit. What was this kid? Anorexic? And why was there a thick, bluish vapor wafting out from around his knife, unaffected by the wind buffing at their clothes?
Patterson heard the low sound of distant thunder. No, not distant---it was coming from... No way!
Jade eyes narrowed to slits just before the teen's hand jerked open, an electric spark causing the blade to fall inside the hole it had wrought while the boy himself was flung away several feet by a blue blast.
God! He'd been struck by lightning! But that wasn't possible...was it? Maybe Marty had been right and the kid was rigged with some sort of stunner device?
Yeah, that was it. Well, he'd just see about thi--
"Hey, down there!"
A flashlight beam was making its way down the alley.
The teenager cursed as he scrambled back to his knees, reaching in vain for his weapon as he considered the possibility of holding the freak hostage while he escaped. But neither knife nor 'freak' was nearby. Even the breeze had died away to an absolute stillness.
Impossible! The alley was a dead end! There was no way someone as small as that kid could have climbed out in so short a time! And he had not ran past. He glanced around again, feeling an icy chill as his right hand fell upon one of the crushed 'birds'. He stared at it, the events of the past few minutes finally starting to sink home. It wasn't possible. All that couldn't have really happened, could it? Sam started to shiver as his hand closed around the bird, mangling it even further as the cop flashed his light on him..
There was something not right about that kid. And he was going to find out what. And then he was going to get his revenge...
__________________________