#144 - The clock is laughing in my face - (muse_playground)
The clock is laughing in my face
-Brain Stew, Greenday
1985
"But I solved it!"
"That's right, Shawn, but it wasn't fast enough. Do it again."
"But Dad!"
"Shawn, no buts. As a police officer you will encounter situations where merely figuring something out won't cut it if it's you against the clock. You have to stay focused under the pressure of time. Never forget: Your life or the life of others could depend on it. Now. Do it again."
Present Day
"I placed another bomb and you are not going to find it!"
Two hours left.
Well, not anymore, since Lassy had been in the interrogation room for at least twenty minutes now. Shawn had only seen glimpses and boy, he'd have told the head detective after two seconds where the damn thing was hidden. Lives were in danger here and Shawn knew that whenever Lassy's protective instinct kicked in he could be terrifying.
Unfortunately the bomb hadn't been a lie. All eyes on him Shawn had wished for nothing more than being able to throw himself on the floor, pretending to be a bomb that did nothing but perk up after ten seconds to say 'I don't exist'. That would have been an awesome act. He should definitely keep that in mind if they ever came across a fake bomb thread.
This one wasn't fake, though. And two hours weren't enough. Shawn knew it. That was why that guy in there who was being grilled... what was he saying, flambéed by Lassy had waited until that exact moment to break the news. Enough time to make everyone try and work and try and work and...
And fail.
Shawn closed his eyes and placed two fingers on his temple - his thinking pose, besides, if the other officers thought he was conversing with some ancient spirits they might stop bugging him with their questions all the time. Which he usually didn't mind but right now it was too much 'so not fun anymore'.
Maybe he should read through the files once mor- no, took too long.
Look through the fotos and- pointless!
He knew everything about this case, he just had to put it together. If the answer was there he just had to find it - in time. Not knowing if the answer was already there didn't help.
The well-known frustration and anger kicked in, like always when he got so lost in the massive amount of images and information in his head.
One hour left.
Numbers, dates, objects and tons of details all over the different crime scenes, the remainders of the first bomb, the way the culprit was grinning when Lassy cuffed him, his eyes, wide and fanatic and the files and the photographs and... and...
His eyes snapped open. "What!"
There was a yelp from the opposite side of the desk when Gus almost fell out of his chair. "Don’t do that, Shawn!"
"Gus, quick, give me that med report." Before his friend could react Shawn had already found it and flipped it open until he stopped with a newly energetic 'A-hah!', his index finger nailing down one of the pages. He waited until Gus settled down next to him. "See that? That Phen-... Phenoxa-... whatever it is, who the hell invents these words, I hope you don’t do it, because that would even be a more shameful way of making money than..."
"Shawn!"
"What does it cause?"
"What do you mean, what does it cause? It's a medicine, Shawn! It doesn't cause, it cures."
Shawn leaned forward, his eyes regarding his friend intently. "The adverse effects of the initial stage. Come on, I remember reading something in the newspapers back then."
"Well, then you should know the adverse effects."
"Well, yes, thank you for pointing that out. I do, I just need to hear it from you, so I can focus my thoughts and keep them from going radiating," Shawn replied, his voice getting slightly edgy.
Gus looked smug. "You don't know what the side effects were because you didn't understand the words."
"... Alright. Mr. Vocabulary scores again. Whoo, see the audience, oh, wait, I forgot there is none because they are all busy trying to find a bomb. Do you remember or not?"
Gus frowned. "Yeah, actually I do. It's not a strong drug and the tests were all unproblematic so nobody expected it to be that bad."
"Something went wrong with the dosage, right? There was... something wrong with the first turnout. Can you say turnout here? Shipment?"
"Purveyance?"
"What the hell is a purveyance, that sounds like an illness itself."
"It's a 14th century word. It describes the act or process of purveying or procuring..."
"Gus, Gus, please, would you stop nerding my ass? I mean, can we stay on the same step of the social ladder here? What went wrong with the first... whatever amount of bottles they sold?"
"They caused a fever," Gus snapped in offense. "A lot of people died."
"Fever?" Shawn repeated, sitting up straight. "Are you sure?"
"Well, I don't know, Shawn. Why don't you ask your ass?"
"Oh, he's not in a very talkative mood today. But think, Gus. It's been on the market for how many years?"
"Five, I think."
"Donelly's brother died when?"
"Five years ago. But what does that... wait a second." Gus eyes widened. "Oh my God. You don't think...?"
"Fever, Gus. Flames. The bomb. The helpless watching. It's symbolic."
"You mean... he's seeking revenge and redemption at the same time?"
"Yes!" Shawn whispered excitedly. "Do you know what that means? The lab, Gus! It's in the lab! The bomb is in the lab!"
They both looked at each other for a moment, then bounced up and down in their chairs before bringing their knuckles together in victory.
Ten minutes left.
Donelly grinned when the door opened yet again. So loser-detective was back. Despite all that tough and strong cop act he knew that the man cared.
Donelly had cared, once, too. Helplessly, hopelessly. Soon the loser-detective would know what it felt like. Soon they all would know what it felt like.
Donelly wondered if loser-detective was going to beg. They all begged but begging was useless. He didn't remember what felt more useless after a while, the begging or the praying.
Donelly would laugh in ten minutes. Out loud. Just like those lab bastards did for sure. He was convinced they had laughed their overpaid little asses off while his brother was screaming, because his face, his body, everything was burning.
Donelly would feel so good when they were all in pain.
Donelly didn't like the triumphant expression on loser-detective's face.
Muse: Shawn Spencer
Fandom: Psych
Words: 1,095
-Brain Stew, Greenday
1985
"But I solved it!"
"That's right, Shawn, but it wasn't fast enough. Do it again."
"But Dad!"
"Shawn, no buts. As a police officer you will encounter situations where merely figuring something out won't cut it if it's you against the clock. You have to stay focused under the pressure of time. Never forget: Your life or the life of others could depend on it. Now. Do it again."
Present Day
"I placed another bomb and you are not going to find it!"
Two hours left.
Well, not anymore, since Lassy had been in the interrogation room for at least twenty minutes now. Shawn had only seen glimpses and boy, he'd have told the head detective after two seconds where the damn thing was hidden. Lives were in danger here and Shawn knew that whenever Lassy's protective instinct kicked in he could be terrifying.
Unfortunately the bomb hadn't been a lie. All eyes on him Shawn had wished for nothing more than being able to throw himself on the floor, pretending to be a bomb that did nothing but perk up after ten seconds to say 'I don't exist'. That would have been an awesome act. He should definitely keep that in mind if they ever came across a fake bomb thread.
This one wasn't fake, though. And two hours weren't enough. Shawn knew it. That was why that guy in there who was being grilled... what was he saying, flambéed by Lassy had waited until that exact moment to break the news. Enough time to make everyone try and work and try and work and...
And fail.
Shawn closed his eyes and placed two fingers on his temple - his thinking pose, besides, if the other officers thought he was conversing with some ancient spirits they might stop bugging him with their questions all the time. Which he usually didn't mind but right now it was too much 'so not fun anymore'.
Maybe he should read through the files once mor- no, took too long.
Look through the fotos and- pointless!
He knew everything about this case, he just had to put it together. If the answer was there he just had to find it - in time. Not knowing if the answer was already there didn't help.
The well-known frustration and anger kicked in, like always when he got so lost in the massive amount of images and information in his head.
One hour left.
Numbers, dates, objects and tons of details all over the different crime scenes, the remainders of the first bomb, the way the culprit was grinning when Lassy cuffed him, his eyes, wide and fanatic and the files and the photographs and... and...
His eyes snapped open. "What!"
There was a yelp from the opposite side of the desk when Gus almost fell out of his chair. "Don’t do that, Shawn!"
"Gus, quick, give me that med report." Before his friend could react Shawn had already found it and flipped it open until he stopped with a newly energetic 'A-hah!', his index finger nailing down one of the pages. He waited until Gus settled down next to him. "See that? That Phen-... Phenoxa-... whatever it is, who the hell invents these words, I hope you don’t do it, because that would even be a more shameful way of making money than..."
"Shawn!"
"What does it cause?"
"What do you mean, what does it cause? It's a medicine, Shawn! It doesn't cause, it cures."
Shawn leaned forward, his eyes regarding his friend intently. "The adverse effects of the initial stage. Come on, I remember reading something in the newspapers back then."
"Well, then you should know the adverse effects."
"Well, yes, thank you for pointing that out. I do, I just need to hear it from you, so I can focus my thoughts and keep them from going radiating," Shawn replied, his voice getting slightly edgy.
Gus looked smug. "You don't know what the side effects were because you didn't understand the words."
"... Alright. Mr. Vocabulary scores again. Whoo, see the audience, oh, wait, I forgot there is none because they are all busy trying to find a bomb. Do you remember or not?"
Gus frowned. "Yeah, actually I do. It's not a strong drug and the tests were all unproblematic so nobody expected it to be that bad."
"Something went wrong with the dosage, right? There was... something wrong with the first turnout. Can you say turnout here? Shipment?"
"Purveyance?"
"What the hell is a purveyance, that sounds like an illness itself."
"It's a 14th century word. It describes the act or process of purveying or procuring..."
"Gus, Gus, please, would you stop nerding my ass? I mean, can we stay on the same step of the social ladder here? What went wrong with the first... whatever amount of bottles they sold?"
"They caused a fever," Gus snapped in offense. "A lot of people died."
"Fever?" Shawn repeated, sitting up straight. "Are you sure?"
"Well, I don't know, Shawn. Why don't you ask your ass?"
"Oh, he's not in a very talkative mood today. But think, Gus. It's been on the market for how many years?"
"Five, I think."
"Donelly's brother died when?"
"Five years ago. But what does that... wait a second." Gus eyes widened. "Oh my God. You don't think...?"
"Fever, Gus. Flames. The bomb. The helpless watching. It's symbolic."
"You mean... he's seeking revenge and redemption at the same time?"
"Yes!" Shawn whispered excitedly. "Do you know what that means? The lab, Gus! It's in the lab! The bomb is in the lab!"
They both looked at each other for a moment, then bounced up and down in their chairs before bringing their knuckles together in victory.
Ten minutes left.
Donelly grinned when the door opened yet again. So loser-detective was back. Despite all that tough and strong cop act he knew that the man cared.
Donelly had cared, once, too. Helplessly, hopelessly. Soon the loser-detective would know what it felt like. Soon they all would know what it felt like.
Donelly wondered if loser-detective was going to beg. They all begged but begging was useless. He didn't remember what felt more useless after a while, the begging or the praying.
Donelly would laugh in ten minutes. Out loud. Just like those lab bastards did for sure. He was convinced they had laughed their overpaid little asses off while his brother was screaming, because his face, his body, everything was burning.
Donelly would feel so good when they were all in pain.
Donelly didn't like the triumphant expression on loser-detective's face.
Muse: Shawn Spencer
Fandom: Psych
Words: 1,095