Previous Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 & Part 5. Other stories plus more excellence located her in the library
**
Apartment 2000, W 150th St, NYC
Molly Von Richthofen waited patiently for the lift. It’d been a long day full of drama and weirdness; which was pretty much how every day rolled along as a member of New York’s finest. Jessica had gone awol, Dallas had a run in with her old, well she wasn’t too sure on what her time together with Dr Wirtham would be classified as ; anyway it’d gotten Dallas’ all riled up add that to Jessica walking off the job. She’d threatened to tell Captain Burdick but it was just that, a threat.
The lift shuddered as it arrived and creaked open. Molly was always a little worried that she’d be stuck in the metal box one day mainly as it could possibly qualify as THE worst lift in the city. She checked her phone thankful she had some signal just in case she had to call for help. The lift squealed all the way up to her floor.
Molly thankfully got out and walked the long corridor to her apartment. The muted tones of classical music emanated from Mr Sturm’s apartment across the hall as the mangy grey cat that didn’t seem to belong to anyone yet haunted the hallways bolted at her approach. Molly took out her keys when she noticed a light under her door. She took a step back and drew her gun.
“Picked the wrong apartment,” she said quietly as she kicked open her door “NYPD! Nobody move!”
Amy Chen slowly raised her hands, a sheepish smile on her face.
“I nearly shot you!” cried Molly as she holstered her gun.
“Um surprise,” Amy glided across the room and kissed her gently on the lips.
“Why didn’t you call?” asked Molly between exchanges.
“Spoil the surprise. Miss me?”
Molly grabbed hold of Amy and they tumbled to the floor, shedding clothes as fast as they could.
**
Latverian Bier Café, 221 5th Ave New York
Dallas Riordan looked intently into the eyes of the portrait of Victor Von Doom. “I bet you smell,” she pondered aloud “All that metal armour would make it like a sauna.”
“Something tells me you’d say that to his face,” said Dr Elias Wirtham as he stood nearby. “May I join you?”
Dallas rolled her eyes “An effing bad day may continue into a bad night. Go ahead.”
Elias sat next to her “What do you recommend?”
“First taxi outta here,” she sneered before having a sip of her large stein.
“You’re mad.”
Dallas nodded “Damn right.”
“How can I make it up to you?”
“See that door, the one with the exit sign over it,” Dallas pointed across the room.
“Dallas, you’re a lovely and bright and astounding young woman,” Elias stood up “But you are such a selfish, self centred bitch.”
“Hey! Now yo..”
“No, you listen.” Elias sat back down “We had a date and I was called away to save someone’s life who’d been attacked by a maniac! They would’ve died otherwise! I am sorry that you got all dressed up but if you ask me to choose between my job and you, you’ll lose! Imagine if it was reversed and you were called away for police business?”
Dallas grabbed her drink and tossed the beer into his face with a splash. Elias sat there stunned, dripping. She leant in and planted a passionate kiss on his lips before pushing him away. “Don’t call me a bitch.”
Dallas winked and left the bar as a large Latverian bouncer, who could possibly be mistaken for a trimmed circus bear, came over to see what the commotion was about. Elias wiped his eyes.
“What just happened?”
**
One Police Plaza, Interrogation Room 7
“I WANT A LAWYER!” yelled Trapster as he paced back and forth like a confused zoo animal in a small enclosure. “NOW!”
Detective Ishmael Ortega looked to his partner Detective Gustave Kucharsky and shrugged. “I don’t think you yelled loud enough.”
Pete Petruski slammed his fists on the desk and scowled at the pair “Don’t mess with me! Do you know who I am?”
“Glue gun man?” replied Ortega as he consulted the file.
“I’M THE ^%$&*G TRAPSTER!”
“The ^%$&*g Trapster?” replied Kucharsky “That’s a pretty rude moniker.”
Pete kicked his chair over in frustration “I WANT MY LAWYER!”
“Oh, you want a lawyer,” replied Ortega as he stood and stretched as he nodded to his partner who slid his chair back and stood on it.
“What are you doing?” asked Pete.
“Disabling the camera so we can kick the $#!t out of you,” said Kucharsky with a smile.
“I know who you are Peter Petruski,” Ortega said as he walked around the table menacingly.
“I want my lawyer,” said Trapster, less confident as the two detectives headed his way. He just noticed that this was an odd room, not having the usual glass wall.
“You’re going to need a doctor,” laughed Kucharsky as he cracked his knuckles.
**
“Where’s Petruski?” Lieutenant Stone asked Harry the desk clerk. Harry looked up and pointed down the hall.
“Room seven. The unpronounceable brothers took him for a late night tour.”
Lt Stone shook his head “I’m under enough scrutiny without those two going old school on a suspect. Thanks Harry.”
Stone stalked down the corridor.
**
Undisclosed location
James Riordan gasped for breath as the ice cold water shocked him back to consciousness. He tried to talk but a large wad of something held his mouth open whilst ropes and chains kept him tied to a chair. A man in black with a wide brimmed hat stood over him.
“I am The Man With No Face!” he hissed as he tossed the bucket aside, his black cloak-jacket flapping almost of its own accord. James tried to speak but to no avail. The Man reached over and tore the gaffer tap off.
“That has got to be the stupidest name for a bad guy I have ever heard,” coughed James. The Man With No Face reached a hand out, turning it intangible and inserting it into James’ pectoral muscle. The old man screamed.
“I have been hired to torture you and then kill you, as a warning to your daughter,” said The Man With No Face as James panted.
“You touch my daughter,” wheezed James “I’ll effing kill you!”
The Man inserted two fingers intangibly into the other pec muscle causing another howl “I doubt that.”
**
344 W 121st St, Apartment 3
Dallas rolled out of her bed with a thump. Her head ached from the night’s drinking to chase away feeling had only really damaged her brain and delayed the inevitable. She fumbled for her glasses as she spied a shape in her bedroom.
“Oh please tell me I didn’t hook up with…” Dallas stopped as she focused on the bald woman in pink standing at the end of her bed. “Oh god I’ve turned into Molly!”
The woman looked at Dallas, “I’m going to need ten thousand dollars from you.”
Dallas got up and held up her badge that was on the bedside table “Lady, prostitution is illegal and so is extortion. Let’s just call tonight an exp…”
“Your father is going to be killed in less than three hours unless you hand over some serious cash Dallas Riordan!” snapped the bald woman.
To be continued...
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