Hi. Normally I don't respond to reviews because for the record I'm super lazy, but to the guest that commented on the length:
I understand where you're coming from with your suggestion, but this story started out as a simple little prompt fill for my buddy. She asked if I'd write more and I found that small snippets make for much quicker updates. Most of which are already written.
Maybe my other stories are more what you're looking for in terms of...volume. Although I'd stay away from No Lego City Girl. And anything that has HIATUS in the description. Also I never liked the ending to Like This Triangle Needs More Sides. If you're not looking for anything depressing I'd stay away from Gertrude and Gaynell and The Lord and His Lady. Muggle Studies is fun, but its prequel is totes incomplete. Driving Miss Santana is cool if you like Sam because I totally wrote that before Sam was all...different, to put it nicely.
Dunder Mifflin, Lima Branch is my fave though and also the longest so I have to put it last. Expect an update for that someday!
I have a link to my tumblr on my profile if anyone would like to express his or her opinions there.
The Flanagan case is a disaster from the get-go. Rory, the twerp who knows too much about the "grocery business", loses three fingers on his right hand before the FBI staking out the place can gather enough intel.
The Irish move fast, but so does Mike Chang's top agent. She's already inside the building, discovered Rory's location, and assessed the situation. "We've got six trigger-happy gingers and a bearded butcher," she whispers to Mike discreetly from her hiding spot deep within the walk-in freezer. She has a good vantage point of the butcher, but taking out the coked up muscle heads guarding the freezer door is another story.
"Please let me go," Rory mutters, shivering and trying to avoid looking at the bloody stubs where his fingers used to be. "I'll never tell a soul."
It's kind of too late for that since he's an FBI informant. A stupid one at that. One who gets himself kidnapped instead of going into the Witness Protection Program.
The butcher cleans off his knife with a wet rag. "Never tell a soul what?"
Santana shakes her head. This rescue has a time limit because the second Rory spills the beans is the second the butcher spills his guts. Literally. "We need to move now."
"Let's see if we can negotiate a trade first," replies Mike.
A cellphone rings moments later and the butcher wedges his knife between Rory's legs into the wooden chair where the poor kid has already pissed himself.
"Hello?" the butcher answers.
"Top o' the mornin' to ya," Santana hears Mike say over speakerphone. "This is Robbie O'Toole with the Health Department and you're in violation of Code 010. I'll need you to evacuate the building."
The butcher is weary. "For having food obtained from an unapproved source? You must be joking, boyo."
"What exactly are you planning on doing with Rory Flanagan's fingers, Mr. Grady?"
The butcher frowns and picks up his knife again. "How did you know my name?"
"FBI. We know everything and we have the place surrounded. Release Rory with no further harm and we'll cut you a deal."
Things go from bad to worse when the butcher just laughs before bringing his knife down once more, this time cutting his left hand off completely. Rory shrieks and Santana uses the distraction as an opportunity to take out two of the guards closest to her with sleeper holds, but not before a third one fires his at her.
He barely misses and she hides behind a cow carcass for cover. She fires back and grazes his shoulder, but it's enough for him to drop his handgun.
"I need back up," she yells. Mike's already on it though and the agents take out the two men guarding the door leaving only one other son of a bitch standing between the FBI and the butcher.
Unfortunately the remaining SOB is a decent marksman who shoots Santana right in the chest.