Police Acadamy 8: Big Apple Bust

Police Acadamy 8: Big Apple Bust

- Chapter 3 -


Lenny ran with all the speed his short legs could muster. Which was, given his motivation, pretty impressive at the moment. Racing down the alleyway, he never stopped. Not even when the sharp pain exploded in his shoulder to run stingingly down his arm. Not even when he reached the end of the alley and burst out onto the bustling New York City street. As a result, he slammed into a couple that had been strolling past at that particular moment, sending all three of them crashing to the ground amidst a jumble of arms and legs of varying lengths. He managed to mumble his apologies despite his shattered nerves and climbed to his feet, straighten his glasses and took off again.

Sweetchuck dodged in and out of cars, nearly getting run over a couple of times in the process; he ignored the honking of the motorists and kept on sprinting, since he could not afford to stop until he reached a safe place, wherever that might be.

He ran until he was at least three blocks away from the apartment complex. By then his lungs were burning with the effort and drawing in beath was a struggle in itself, as if the air seemed to be alusive to catch.

Lenny wanted to stop and rest in an alley somewhere, a place where those hulking agents would not be able to find him. Up to this point, he was able to ignore the throbbing in his right shoulder, but by now it was becoming too much for the little guy to bear. The pain was so great, it was causing every fragile nerve in his arm to scream, and he found he couldn't move the limb anymore. Finally, he caught a quick glance of a narrow alleyway off to his left, so he put the brakes on and ran back the short distance, then staggered into it and found it led behind another apartment building. This structure was more run-down, and the surroundings were darker than they were on the street; that was good, though, because it meant Frankie and his two goons would have a tougher time tracking him down.

Sweetchuck threw his back against the wall of the building and sank to the ground, he was so tired from running himself ragged trying to get out of danger. The searing pain in his arm and shoulder was intensifying, and Sweetchuck put his good hand up as an involuntarily reflex. His face creased as his agony became worse. Then, he felt a warm, sticky fluid on his left hand, and something inside Lenny's head told him not to find out what it was. But, he ignored that little voice and brought his hand away. There, smeared on his hand, was more blood, and his eyes widened as he realized how it got there

'NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!' Sweetchuck's mind wailed. 'I've been SHOT!!!!!!!! Oh, Lord, just take me now!!' The little man's face immediately turned white as a sheet, and within a few seconds everything went black as he slumped to his side on the ground.


~*~


The street lamp cast an eerie glow on the dark alley below, illuminating some places while causing shadows to dance across others. Various boxes and garbage cans littered the deserted space and all was silent. But soon, the soft clicking of heels on cement echoed, shattering the silence as it grew louder and louder. Shadows parted as a figure appeared within the street lamp's light, revealing a young woman around mid-twenties, with long blonde hair which swayed against the slender curve of her hips as she walked. Dressed as she was, no one would ever suspect her to be an orphan. Her talent of picking pockets came in handy, for she never did without food to eat or nice clothes to wear. She did well for herself.

No, no one would ever mistake her for the street urchin she actually was, not while dressed as she was: tight gypsy jeans, light blue polo Ralph Lauren tank top with a black leather mini jacket and a pair of strappy versace heels.

The blonde's head was tilted down slightly, watching her the ground before her as she walked. That was probably the reason she didn't see Sweetchuck's sprawled body before her, and why she wound up tripping ever so gracefully over him.

"Omph! Son of a - huh?"

Looking to see what she had tripped over, her pale blue eyes widened at the sight of a blood covered body. It was a short man, his face smeared with something red. Blood, she realized with a start. 'He's got blood on him. I think...Oh my God...has he been shot?' A pair of glasses sat haphazardly the man's face and the right side of his suit was stained with more blood.

"Poor little guy." The girl murmured, eyeing the pul sul sight. "Oh well, guess he won't be needing that wallet." Reaching out, the girl deftly slipped her hand into the nearest accessable pocket in hopes of finding some cash.

She fumbled around, growling in frustration when she at first felt nothing there. Then she felt something cool and metallic against her fingertips. 'Aha!' Lang ong onto it with thumb and forefinger, the girl withdrew her prize for inspection. Her triumphant smile faded a bit when she saw what she had pulled out. With a quizzical look on her face, the blonde young woman gently held up the small flat square and examined it in the dim light, finding faint lines of circuitry etched all over the tiny object. Now, she wasn't very techno-savvy, but she knew computers were programmed by chips and this thing definitely looked like a comr chr chip.

Pursing her lips tightly, the girl decided to try again. If the guy was packing around computer chips, then he was boun hav have some money on him, right? She dug deeper this time and let out a truimphant cry when her fingertips brushed against leather. She smoothly pulled out what appeared to be a wallet. But when the young woman flipped it open, she found nothing except a badge and something that looked like an identification card. Studying it closely, she could the the picture matched that of the small man lying motionless in front of her eyes.

Eyes widening in shock, the girl threw the badge and card holder back onto the man's body as if it had burnt her. 'What the fuck?! He's a cop!' she thought frantically. 'Oh shit! Now what am I gonna do? The fuzz will think I did it!'

She looked down at the little peice of metal in her hands, contemplating if it was worth the trouble to keep her loot or not. Out of nowhere came a rustle and something fed ied in front of the girl's face; the chip was no longer in her hands, but in those of one of the street people with whom she associated.

"Well, well, well...what have we here?" The young man sneered, glancing down at the small peice of metal he now held in his hand.

"Give it back, Zeke. It's mine. I stole it fair and square." the young woman retorted, holding her own hand out toward the boy.

Zeke snorted, "Yeeah, right. Like you've ever done anything fair in your life. Admit it, Taryn, your nothing but a little thief."

"Like you're any better?" The blonde arched an eyebrow as she once again grabbed for Zeke.

"Ah, ah, ah. You want this back, you've gotta give me something just as valuable," he taunted, keeping it just out of range of Rose's groping hand. "Besides, can you blame me for the way I am? I only learned from the best."

"That's right. Too bad you're not a very apt pupil." Taryn retorted, suddenly shooting a out out and sweeping Zeke's feet out from under him. The young man went down with an 'Omph' on his back, his head cracking against the hard stone floor of the alley. Immediately, Taryn snatched the small chip from Zeke's loosened grip.

"Thank you." She said not-so-politely. She was just about to rise up and stalk off with her bounty when she heard the sound of a muffled groan.

This caused her to turn around and look at the spot where Zeke was laying, or rather, had lain, but she saw he was no longer there. Taryn figured he might have skulked off to lick his wounds because he did not come away with his newfound prize. What she did not realize was that Zeke was coming up from behind, despite taking a good lump on the head, and without warning he jumped her. He sent a flying side kick to the back of Taryn's neck, knocking her flat on her stomach. Her hand flew open and the chip shot out, landing on the cold cement.

Seizing this opportunity, Zeke quickly picked it up off the ground and took off down the alley, cackling with triumph. Meanwhile, in the deeper recesses of the darkness, a pair of eyes had been watching the whole confrontation between Zeke and Taryn. As the young street urchin came running towards a shadowed area by the wall of the building, a tall male figure stepped out to block his path. The teenager crashed straight into him and tumbled backwards.

"Hey, watch where you're walking, buddy, unless you wanna get pounded!" Zeke spat at the person who dared hinder his escape with the microchip.

"I'm the one who'll be doing the pounding around here, boy," an intimidating voice said. "That is, if you don't give me what you've got in your hand there." The shadowy figure stuck his hand out, demanding that Zeke give up the chip.

"No way! I stole this and it's mine!" protested the boy. Obviously the man in front of him was not very patient, because suddenly Zeke felt himself being caught up by the front of his shirt and lifted so high his feet left the ground.

"Look, you little sneak, hand over whatever it was you stole or you'll be in for a hell-beating you won't never forget!" growled the figure as he shook the teenager hard, then flung him back on the ground a few feet away. Whoever this guy could be was obviously not one to play around. Still, Zeke was undaunted.

"I don't see what it is you want with some dumb chip!" he complained as he sat up, rubbing his head again. Being thrown to the cement and hitting his head again was only bringing him closer to a concussion, but he did not care a lick. "I ain't ready to give this thing up to you, not now, not ever!"

"Oh really?" the stranger stated calmly. Stepping forward, he withdrew a rather large knife from his belt, the blade glinting dangerously in the moonlight. "You're ready NOW,ter!ter!"

As the shadowy figure stepped into the dim light, Zeke could see his face. "Oh. My. GOD!" gasped the youth. "Knives!"

Meanwhile, the young woman known as Taryn was just coming around after being knocked out briefly by Zeke's well aimed kick. She regained her senses just in time to hear a new voice, much deeper than Zeke's, speak.

"....or you'll be in for a hell-beating you won't never forget!"

A soft moan drew Taryn's attention away from Zeke's reply as she turned to see that the little guy she had mistaken for dead earlier was actually alive and from the looks of it regaining consciousness. His eyes fluttered open behind his wire framed glasses just in time to hear the new voice bellow a command.

"You're ready NOW, mister!"

"Mmm-huh? Tackleberry?" The injured man managed to say, though the name was slightly slurred.

'Who's Tackleberry?' Taryn thought idly seconds before Zeke's exclamation brought her attention back to the situation at hand.

"Oh. My. GOD! Knives!"

Rose's eyes widened at the name. Knives? *The* Knives?! Her mind swam with rush of excitement she felt at the name of her idol. The man she admired most in the world... The man known as "Knives" was, in reality, Dennis Black, a well-known gang leader to both other street thieves and to the police. He had been taken in several times for theft, but always managed to wriggle his way out of serving jail time.


The girl managed to pull herself up into a sitting position, light blue eyes full of stars as she watched the ruggedly handsome man yank up Zeke, then put his large knife to the teenage boy's neck, threatening to slit his tender throat unless he gave up the chip. After much squirming and screeching like a schoolgirl, Taryn's young "apprentice" finally allowed Dennis to take the tiny object off his hands.

"Now get outta here while I'm still in a good mood," the gang leader growled as he released Zeke from his powerful grip. The boy only shot him a dirty look and scurried out of the alley without another word, passing the now-conscious Leonard Sweetchuck. The little man struggled to get up, but because his shoulder and all of his arm were in so much pain he could not do it. Meanwhile, the tough guy called Knives-since he carried a fair selection of various switchblades and other sharp weapons on him-approached Taryn, his black combat boots treading heavily on the ground, until he stood only a foot or so in front of her. The blonde girl looked up at this god in a thug's body, entranced by his musculature and strong, angular face. Dennis's dark brown eyes soon fell upon her.

"Hey there, sweet thing," he said, smoothing his voice as he spoke to the starstruck Taryn. "Need a hand?" For a moment, she was still held enthralled by the good-looking man towering over her, then the girl shook her head quickly and blinked, seeing that Dennis had held a hand out to her.

'Oh, my God!' thought Taryn as a blush rose to her cheeks and tainted her fair skin slightly reddish. There was a slight pause as she saw the hand offering to help her up, then she put her hand in Dennis's and, grasping tightly, quickly got her footing back again.

"Oh, my…wow, I mean…um, thanks," the young lady managed to stammer, still incredulous that the most well-known gangster in the area was standing face-to-face with her. Suddenly, she remembered that Knives was still holding on to something that she had pilfered in the first place. "So, handsome, what's that you've got in your other hand there?" Immediately, Dennis held his free hand away from her.

"Whaddaya willing to pay for it?" he drawled, smirking playfully at Taryn as she once again tried to grab for the microchip.

"I stole that thing in the first place, so it's my property!" she whined lunging for his hand and getting only handfuls of air. "That's not fair! It's mine!"

"Ooh, you're a feisty one, ain'tcha?" laughed Dennis, holding his hand higher so it was farther out of Taryn's reach. It amused him to watch her jump up and down helplessly, trying to take the chip from him. "I like my women to act fiery like that."

Taryn gave him a fierce glare before lunging for the chip again. By this time, Sweetchuck had regained his sense of awareness. He looked up at the tall guy and blinked. For some reason, he thought this person looked familiar.

"Tackleberry? Is that you?" asked the smallish man, blinking wide eyes behind his spectacles. "H-how'd you get here, in New York? You never said you were visiting here, too."

Both Dennis and Taryn halted their antics, whipped around and looked down at the nerdy little fellow with odd expressions on their faces, then they turned to each other questioningly. Who was this Tackleberry that he mentioned for the second time already? Dennis arched an eyebrow as he knelt down beside the injured man. Reluctantly, Taryn did the same.

"Hey, you alright buddy?" Dennis asked gruffly. "No offense, but you look like shit."

Taryn saw the blood stained on Lenny's jacket and her hand instinctively moved to cover the gunshot wound, to prevent it from bleeding even worse. But before it even moved an inch, he gave a loud, whiny yell.

"Aaaaahhh! No, don't touch it!" moaned Sweetchuck, every nerve from his fingertips to his right shoulder feeling as if they were on fire. "It hurts too much!" Without even realizing it, tears began to well up in his owlish eyes as his breaths became ragged, so great was his agony.

"Help me! Please!" The girl only creased her face in concern, not able to tear her light blue eyes away from the dark splotch of blood that had now covered the right shoulder of Sweetchuck's plaid jacket. Meanwhile, the guy who looked like Tackleberry shook his head.

"Aw, come on! You need to learn how to take pain like that," Dennis snorted somewhat peremptorily. He then bent down and easily swung Lenny into his arms, which caused the poor little guy to yelp more in protest. Slinging the short legs over one sinewy arm and supporting the compact upper body with the other, Dennis looked at Taryn again. "Hey, baby, you wanna tell me where you live?"

"Sure," the girl replied, half-dreamily. She was still delirious from the thrill of seeing her idol. But when she realized that she needed to tell where she resided, Taryn shook her head to clear it. "I've got a place right near here. The building's only four stories or so, and there's a loft on the top floor where I make my home. I'll show you where it is." Taryn led Dennis, carrying Sweetchuck, down the alleyway behind the run-down apartments. They passed about six doors till they reached one and Taryn paused.

"This is it." she stated, taking a keychain from her jean's pocket and unlocking the door. Stepping back, Taryn allowed Dennis to pack the once again passed out Sweetchuck through the doorway and into the building.

They walked down a short hallway, lit by a single flickering bulb. Presently, Taryn found an elevator to her left, one that had a metal gate for a door that one had to pull open and shut, rather than the full automatic doors of the elevators in fancier buildings. She pushed the button to bring it down to the ground floor. Dennis looked around the dim hall and saw that no one else was about. Not a single noise came from the other rooms.

"It's awfully quiet around here," he mused aloud. The girl in front of him did not turn around, intent on watching for the elevator.

"Yeah. It's like that a lot," she answered nonchalantly as she heard it creaking slowly down the shaft to their level.

Taryn tapped her foot impatiently while she waited for the lift to complete its sluggish descent. The only other sound, besides the squeaks and rumbling of the old-fashioned elevator, was the hollow tapping of her strappy shoe on the weather-beaten wood floor. An infinity went by and the lift finally ground to a halt in front of the metal gate. The pretty blonde girl slid it open and stepped inside the elevator, followed by Dennis with Lenny in his arms.

Taryn then shut the gate and pressed the button to take them to the fourth floor, the box-like enclosure shuddering before gradually ascending up the shaft again. Time passed as slowly as the trip to the top, but eventually they reached their destination. Collapsing the gate, the two walked out into a studio loft that took up the whole fourth floor. Scattered throughout the work area were canvases, many of them unfinished.

All around the floor were tubes and containers of paint, along with palettes and brushes of every kind. There was a small living area with a couple of tattered armchairs and a beat-up couch, along a little kitchen with just enough room in the middle for a table and two chairs. Upstairs in the loft area was where Taryn slept.

"So, sweetcakes, where d'ya want me to drop the stiff?" asked Dennis in his gravelly voice. "I think he's dead." Taryn felt Sweetchuck's forehead.

"No, he's still pretty warm. He probably just passed out again," she replied. "Put him down on the couch, but let him down easy, huh? The little guy's got a bad shoulder."

Meanwhile, she headed for the kitchen, where she readied a basin of hot water and pulled a clean rag from a drawer. She also grabbed a can of disinfectant spray from a cabinet, then walked back out to the living area, disinfectant in one hand and basin in the other, with the rag draped over her arm. Taryn proceeded to slide Sweetchuck's injured arm out of his jacket sleeve, trying not to make it worse than it appeared to be. Finally, she unbuttoned his long-sleeved shirt and extracted his arm from that as well; by this time, the right half of his undershirt and bare arm were exposed. Dennis, perched on an armchair, watched intently as the young woman dipped the rag in the water basin and wrung it out, then began to wash away the dried blood crusted around the small man's shoulder.

It was tedious work and Taryn winced along with Lenny each time the small man moaned in protest and discomfort, despite the fact that he was unconscious. Finally, after having managed to wipe away most of the blood, Taryn deposited the stained cloth back into the basin of pink tinged water and leaned back on her heels to observe her handy work.

"Well, it doesn't look as bad now. I think it's just a flesh wound." she said, glancing alrightup at the man who now seemed to be making a cursory observation of her home. He paused in front of one of the easels in which she had painted a self portrait of herself. Arching an eyebrow, Taryn couldn't help the smirk that crossed her lips. "Found anything interesting, have you?"

Dennis was about to answer, but Lenny suddenly opened his eyes halfway and groaned.

"Ow. Ohhhhhhh, where am I?" he mumbled, trying to study his surroundings through blurred vision.

"You're in my loft," a female voice answered. As his vision slowly came into focus, Leonard could see it was a girl with blonde hair, very pretty and in her twenties. "I cleaned up your arm. Seems the bullet only entered the skin and got stuck there. Try moving your shoulder." sho short, spectacled man did so, but as soon as the joint pivoted he cried out again, involuntarily putting his good hand up to the source of the pain.

"Don't press on the wound," warned Taryn. "You've lost quite a bit of blood, even though the bullet only went skin-deep. However, if you push it in deeper the wound'll get worse." Reluctantly, Sweetchuck lowered his hand, but he continued to whimper. Dennis had made his way to the couch and leaned on the back of it, shaking his head.

"I hate to say it, pal, but I can't take no more of this whining. Soon as you're better, I'm gonna change you," he said, looking down at the pitiful specimen laying there. "You give me a chance, and I'll make you into a man…" He first said this seriously, then his tone brightened on the last part of his statement. "…Even if it kills ya."

Once again, an image of Tackleberry flashed through Sweetchuck's mind, then he remembered the plan he made while hidden in the broom closet back at Malcolm's apartment as his cousin gave his life to protect the chip and his smaller relative. Gripping the arm of the sofa with his left hand, Sweetchuck managed to drag himself within reach of a small table with a phone on it.

"Have to…call…guys," he muttered to himself, trying to get up what was left of his strength. Both Dennis and Taryn quirked an eyebrow at this.

"What guys?" asked the knife-toting gang leader.

"My…friends," rasped Lenny, his voice now getting a little more stable as he tried to grab the receiver of the phone. "Need help, fast…" Seeing him struggle, Taryn got to her feet and took the receiver for him.

"You're not gonna tell them anything about us, are you?" she questioned, a little worried because she knew the little guy was a cop.

"N-no," Sweetchuck replied. "Need to, call L.A."

"Well, alright," Taryn said, then dialed collect and was soon connected on the long-distance line. "Dial the number yoed ted to call, area code first. Then I'll let you talk."

"Thanks," said Lenny as he dialed up his friend Mahoney's home phone, then took the receiver and waited for an answer. 'Come on, Mahoney! Please be home so you can help me out!' His pulse raced as he listened to the ringing on the other end of the line. 'Please pick up! You're my only hope here!'


~*~