Telephone Challenge.
Jun. 4th, 2003 10:36 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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ds_flashfictionTelephone challenge, only slightly over the limit, wherein Ray V. thinks he has
Nothing To Do With It
by Halimede
It wasn't difficult to set up. It wasn't even difficult to do without being detected. He knew she'd come back to Chicago eventually. She would want to finish what she started. So, by the time he started hearing reports of a new player in town, woman, long, dark hair, good at organising armed robbery, and particularly good at getting other people to do her dirty work for her, he had his recipe ready.
Simply take one fucked-up chick preoccupied with betraying before she could be betrayed, add one very sore loser, and presto. Two problems solved.
It helped that Victoria was already obsessed with tall, dark and handsome men, and Ray grudgingly had to admit Frankie Zuko fit at least some of the aforementioned criteria. And it helped that Zuko was an ambitious son of a bitch. The merest hint of an exceptionally lucrative diamond heist being planned made him nicely pro-active about getting involved. Really, Ray barely had anything to do with it.
He reminded himself of that when the lieutenant told them all to be extra careful because organised crime was restless; there had been a falling out of some sort, and tempers were running high in the neighbourhood. People were getting shot, and already one cop had been caught in the line of fire. Eugene, his name was. A uniform. Ray didn't know him very well.
And it was true. He had barely had anything to do with it. All he'd done was drop a few hints here and there, and both his marks had snapped up the bait faster than you could say payback.
He put a fifty in the collection for Eugene's fruit basket, when they passed the hat.
He reminded himself again when his snitch, the one he'd pressured into telling Frankie about the many talents of Our Lady of the Psychopaths, turned up dead. Murdered. In an unpleasant way.
Welsh took one look at him and assigned the case to someone else. Ray protested, but Welsh knew the guy was one of Ray's contacts, and the lieu didn't want anyone emotionally involved working on a case. Especially not now. Too many people were losing their heads already. Sometimes literally.
When the rumor hit the street that Frankie had taken out a contract on his mystery diamond lady, half of Ray felt like celebrating, and half of him felt like taking an extended holiday to Florida until it was all over. He actually checked how much money he had in his savings account when he got home that night. It wasn't much. And after helping Fraser rebuild the cabin, he didn't have many personal days left.
Besides, after all she'd put them through, he felt he should be there for this. You never knew, she might come after Benny again. Or, god forbid, turn to him for help. So the next day he just went back to work.
There were FBI at the station. Even through the lieu's half-closed blinds he could tell by the suits. Huey & Gardino stared balefully at Welsh' closed door. Normally he'd be right with them, trying to find out which case the Feds were trying to take away from Welsh, but today all he wanted to do was go through last night's reports. Maybe figure out if there were new developments in the big mob soap opera.
He hadn't even taken his coat off yet when the phone on his desk rang.
"You better take that," Elaine called from across the bullpen. "It's been ringing all morning, driving me nuts. Won't leave a message, just keeps calling back every five minutes."
Ray stole his chair back from the next desk over and picked up the phone.
"Vecchio?" a woman's voice said on the other end. Ray's stomach dropped, all the way to the centre of the earth.
He tried to speak but his voice came out funny. He licked his lips, and tried again. Play it cool, and he might get out of this without losing his job. Or, you know, his life. "You've got nerve calling here."
"Believe me, I wouldn't, but mister Mustafi won't put me through. I think he remembers me." Her voice carried that cold, bitter smile of hers perfectly.
Welsh stormed out of his office, yelling, equal parts triumphant and tense. His voice carried across the bullpen. "Everybody, listen to me. We have just received some very important information. Everyone. You too Vecchio."
Ray covered the mouthpiece of the phone with his hand, "One minute lieu. Important call."
"One minute, and it better be important. All right, the rest of you, pay attention."
Ray turned back to his call. "Sorry, what was that?"
"I said, 'quite gratifying, really'. What's going on there? Sounds like you guys are evacuating the building, or something."
"Or something. Look, I don't have time for this. Why were you trying to call the mountie?"
"I'm pregnant."
Ray's heart stopped. In the silence, Welsh' voice carried across the bullpen.
"We've just got confirmation from a credible source. There's a hitman out there --and we've even got a description. I want everybody on the street. I want to find this guy. This is serious stuff. I want everyone to know that this is not what we want this neighbourhood turning into. Our source suggests he may already be on his way to carry out his assignment, but whether we intercept him before he can do it or not, I want. Him. Found."
People rushed back and forth across the bullpen, quickly forcing down the last of their coffee while grabbing their coats and photocopies of a composite photograph. Ray was sure he was going to keel over in a couple of seconds, as soon as his brain noticed his heart was failing to pump fresh oxygen around his body. And no one would notice. Or maybe Fraser would: A flash of red over by the door caught his eye. With a thud Ray's heart started back up, an explosion of guilt smashing through his body. Fraser headed for Ray's desk, but Welsh intercepted him, yanking a copy of the description-plus-photo out of Gardino's hands and giving it to Fraser.
Victoria's voice sounded tinny in Ray's ear.
"Ray? Ray, are you still there?"
END
by Halimede
It wasn't difficult to set up. It wasn't even difficult to do without being detected. He knew she'd come back to Chicago eventually. She would want to finish what she started. So, by the time he started hearing reports of a new player in town, woman, long, dark hair, good at organising armed robbery, and particularly good at getting other people to do her dirty work for her, he had his recipe ready.
Simply take one fucked-up chick preoccupied with betraying before she could be betrayed, add one very sore loser, and presto. Two problems solved.
It helped that Victoria was already obsessed with tall, dark and handsome men, and Ray grudgingly had to admit Frankie Zuko fit at least some of the aforementioned criteria. And it helped that Zuko was an ambitious son of a bitch. The merest hint of an exceptionally lucrative diamond heist being planned made him nicely pro-active about getting involved. Really, Ray barely had anything to do with it.
He reminded himself of that when the lieutenant told them all to be extra careful because organised crime was restless; there had been a falling out of some sort, and tempers were running high in the neighbourhood. People were getting shot, and already one cop had been caught in the line of fire. Eugene, his name was. A uniform. Ray didn't know him very well.
And it was true. He had barely had anything to do with it. All he'd done was drop a few hints here and there, and both his marks had snapped up the bait faster than you could say payback.
He put a fifty in the collection for Eugene's fruit basket, when they passed the hat.
He reminded himself again when his snitch, the one he'd pressured into telling Frankie about the many talents of Our Lady of the Psychopaths, turned up dead. Murdered. In an unpleasant way.
Welsh took one look at him and assigned the case to someone else. Ray protested, but Welsh knew the guy was one of Ray's contacts, and the lieu didn't want anyone emotionally involved working on a case. Especially not now. Too many people were losing their heads already. Sometimes literally.
When the rumor hit the street that Frankie had taken out a contract on his mystery diamond lady, half of Ray felt like celebrating, and half of him felt like taking an extended holiday to Florida until it was all over. He actually checked how much money he had in his savings account when he got home that night. It wasn't much. And after helping Fraser rebuild the cabin, he didn't have many personal days left.
Besides, after all she'd put them through, he felt he should be there for this. You never knew, she might come after Benny again. Or, god forbid, turn to him for help. So the next day he just went back to work.
There were FBI at the station. Even through the lieu's half-closed blinds he could tell by the suits. Huey & Gardino stared balefully at Welsh' closed door. Normally he'd be right with them, trying to find out which case the Feds were trying to take away from Welsh, but today all he wanted to do was go through last night's reports. Maybe figure out if there were new developments in the big mob soap opera.
He hadn't even taken his coat off yet when the phone on his desk rang.
"You better take that," Elaine called from across the bullpen. "It's been ringing all morning, driving me nuts. Won't leave a message, just keeps calling back every five minutes."
Ray stole his chair back from the next desk over and picked up the phone.
"Vecchio?" a woman's voice said on the other end. Ray's stomach dropped, all the way to the centre of the earth.
He tried to speak but his voice came out funny. He licked his lips, and tried again. Play it cool, and he might get out of this without losing his job. Or, you know, his life. "You've got nerve calling here."
"Believe me, I wouldn't, but mister Mustafi won't put me through. I think he remembers me." Her voice carried that cold, bitter smile of hers perfectly.
Welsh stormed out of his office, yelling, equal parts triumphant and tense. His voice carried across the bullpen. "Everybody, listen to me. We have just received some very important information. Everyone. You too Vecchio."
Ray covered the mouthpiece of the phone with his hand, "One minute lieu. Important call."
"One minute, and it better be important. All right, the rest of you, pay attention."
Ray turned back to his call. "Sorry, what was that?"
"I said, 'quite gratifying, really'. What's going on there? Sounds like you guys are evacuating the building, or something."
"Or something. Look, I don't have time for this. Why were you trying to call the mountie?"
"I'm pregnant."
Ray's heart stopped. In the silence, Welsh' voice carried across the bullpen.
"We've just got confirmation from a credible source. There's a hitman out there --and we've even got a description. I want everybody on the street. I want to find this guy. This is serious stuff. I want everyone to know that this is not what we want this neighbourhood turning into. Our source suggests he may already be on his way to carry out his assignment, but whether we intercept him before he can do it or not, I want. Him. Found."
People rushed back and forth across the bullpen, quickly forcing down the last of their coffee while grabbing their coats and photocopies of a composite photograph. Ray was sure he was going to keel over in a couple of seconds, as soon as his brain noticed his heart was failing to pump fresh oxygen around his body. And no one would notice. Or maybe Fraser would: A flash of red over by the door caught his eye. With a thud Ray's heart started back up, an explosion of guilt smashing through his body. Fraser headed for Ray's desk, but Welsh intercepted him, yanking a copy of the description-plus-photo out of Gardino's hands and giving it to Fraser.
Victoria's voice sounded tinny in Ray's ear.
"Ray? Ray, are you still there?"
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no subject
Date: 2003-06-04 02:38 pm (UTC)I like the setup enough that I actually wondered myself what would happen next, but on the other hand I worry that a sequel would spoil the suspense of the ending. I mean, what can top this moment?
I like how you slotted it into canon, BTW, with Ray leaving in the end. I hadn't thought of that. But then, ::looks sheepish:: I pretty much thought that it was the law that any fic with a pregnant Vicky ended with our guys happily adopting the baby together. ;)
no subject
Date: 2003-06-04 10:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-06-04 04:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-06-04 10:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-06-04 06:25 pm (UTC)Zowie.
Yeowie.
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Date: 2003-06-04 10:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-06-04 07:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-06-04 10:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-06-04 10:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-06-08 12:43 pm (UTC)I wouldn't mind seeing V. blown away, but you've set up a terrible moral dilemma for RayV.
Terrific job!
no subject
Date: 2003-06-08 01:37 pm (UTC)Thing is, up until a weeks or so ago, *I* pretty much didn't understand plot myself. So this is quite a compliment. :) The first draft was a lot less suspenseful, though. You know the really funny thing? The V. dialogue was the easiest thing to write. I could just hear her say it. And I love the idea of mr. Mustafi thwarting her. ;)