Sour Milk

Paris, France-0700hrs

Carmelita literally shook out of her bed in shock as the annoying scream of her alarm clock blared. Quickly smacking, she silenced it, only to realize that now she had to by a new one having slammed her fist down hard enough to crack in nearly two pieces. After having her breakfast and coffee, she quickly dressed and headed outside to wait for her carpool. Her convertible was in the shop after a police chase nearly tore out the axles.

The GSX eventually pulled up, and Sly exited it, flashing a smile at her and circling around the car to open the passenger side door. A little flattered by this chivalrous act, she gave him a warm smile and entered the car.

"Had a good night's rest?" Sly asked, putting the car into gear and pressing the accelerator.

She hadn't remembered until he had said so. Up until now she had forgotten a dream she had, and upon remembering what it was about, she heavily blushed. If any knowledge about that dream were to slip out, she might be scorned from all social life in the office, and worst of all, people might mistake it for being real and ask an extremely awkward question.

"What about you?" Carmelita quickly replied.

"Fine," Sly replied.

But deep down he was blushing too. His involuntary dreams stemmed up inner embarrassment at the thought of any knowledge about his dreams getting out. He could feel the tension building between the two of them, but he knew it was best for her to come around on her own; after all, their relationship was about a week old. But he knew that one day, he'd have to tell her the truth.

"Hey Carmelita," Sly began.

"Yeah?"

"Nothing," Sly sighed. "Never mind…"

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The milkman never saw it coming. One moment he was dropping off crates of bottled milk, the next, a mystery man was garroting him. He struggled but to no vain. Eventually, the shine in his eyes dulled and his striped tail stopped twitching, and he collapsed to the ground.

"Do something about this body," Emile said, winding up his garrote and hiding it in his pocket.

After swapping cloths with the milkman, he sat in the driver's seat of his truck and drove towards the back alleys of the Interpol Paris precinct.

"Yo!" he said to the back doorman of the precinct. "I'm suppose to drop these off."

"This precinct doesn't get milk!" the officer said.

"Well it says here that it's on my route!" Emile argued. "I'll show!"

Stepping out of his seat, holding a clipboard, he strutted to the officer. "See! Right here!"

With swift speed, he whipped out his garrote, wrapping it around his neck. In seconds, he had the officer subdued and lying dead, stuffed into the back of the truck. "You do now!"

He pulled out a crate of bottled milk and a briefcase and tore off his milkman uniform, revealing an officer's uniform. Entering the back door, he entered the emergency stairwell and climbed the several flights of steps up to his desired floor. Passing through several cubicles, nobody noticed him leave behind the briefcase.

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Sly exited the restroom, remembering to zip his fly before he left, taking note of an incident of nearly getting caught with it down. Passing towards through the cubicles, his ears picked up the chit-chat of his fellow officers unfortunate enough to get stuck with a cubicle instead of a private office. But then his ears picked up something strange. Tic-tock-tick-tock…

Turning around, he found a briefcase hidden amid the potted plants. Suspicious, Sly inched towards it. What he didn't expect was the ticking to stop.

KABOOM!

Sly was blown clear across the room as was nearly twenty square feet of office floor was disintegrated by the bomb.

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"What the hell was that!" Winthorpe exclaimed from his cubicle one floor up. "Holy shit!"

He was lucky. His desk was positioned practically next to the bomb below, and now the floor behind his chair was missing. But there was only one thing that came to his mind. "Carmelita!"

Rushing towards the emergency stairs, he knew that there was big trouble going on. He had a serious crush on Carmelita, and while he was heavily discouraged after learning about the Cooper-Fox relationship, there was the tiny hint of hope that if she was injured, he could come to her rescue and that would somehow lead to her ditching Constable Cooper and go for him.

"All officers, we have a major gas leak in the building," the radio on his belt blared. "Evacuate immediately!"

Winthorpe rushed down the stairs quickly stopping as he saw a condor in an officer's uniform repeat the message over the radio. He quickly bypassed him and ran for Carmelita's office. He tripped on something soft and fell to the debris covered floor. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that he had tripped over Constable Cooper's body; cloths tattered and burned, bleeding profusely from the nose and mouth in addition to trickles of blood running down from his hairline.

"Holy shit!" Winthorpe exclaimed again.

As he got up, he noticed the condor enter the floor, carrying a crate of milk bottles and a gun in hand, pointed out as if he was ready to shoot anybody opposing him. Quickly, Winthorpe made a mad dash for Carmelita's office.

The shockwave from the blast had been strong enough to blow the door inwards, slamming into Carmelita on its journey; knocking her out.

"Miss Fox!" Winthorpe exclaimed, squeezing past all the rubble. "Are you all right?"

Carmelita moaned. "Get out of my face dammit!"

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Several guys caught on. Emile was quick enough to chuck his milk bottles, exploding upon impact as they broke against the remaining walls and floor and taking out guys that were pulling their guns on him.

"We've just had another gas explosion, keep clear of the building!" Emile said over the radio.

He chucked another bottle, this one meant to scare people instead of killing them. He then headed for the hall to Inspector Fox's office. "Call for emergency ambulances and or helicopters immediately, we have casualties!"

He chucked one more bottle at the rubble before him, clearing out a path into Carmelita's office. He was rather shocked to find a weasel with Fox.

"Both of you!" He yelled, pointing his gun at them. "Do as I say or I'll kill both of you!"

"Easy there" Carmelita said, putting her hands behind her head. "Winthorpe, do as he says."

Winthorpe obliged, though he was already doing it the moment he saw the gun pointed at him.

"Move!" Emile demanded.

He ushered the down the flights of stairs and out into the back alley, where an ambulance waited for them.

"Who's that for?" Carmelita couldn't help but ask.

"YOU!" Emile said, slamming the stock of his gun down on the back of her head.

Winthorpe gasped as Carmelita collapsed to the ground unconscious.

"Help her in or I'll kill you both!" Emile demanded.

Winthorpe delicately laid Carmelita onto the stretcher inside the occupied ambulance and stepped out.

"Good!" Emile said, shedding his officer uniform to reveal that of a paramedic. "But you should've called in sick today!"

Emile fired a round, and Winthorpe collapsed to the ground, unconscious from the tranquilizer dart. Two thugs scooped him up and threw him into the back of the ambulance, shut the doors, and floored it.

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Paris Memorial Hospital-1700hrs

Sly woke up to the voices of Chief Barkley and fellow officers. Everything was a blur to him. He was surprised to find himself in a hospital bed with the I.V. stuck in him and heart monitors on him.

"What's going on?" Sly asked.

"Your awake!" Chief Barkley smiled in relief. Sly had never seen him smile before. "Cooper, there was a gas leak, and it lead to an explosion that you were next to. You're one of the lucky few. At least four other officers were killed and ten here injured." He sighed. "We have two missing…"

Sly couldn't understand. What on earth was going on?

"…that intern Winthorpe and Inspector Fox."