On the Beat By Green A Commission for BronsonTwist
It was another hot day, one in a series of hot days, as many of them tended to be in Melbourne, Australia, and the job wasn't getting any easier for being a Friday. Bronson closed his eyes as he finished off the last of the leftover paperwork and pushed it away, as if it was literally sapping his strength from proximity. The reindeer hated paperwork with a fiery passion he normally reserved for when he was holding a woman in his arms, but at least it was done... for now. It was just the beginning of the shift, after all. Leaning back in his chair, Bronson sighed, trying to take just a moment to relax and gather his energy. "Senior Constable Bronson Twist?" So much for that plan. Reluctantly opening his eyes, Bronson confirmed that the voice belonged to a woman, and not only that, a female reindeer who was very easy on the eyes. She stood there before his desk, one hand resting on a hip cocked just slightly to the side, the other hand dangling free, in a strong, confident stance that said in no uncertain terms that this woman was not to be trifled with. Bronson liked that in a woman. Unfortunately, she was also wearing the same uniform he was, which meant this had to be about work. "That's me," he responded, glancing to her rank insignias, "And I don't believe we've met before, Senior Constable...?" She extended her hand, smiling professionally, and gave him a firm handshake. "Call me Comet," she replied. Bronson took a moment to pick up the dreaded papers he'd just finished with and drop them in the admin office tray as he tried to resist the urge, but failed. "Your parents named you 'Comet', huh?" he asked, straightfaced, "When did they move here from New Zealand?" She rolled her eyes and shook her head, but smirked at the stupid joke.
Before either of them could say another word, the unmistakeable voice of Senior Sergeant Ronald Dearborn, Bronson's commanding officer, cut in. "Ah! Senior Constables Twist and Starbuck of the Victoria Police!" he said, playing out the titles as he was known to do when he was in a good mood, "Just the people I was looking for! I see you two have gotten acquainted, so let me lay out your orders." As the bearded dragon pulled a file folder out of the crook of his arm, Bronson frowned. "Wait, orders?" he asked, "Boss, she just got here, what's this about orders?" The lizard gave him a stern look for a moment (and as a reptile, he was very good at giving stern looks), ever so mildly peeved about being interrupted once he got on a roll. "Should have taken my time, gotten that coffee after all," Dearborn muttered, "Fine. Meet your new partner. She just transferred into this division." That blunt delivery over, he gestured to one reindeer, then the other. "Bronson Twist, Comet Starbuck. Starbuck, Twist. There, now you're introduced. And as I was saying..." He glanced down into the folder again. "You're working the divisional van today, standard patrol, nothing fancy," he said, "There's been a number of convenience stores getting rolled after closing, but since we always seem to have that problem, it's barely worth mentioning. Just keep your eyes open, Constables, you know the heat brings out the crazy in people." "Yes, sir," both officers said at once. "You see?" said Dearborn, slightly sarcastically, "You're already working well together. Now get to the motor pool, and if you see Morris out there, tell him to pay attention when he parks and stop scratching the damn unmarked cars." With that, the dragon closed the file, nodded to his officers, and walked off. Glancing down at his out box and remembering how briefly he'd been caught up, Bronson frowned just slightly. "The fun never stops, I guess," he said, getting up, "Come on, the motor pool's this way." As the reindeer left the open floor office space and the rows of evenly-spaced desks behind, their hooves nearly silent on the floor thanks to the standard noise-reducing pads law enforcement officers with hooved feet wore, Bronson glanced to his new partner and smiled. "So, Starbuck, huh?" he asked. Comet winced. "Yes, like the coffee place," she said, "Or were you going to make a 'buck' joke about me secretly being a man? Trust me, I've heard them all before, and I'm tired of all of them." Nodding thoughtfully, Bronson shrugged. "Actually, I was going to make a Battlestar Galactica joke, but if you say so..." Despite herself, the doe laughed at that, shaking her head and grinning at her new partner. If nothing else, Bronson thought, today would be interesting...
They didn't see Morris on the way to the motor pool, sadly, but there were a couple cops milling around next to the sergeant's office, where the keys were kept. They glanced up as the reindeer approached. "Hey Twist," said the hyena, nodding to Bronson's companion, "I didn't know your sister was a cop." Despite the stereotype, he didn't immediately begin giggling at his own joke, but he did grin pretty widely. "Very funny, Hendricks," Bronson replied, without a hint of sincerity, "This is Senior Constable St-" "Hi, I'm Comet," she interrupted, stepping forward and extending her hand, "Twist's new partner. I'm a transfer." She shook hands with both men, and then Bronson smirked. "What is that, anyway, a species thing?" he asked, "All reindeer look the same to you?" The cop with Hendricks, his partner Manson, a human, quickly raised his hands. "Hey, nobody's playing the species card, Senior, it's just a joke," he said, before pausing a moment and then adding "You two heading out? In this heat? Kinda sucks to be you, huh?" His tone made it clear that he was just teasing, not actually trying to antagonize them, and Bronson glanced at Comet to make sure she was picking up on that; he assumed things were good from the smirk on her face. "Yeah," Hendricks chimed in, "Some of us are hoping to avoid dying of heat stroke long enough to make Detective." "Well, someone's got to go out there, we can't all sit around eating donuts like cop stereotypes," Bronson said light-heartedly, before nodding to the lot, "But we don't have time to chat, got a patrol. Oh, and Dearborn said to tell you guys to stop fucking in the showers, it's making people jealous." Comet laughed once, surprised, and then composed herself, while Hendricks pouted, his ears lowering, and Manson blushed. "God damn it, I told you guys, nothing happened!" the human grumbled, "I slipped in the shower, and Hendricks was helping me up!" "Oh, I'm sure something was getting helped up," teased Comet, getting in on the act and backing up her partner as Bronson raised both hands in a don't look at me gesture. "Hey, take it up with the Boss," he said, "We gotta hit the road." With that, the reindeer left the embarrassed cops behind, managing to keep their laughter suppressed until they were well out of earshot.
Soon enough, the two of them hit the streets of Melbourne in the divisional van, a vehicle with a reinforced rear compartment that might be called a 'paddy wagon' elsewhere in the world, ready to bust some heads and clean up the city... or just drive around in a pointless circuit for a while, if nothing actually happened on their patrol, whichever came first. The first few minutes consisted of silence, of course, because the reindeer didn't know each other, silence which would have been downright awkward if not for the quiet burbling of the police radio providing white noise to take the edge off. Finally, as Bronson pointedly avoided looking at a homeless man on the corner scratching his crotch very, very thoroughly while the van waited at a red light, the buck decided he had to say something. "Uh, I hope you know I meant no disrespect," he said, "Back at the precinct, with the shit about your name, I mean. They were just jokes. I don't know you from Eve, after all, and I wouldn't want to give you the wrong-" "It's fine," Comet said, grinning, "I wouldn't be a cop if my skin was too thin to take a few jokes. Uh, is there really anything between those guys, Hendricks and Manson, or...?" Bronson snickered and shook his head, gratefully leaving the intersection (and the hobo, who continued scratching) as the light turned green. "Nah, we just walked in on them in an awkward position and never let 'em forget it," he said, "You know how it goes." Comet said nothing, but her grin widened just a little. A few significantly less tense minutes later, the doe crossed her arms. "Not a lot of people on the streets today," she observed. "Can you blame them?" Bronson replied, "You could fry an egg on the sidewalk out there." A beat passed, and then, "You know, I actually tried that once when I was a kid, cracked an egg on the sidewalk during a heat wave. Heh... I was disappointed and I annoyed my mother by wasting food." "Where was that?" Comet asked. "Where was what?" "The sidewalk, your mother, the egg - where'd you grow up, Twist?" "Oh! Right. That was Eltham. You?" "Montmorency." He laughed. "Really? So we're practically neighbours. Hell, I went to school in Montmorency." She shrugged casually. "Well, I went to school in Eltham, so we're even." "Now you're just messing with me," he said. Comet chuckled and gestured to him. "No, Bronson, if I was messing with you, I'd say that I knew you as a kid, always had a raging crush on you, and became a cop to get your attention," she replied, facetiously, "A couple of coincidences just isn't funny enough." As he came to a stop sign, Bronson glanced over at Comet, who smiled at him, and he smiled back. The buck allowed himself to silently admit that even though she was a cop and he tried to avoid making the job more complicated than it already had to be, Comet was a damned good-looking woman, and he wouldn't mind dating her.
Thinking such things was all well and good, but they were dangerous thoughts nonetheless, so he immediately pushed them out of his mind and changed the subject. "So what'd you do before you were a cop, anyway?" he asked, "The highlight of my career before this was selling appliances." Comet smiled politely, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Don't take this the wrong way or anything, Twist, but I'm not exactly looking to share my life story," she said, "I mean, you seem like a nice enough guy and all, but we've known each other for, what, half an hour, forty-five minutes?" Bronson nodded, granting her that one. "Fair enough, fair enough," he said, "I just - oh shit, would you look at that." As they pulled around a corner, they caught sight of a sedan jammed into the side of a minivan, with the two drivers standing on the sidewalk shouting at each other. A human making a call on a cell phone looked up, saw the divvy van, and did a double-take. Even from here, Bronson could see him mouth the words 'Damn, that was fast'. "Call it in," the buck said, "Doesn't look like anyone's hurt, but we'd better take a look all the same." Comet nodded, her expression tensing, clearly putting her Game Face on, and as she spoke in a professional tone into the radio on her vest, he pulled up to the side of the road behind the accident, flicking the sirens for just a second to get the attention of the drivers.
* * *
Other than the temperature, the accident scene was about as standard as could be. Nobody had been seriously injured, just some minor bruises, which unfortunately left the drivers healthy enough to yell at each other and argue over which one of them was at fault. Thankfully, the human guy who'd been calling 000 when they arrived (and who was still convinced Bronson and Comet had instantly materialized thanks to his emergency call, a belief neither cop was in any hurry to correct) had been a pedestrian, not on either driver's side in the argument, and he was able to give Comet his unbiased observations while Bronson babysat the drivers. "Uggghhh..." groaned Bronson as he sat back down in the van, this time in the passenger seat, all too happy to be out of the unforgiving sun. Outside, the tow trucks were getting set up to remove the cars from the scene. "Thank God for that dude who called 000," he said, "We could have been here all day if we didn't have a witness." "We already had two witnesses," Comet replied, flatly, "They just happened to be driving those cars at the time." Bronson snickered and opened his eyes, mainly so he could give her a dirty look even as he grinned. "Okay, I'm glad we had an impartial witness, smartass," he said. She smiled at him, and even as he shook his head in mock-annoyance, a voice in the back of his mind noted how even and white her teeth were. He'd never had a partner he found so damned attractive before, and he wasn't sure how he was going to deal with it long-term. Maybe he just needed to get laid, that would probably help him see her as just another cop. "You know, if we hadn'tbeen right around the freaking corner, those guys might have killed each other," he said, "I've never seen a driver try to get away with T-boning another car before, the Siamese cat in the four-door kept insisting it was the other guy's fault." "Never underestimate what stupid, desperate people will say to try and get out of trouble with the law," Comet replied, as they pulled away, before shrugging and adding "Still, you were right, the fault in that one was pretty obvious." A few minutes passed in silence, and then, as the slowest man in the world ambled past the front of the van at a crosswalk, Bronson glanced over at his partner. "So, uh, you need a tour of the town to get yourself ready for the job?" he asked. The doe grinned back at him and nodded politely. "I haven't lived here in a while, been out in a rural precinct, but I'm pretty sure I remember where everything is," Comet replied, "Buuuut, go ahead and put me through the paces anyway. Can never be too prepared, right?"
* * *
"What do you mean, Jaws is the defining movie of its time?" Comet asked, taking her eyes off the road to look at her partner almost suspiciously. Bronson crossed his arms and huffed indignantly. "What do you mean it's not?" he asked, feeling almost personally offended. The confident femme took one hand off the wheel to gesture to him as she responded. "Look, I'm not saying it's terrible or anything, it's a decent flick and all, but -" "Decent?!" he said, "You're talking about Spielberg's star-maker! It created the summer blockbuster genre!" The reindeer had been driving around the streets of Melbourne for a while as Bronson pointed out some of the sights of the city, some of the local landmarks - including cop landmarks, like bridges where drug dealers liked to peddle their wares, a hotel known for not asking questions, and a couple of street corners that were incredibly popular with ladies of the evening. Then, somewhere along the way, Bronson had innocently made a reference to a certain movie about a fish, and conversation (not to mention civility) was quickly unravelling. "It's a movie about a giant shark, it swims around and eats people!" she replied, "It's not exactly Shakespeare, Bronson." "No, it's not Shakespeare," he agreed, "Shakespeare never won an Oscar! Best film editing. Best sound mixing. Best original music score!" At the next stop sign, Comet retrieved her phone, pressed a button on the touchscreen, and held it in front of her mouth. "Did Jaws win best picture?" she asked aloud, with a decidedly facetious tone. Her phone beeped, and a stilted computer voice immediately responded. "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest won best picture in 1976 at the 48th Academy Awards," said the phone, "beating out Barry Lyndon, Dog Day Afternoon, Nashville, and Jaws." Slouching in his seat as much as his equipment and the seatbelt allowed, Bronson pouted. "Alright, fine, you've got me there, but come on," he muttered, "Jaws scared people so bad fishermen started murdering hundreds of sharks for no reason, now that's having an impact. I know it scared me so bad when I was a kid that I wouldn't go in the ocean for six solid months..." Comet chuckled. "Awww, Bronson..." she cooed, "I'm sorry, but that's adorable. Uh, little you not going in the water, not the thing with the fishermen." Despite himself, Bronson grinned at that, and when Comet looked over, the constables' eyes met and held each other for a long, silent moment before the doe looked back to the road.
By this point, between the accident and the guided tour of the streets, they'd been on patrol for a few hours. Bronson idly checked a message on his phone, reminding him that he had an appointment with the dentist coming up, and then glanced at his watch. "Slow day," he said, "You wanna grab a bite to eat? I know a corner store near here that sells decent enough burritos." Comet thought about it for a moment, perhaps debating the merits of tempting the fates with convenience store burritos, but then she nodded. "Yeah, sure," she replied, "Where's it at?" True to Bronson's word, within minutes they were turning onto the right street. "I used to swear by this stuff when I walked the beat," he said, and then patted his belly, grinning, and added "Though I have to admit, it was easier to work it off when I spent all day walking around." "Well, if I can say so, your figure hasn't exactly suffered, Senior, I - oh fuck." The smile dropped from Comet's face and she leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. Turning forward, Bronson immediately saw the problem. They'd arrived at the store, but one of the front plate windows was smashed in, and glass lay everywhere. Seeing that the lights were off, the buck made a face. "Shit, I forgot they were closing early today, some religious holiday or other," he said, "Assholes must have broken in to steal money and cigarettes while there was no one around to protect the place or call the cops." He called in to report what they'd discovered as Comet pulled the van over next to the store. The two reindeer climbed out, already carefully examining the scene from the outside. "Man, and I really liked this place..." Bronson muttered.
Pulling out a flashlight, Comet carefully walked up to the front door and, checking, discovered it was still locked. She glanced at her partner and silently nodded her head towards the inside of the store. Bronson nodded just as silently. They needed to search inside the place, check to see if there were hoodlums hiding inside, or worse, if someone had been here, and the thieves had just left the poor bastard dead, incapacitated, or bleeding out somewhere. Bronson pulled his own flashlight out and leaned close to the hole in the window, flicking it on and sweeping it around. For the most part, aside from the glass, he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. "Is anyone in there?" he called, "This is Senior Twist of the Victoria Police, if anyone is inside, come out where I can see you." Nothing. With another glance at Comet, Bronson ducked, to get his antlers out of the way of what was left of the window, and carefully stepped through the enormous hole, glass crackling under his hoof. For once, he was silently glad for the covers they made ungulate officers wear, as tromping around on broken glass with his bare hooves was not his idea of a good time. He stepped away from the window, listening carefully, eyes peeled, as Comet stepped inside after him, her own light flicking on and cutting through the gloom. Without the lights on, this place was surprisingly moody, thanks to the awning over the front windows providing lots of shade. Bronson glanced at the doe, who gestured wordlessly to the right side of the room, along the open ends of the aisles. He nodded and pointed up front, to the checkout counter. He could already see from here that the cash register had been yanked out of its usual spot and now lay on its side on the floor next to the counter.
Bronson stepped out to the side, giving the counter a wide berth, and quickly flashed his beam down behind it. Nothing except a couple of cigarette packs, apparently dropped on the floor while the thieves were grabbing them from the shelves behind the counter. He was relieved not to find some security guard's carcass back here, but at the same time, it wasn't exactly encouraging to see that yes, the cash register had been screwed to the counter, and there were four holes and a dusty square left behind on the smooth plastic to show where it had been ripped from its spot. The barest glance at the machine, whose tray hung open, even on its side, told him that it had been picked clean, so he turned around and looked down the back as Comet emerged from one of the aisles. She looked at him and shook her head, and he nodded down the stubby hallway next to the ice drink machine. There were three doors down the hall, and the first was an "Employees Only" room, which remained locked, but there were a few dents in it, as if the thieves had tried to break in and get the security footage... though admittedly Bronson wasn't sure those dents hadn't already been there. The second one was a single-occupant public bathroom that looked clean enough, but neither reindeer felt much urge to stick around. The third and final door, however, was an exit, leading out into the lot behind the store. Stepping outside, the officers didn't immediately notice anything except dumpsters, a discarded jean jacket (which looked to have been there long before this robbery), and a very long fence running along the length of the complex the store was built into. "We should go back," Bronson sighed, "Wait for backup, make sure nobody else takes advantage of the window." Comet squinted in the bright light and walked forward, turning off her flashlight and pocketing it as she went. Kneeling next to the fence, she beckoned her partner closer without looking at him. "Hey, Twist, look at this," she called. Shrugging, Bronson put his own light away and walked over. His eyebrows raised as he saw what she was looking at. A crisp, clean twenty dollar note lying in the gravel next to the fence, weighed down by a fifty-cent coin. "I'd say somebody climbed over in a hurry," the doe observed, "You wanna go back and hold the perimeter... or you wanna check it out?" She grinned at him almost challengingly, and Bronson found that he couldn't help but grin back. "And leave the fun to someone else?" he asked, facetiously, "Let's take a look."
Fence climbing had been part of their physical training, so within moments, both cops had hopped over to the other side. They were immediately confronted by a set of tire tread marks running down the alley they found themselves in. "Looks like they were nervous, peeled out when they left," Bronson said, "Bastards floored it right off the bat." "There's more rubber down the alley, look," Comet observed, gesturing to a turn-off helpfully indicated by some thick black streaks. They walked over and found a narrower alley that only went to one opening, so they started following it. "I can still smell those marks, we must have just missed them," Bronson said, "I'd say 'the tracks are still warm', but in this weather? Everything's warm." This time, Comet thought they'd lost the trail, but as they examined the open space they found themselves in, an awkwardly-shaped, pointless area probably found just off the edges of the maps of all the developers around here, Bronson found something by the open entrance to an industrial park. "Would you look at that," he said, poking at a pristine cigarette with a pen, "I'm not in the habit myself, but I'm pretty sure you're only supposed to toss them when you smoke 'em down to the butt." "Why would they have gone in there, though?" Comet asked, "I haven't been in this part of town for years, but I don't think there's anything in there except factories and warehouses." Bronson shrugged, then delicately rolled the cig into an evidence baggie, careful only to touch it with the pen, before standing up and strolling into the industrial park. This area was much more wide-open than the back alleys they'd emerged from, an enormous, open area filled with perfectly rectangular grey buildings for the sorts of businesses that never interact with the public, the sort of businesses where image is nothing and practicality is everything; factories, corporate offices, distribution centres, storage warehouses, all of these and more stood around them, built to line up neatly on an invisible grid so that even the layout was boring. Given the time, most of these places were full of workers, but then, most of these places had no windows, and even if they had, the people inside would be rather distracted by doing their jobs - at least if they were doing them right. Comet looked around, having put her Game Face back on as the trail ran out. As Bronson frowned in annoyance, the doe gestured to the nearest building. "No windows on any of these, they want the workers focused," she said, as if she'd read her partner's thoughts, "Maybe we'll get really, really lucky and someone was on a smoke break, got a look at the car."
Feeling frustrated at the lack of evidence, and disappointed that their wild goose chase had, in fact, failed to capture any metaphorical untamed waterfowl, Bronson nodded sullenly. "Yeah, I guess so... There have got to be outdoor security cameras around here, right?" he asked, rhetorically, "Maybe we can canvas the place, see if we can grab a plate... but it'll take bloody ages to talk to all of these companies and get them to give us the footage..." He stopped as he felt a hand on his shoulder. Comet had let her stern appearance melt away, to be replaced with a softer, more supportive expression. "Hey, don't take it personally," she said, "It's not like they killed the Prime Minister on our watch. And we found the place way before the owner would have realized he'd been robbed and called it in, so there might be a better chance to catch these assholes before they disappear on us." He sighed and nodded as she kneaded his shoulder. "You're right, you're right, it's just..." He looked back the way they'd come before he continued, saying "I'm kind of a regular at that place, you know? I know it's just a convenience store, and I know they get knocked over all the damn time, but... I know the guys who own that one, and they're good men. Malik is so proud of the place, you'd think he was running the next Google instead of a shop where people buy milkshakes and chips." "Though hopefully not at the same time," Comet deadpanned, and Bronson snickered - and then his eyes narrowed just slightly. While glancing back the way they'd come, something caught his eye. He swallowed his playful 'Don't knock it 'til you've tried it' comeback and put milkshakes and chips out of his mind. "Hey... look at that," he said, nodding towards one building in particular, "Parking lot's totally empty... except for one SUV." Comet nodded thoughtfully and crossed her arms. "Doesn't mean it's our getaway vehicle," she observed, "We don't even know what kind of car it was, and that could be a janitor or a watchman or something. Hell, just because we don't see any cars in the lot doesn't mean there isn't another lot on the other side of the building." She didn't sound like she was actually trying to convince Bronson he was wrong. The smile was a dead giveaway. "True, true," the buck conceded, "But you know what else I don't see in that parking lot? A great big sign that says 'no trespassing'." Comet's grin widened. "Well, in that case," she replied, "Let's go take a closer look."
Once they'd walked across the industrial park, the reindeer discovered something they both found very interesting: the sign next to the parking lot's entrance had a large logo on it... that had been covered up with a FOR LEASE sign. "This warehouse went out of business," Bronson said, unnecessarily, "This is an old sign too, that car wouldn't be someone collecting their stuff before leaving." "You're right," Comet said, "And the park would just lock the building up until someone bought the lease, that wouldn't be a security guard or a cleaning crew, either. I mean, I suppose it could be -" "Comet?" Bronson interrupted, pointing, "The car's still running." The doe leaned around the side of the sign and blinked; indeed, the SUV, though empty and deserted, was still on, the engine quietly purring away. "Somebody left it in an awful hurry..." she said, quietly. After a moment, she turned to her partner; that tense, professional expression had returned to her features. "Well, Senior Twist," she said, "What do you say we do the courteous thing and go tell the owner he's draining his batteries?" "Sounds good to me, Senior Starbuck," he said, stroking his chin sagely, "And if we just happen to find evidence linking him with a crime while we're being polite, well, we'll just have to act on it, like good, responsible officers of the law. After you!"
The two of them weren't overly surprised to find that the front door was unlocked, and so they carefully crept inside. They hadn't been stupid about it, of course, they'd radioed in to inform the dispatcher of what they were doing, and they were fully willing to quietly retreat and call for reinforcements if they found, for example, that they'd actually stumbled across some kind of secret arms deal instead of their amateur convenience store robbers. But for the moment, the officers were stealthily making their way around the warehouse; the power was still on, someone had turned on the overhead lights, and it seemed whoever had owned the place had abandoned quite a lot of crates when they left. Whether there was anything in those crates remained to be seen, but hey, they made decent cover for the moment in what would otherwise be enormous rows of empty shelves. Bronson stopped dead in his tracks as he heard voices up ahead, swallowing as he glanced at his partner. The doe nodded slightly, to indicate she heard it too, and flicked an ear, trying to make out the conversation. Moving down lower to the ground, Bronson began to creep forward along the crates, much more slowly, more cautiously than before. They approached the edge of one set of shelves, and the voices were coming from an open area on the floor between them and the next set of shelves, an unobstructed walkway probably there to make it easier for the abandoned forklifts littering the warehouse to get through. "I still don't get why we're dumpin' all this shit here, man," came a grumpy voice from that open area, "We went to a lotta trouble to get our hands on it!" Pressing himself against a crate and carefully peeking around the edge without exposing too much of himself (something that was actually rather difficult for the buck, thanks to the antlers sticking out of the top of his head), Bronson saw a couple of young men. He assumed the complaint had come from the dingo in the sleeveless shirt (which read, in large letters, 'Hello, My Name is: Eat Shit'), as he was easily the poutier of the two men. A rhinoceros who was fiddling with a crate gave him an annoyed look. "Dammit, if I didn't know how much of a dumbass you are, I'd think you was trying to piss me off!" he grumbled, "It's simple, even your stupid baby-eating ass should be able to get it." "Hey, fuck you, Carl, that shit's specist!" protested the dingo. "Talk to the horn," the rhino said, unmoved, "Look, whoever owns that fuckin' store is gonna call the cops, right? So the jacks will be lookin' for people trying to sell a shitload of smokes. But it's not like we fuckin' killed anybody, so this isn't gonna be priority one or anything. So we stash 'em here, since nobody's been here in forever, then we wait a while, 'til the heat dies down and nobody cares anymore, and then we come back and get the smokes, make a profit off 'em." Sighing, Carl's expression softened just slightly. "It's a good plan, Sea Bass, chill," he said, more gently, "I know what I'm talkin' about, done this before." The dingo, 'Sea Bass' apparently, let out a disgruntled huff. "Fine, fine, shit..." he grumbled, adding after a moment "But I'm still pissed about that baby eating shit!" Carl looked back at him and grumbled loudly. "Alright, great, you're pissed off," he muttered, "Fuckin' sorry. I'll buy you a fuckin' beer later, just shut up!"
That seemed to placate the dingo at least somewhat, and at that moment, Carl's struggles bore fruit, as the top of the crate wrenched open. "Finally!" Carl said, "Give me a hand here, gotta get all this shit out, figure out where to put it so nobody notices." The muscular rhino started pulling - well, something, but Bronson wasn't sure what the little metal-and-plastic thingies were, some kind of engine part maybe - out of the crate, and the dingo walked over to help him. Leaning back out of view, Bronson turned around to face his partner, who looked at him expectantly. She'd heard as much as he had, but hadn't seen anything. He held up two fingers, and she nodded. "This is your play, Twist," she whispered, "How do you want to handle it?" "I think a simple approach will work best here," he replied, confidently, "I'll introduce myself, and you circle around behind them, cut off the direct route to the emergency exit. If I take on the dingo, can you handle the rhino?" Despite the situation, the doe smirked as she peeked around the corner to size up the suspects. "Choosing to interpret that as questioning my fighting skills and not as condescending bullshit because I'm a woman..." Bronson blushed as she pointedly trailed off, and Comet's smile widened as she finished, adding "Yeah, I can kick that rhino's ass."
After silently counting down from an arbitrary number, Bronson stood up and waltzed out into view, putting his hands on his hips as he raised his voice. "You know, boys, all those cigarettes belong to someone else," he said, gesturing needlessly to the pile of cartons filled with individual packs of smokes, as both suspects jumped slightly, "And saying as I know the guy, I'm pretty confident he's going to want them back." The two thugs whirled around, looking most displeased. The annoyed look that had been on Carl's face before was nothing compared to the burning anger there now. "Fuck! The jacks are here!" Sea Bass cried unhappily. "I can see that, dumbass!" growled Carl, who was already cracking his knuckles. "Victoria Police!" shouted Comet, as she emerged from the aisles behind them, her collapsible baton already in hand. "Shit..." the rhinoceros swore, clearly not happy to see her. Bronson fingered his handcuffs, but left them on his belt for the moment. "You two are under arrest for burglary," Comet said, authoritatively, as she engaged in a staring contest with Carl, whose ears were twitching with agitation, "Would you like to add anything, Senior Twist?" "That depends on my mood, Senior Starbuck," Bronson replied, "What about it, boys? Are you two going to come quietly and make it easier on yourselves?" Carl and Sea Bass silently exchanged a look. Suddenly, with a burst of movement, Sea Bass hurled the doohickey in his hand at Bronson, who ducked aside, drawing his own baton as he did so, just as Carl kicked the crate aside with a blow that sent splinters flying, clearing the path between himself and Comet. "Not likely, dickhead!" Sea Bass shouted, and then it was on.
Bronson hurried forward to engage with the dingo before they both tried to gang up on Comet. Seeing him coming, the wild dog snarled at him, baring all of his teeth, and moved to meet him. Sea Bass swung the first punch, one that Bronson easily deflected, but the dingo was faster than he looked, and he followed the swing by bringing his knee up into Bronson's gut. That hurt, but even as he bent forward, the buck defended his vulnerable position by swinging out with the baton. Sea Bass leaned back but caught the tip of the stick on his snout, yelping at the glancing blow and growling something very unpleasant about his opponent's mother as he grabbed his nose and blinked away the reflexive tears. Bronson stood up and the two of them took a moment to size each other up more carefully, having traded blows now, but Comet was involved with a fight of her own. Carl, who boasted the thick, muscular physique his species tended towards, let out his breath in a huff through his nostrils, and then followed his instincts by ducking his head and charging towards the doe. Her eyes widened, her expression silently proclaiming oh fuck, and she threw herself aside just as the massive man thundered past her, quickly bringing himself to a stop - but not before his momentum carried his horn into a crate sitting atop another crate. The unfortunate container sailed off of its perch, a great big hole smashed in the side, and Carl, completely unfazed by the impact, stood up and turned around to face Comet again. It was clear that against such an opponent, it was important to prevent him from being able to use such a devastating move, so Comet rushed in close to him, swinging her baton as she arrived. Carl blocked the strike with his forearm, but he snarled as the blow landed. He was tough, but not impervious.
Across the way, Bronson brought his free hand up in a low punch, catching the dingo in the side, but Sea Bass just flinched and kicked the reindeer in the shin. Growling, the canine lunged forward unexpectedly, grabbing onto Bronson's shoulder epaulets with both hands, and before he could break the grapple, the buck was swung to the side and slammed backwards against the end of one of the aisles. The purely practical design meant that one of the shelves jabbed Bronson in the small of the back, hard, but most of the blow was blocked by his bulletproof vest. Unfortunately, Sea Bass followed this up by letting go of one of Bronson's shoulders, dropping that hand a little, and driving a quick uppercut into Bronson's chin, which snapped his head back - directly into one of the upright beams built into the shelving unit. He saw stars from that one, but he raised both hands, holding the baton sideways, and blindly shoved forward with all of his strength, pushing the dingo backwards. "Stupid fuckin' jacks!" Sea Bass snarled, "It's just a bunch 'a smokes! We didn't hurt nobody!" Blinking the stars away, Bronson was greeted with the sight of the dingo moving forward again, arms raised as if to strangle the buck, so Bronson feinted a poke forward with the baton, and then, when Sea Bass dropped his arms to protect his stomach, the buck swung the baton back and around, catching him full force on the side of the head. The dingo staggered, crying out in pain and raising one hand to his temple. Pressing his advantage, Bronson quickly circled to the side and lifted a hoof, kicking the man in the back of the knee as hard as he could. Sea Bass' leg gave out and he fell awkwardly into a kneeling position. Not intending to give his opponent a second chance to surprise him, Bronson pulled back with the baton and then let the man have it, striking the dingo in the back of the head with a blow that made a satisfying thwack. Sea Bass pitched forward onto his stomach, reaching up to hold the back of his head as he groaned and whimpered.
"Do yourself a favour, stay down!" Bronson said, with utter sincerity. Finally having a moment to pay attention to her, Bronson turned to his partner, and saw that Carl had grabbed Comet by the wrist, pinning it against the rack of shelves next to them and preventing her from using her baton. He kept trying to headbutt her, but the doe, whose confident Game Face was intact, kept deflecting his blows, pushing that horn off to the side by blocking it with her own impressive rack of antlers. The rhino pulled Comet's hand away from the shelves for a moment before slamming it back against them with a great deal of force, then repeated the motion, causing her hand to open in pain and the baton to fall away. "Fuckin' stick hurts, bitch!" he snarled, and Bronson suddenly noticed an impressive bruise already forming on the side of Carl's face. "Now it's a fair fight!" the rhino said. He pushed her away and raised his meaty fists as Bronson called out to her. "Comet!" Before he could go to her, though, Bronson heard a groaning Sea Bass start to rise, and the reindeer swore, dropping down to force the dingo down again, pulling out his handcuffs as he did so. Sea Bass' struggles were feeble, obligatory, but it still kept Bronson from helping Comet, and he hated the dog for that. Comet ducked forward and drove an impressive jab straight to Carl's sternum, but between his size and his thick rhino skin, he barely took a single step backwards. She followed it up with a roundhouse punch to the face, but he easily blocked it as his hands raised up. "I'm a boxing champ, you stupid whore," Carl bragged, "You're really in for it now!" Comet stepped back, out of range, as he swung a massive fist forward. "Is that so?" she asked, panting. Carl just chuckled. The cruel grin on his face didn't last long before he lunged forward again, bellowing in fury as he drove his fist towards the much smaller woman - and Comet effortlessly sidestepped the punch, raising her hand to reveal a small canister, and pressed down on the top, blasting Carl full in the face with pepper spray. "Aaaaahhh! Motherfucker! G-goddammit!" he screamed, stumbling away and bringing both hands to his face, shaking his head and coughing hard, swearing incoherently when he could get a breath in. Comet stepped around behind him, moved forward, and grabbed the blinded rhino by the collar, before roughly bending him forward with a shove, slamming his chest down against the top of a crate hard enough for even Bronson to wince at the sound. As Comet pulled out her handcuffs and began reading Carl his rights, Bronson smiled in admiration and returned his attention to Sea Bass, who had given up the struggle once his own cuffs were in place.
A few minutes later, Bronson and Comet had read the thieves their rights, confiscated the cigarettes as evidence, and dragged the grumpy thugs out to the car. Conveniently, they had brought the divisional van, which was both nicely secure, and had plenty of room for the two criminals to sit and stew over what they'd done. Finally having a moment to breathe after they slammed the van's rear door, the reindeer turned to each other, smiling softly. "Nice work in there, partner," Bronson said, "You sure took the wind out of his sails." The doe waved dismissively. "Eh, one look at the guy and I knew I'd never bring him down hand-to-hand," she replied, "but when I was closing in to give him the spray, the ugly bastard grabbed me, I was stuck too close to him to use it without blinding myself." "So you were just waiting for him to let you go?" Bronson asked, chuckling, "That takes serious brass!" Grinning, Comet tapped a fingernail against her badge. "Comes with the job description," she said. "How're you holding up? Sounded like that dingo slapped you around a little." Nodding, Bronson reached up and gingerly touched the back of his head. "I might have somebody take a look at my head, and he probably left a bruise on my stomach," he acknowledged, "But it's like they say..." "You should see the other guy?" Comet asked, rubbing at the wrist that Carl had been manhandling. Bronson snickered. "Exactly." They climbed back into the car, with Bronson driving again, and as they started back to the station, Comet called in to inform the dispatcher of what had happened, and advised their brothers in arms to send a team to go over the warehouse more thoroughly, in case Carl had stashed any other illicit goodies here before this ill-fated trip with Sea Bass.
Things had gone pretty smoothly from there; upon arriving at the station, Bronson and Comet had proudly dragged the day's catch through the front entryway and lead them to the interview rooms. Upon checking Sea Bass' driver's licence, Bronson was amused to discover the dingo's real name was 'Sebastian Pierce Montgomery, Jr.'. He and his partner-in-crime, Carl Walker, were both in the system already, as this wasn't their first offence, or their first time being booked in a police station. After the mugshots were taken, and the thugs safely locked up in holding, a little of the pride wore off as the reindeer were hustled off to one of Bronson's least favourite parts of the job: paperwork. First, they both had to give an excruciatingly detailed statement in an interview with another officer, to make sure they had the entire situation covered, should it come up in court, and then they sat down to do it all over again, more or less, this time in writing, not to mention filling out crime reports, charge sheets, and all kinds of other fun documents that keep the long arm of the law running smoothly behind the scenes.
Eventually, it had mercifully come to an end, and Bronson was visited by Senior Sergeant Dearborn, who congratulated the buck on a job well done, and commending him for catching the two thieves on the same day as their crime, and on his own first day with a new partner, no less. When the bearded lizard had left, Bronson's shift finally came to an end, and he took a very long shower in the locker room to soothe his muscles. As he came out of the locker room, he found Comet there, leaning against a wall, looking even more attractive with her hair down and wearing tight jeans and a leather jacket. He kept the image of her in uniform in mind, though; nice body or not, she was still a cop, and the last thing he needed was to make this job more complicated. Too bad, though, she was a hell of a woman... Catching that last thought as his eyes trailed down to her shapely legs, Bronson frowned and embarrassedly cleared his throat to get her attention. "Evening, Comet," he said, "Waiting for someone?" She turned to him and smiled a dazzling grin. "Yeah," the doe replied, "my partner. I wanted to thank you for, ah, showing a girl a good time today. And to ask if you got someone to take a look at that head of yours." Bronson nodded, his smile falling away as he averted his gaze. "Oh, yeah, popped into medical before I started all that fun with pens and papers," he said, "Ah... bad news." He sighed loudly as a look of concern swept across Comet's beautiful features. Before she could ask, he looked up from the floor and made eye contact, sounding as grim as possible as he delivered the news. "I'm gonna live," he said, "Actually, I'm gonna be fine. Sorry, partner, it looks like you're stuck with me." She laughed at that, and the smile he'd been suppressing grew across his face. "You ass!" she said, bopping him on the shoulder, "You had me going there!" Together, they started walking towards the side exit. "Gotta say, I'm glad to have you watching my back out there, Comet," he said, "See you on Monday?" Comet stopped and turned to him with a smile as they stepped out the door, lingering on the steps.
"Actually... I wanted to thank you for, you know, not being an asshole," she said, "I was worried I'd catch shit today because I'm new here, or because I'm a woman, you know how it is, but you worked with me, took me seriously, and I appreciate that." She briefly looked away and took a breath before looking back into the buck's eyes and smirking. "So I wanted to ask you, I only just moved back to the city, but I've already found this place near my apartment, serves liquor and a pretty decent dinner menu, if you haven't eaten yet," Comet said, "So... How about it, Bronson? You wanna go get a drink?" Bronson swallowed as he took in the happy look on the doe's face. She wanted to thank him for being a good partner, that was obvious... but there was a hint of maybe something more in those eyes, too... Something intriguing. Slowly grinning, Bronson nodded. "...Yeah," he finally replied, "Yeah, that sounds great, partner. Let me get my car, and then you lead the way." Comet turned and headed off towards wherever she'd parked, slowing to look over her shoulder at him, seeming delighted. "Perfect! It's a date!" she called, and turned away. This time, no matter how much he tried to ignore the teasing feelings inside him, Bronson couldn't help but check out Comet's pert ass and soft tuft of a tail as she walked away. Finally tearing his eyes away, he chuckled to himself and headed in the opposite direction, towards his own car. Things were getting interesting, he thought. They'd had a productive day, the heat finally seemed to be dying down, and now he was getting drinks with a beautiful woman, even if she was his partner. As he started the engine and saw Comet pull out of her parking space, flashing her headlights to draw his attention, Bronson smiled eagerly. The shift was over, but the night was just beginning...
It's an ordinary day for Senior Constable Bronson Twist of the Victoria Police when his boss informs him that he's got a new partner, freshly transferred into the area. The two reindeer don't know each other, but all they've got to do is go on a simple patrol of the streets of Melbourne. Shame today's the day trouble decides to rear its ugly head...
This one is a commission for the personable BronsonTwist, an actual officer of the Victoria Police. He actually helped out a bit more directly than many commissioners, since I'm not exactly an expert on the terms and procedures of Australian policemen. :B
It does contain a scene of violence, but it's relatively innocuous, so I don't think an adult or mature rating is necessary. This one worked out pretty well, once I got used to the unfamiliar subject matter, and there's already a follow-up being planned. I hope you guys like it.
BronsonTwist, an actual officer of the Victoria Police. He actually helped out a bit more directly than many commissioners, since I'm not exactly an expert on the terms and procedures of Australian policemen. :B
