Underworld Fan Fiction ❯ In Sheep's Clothing ❯ Parental Warning ( Chapter 3 )

I do not own Underworld or its characters or settings. For these, I would like to commend Len Wiseman, Kevin Grivioux, Danny McBride and Wentworth Miller for his powerhouse performance as Adam. Maybe if you work really hard, Mr. Miller, someone will give you a buzzcut, some tattoos and your own show.

REQUEST FROM THE FANAUTHOR:

A few years ago, I found a hilarious document called "Anime Cool Guy Test." It was hysterical. He can cook +4 points. He's feared by gods -20 points. But not because he's ridiculously over-powered, regain 25 points... The other day, I tried to find it again. Google, altavista, it was of no avail.

I long ago saved a copy of "115 Rules for Evil Overlords." If anyone has similarly saved a copy of the Cool Guy Test, then I would greatly appreciate an email.

 

All criticism of a constructive nature will be welcomed with Chaos Baked Goods signature Dark Magic fudge truffles.  Pure evil. With sprinkles.

 

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"Well," Taylor muttered over the radio, "we're here."

 

Pierce's responding glower could have killed every last bacterium in a train station men's room.

 

Of all the disadvantages of pretending to be a cop, Taylor had begun to hate traveling in pairs the most. Real cops' direct and rather brutal reaction to impostors was also up there on his list, but all this partner crap was getting on his nerves. Taylor eased the cop car into a space and shut off the ignition.

 

"Finally," grumbled Pierce as the radio died. He looked around at the parking garage. "I don't know how you can listen to that shit. And why didn't you just park at the curb like I told you?"

 

"This early in the evening? Someone might've noticed," answered Taylor. "The real Officer Krantz was probably supposed to report back sometime last week. If someone sees the license plate, they might realize something's up."

 

"Fucking costume party," scowled Pierce. "That's how they work."

 

"They are kicking our ass out here, Stern."

 

"Quit calling me that."

 

"I'm trying to stay in character."

 

"Well knock it off."

 

"No! We're in enough trouble."

 

Pierce shook his head. "You're too paranoid. Do you really think he'd send us back here if he thought we were so incompetent?"

 

"Yes," Taylor shot back. "As far as anyone in this hospital knows, we're the two poor bastards assigned to investigate Raze's little run-in last night. It would look weird if a couple of new guys showed up. The boss had to send us." Taylor sighed. "But if you ask me," he said, sliding out of the car and straightening his cop hat, "he only did it to keep us busy. No way the new mark is going to be dumb enough to come back here."

 

Pierce chuckled as he shut the passenger side door. "Sheep like to feel safe," he countered. "He'll be back."

 

Taylor scoffed. "No way in hell."

 

"You willing to bet your crap factory on that?"

 

"Uh..." Taylor blinked. "It depends on what that means."

 

Pierce scoffed. "It means that if the new mark comes back here, you have to quit blasting that damned noise whenever you get behind the wheel."

 

"That damned noise is the only good metal east of the Channel," Taylor shot back.

 

"It sounds like someone dropped an A-bomb onto a crap factory," complained Pierce.

 

"Fine," Taylor swiped both hands between them. "And when we leave here completely empty-handed, you will stop calling me 'runt' immediately and forever."

 

"I'll just find something new to call you."

 

"Yes, but it won't be 'runt,' now will it?"

 

"I could call you a—"

 

"You don't have to tell me."

 

Pierce shrugged. "Okay."

 

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"I don't know what else to tell you, Officers..." the fuzzy-haired intern said, pushing his blocky black glasses a little tighter against the bridge of his nose. "He didn't come in to work today. That's all I know."

 

"Of course, doctor, but if there's anything else you remember about—"

 

A light beeping sound touched Taylor's ears and the young doctor checked a message. "Look, I have to take this," apologized Adam. "I shouldn't be too long. If you have any more questions for me..."

 

"We'll be right here," Pierce answered.

 

The young human gave them a nod and turned down the bustling hall.

 

"Can you imagine being that pathetic?" Pierce murmured once the doctor was out of earshot. "Skinny, working with diseases all the time, sniveling at the likes of us?"

 

"Showering more than once a month, no death dealers on my ass and plenty of girls of my own species around?" Taylor raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like a freaking nightmare." He shook his head. "The kid has a tan, a goddamned tan," he wondered out loud. Taylor couldn't remember the last time... Even when he'd worked night shift he'd managed to find an hour here or there to spend in daylight. "We never get to go out. Man, I thought the cousins were the ones who couldn't stand the light."

 

Pierce turned slowly, frowning. "Why're you calling them that?"

 

"What?"

 

"Cousins. Only he calls them that."

 

Taylor shrugged, pointing his eyes straight ahead. "I don't know..." he said. "Can't use the real name out here, can we?"

 

Pierce leaned back a bit, folding his arms.

 

"What?"

 

"You know he's out of his mind, right?"

 

Taylor blinked. "Who is?" he ducked his head and spoke in a loud whisper. "The boss?"

 

"Don't get me wrong," Pierce followed, holding up one hand. "Nobody else could ever take us through this war and come close to winning, nobody. And he's smart, damned smart, but that whole speech about wanting scholars and shit?" Pierce went on. "About us acting like dogs?" He shook his head, clamming up as an pair of nurses walked past.

 

"That wasn't him acting crazy, Stern. That was him acting pissed off."

 

"That's not what I'm talking about," he said, voice dropping again. "Don't get me wrong, he wants to beat them, but time was... time was he married one."

 

"I heard..." Taylor trailed off. "How fucked up is that?"

 

"Still missing the point, runt. You know what the candidate is for, right? If you ask me, he wishes he was one."

 

"You're fucking crazy," Taylor shot back, face heating up. "The boss is a born lycan, a born lycan."

 

"Keep your damned voice down!" Pierce hissed. "God damn it, you're the one who keeps worrying about getting noticed..."

 

Taylor gulped and his annoyance clogged his throat. "You shut up about the boss like that."

 

"When was the last time you saw him change more than partway, runt?" Pierce answered in a loud whisper. "I'll tell you - you never have. He hasn't gone wolf since before I joined up."

 

"He just likes to keep his cool."

 

"He's ashamed of it," said Pierce. "That whole civil thing he wants? Where do you think scrubs like us fit in?"

 

Taylor shook his head. "That's like saying that fighting is the only thing we're good for." He stared off into the busy hallway, something nagging at his mind. "So what do you want out of this, to just keep fighting this war forever?"

 

"No," Pierce answered at last, "but I'll be damned if anyone thinks I—"

 

Taylor started, eyes casting down the hall, "I don't think—"

 

"Damn it, runt, let me finish."

 

"Yeah, but why—"

 

"You've got to wise up and quit this hero worship," insisted Pierce. "If you resolve to follow the boss through death and back, then that just might be where you end up."

 

"Okay, sure," said Taylor, "but why is—"

 

"Damn it! Can't you stop questioning and just listen for once?" Pierce pulled back. "There's no why to it, runt. I don't understand why he wants what he wants. All I know is that I want to live and that means getting rid of those silver-packing freaks who want to mount my head like a mantelpiece."

 

Taylor sighed in exasperation, "No, I mean why isn't that geek doctor back yet?"

 

"Why—huh?" Pierce twisted his neck to watch the hall behind them. "Aw, fuckdammit!"

 

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"Mama said there'd be days like this," Taylor muttered, "but she stopped saying it once she got off the speed."

 

Pierce let out a nervous breath, brushing a bit of broken glass off his sleeve. "Lucian is going to—"

 

"—kill us?" Taylor nodded. "That would not surprise me."

 

"Do we really have to—"

 

"Yes, we have to tell him the new guy was here."

 

"You realize, runt, that if you'd parked at the curb like I told you, we might have had a chance in hell of following him."

 

"Yes," Taylor said, nodding.

 

"And that, by extension, this is all your fucking fault."

 

"Uh huh." Taylor sat down on the curb, swallowing the clamminess in his mouth. The light from the hospital windows behind them gleamed against the dark street, against the scattered humans moving toward and from the main entrance and the cars moving past.

 

"Shut up and let me concentrate." Beside him, he could hear Pierce inhale, could picture the older lycan's eyes closing, looking for all the world like any human at this time of night - worn to the bone and stopping for a breath of peace.

 

"He didn't leave here on foot," Pierce answered.

 

"You sure?" asked Taylor. "With all these people around, maybe his trail's just mixed in."

 

"But only one of them stinks of death dealer."

 

"You can pick that up?"

 

Pierce shook his head. "If you can't even catch a reek like that on the air, then you're even more hopeless than I thought. He came this way because he he'd have better luck catching a cab out front. The guy's been working here for a year and a half; he probably knows every way out. If he'd been trying to get away on foot, he'd have weaseled out one of those."

 

"Weasel?" Taylor askd. "I thought humans were sheep."

 

"This guy's no human." Pierce paused. "Didn't hesistate. He knew we were on his tail and he went through the glass." Pierce shook his head. "No panic; just the escape. That's lycan, bone-deep."

 

Taylor twisted around to look the other man in the eye. "And you still talk about eating him."

 

Pierce shrugged. "It's all right if you don't think too hard. Tastes sort of like—"

 

"Please don't tell me."

 

"Okay."

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Where to send the blame: drf24 (at) columbia . edu