Date: Fri, 17 May 1996 18:55:47 -0500
From: "Kristin M. Bachman" <bachman@OMNIFEST.UWM.EDU>
Subject: Like Clockwork (1/1)

        This is my first effort at writing for the board, so I'd appreciate
any and all comment and/or virtual chocolate.
 
This little deja' true was inspired by (TA-DA!) my job.
 
....Like Clockwork
By Kristin Bachman (bachman@omnifest.uwm.edu)
Standard Disclaimers
 
 
        "81 kilo, 81 kilo, please respond."
        "This is 81 kilo, go ahead."
        "We have a 10-23 robbery in progress at Marshal and Tudor.
Shots have been fired, units en route."
        "81 kilo, responding."
        "Marshal and Tudor.  Isn't that the old Willow Storage?" said Tracy.
        Nick glanced at his partner.  Leave it to her to know all that.  Tracy
Vetter, the commissioner's daughter, the one everyone treated like she was
made of Roman glass.  Nick was annoyed at her perkiness sometimes, but despite
all that, he respected her.
        Of course, he had a secret of his own to protect.  She knew the vam-
pires of Toronto.  She just didn't know he was one.
 
        They arrived at the address - Tracy was right, an old storage house.
Nick listened, hearing police sirens nearing, the tick of his car engine.
And then footsteps.
        The sharp report of a gun sounded in a nearby alley.  The two
detectives drew their own guns and split up.
 
        Nick took off after one of the suspects, chasing him down the alley.
With vampires eyes ablaze he rounded the corner - and the perp was gone.
Hearing a soft clang, he glanced up.  He'd taken to the fire escape, thinking
this cop was like all others.
        Nick took to the air and met him at the top.  The startled perp tried
to run, but Nick grabbed him and threw him to the roof's surface.
 
        Tracy tread silently through the alley, listening for the man who'd
disappeared here.  She heard his feet, his frantic speed, and then it stopped.
Just stopped.
        Slowing to a halt, she listened again, looking around for some sign.
Nothing - until she felt eyes on her back.
        Simultaneously she whirled to face him and dived for cover, but it
was too late.  The bullet entered her, sending fire into her stomach, burning
outward.  She screamed in agony, then all went black.
 
        Nick was just cuffing the perp when he heard a gunshot, then a shrill
scream.
        "TRACY!" he shouted, immediately jumping into flight.  He searched
for the sound of her heart or the scent of her blood.  Finding it at last, he
landed next to her inert form.
        He knelt beside her, ignoring all else around him.  He could barely
hear her heartbeat, and the stink of blood grew stronger.
        *I've failed,* he thought. *After so long I've failed.*
        There was still a chance to save her. He carefully removed her jacket,
then began to tear her shirt from the still-bleeding bullet hole. With a
sudden RRIIPP, her shirt gave way - and what he saw amazed him.
        Blinking diodes, gleaming switches, and twisted wires protruded from
the hole. Bits of a thin mesh lay around the wound, and a layer of fleshlike
rubber now oozed a thick red liquid.
        Sparks flew from the wires, forcing Nick to pull back his hand. There
was an electrical humming sound, and her eyes flew open.
        "Hi, Nick!" she chirped, as if absolutely nothing was wrong.  Perky
as ever.
 
 
The real stories are soon to follow <gasp!>
Kristin Bachman
bachman@omnifest.uwm.edu
JHKC  (Jekyll-Hyde-Knightie-Cousin)
"Go ahead - make my millennium!"  Beetlejuice