dS snippet: Bad for the Soul
Fandom; Character: due South; Ray K
Rating: PG
Word Count: 300
Summary: Ever wonder why the officers of the 2-7 suddenly decided to move on Warfield?
Challenge: Written for the ds_snippets Challenge #100, prompt: spin, stalk
Warning: Rather dark
Author's Notes: Thanks to my beta, nos4a2no9. I have never worked so hard on a snippet. Five complete rewrites? Sheesh.
I rest my forehead against the cool wall, remembering Fraser slumped, bleeding, on the curb outside Warfield’s club. Fraser’d tried appealing to our sense of justice. It got him nowhere. Not with the witnesses. Not with the officers. Not even with me.
Fraser’s voice was hoarse and dull as he gave his statement. Like he’d given up. My knuckles tap the wall.
I can fix this.
Every detective in the bullpen is tense, worked up. I can use that. Dewey laughs. I spin off the wall and get in his face.
“You think this is funny? The only reason Fraser’s not in the hospital is he’s too stubborn to go! They broke a fucking 2-by-4 over his back,” I snarl.
Huey steps in. “Look, Ray -”
“He’s my partner.”
Huey looks away.
“There is one thing that keeps us safe out there,” I say, stalking around the room, staring everybody down. “Only one. The bad guys know, you fuck with one cop; you get the entire CPD coming down on you like a ton of bricks. We let this slide, and word gets out on the streets? It’s open season. Tomorrow the Latin Kings are taking pot shots at us.”
“But -” Roberts interrupts.
I point at her. “And next week, the mob’s snatching our kids off the playground.”
Roberts settles back against her desk, wide-eyed. The back of my neck prickles with the fear and adrenaline in the air. Why couldn’t they do this for the right reasons?
I show my teeth. “So, anybody else in the mood for an under-aged drinking sweep?”
“We’ll pick up the Constable on the way,” Welsh announces from the doorway, and everybody moves.
Fraser can go right on living in that perfect Chicago of his. I’ll be watching his back from this one.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 300
Summary: Ever wonder why the officers of the 2-7 suddenly decided to move on Warfield?
Challenge: Written for the ds_snippets Challenge #100, prompt: spin, stalk
Warning: Rather dark
Author's Notes: Thanks to my beta, nos4a2no9. I have never worked so hard on a snippet. Five complete rewrites? Sheesh.
I rest my forehead against the cool wall, remembering Fraser slumped, bleeding, on the curb outside Warfield’s club. Fraser’d tried appealing to our sense of justice. It got him nowhere. Not with the witnesses. Not with the officers. Not even with me.
Fraser’s voice was hoarse and dull as he gave his statement. Like he’d given up. My knuckles tap the wall.
I can fix this.
Every detective in the bullpen is tense, worked up. I can use that. Dewey laughs. I spin off the wall and get in his face.
“You think this is funny? The only reason Fraser’s not in the hospital is he’s too stubborn to go! They broke a fucking 2-by-4 over his back,” I snarl.
Huey steps in. “Look, Ray -”
“He’s my partner.”
Huey looks away.
“There is one thing that keeps us safe out there,” I say, stalking around the room, staring everybody down. “Only one. The bad guys know, you fuck with one cop; you get the entire CPD coming down on you like a ton of bricks. We let this slide, and word gets out on the streets? It’s open season. Tomorrow the Latin Kings are taking pot shots at us.”
“But -” Roberts interrupts.
I point at her. “And next week, the mob’s snatching our kids off the playground.”
Roberts settles back against her desk, wide-eyed. The back of my neck prickles with the fear and adrenaline in the air. Why couldn’t they do this for the right reasons?
I show my teeth. “So, anybody else in the mood for an under-aged drinking sweep?”
“We’ll pick up the Constable on the way,” Welsh announces from the doorway, and everybody moves.
Fraser can go right on living in that perfect Chicago of his. I’ll be watching his back from this one.