Longest Day of His Life

[Guest]

Yay! A story from Kirby!

Longest Day of His Life
CHAPTER 1 - Quoth Joe: WTF?

“Oh hi Joe! What can I help you with?”
“Is Morgan in?”
“Yes, he's waiting for you. Go right on in.”

Sgt. Joseph Pensfield gives a brief nod and enters Chief Inspector Morgan's office. Clean shaven and with a buzz cut, Joe Pensfield looks and acts ex-military. He never served but feels the path of the warrior is the most honourable and worthy path to follow, or at least emulate. He is an average man in most ways, with brown hair and eyes, a respectable but definitely improvable physique, and a few wrinkles betraying his descent into middle age.

“What took you so long, sergeant?”
“For one, it is my day off. And you called me at six in the morning.”
“Alright, it doesn’t matter. Here’s your case.”

Morgan hands Pensfield a folder labeled “PENSFJ: 10/05/05 - DOA”. Pensfield opens the folder and starts to read the briefing.

“OK, here’s the rundown of the situation,” says Morgan, “At 4am today, Abraham Feldman of apartment two in 795 Green St., that’s in Chinatown by the way, wakes up and hears a crash. He goes into his living room and sees a naked man lying on a nuke --”
“What? There was a nuclear bomb in this guy’s living room? Don‘t joke around, it‘s too early.”
“No inspector, it’s real. Let me continue. The naked man, who’s identity is unknown, was covered in a viscous grey fluid, some sort of slime.”
“OK, I’m serious. I’m going to be really pissed off if this is a joke.”
“Sergeant, if you do not believe me I can easily take you off this case.”
“Alright, fine... It says in the report that he had a revolver and a briefcase full of cash, what about that?”
“I don’t know yet. The CSU has been at the scene for about an hour. They might have more information when you get down there.”
“I should go down there then.”
“There’s a car waiting for you.”
“One last thing, am I going to be in any danger at the scene? There is a nuclear bomb.”
“Don’t worry, the feds already sent down a hazmat team. I almost forgot, someone named Harris is our contact within the DND. I told the agents that were here to contact you when they had analyzed the nuclear material.”
“I know. It was in the briefing.”
“Just get over there sergeant.”
“Sure chief.”

Sgt. Pensfield leaves the office and goes to his desk. After thinking for a few minutes he phones his wife to say his day off has been canceled and then he walks out of the police station into the longest day of his life.

[Guest]

Longest Day of His Life
CHAPTER 2 - A Pickensian Sight

Two hours of Chinatown traffic later, Sgt. Pensfield steps out of the standard issue black and white police car onto Green Street.

Ironically, Green Street is likely the least green street in Chinatown if not the whole of Port Lawrence. Dirt covers all possible surfaces, including the people, and the road seems to be more mud than asphalt. The sidewalk, and some of the road, is crammed full of people and street vendors, the noise of which is almost deafening in places. Lining the streets are low-rise buildings which, like the streets, are full of people, mostly the poor and recent immigrants. Almost all of the buildings have shops and workplaces occupying the ground floors. Most of the buildings are old, some even being built out of wood, though a few new additions can be easily seen. Like one travel guide put it, “the eastern edge of Port Lawrence’s Chinatown is a charming combination of a charming Oriental village and modern industrial chic.” What the travel guides don’t mention is that although the street is at the edge of Chinatown, somehow the stench of grease, vomit, and sweat is greater than in the center of Town.

In front of Pensfield is an older three story building which looks to be in a state of perpetual collapse. The ground floor is a jazz club, not surprising because east Chinatown is made mostly of immigrants from the southeast US. Few people stayed in the areas in and around Florida after the terrorist attacks of early 2009 which destroyed infrastructure all around North America and caused massive civilian deaths. Florida was hit especially hard, the ground is estimated to be fertile again in another thirty years. In commemoration of the terrorist attacks and the tens of thousands lost, especially those in Florida, many banners and flags can be seen in apartment windows. Except, of course, the building Pensfield must go into. A large banner is strung between two windows which says, “LEV 26:33. WE WERE WARNED.”

“Why do I always get assigned to the weirdos?” thinks Pensfield, “And why are all the weirdos in Chinatown?”

Ignoring the cries of a street vendor selling meat pies, Pensfield pushes through the crowd in front of the jazz club and enters a door to the side of the building. He heads up the stairs into a long hallway lit by a single flickering light. He finds apartment two, at the very end of the hall, and as he enters the door he almost falls over.

Straddling a cigar shaped nuclear weapon is a man holding a briefcase and a revolver and wearing a six gallon hat. A large ragged hole above the nuke lets early morning light eerily illuminate the grey goo. Chunks of floor and ceiling litter the small, badly furnished living room. Other than a single window opening onto the street and the gaping hole in the ceiling, the only illumination is from a small table lamp. Proof that federal agents had already been in the apartment is easy to see, the tip and tail of the nuke had been removed and the contents emptied. A few crime scene investigators are taking pictures and notes, and one walks up to Pensfield as he arrives.

“You’re Sgt. Joseph Pensfield, right? My name’s Judith Kwan and I’ll be the head investigator on this case.”
“What have you got so far?”
“Other than the obvious weirdness we don’t have much. The Raymond is male, Caucasian, and looks to be in his early 30s. There is a large burn scar on his chest and he’s six foot. Black hair, blue eyes.”
“There is no personal identification on him?”
“None. We already took fingerprints and DNA and we’ll search dental records when we get him back to the lab.”
“What’s the deal with the money?”
“There’s $803 380 in $20 bills. The weird thing, if there wasn’t enough already, is that all of the money is 40 years old.”
“Why does this case have to get worse,” mumbles Pensfield.
“Excuse me?”
“Never mind. Did you get anything from the slime?”
“Only that it’s organic. It doesn’t match anything I’ve seen or what’s in the CSU databases.”
“Of course it would be that way, wouldn’t it. Anyways, where is the witness?”
“He was taken to the station right before you got here.”
“Damn. Well thanks anyways. Keep me updated.”

Pensfield goes back down to the street and contemplates the traffic.

“Fuck. I hate Chinatown.”

[Rebelnerd]

cool, sort of like 24 meets Dr. Strangelove. nice, keep it up

[SoulRiser]

cool

.. more

[WildFire]

squee jealous.

[Guest]

I rewrote it. I'll keep the stuff above because it is historically significant (first story I've wrote and shown in a public place). The new story is in a different thread.