Friday, June 13, 2008

IN BLOG WE TRUST - Part 2

Wyatt -
Half a mile away, Detective Gordon walked onto the crime scene with a spring in his step. Although he despised day work, he got over it quickly. Today was his first day working in the Homicide Division, and nothing – not even his first corpse – was going to get him down.

“What do we have?” Gordon asked.

“White male, approximately thirty-five years old, shot twice in the chest with a large caliber pistol,” the patrol officer replied. “We got the call from police radio, but there doesn’t seem to be any witnesses forthcoming. Go figure.”

“Swell,” Gordon said. “Is there any ID on the body?”

“Yeah,” the officer replied. “And you’re not going to like it. This poor sap worked for The Company.”

“Damnit,” Gordon muttered.
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Jim@bRight&Early -
Winchell tried to lose himself in mind-numbing tasks that allowed him time to think. A good plan in theory, but instead of concentrating on the choices that were bearing down on him his mind found more interesting rabbit trails to wander on.

He was making a useless mental list of all of the jobs he held since high school while the computer in front of him crunched data, but otherwise ignored him. Suddenly he became aware that his mind had stopped concentrating on even the things he wasn't getting paid to think about. He was even more aware of the reason why.

Jackie's perfume announced her arrival moments before her head appeared at the cubicle's opening. It wasn't an overpowering scent, but to Winchell it was as powerful a Pavlov's bell.

"Winch", Jackie asked, "have you seen Mikal? He was supposed to join me on a conference call fifteen minutes ago."

"No, I haven't," Winchell replied with just a hint of jealousy. "In fact, now that I think about it, I don't remember seeing 'The Beast' in it's parking spot."
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Captain America -
Amalee pulled the zipper of the black leather boot closed just shy of the back of her knee. She quickly finished changing and dropped the Walther pistol into a clear plastic bag. As she did so she made a mental note of where she would dispose of the weapon. In another minute the curvaceous red head would leave the apartment for good, no trace of her ever being there.
For the other residents of the massive apartment block there would be barely a memory of her and her gentleman caller. She would be just another fleeting face among the thousands who lived in the one hundred and fifty story building.

Her assignment completed she wanted to collect her payment without delay. She knew the resistance was often short on funds and hanging around waiting to get paid with an outlaw weapon wasn't her idea of fun. She slipped another 9mm into her thigh holster(a girl couldn't be too careful) grabbed her bag and looked around one final time. Not a trace.
As the door of the safe apartment closed behind her she could hear the helicopter in the distance. Right on time.

There is a saying in the world of forensics: The criminal always leaves a part of them self behind.
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Go To Part 3 . . . . .

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13 Comments:

At 12:29 PM, Blogger Wyatt Earp said...

This is getting really good. Best idea you've ever had, Deathlok!

 
At 1:51 PM, Blogger momster said...

Wyatt's right, great story.

 
At 1:51 PM, Blogger momster said...

This comment has been removed by the author.

 
At 6:51 PM, Blogger RT said...

This is cool! :)

 
At 12:21 AM, Blogger RT said...

I nominate Captain America to be tagged since Jim didn't tag anyone. :)

 
At 6:55 AM, Anonymous Jim said...

Oh crap! I forgot that part. Thanks RT, sounds good to me.

 
At 2:19 PM, Blogger Captain America said...

Amalee pulled the zipper of the black leather boot closed just shy of the back of her knee. She quickly finished changing and dropped the Walther pistol into a clear plastic bag. As she did so she made a mental note of where she would dispose of the weapon. In another minute the curvaceous red head would leave the apartment for good, no trace of her ever being there.
For the other residents of the massive apartment block there would be barely a memory of her and her gentleman caller. She would be just another fleeting face among the thousands who lived in the one hundred and fifty story building.

Her assignment completed she wanted to collect her payment without delay. She knew the resistance was often short on funds and hanging around waiting to get paid with an outlaw weapon wasn't her idea of fun. She slipped another 9mm into her thigh holster(a girl couldn't be too careful) grabbed her bag and looked around one final time. Not a trace.
As the door of the safe apartment closed behind her she could hear the helicopter in the distance. Right on time.

There is a saying in the world of forensics: The criminal always leaves a part of them self behind.

I tag OLD NFO for the next entry.

 
At 3:36 PM, Blogger Old NFO said...

Tagged from Capt America-

What Gordon didn't know was the ID had already been passed to Dispatch and they had keyed the name into the NCIC database, which popped a screen alert inside a government facility located outside Washington, DC.

LT Ambler sat up quickly when the alert popped in, as this was the first real alert he had ever seen.

He scrambled through his checklist and started notifications up the chain, even as he copied off the specifics of the query-

Time- 0950

Location- Philly

Query Orig- Philly PD Dispatch- query for Mikal Rosakoff

Query Type- Standard wants and warrarents, address, SSN, DL, etc.

"Mister" Firestone arrived before Col Hart, and immediately started quizzing Ambler, even though there was no additional information available and everything was still on the screen. LT Ambler simply handed the log to "Mister" Firestone, and waited for the Colonel.

When the Colonel arrived, he asked what else LT Ambler had done, the LT said, "Nothing Sir, didn't want to start a proxy check as this might be a routine request from a traffic stop or something like that."

The Colonel said, "Well, go ahead and activate the tracker, lets see what Mr. Rosakoff is up to right now."

Lt Ambler, turning slightly to block is access code, keyed in the command to activate the tracker, and waited for the ping and cycles to finish their secure protocols.

Suddenly he leaned toward the screen, then said, "Col, he's dead! Looks like he is in Philly, but I've got to translate these points onto an area map to confirm exact location."

Colonel Hart leaned over, picked up the phone, dialed a 16 digit number and as soon as it was answered said, "Activate Sureshot Protocol"; then hung up.

I tag Snigs.

 
At 4:12 PM, Blogger RT said...

Dannnnnnnnnng!

Deathlok, could you post all of them in order so the next person doesn't get lost (and so I can read it in order)...ha! :)

This is a good story!

 
At 8:48 PM, Blogger Snigglefrits said...

Tagged by NFO-

Winchell tried to concentrate on his assigned work without much luck. Every since Jackie brought it to his attention Mikal was nowhere to be found, he’d been concerned.

Mikal hadn’t been very reliable recently. He’d show up for work late and leave early, but he always did at least show up. He’d known Mikal for what seemed like forever, but lately they never talked and water cooler rumors had spread like wildfire.

Mikal was hanging out in the shadier part of town. He was seeing questionable women. Some rumors even claimed he had a drug problem. Knowing the results of the random drug testing The Company regularly did proved the last rumor to be untrue, so Winchell wasn’t sure the others were any more accurate.

He glanced over at Jackie. Every time the door opened, her head snapped toward it. As the day wore on, her look of concern grew. She been trying to call him every five minutes, getting nothing but voicemail.

Winchell thought about calling someone, but was at a loss as to who to call. Mikal had no family left and had long been divorced. Briefly, he considered calling Andrea, the ex-wife, but quickly nixed that idea. Andrea considered The Company to be what ended their marriage. She didn’t take kindly to anyone remotely involved with the company calling on her, for any reason. Since she now had her perfect husband, 2 kids, and white picket fence out in the suburbs, it wasn’t likely she’d know what was going on with Mikal anyway.

Winchell stood up and stretched. It wasn’t like him to involve himself in the lives of others, but this was Mikal. No matter how distant they were now, they had once been close friends.

He walked over to Jackie. “After work, why don’t we ride over to Mikal’s place and see if he’s dodging our calls or sick. Maybe he had one too many last night and turned the ringer off on his phone?”.

Jackie knitted her brows together. “I don’t know. Something just doesn’t feel right. I can’t put my finger on it, but something is just not right. Are we taking your car or mine?”.
----
Everyone I'd tag is either already on or going on vacation soon. Sorry to flip it back to you, Deathlok, but it will continue sooner that way I imagine.

 
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