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08 June 2007 @ 10:00 pm
...I give him a 42 but I can't dance to it...  
Dorian
By Alouette Sparra

AN./ I actually have nothing to say here other than a warning that Nicholas is probably going to seem a little out of character in this chapter as it relates to canon. So you lot are all more than welcome to bitch, moan, complain, and/or kvetch as much as you like. Flames will be used to roast Marshmallow Peeps. Although if we could keep things away from the all-caps, that'd be fantastic.


God Called In Sick Today- Chapitre Une
Doctor My Eyes- Chapitre Deux
Behind Blue Eyes-Chapitre Trois

Word Count: 1253
Prompt: Strangers

Chapter 4

    “Why are you here?”
    Sioffre winced. The first words out of Nicholas’ mouth had not exactly been pleasant. Not that he was expecting a chipper greeting and all, but really, did the younger man have to sound like he was going to rip someone’s head off? “I’m here because someone called the Met about this murder. Something about the victim working for us and that, you understand how it is, I’m sure.”
    Angel waved his hand dismissively at Tavington. “Not you, Jeffrey-”
    “Sioffre.”
    “Sorry.”
    “Him?”
    “Yes.”
    By this point Aleksandr was more than a little miffed. “This is City of London’s case, not the Met’s and most certainly not Sandford’s.”
    Both Andy and Nicholas stared at the detective. Meanwhile, Sioffre resisted the urge to pound his head against the nearest hard surface until blessed unconsciousness took him. It had been more than obvious from the beginning that Nemo paid little more than lip-service to protocol, but he had not thought that Nemo would actually act in so monumentally stupid a way, especially given the prior warning that the Chief Inspector of the Sandford Constabulary was one Nicholas D. Angel.
    Any officer in London knew about the living legend that was Inspector Angel. Even officers from as far away as Cumbria and Northumberland had heard about Angel in some way or another. Probably because more often than not, Angel ended up working cases that made national news, and had a tendency to utilise spectacular methods that made for extremely fascinating articles.
    That all was a moot point, however. In fact, Sioffre was fairly certain that the next headline featuring Angel would probably involve murder of some sort, given the death glare that Nemo was currently receiving. If looks could kill, then such a look would make Medusa weep with envy and despair.
    It was Andy who broke the silence. “So then, you’re Sergeant Tavington?”
    “Inspector now, actually, given the unfortunate circumstances of late,” Tavington replied stiffly. “You would be…?”
    “DC Andrew Cartwright,” he said. By this point Andy was thouroughly convinced that it was no fault of Nicholas’ own that he was a prick, it were merely something in the London air that made all Londoners complete arses.
    Whilst Andy and Sioffre had been exchanging words, the tension between Nicholas and Nemo had only thickened. It weighed heavy in the air, almost tangible. Yet it was brittle, fragile in its own way. It was as though a misplaced puff of breath would send it crashing down, shattered. As utterly spectacular as that would be to see, especially if it were Angel who broke first, somehow neither Andy nor Sioffre wanted to see the result.
    Before either could act on their mutual decision to not have the tension break, Nemo lunged forward. Angel was more than ready for it, easily tossing the detective to the ground. Hard. Aleksandr landed on his back with a dull thud, before using a sweeping kick to knock Angel’s legs out from under him.
    Neither of the other two officers present had ever seen Nicholas in position that would be considered remotely undignified or scandalous. Well, not in uniform at least. Andy could actually tell quite a few tales from the pub. It had gotten to the point where for about a month Nicholas would either get his own drinks and watch said beverages like a hawk or get water. Admittedly, Andy had absolutely nothing to do with the vodka that kept finding its way into Nicholas’ cranberry juice. That was something devised by Doris in one of her numerous attempts to get into their Inspector’s pants. Not that Angel had believed any of it, but that was neither here nor there.
    Andy scribbled something on his notepad and held it up towards Tavington.
        Inside?
    Sioffre nodded. The two quickly headed into the cottage. One of them almost left just as quickly from the rank odour of decaying flesh. There was a very good reason as to why Sioffre had applied for a desk job as soon as he could. Namely, the fact that his supper was threatening to make a second appearance. He really did not do crime scenes, particularly homicide. Paperwork; the endless, repetitive, impersonal cycle of receive and send, archive and destroy, of writing and typing and constantly signing his name on such and such line; that was his forte. Not this all too personal business of investigation. A job where you had to get inside people’s heads, learn about strangers and their relationships to other strangers, sometimes to an extent beyond even what that person’s own family knew about them.
    No, such was not for Sioffre Tavington. He simply got too involved for it to ever work out for him. Indeed, it was not despite Nicholas’ emotionless personality that he was so effective, it was because he did not get involved, attached, emotional.
    Not that Sioffre was by any stretch of the imagination jealous of Angel. He would readily admit that he was not one for action, adventure, or any sort of situation that might call for amounts of adrenaline that exceeded what was produced every time the Daleks were on Doctor Who.
    Cartwright explained what he knew about the case relatively quickly. Everything he said matched up with what Sioffre knew about the other murders, leading the Inspector to a certainty that it was all the same copy-cat, and that said man must have had something special against Janine. He mentioned this to Andy, thinking perhaps the detective might be better able to figure such a matter out than he. Andy shrugged, unable to say anything for certain. Maybe Wainwright would have an idea or two, but then, there was a reason that it was Wainwright who was Sergeant and not Cartwright.
    Sioffre checked his watch. It had been five minutes since he had followed Nicholas’ detective into the crime scene. Perhaps he ought to go rescue the City detective, as he had run afoul of Detective Inspector Tremaine before, and had no intention of doing so again. Although having Nic take care of her unproffesional, most likely incompetent sub-ordinate for her might be doing Tremaine a favor. Except that if he knew her, she’d want to kill Aleksandr herself.
    The fact that Nicholas and Aleksandr seemed to have it out for eachother was a bit surprising to Sioffre. As far as he knew, each was a perfect stranger to the other. True, Aleksandr reminded him of a younger, shorter, red-headed Angel… but the semblance ended at the physical. Besides which, there were plenty of people who looked alike who weren’t related. He himself resembled both Kincaid and current Chief Inspector Donelly, and not a day went by that he wasn’t glad that he was not related to either.
    Andy left to go find someone whose name Sioffre did not catch. Which meant that he was left to separate the two brawling policemen. Motherfucker, he thought. This was going to be fun. He turned to head out the door, mentally cursing Andrew Cartwright for all eternity using every invective he knew, a bunch he made up, and a few that he did not know.
    Naturally, this just being his week, he opened the door to be greeted by the second strangest sight he had seen this day. Evening. Night… Fuck it. Ever. (Because let’s face it, a perfectly sober Nicholas D. Angel getting into a fist fight with another officer after just one mildly insulting, but really more tactless and unproffesional, sentence took the cake.)
 
 
Current Mood: blankblank
Current Music: Something Against You- The Pixies
 
 
 
(Deleted comment)
alouette_sparra: Angelalouette_sparra on June 9th, 2007 03:22 am (UTC)
Neither do I. He's a jackass, has no respect for authority, protocol, rules, regs, or anything else upon which I thrive and successful police forces are based.

Which is why I'm glad Nic totally pwns the bastard.
(Deleted comment)
alouette_sparra: Editoralouette_sparra on June 9th, 2007 03:28 am (UTC)
That's the thing, I only know where this is headed up through maybe Chapter 7, and I'm talking sketchy knowledge here. I'm not even quite sure what it is that is the second weirdest thing Tavington's ever seen yet.

Unfortunately, Nemo is to be the cause of a great deal of plot, so I think he has to live a bit longer.

Hopefully before he leaves the story he'll tell me whom he's been sleeping with that he hasn't been kicked out of the City of London Police yet.
(Deleted comment)
alouette_sparra: hedgehogalouette_sparra on June 9th, 2007 03:34 am (UTC)
Best way, really. I have no clue how people plan where a story goes. What if the characters don't like the story? Don't they get any say?
alouette_sparra: hedgehogalouette_sparra on June 9th, 2007 03:36 am (UTC)
Also, given that I like the Andes, I think it's plain to see why I made sure there's no possible way you could get anything sounding like Andy out of his name.

However, with a certain canon character's name, you can get something sounding a leetle like Andy...
in some realities: And The Horse He Road In On  (HF)ladyames on June 9th, 2007 05:22 am (UTC)
evil cliffhanger of doom. really.

and Nick better kick the detective's ass. a lot.

ummm.... i seem to have run out of clever things to say today. sorry.

more, please?
alouette_sparraalouette_sparra on June 9th, 2007 05:44 am (UTC)
As soon as I get the next chapter fleshed out a bit. Or, you know, have an idea as to what the next chapter's prompt is. Nic does do much ass-kicking, never fear. Nemo sticks around though. He has Character Shield due to Dramatic Purpose.

It's a shame. Like I've said before, even I hate him now. He started off all cute and innocent, I don't know how he got to be such a bastard...

Clever things are unnecessary. All that matters is honest opinion.
in some realities: Just The Two Of Us  (HF)ladyames on June 9th, 2007 05:52 am (UTC)
i look forward to the Nicholas ass-kickage. yes, i'm making up words for my own purposes. especially if it's him that's doing the kicking. ^_^

to be honest, i'd rather hate a character because he's a bastard (and if he's enough of a bastard i might just end up liking him. i'm odd like that.) than feel indifferent because of poor character development or some such problem.

clever is fairly relative, or so i believe.


working on the drabbles as we speak type. three down (for this set) five to go. yay!
alouette_sparra: Editoralouette_sparra on June 9th, 2007 09:08 am (UTC)
Ah, I just read your drabbles! We must be on the same creative wavelength or something because the last prompt I used was Stranger (complete with two meanings), and Chapter 5 is going to follow the prompt Family.

Oh, and Nemo is definitely a bastard, although he shows hope of Character Development. I'm thinking it'll be a bit before that happens though.

As always, you are encouraged to fully contemplate all possible meanings of what I'm saying. I often drop hints as to what's going on.
in some realities: OMG ZOMBIES!ladyames on June 9th, 2007 09:18 am (UTC)
I AM PSYCHIC! YES I AM. alrighty, i'm not. actually i'm just tired and silly. but that is kind of erie. *dodododododododo*

well, i'll be sticking around to see if that does happen. looking forward to it (the character development, not the bastard part. ok, maybe that too.)

if my brain will let me process things beyond face-value, i shall give it my very bestest. often, i'm dense like that.