CSI:NY fic: X.11 scene
Apr. 3rd, 2007 07:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bedlamsbardSee also here.
"Well, look at this," the gangster said, gloating. His grip tightened on Flack's good arm and the back of his neck. "I got the drop on a cop."
"Yeah, yeah," Flack said, teeth gritted against the pain in his dislocated arm. "Laugh it up, bitch. Now what's your plan? You think my partner's not outside?"
"I'll shoot him too," the guy said, and flack heard a gleam of crazy in his voice. He shoved him forward. "Now walk, cop."
Flack let himself get shoved out of the room and down the hall, up a set of stairs and into a large, open room with two crates stacked in a corner and a guy bent over them. He turned around when the door opened, a clay lawn gnome cradled in his gloved hands. "What the fuck took you so long, Pastore, you --" He stopped abruptly.
"Danny?" Flack said incredulously, then winced as Pastore's grip tightened. "The hell are you doing?"
"What do you think?" Danny said bitterly. "The NYPD threw me out on my ass, what else was I supposed to do?"
"Get the hell over here, Messer," Pastore said amiably. "Look at this, huh? I got the drop on a cop."
Danny put the lawn gnome down and came over. "The fuck you think you're doing, fucking around with a cop? You want to get us both killed?"
Pastore let go of Flack's neck long enough to pull his service pistol out of his holster and hold it out buttfirst toward Danny. "Take it, Messer."
Danny's eyes flickered to Flack's face, then back to Pastore. He took the gun, backing up a step.
"Shoot him," Pastore ordered.
"What?" Danny said blankly.
"I'm telling you to shoot this Irish fucker," Pastore barked. "What's Tony going to say about this? You lost your nerve?"
"I'm just saying, man, a cop --"
"And I'm telling you to shoot this cop bastard. You got the balls or not, Messer?"
Danny raised the gun with steady hands.
"What the hell are you doing, Messer?" Flack demanded uneasily.
Pastore's hand left Flack's neck. "Shoot him or I'll shoot you, Danny," he said. "And then he'll die anyway --"
The sound of the gunshot nearly deafened Flack. Hot blood sprayed across his face and he jerked sideways automatically, away from Pastore's falling body. "What the fuck are you playing at, Danny?" he demanded, cradling his dislocated arm. "Thanks for not shooting me."
Danny put the safety back on the gun automatically, face pale, and said flatly, "Arrest me."
"What?" Flack said, and then, "Give me that," taking the gun from Danny and holstering it one-handed. "What the hell are you doing? Who is this punk?"
It had been a clean, textbook shot -- a single round hole in Pastore's forehead still leaking blood. Danny's aim was good, especially at this short range.
Danny took a deep, shaky breath, and then he grabbed Flack by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down. "I said to fucking arrest me, you Irish cop bastard. You gone deaf since I left the NYPD or what?"
Flack shoved him back, ignoring hte sparks of pain down his bad arm. "What the hell are you doing, Danny? That was a righteous shot."
"Then arrest me for assaulting an officer," Danny said, and punched him in the face.
More to come.
"Well, look at this," the gangster said, gloating. His grip tightened on Flack's good arm and the back of his neck. "I got the drop on a cop."
"Yeah, yeah," Flack said, teeth gritted against the pain in his dislocated arm. "Laugh it up, bitch. Now what's your plan? You think my partner's not outside?"
"I'll shoot him too," the guy said, and flack heard a gleam of crazy in his voice. He shoved him forward. "Now walk, cop."
Flack let himself get shoved out of the room and down the hall, up a set of stairs and into a large, open room with two crates stacked in a corner and a guy bent over them. He turned around when the door opened, a clay lawn gnome cradled in his gloved hands. "What the fuck took you so long, Pastore, you --" He stopped abruptly.
"Danny?" Flack said incredulously, then winced as Pastore's grip tightened. "The hell are you doing?"
"What do you think?" Danny said bitterly. "The NYPD threw me out on my ass, what else was I supposed to do?"
"Get the hell over here, Messer," Pastore said amiably. "Look at this, huh? I got the drop on a cop."
Danny put the lawn gnome down and came over. "The fuck you think you're doing, fucking around with a cop? You want to get us both killed?"
Pastore let go of Flack's neck long enough to pull his service pistol out of his holster and hold it out buttfirst toward Danny. "Take it, Messer."
Danny's eyes flickered to Flack's face, then back to Pastore. He took the gun, backing up a step.
"Shoot him," Pastore ordered.
"What?" Danny said blankly.
"I'm telling you to shoot this Irish fucker," Pastore barked. "What's Tony going to say about this? You lost your nerve?"
"I'm just saying, man, a cop --"
"And I'm telling you to shoot this cop bastard. You got the balls or not, Messer?"
Danny raised the gun with steady hands.
"What the hell are you doing, Messer?" Flack demanded uneasily.
Pastore's hand left Flack's neck. "Shoot him or I'll shoot you, Danny," he said. "And then he'll die anyway --"
The sound of the gunshot nearly deafened Flack. Hot blood sprayed across his face and he jerked sideways automatically, away from Pastore's falling body. "What the fuck are you playing at, Danny?" he demanded, cradling his dislocated arm. "Thanks for not shooting me."
Danny put the safety back on the gun automatically, face pale, and said flatly, "Arrest me."
"What?" Flack said, and then, "Give me that," taking the gun from Danny and holstering it one-handed. "What the hell are you doing? Who is this punk?"
It had been a clean, textbook shot -- a single round hole in Pastore's forehead still leaking blood. Danny's aim was good, especially at this short range.
Danny took a deep, shaky breath, and then he grabbed Flack by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down. "I said to fucking arrest me, you Irish cop bastard. You gone deaf since I left the NYPD or what?"
Flack shoved him back, ignoring hte sparks of pain down his bad arm. "What the hell are you doing, Danny? That was a righteous shot."
"Then arrest me for assaulting an officer," Danny said, and punched him in the face.
More to come.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-04 04:16 am (UTC)"Then arrest me for assaulting an officer," Danny said, and punched him in the face.
Haha, I totally cracked up at this line. Nice, Danny.
This is brilliant, seeing Danny having to face Flack while undercover, and knowing that one wrong word is going to fuck him over good. And Flack! Gah! Poor guy, he's got no idea what's going on, and Danny can't tell him.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-04 04:23 am (UTC)Oh, yeah, they're both totally screwed. Flack's confusion gets even worse in the next scene, and Danny is smoking like a chimney. On the bright side, he just saved Flack's life.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-04 04:27 am (UTC)Poor Flack. Poor poor Flack.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-04 04:34 am (UTC)YOU HAVE NO IDEA. Also, he gets verbally assaulted by Yamata.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-04 04:39 am (UTC)I think Flack would be more afraid of being verbally assaulted by Clove than Yamata!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-04 11:29 pm (UTC)No, Yamata will rip you to shreds with his words. Cloke will just rip you to shreds with her hands.
...now I want to write the adventures of Yamata and Cloke while they solve crime.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-05 02:15 am (UTC)Haha, Yamata and Cloke, solving crimes while attempting not to kill their suspects from sheer terror.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-05 02:34 am (UTC)Ah, if only I didn't already have a bunch of other male/female kicksass pairs...oh, wait, I don't. There's McAuliffe and Drew, and Vittoria and Barney (genetically engineered killing machine and guardian angel), and Ceejay and Alec (more genetically engineered killing machines), and there's Aiden Summers and Rees Harker (private detective and genius who used to work for the government and actually helped create the genetically engineered killing machines).
Okay, going back to an old argument, apparently I do write strong females. Who knew?
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-05 03:11 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-04 05:59 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-04 11:33 pm (UTC)