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I want in.
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Aug 26, 2015 16:27
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| # ¿ Apr 25, 2024 10:23 |
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Beowulf and Gilgamesh 1179 Words Epic Buddy Cop As Beowulf fiddled with the radio with a big, dumb grin, Gilgamesh tightened his grip on the wheel, and wondered how he managed to wind up here. Finding himself alive in the year 2015 took some getting used to, but finding himself saddled with this kid was a bridge too far. Bo was on homicide right up until he tore some poor fucker’s arm off, and the brass decided that he needed an older, more experienced partner to set him straight. Technically, Gil was the only guy on the force (or in the world for that matter) older than Bo, so they wound up working vice together. Now he was trying to keep his poo poo together while this Scandinavian douchebag mumbled his way through Kanye West’s “Power” and checked his gun and vest for the umpteenth time. Enkidu, his old partner, would have left his godsdamn radio alone. Well, he would have left it alone if there were a radio back then. “Are you this fidgety every time you make a bust or are you just doing this to piss me off?” Gil blurted. “Hey, man. I’m just trying to get in the mood,” Bo shot back. “Did you have to hum to yourself like an idiot whenever you had to do poo poo as king of wherever-the-gently caress, kid?” “First of all, gently caress you. Respect my process. Second, gently caress you. It was Geatland, and it was way better than whatever Mesopotamian hellhole you used to rule. Third of all, gently caress you and stop calling me kid!” Gil chuckled and shook his head, returning his attention to the road. They were on their way to bust Raul Mendoza, a major cartel boss who had taken up residence in New York City, at one of the sketchy abandoned warehouses that bad guys tended to hang out. If I were King of New York, I’d demolish all those abandoned warehouses. They’re an eyesore, and they do nothing but attract criminals, he mused. Maybe after I retire from the force. Gil was a few thousand years past the normal retirement age. But, what’s retirement to someone who can’t die. It was kind of funny. He’d spent so much of his youth searching for immortality and then making such a big show about accepting that he would die only to be brought back to life in this strange time. It was almost unfair. He was the only several thousand year old cop that he knew of other than the idiot in the seat next to his, so it’s not like he had anyone to ask about what he was supposed to do with his time. Some retirees go off to a nice beach somewhere to die, while others (present company included) argue that the key to a happy retirement is to stay busy. “I’m getting too old for this poo poo”, he muttered to himself. “You and me, both,” Bo scoffed. --------- “gently caress backup,” Beowulf hissed. “We both handled way worse than this in the good old days, so let’s take this fucker out!” They had ditched the car in a nearby alley and approached the warehouse on foot, guns drawn. The guards that they’d come across on patrol were no match for a Beowulf-sized fist to the face and wouldn’t be waking up any time soon. “Fine, but in the good old days we weren’t expected to bring anyone in alive,” Gil ordered. “On the count of three, we go in and bring him out alive! One… two… three!” Bo and Gil kicked down the doors and didn’t get all the way through “NYPD! Freeze!” before the bullets started flying. At least four armed guards on the catwalks above the warehouse opened fire with clearly illegal AK-47s as the heroes dived for cover behind nearby crates. The two popped out from cover and plugged one guard a piece and noticed that Mendoza was running for the back exit. “You take these assholes out! I’m going for Mendoza!” Bo yelled before sprinting across the center of the warehouse. Gunfire trailed behind him for a few moments before Gil gave them their own hot lead to worry about. “Be careful, you dumb motherfucker!” Gil called out as he put new holes in one of the perps’ neck and collarbone. The remaining mook started unloading on his position with a seemingly unlimited stream of fire. Gil checked his magazine. Empty, with one bullet in the chamber. Of course. Gil made a mental note to kick Bo’s rear end next time he saw him and then started to reassess the situation. He had a bad guy with way too many bullets between him and whatever trouble Bo had gotten into, one bullet and only a vague idea of where the bullets were coming from. As he leaned back against the rapidly bullet-filled supply crate, he noticed the reflection of the gun’s muzzle flare in the nearby window. Bingo. “Lights out!” he yelled as he dove sideways and fired his last shot into the light fixture above the merc and sent it crashing down on his head. The goon let out a high pitched scream as he lost balance and toppled from the catwalk. Gil was on his feet and sprinting for the rear exit before the poor sap hit the ground. When he got outside, Gil found Bo with a thoroughly subdued Mendoza. From the look of things, Mendoza had a badly dislocated shoulder which, all things considered, was an improvement over dismemberment. “He’s not very chatty anymore,” Gil mused. “I explained his right to remain silent,” Bo returned. Gil considered this for a moment and decided that it was better not to ask. “You did good out there, kid”. “You did, too, but I swear on my father, I’ve told you half a hundred times not to call me kid and yet you still do it,” he complained as he checked the cuffs and got ready to move the perp. At that moment, the warehouse door slammed open and one of the bloodied gunman from earlier leveled his assault rifle at Bo. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Bo tossed Mendoza to the ground and Gil took an involuntary dive to get between the gunman and Bo. Bullets tore into Gil’s shoulder and side as Bo hurled a very non-regulation knife between the eyes of the gunman. Gil and the gunman hit the ground with a pair of damp thuds. “poo poo, Gil!” Bo said as he rushed down to put pressure over the entry wounds on Gil’s body. Gil let out a few painful coughs and took a few labored breaths before saying, “I guess everyone has to die sometime, eh?” “Shut the gently caress up, you’re gonna be fine. The vest slowed them down. What the gently caress did you do that for, you loving rear end in a top hat?” “You’d have done the same for me.” “poo poo, no. You’re supposed to dive away from the bullets. I expect my partners to have at least that much sense.” “Well that’s comforting, kid…” Gil said as he lay back and closed his eyes.
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Aug 31, 2015 10:38
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Nubile Hillock posted:I'm willing to do a few line-by-line crits if anyone's interested Yes please.
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Sep 1, 2015 11:56
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In.
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Sep 1, 2015 18:07
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