Title: Prank War Cease Fire
Prompt:
writerverse challenge #03 march mini table of doom, prompt #13 ‘ceiling fan’
Word Count: 394
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: original (
Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Summary: Zeke and Howell catch some intruders.
Note(s): originally posted to the
writerverse wv_library Prank War Cease Fire
I held my service weapon at my side, lowered but ready, as my partner reached for the apartment door.
A lot of cops would have taken the opportunity to break the door down, but Howell was a believer in stealth and subtlety- and it was surprising how many people who broke in somewhere then left the door wide open behind them.
Like these guys.
They weren’t keeping their voices down, either, because I could hear them clearly from the darkened back room, even before I spotted the clumsy sweep of flashlights from that direction. Howell and I both took out our own flashlights, but kept them turned off. One of the few things that vampirism and lycanthropy have in common is excellent nighttime vision, and with the waxing gibbous moon shining outside, I could see two figures in the back bedroom, moving quickly.
Howell and I took up position on either side of the open door. My partner dipped his unlit flashlight toward me, then toward the room, and I nodded. In unison, we stepped into the door frame, guns raised and flashlights on, barking, “Philly PD, hands where I can see them!”
“Don’t shoot!”
The two intruders dropped their flashlights, which both clicked off, but there was still enough light to see that they were just kids, college age if I had to guess, looking terrified and holding up their hands.
“Explain,” Howell snapped.
“This is our friend’s place,” one kid said. “We have a spare key.”
“We were just playing a prank on him,” added the other. “He’s gone to pick up his girlfriend at the airport, and we… okay, we don’t really like her, so when they get back, we wanted to give them a surprise.”
Howell let out an annoyed snort and reached for the light switch beside the door, just as I spotted the large jars of molasses on the dresser.
“Sir, don’t-” I began.
But my partner had already hit the switch, turning on the overhead light and starting up the ceiling fan, which rained an even, gentle blanket of feathers over the entire room.
“You will clean this up,” said Howell. “Then you will go straight home and stay there. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” they both said, at once.
I smiled and pulled a feather from my partner’s hair. “I’ll go call in the false alarm, sir.”
THE END
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