Prompt Post: ROUND EIGHT
ROUND EIGHT IS CLOSED
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<< ROUND SEVEN | ALL ROUNDS | ROUND NINE >>
Rules post.
Posting Guidelines.
Flat view.
Updates Post (WIPs only)
Fills Post (completed Fills only)
damalur's firstclasskink on Delicious.
Volunteers always welcome.
Please use the Discussion Post if you want to talk about community alterations or get starshipbadass' modly attention. Do not ( Read more... )
Oh shit, this must be the guy Officer Lehnsherr warned me about.
He puffed out his chest and braced himself for impact.
“Can someone explain to me what is going on here!?” Charles yelled, blue eyes flashing and frustrated almost to the point of flailing.
The redhead immediately deflated with a flinch before replying meekly. So much for that.
“Um, we’re apprehending a suspect…and uh…” The young officer promptly shut his mouth as he felt a hand clap him hard on the back. He turned to stare wide eyed at his superior, who’d somehow appeared out of thin air.
“Cassidy, go ahead and bring him back to the station. I’ll take it from here.”
Looking relieved to be out of the crosshairs, the young man nodded eagerly and got into the cruiser, starting the engine.
“Xavier?” Erik exclaimed, feigning surprise. “You look-” he stopped to give Charles a quick once over, upper lip curling, “-- well.”
Charles glowered. “Lehnsherr,” he simply said in acknowledgment.
Erik Lehnsherr, his arch-rival from the WCPD, smiled broadly in return before pursing his lips thoughtfully.
“I wasn’t aware you were still stationed here. Thought you’d been reassigned elsewhere.”
Of course this was a lie.
Erik knew that Charles still worked at No. 217. In fact, he knew everything about Charles. (You see, there was a definite perk in belonging to the force, as Erik discovered years ago -- unlimited access to private department records at the stroke of a keyboard.)
Erik stared up at the building behind Charles absently before bringing his gaze back to the firefighter and continuing with the obligatory small talk, if only to irk the poor man further. “Anyhow, my apologies for the kid - he’s a rookie and still needs to learn the ropes.”
Charles ignored Erik's reference to Officer Cassidy and, instead, gestured to the officer's uniform, his fury momentarily ebbing and replaced with mild confusion and growing amusement.
“What’s with the get-up, Lehnsherr? You’re a motorcycle cop now?” He let out a laugh, taking in the sight -- Erik was dressed in a form-fitting navy blue standard uniform, black motorcycle boots that shone in the sun, and dark sunglasses. The only thing needed to complete the look was the helmet, which was missing. Charles thought he looked ridiculous and inwardly smirked.
It was fitting attire for a "pig" like Erik Lehnsherr.
During their last encounter, Lehnsherr had practically bragged to him about coming close to pulling detective rank, not working some dead end traffic detail...
So what the hell was this?
Erik rolled his eyes, wishing the shorter man wouldn’t bring up his temporary demotion. “Only through the weekend,” was the grudging response he received.
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“You look like the cop from the Village People...”
Erik sneered. “You’re one to talk - you’re a fireman. Now that was the real flamer of the Village People.”
His biting comeback wiped the gleeful look from Charles’ face and he rolled his eyes. “Ha ha. That’s real mature. All right so what’s this all about, Lehnsherr?” he demanded, changing the subject and gestured instead to the commotion at the end of the driveway.
“I caught a guy speeding, he refused to take his ticket, I asked him to step out of the car, and he refused to do that as well, so I told him I’d have to take him in, and then the prick spat in my face and tried to run so I tazered him and now he’s going to county jail,” he explained with a shrug of the shoulder, unfazed by the whole incident. It was pretty typical stuff, really.
Charles stared at him with irritation, tapping his foot impatiently. “Well, that’s very exciting and all for you but why is this happening in front of my firehouse?”
Erik grinned mischievously. “Lucky coincidence…?”
“‘Lucky coincidence’?” Charles parroted, exasperated beyond belief.
A loud, steady beeping suddenly invaded their conversation. A tow truck was now on the scene, reversing onto the driveway to position itself in front of the abandoned Camaro.
Charles glanced at this and then back at Erik with murderous intent-- there was a cruiser, a motorbike, a Camaro, AND a tow truck now sitting in his driveway.
Wonderful. Just fucking wonderful.
Swearing that his vision had literally gone red (much like the Kill Bill Murder Vision™), Charles finally lost it.
“You know you can’t obstruct emergency vehicles! I’ve got a truck and an ambulance in there. What if we get a call? Did you ever think about that?” Charles questioned between clenched teeth, positively seething. “Just because you enforce the law, doesn’t mean you’re above it!” he accused, poking Erik in the chest with a finger to get his point across.
All it did was annoy the officer.
“Oh I’m sorry - I forgot that you people actually work once in a while instead of sitting around all day with your thumbs up your asses, waiting for a call from the neighborhood cat lady about her precious that’s stuck in a tree,” Erik countered heatedly.
“Excuse me,” Charles’ voice had risen a few octaves, “but I’ll have you know that we happen to get many calls during a shift-”
Erik cut him off with a dismissive wave. “Sure, Xavier. Why don’t you go back to polishing your hose or whatever you do while I take care of this mess then, hmm? Would that make you happy, sunshine?”
Charles’ face was turning a bright shade of red. Erik wasn’t sure whether from anger or embarrassment. He’d like to assume both.
He smiled smugly. Baiting Xavier was just too damn easy sometimes.
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Ever since their first meeting over five years ago at a joint police/fire memorial ceremony downtown, he and Lehnsherr had inexplicably developed an intense and legendary rivalry that spiraled uncontrollably into an all-out obsession to constantly best one another.
But no, Charles was wise enough to know when and where to pick his battles.
And as much joy as it would bring him to kick Lehnsherr's scrawny ass, he realized that now was not the time to do so.
Instead, he closed his eyes and silently repeated a mantra he learned during a free meditation class at the YMCA (all thanks their station EMT, Raven Darkholme, who insisted doggedly that he accompany her to the session).
…between rage and serenity. Focus on the point between rage and serenity…
His eyes fluttered open and he felt considerably better, amazed to see that hippie mind tricks actually worked in real life. He felt so much better to the extent that he was willing to let Erik’s comments slide.
“Let’s just keep the snide remarks to a minimum and get the circus out of my driveway, officer,” he said with a tight smile, leaving no room for further discussion. It was civil at best (and all he can manage at this point).
Charles abruptly turned around, intending on fully stomping back into the firehouse where, undoubtedly, he would finally lose his cool again and loudly start bitching to his entire staff about Erik’s blatant disregard for protocols. That is until the man shouted after him.
Erik didn’t know why he was asking this; maybe it was simply habit by now - five years of stalking someone will do that to you.
“Xavier! The Firemen vs. Policemen Chili Cook-Off is next month. You gonna be there or what?”
Charles paused, looking puzzled before an evil grin broke across his face at the mention of the event. “Yeah, I am. What about you?”
“Of course,” Erik smirked. “I’ve got the best chili recipe in the city,” he boasted. “I always grind my competition into the dirt. The Policemen are taking home the prize this year.”
Charles let out a laugh, raising a questioning brow. “Is that a challenge?”
“What do you think, Xavier?”
Charles snorted loudly enough for the man to hear. “You’re all talk, Lehnsherr. And don't worry -- we’ll put your sorry-excuse-for-chili to the test next month,” he promised, stepping past the garage door and jabbing the ‘close’ button forcefully on the panel.
“Now get the hell out of my driveway!” he shouted and threw Erik a quick wave while the door slowly lowered shut. That jerk is going down.
“Bite me, sweetheart!” Erik yelled back, returning the gesture with a cheeky wink.
Yes I went with the chili cookoff. Now LET THE GAMES BEGIN!
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The chili cookoff is almost here!! Yay! Everyone gets free diarrhea! (Wow I actually grossed myself out with that one) O.O
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Can I ask where the picture it's made out of is from? Not for iconning, mostly just for staring at obsessively and trying to persuade myself I am not creepy and hoping I don't somehow get caught by McAvoy or Fassbender in some cruel twist of fate
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I got it from a very lovely comic fill for a "Pretty Woman Prompt" at the The McFassy AU Fest. The artist who made it is really gooood! ^v^ Here's a link to that specific post in her blog ^_^
Stare away!
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Their mutual hatred sounds SUSPICIOUSLY LIKE THEY WANT IN EACH OTHERS' PANTS
I APPROVE :D
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After several weeks of anticipation (and endless promotional commercials on local channels and billboards around town), the day of the 8th Annual Firemen vs. Policemen Chili Cook-Off was finally here. Channel 12 News was even dispatched to provide full media coverage of the event. With the colorful backdrop of the town square and the tents, a slender blonde woman sharply dressed in a white skirt suit stood beside the news van, prepping for the first shot.
Dozens of tents were pitched around the perimeter of park, which was nestled amidst the office buildings in the middle of bustling downtown. A big red fire engine, several police vehicles and an ambulance were sitting alongside food and merchandise vendor trailers in the reserved parking spaces surrounding the square. Many booths were already up and running - there was even a clown making balloon animals and a face painting tent, homemade lemonade and ice-cream stands, and a variety of other booths scattered around the green space.
People were milling about, mostly office workers on their way to work after a visit to Starbucks for an espresso or latte. Others were families with young children who were out of school for summer vacations. They curiously looked over at the police officers and firefighters gathered around the tents, mingling with one another and already slinging the traditional trash talk that came with every year’s competition.
“…the Firefighters won last year’s cook-off, but this year, the Police force is determined to take home the grand prize. Who will reign supreme in the art of chili-making? Will it be the boys in blue of the WCPD or perhaps the stout and hardy souls of the FDWC? We’ll be sure to find out later, but right now it looks like the cooking has just gotten underway. I’m Emma Frost for Channel 12, bringing you live coverage of the 8th Annual Firemen vs. Policemen Chili Cook-Off from downtown Westchester.”
Emma’s big frozen smile fell from her beautiful face as soon as the little red light on Janos’s camera went off. She rolled her eyes with a sigh, tossing the microphone at a deeply bronzed (almost red-skinned) man, who was standing just out of the shot. He deftly caught it before rushing forward to hand her a bottle of Perrier.
Emma took the bottle with a frown, clearly irritated. “Azazel, this isn’t cold.”
“Sorry,” the man named Azazel apologized in a thick, indiscernible accent.
“Whatever,” Emma turned her nose up at him before looking at her cameraman, Janos. “I hope you got all that because I’m not doing it again.” She took a swig of her room temperature Perrier and tried not to gag. Eww.
She was surrounded by such amateurs.
Running a hand through his perfectly coiffed locks, Janos seemed confused. “But Emma, it’s live television. There’s no second takes.”
She ignored him and stomped over to the back to the van and crawled in, muttering something about ‘hating doing fluff pieces’ and ‘fucking chili, who cares?’ before slamming the doors shut in their faces.
Janos shrugged. “Wanna go get some action shots?”
“Sure.”
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Chili! CHILI! It's as American as apple-fucking-pie and I'm swelling with national pride because POLICE and FIREMEN and CHILI and OH MY GOD.
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So far, it was backfiring.
Alex stood there miserably in full turnout gear complete with helmet, an oxygen tank, and mask.
He was sweaty and itchy, wondering why the event couldn't have been indoors with AC or at least during winter where he wouldn't be burning up inside his suit.
He was holding an axe, scowling at everyone who happened to glance his way. Until he spotted Armando approaching. Alex set the axe down and pulled off his helmet, waving him over.
“Hey, man, can we tag out?”
Armando, who was passing by on his way to their tent, looked at Alex like he was crazy.
“What? Why? We just got here.” He was holding a giant pot filled with various kitchen ware and electrical cords.
Alex shrugged and slid his eyes over to the two young children climbing onto the back of the fire truck and screaming at the top of their lungs. Somehow, they were not in the least frightened by Alex’s unwelcoming demeanor. In fact, they had been jumping around and carrying on for the past five minutes, totally ignoring him and driving him out of his mind.
“Please?” he practically begged. “I’ll owe you major.”
Armando guffawed at the look of desperation on his face, almost dropping the pot in the process. “What? You don’t like kids?”
Alex snorted, making another face. “No, it’s not that. I just…don’t know what to do with them,” he glanced at the children, who were now chasing each other around, almost running into some expensive equipment mounted to the truck. Alex’s frown deepened before he bellowed in his meanest, scariest voice.
“HEY, YOU KIDS! STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!!”
The kids did not even spare him a glance as they continued their game.
Alex turned back to Armando only to find the man shaking his head, smiling with amusement at his apparent frustration. “Alex, you don’t have to worry about entertaining them. Just watch them to make sure they don’t hurt themselves. The last thing our department needs is a lawsuit. Well, gotta go. Later!”
He ran off grinning from ear to ear, leaving Alex pissed and throwing curses after him.
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On the other side of the square, Erik pulled his cruiser up and parked before getting out and popping open the trunk. He was technically off duty for the day and wasn’t wearing his uniform unlike his junior partner, Sean, who also got out of the car and ran over to assist him with grabbing their equipment.
“I can’t believe we’re late,” Erik ground out, aggravated as he hefted a cooler from the trunk and dropped it with a BANG! on the pavement, startling some of the passersby. They had blown a tire on the freeway that morning and ended up having to call another unit for help since Sean had forgotten to replace the spare in their cruiser after a call that came in last week -- they were responding to an armed robbery at a liquor store in the ghetto part of town and ended up in a gunfight, resulting in the explosion of their front right tire.
Least to say, Erik was in a pissy mood due to the rookie’s oversight.
“I don’t think we’re that late,” Sean ventured and glanced at the scene before them. “It looks like people aren’t even set up yet.”
Erik silenced him with a cold glare. “That’s beside the point, Cassidy. My chili should have already been stewing by now. It’s an essential part of the recipe, but you wouldn’t know.”
Sean kept his mouth shut, not wanting to set Erik off on another tirade. It would be the fifth one so far and it wasn’t even past 9am yet. They trudged over to their designated tent and set everything down, diligently setting up their wares on the tables provided.
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