The POPO: TRC Miniseries- Chapter 2 posted

[MessengerOfDreams]

Okay, this is pretty much The Runouw.Com COnnection, without Runouw.Com. Like a cop show, sorta.

Here is the first episode!

EPISODE 1

BARGAINING CHIP

“Cut!”
The director lowered his crane-chair thingy and felt solid ground beneath his feet again. Amazing how they could fit that in the Pearl District. He walked down the street a few yards before approaching the actor and actress in the scene, standing in front of the Go by Streetcar sign. The actor was lying on the ground, the character dead; the actress had a gun pointed at him, breathless.
The director helped the actor up and told him “Taylor, take my advice, all right?”
Taylor looked at the director and with a hint of English in his voice, replied smugly “Depends. What is this advice, Jones?”
“In theory, it’s a bullet, not a fist.” Jones told him. “You don’t spin out like a ballerina on steroids when you get hit by bullets. Let’s try it again.”
Taylor sighed. “All right, take 34.”
“That’s my line, Taylor.” Jones called as he approached the actress. “Okay, Jesse, good work, keep it up. I believed it 100%.”
Jesse grinned. She never knew why, but she was the only one addressed by her first name.
Jones climbed back into his crane-chair and said “Cameras rolling? Okay, action!”
The scene played out, Taylor falling to the ground from Jesse’s ‘gunshot’. Jones yelled “Cut!” and lowered himself to the ground. He never lost that feeling of relief every time he touched ground.
“Taylor, that’s what I’m talking about! Just like that! I guess we can call it a wrap for the day.” He called out from a distance. He got closer to Taylor, still on the ground and said “We’re convinced. You can get up now.”
Suddenly, Jesse screamed and fell to the ground in shock.
“What the he- GOD ALMIGHTY!” Jones shouted as he saw that there was a real bullet in the actor’s back. “Criminy, call 911, anyone, for the love of God, call 911!”

Chapter 1
(Narration of Sam Eastman)
Mic, Kim and I were on our way to the Pearl, and no friggin kidding, too. Did you read the above scene, no pun intended? I’d be scared crapless! Oh… yeah, you’re probably wondering where Ema was. Well, so am I. Live with it.
Mic was in the front seat for the first time. “Man, it feels weird without Ema here, doesn’t it?”
I nodded, not taking my focus off the road.
“I mean, we’re not getting lost or anything!”
I had to laugh at that. “Well, we’re close to the crime scene. It’s gonna be a sonomagun getting into there, though. Not only do we have the yellow tape from the other officers, but all this camera crew stuff to get past.”
We exited the car, ducking under the yellow tape as we had gotten so accustomed to. “So, a little about our victim and all. Martin Taylor, 31, low-key actor. He was acting the part of a dead person on the show ‘Bargaining Chip’ when he was suddenly shot during a scene where, ironically, his character was supposed to be shot.” I told him.
“Maybe the gun was loaded and no one knew.” Kim suggested.
“That was the first thing the senior officers checked out. The gun was a fake.”
Mic kicked a rock around fervently. I raised my eyebrows, amused. “Soccer match coming up at my school. Gotta get as much practice in as I can.”
I nodded. Suddenly, as fast as he started, he stopped when Kim said. “Bargaining Chip? You mean that show about the hostage situations? Man, I love that show!”
“Yeah, the one with David Roberts and Jesse Joseph? Yeah, I think so. Anyway, here we are. Be really sensitive, especially to Jesse. She’s going through it right now.” I told them.
Kim smiled at me. “Don’t worry, I’m good with mourners. You should have seen me with that baseball player.”
I nodded again and approached the director. “Sam Eastman, glad to be of assistance.”
He shook my hand. “Stefan Jones. Thanks for everything. I suppose your kids can go inside Safeway or something, get something to eat, while I talk with you.”
I swear to Yah, I nearly died just now amid Kim’s hysterical laughing. “Oh my god, do I look that old?” I gasped as I tried to find a mirror. I know I had a small beard and all. It’s just surprising that I look old enough to have Kim as a kid.
Jones raised an eyebrow. “Did I say something wrong?”
I nodded with a wan smile. “I’m 20, she’s 17 and he’s 14, and I’m shaving tonight.”
Kim took in a breath. “Either he looks old, or I look young. Maybe both. Anyway, can I see Jesse?”
Jones looked at Kim “You sure you want to? She’s a wreck.”
Kim nodded. “I work best with people like that.”
Kim. What a unique thing. Whilst people like Ema would lose their minds working with mourning people, Kim enjoys it. She wants to. To quote Jerry Seinfeld, What’s up with that?
Jones sighed. “She’s over by the streetcar stop. Alone, trying to get home.”
I put a hand on Kim’s shoulder. “Hey, why don’t you wait a day or two? She needs it.”
She nodded. “Sounds good. So I suppose we check out the crime scene?”
“You haven’t moved the body at all, have you?” Mic asked.
Jones shook his head. “We make cop shows; we have to do our research. Never mess with a dead body.”
Mic gave him a thumbs-up. “Sam, why don’t you and Kim go and check that out while I talk to Mr. Jones over here?”
I raised both eyebrows. “I thought I made the orders over here.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t make a suggestion, now does it?” Mic countered.
“I was going to say that nevertheless it was a good idea, Mic.”
“That too…” he said quietly.
I started weaving my way around props, people and equipment, Kim following closely behind. “Hey, Sam,” she asked, “What happened to Ema?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. She hasn’t called or anything.”
“Ah, I just figured you’d know, you being her boyfriend and all.”
“We’re not living together. She could have college classes or something. Or she could be sick. Who knows? Anyway, it’s not that big a deal.”
Kim fell silent as we approached the body. I inspected the bullet hole in his back and said “It seems to point to the Northeast. I’d have to presume that the person was on the Go by Streetcar building. Time to find some stairs.”
“Wait!” Kim shouted at me. “Aren’t you afraid of heights? Like, “I’m gonna die” afraid of heights?”
I shook my head. “Don’t remind me.”
___________________________________________________________________________________________
(narration of Mic Davis)
I grabbed a chair and sat across from Stefan Jones. “So, the basics about Taylor. How well did you know him?”
“Hardly. I found him in a wanted ad and hired him for a short-term role.” Was his reply. “He wasn’t extremely likable, but it wasn’t that big a deal because we were going to have him as one of the henchman that would be shot down in the end. He was just going to stand there, gun out, and then get shot.”
I nodded, and pondered this information. This is the kind of guy you hire just to get shot, however fictionally it may have been. Plus he was not very likable. Is this to make it easier when you ‘kill’ him?
“What about him wasn’t very likable?” I asked.
“He was smug and English. What else is there to say?” I asked.
I shook my head. Buffy was English, too, after all. And things get really freaking weird when people dislike someone that is everything short of fish/chips and an accent away from them. Enough of the tangent, back on topic.
My next question was “But who really didn’t like him, is there anyone he clashed with a lot?”
“Oh, heck yeah. David Roberts.” Jones said, and I could sense the truth in his voice. Hey, it’s just a thing I can do. “Roberts didn’t like him at all; despite the fact that on occasion Taylor actually made an effort to be friendly. Roberts called him a poseur, a wannabe. This angered the crap out of Taylor, I mean, I have to respect the fact that he crawled out of poverty and all to become an actor.”
I was really starting to like our dead guy. It was like an episode of Cold Case, at first you hardly know the victim and then you get flashbacks into their life and start liking him, and then at the end you remember that they’re dead (and usually see them killed)… and then you go in your room and have nightmares and wake up sobbing and that is the last Cold Case episode you will ever watch. From now on you stick to CSI: Miami.
Okay… you never read that.
I was about to ask another question when a large, fit man in his 30s walked in and said “Jones, I have something to tell you.” He said. Heck, a man of his stature could tell me ANYTHING.
“Certainly, David.” Jones replied kindly.
“I quit.” Was the response.
I looked at the shock on Jones’ face and said “Sorry, Jones, this is your battle. I’m gonna go catch up to my friends.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
(Narration of Kim Clayton)
I was dashing up the rooftops, standing on the edge above the Go by Streetcar (in case any photographers may be watching) and shouted “I’m the king of the world!”
“Queen, you mean.” Sam told me, him teetering like he was on roller skates.
“Whatever, chicken crap.” I told him. “That’s not a famous movie line. I’m just paying homage to Titanic.”
Sam slapped his forehead and said “If you sing ‘My heart will go on’, I swear…”
I rolled my eyes and said “Timber!” And I swear to god, he lost his balance a little and almost fell!
I giggled as I came to his side and steadied him. “I swear to god, Sam. You can face anyone staring you down with a gun, but you can’t walk along a 4-story building?”
Sam took in a couple of deep breaths. “Hey, every fear comes from traumatic experience, and I’ll have you know that when I was 8, I very nearly fell off a bridge. As well as when I was 19. In fact, when I was 19, I actually did fall off a bridge.”
“Yeah, I got a lot of rocks thrown at me in my day. Don’t make me jump in terror whenever I see a rock.” I retaliated.
I looked at where the gunner may have potentially stood and looked closely. “Well, lookee here.” I said. “Keys. This is just too dang easy.”
I got gloves on and lifted them up; put them into my convenient Ziploc bag, the whole CSI works. What, you thought Mic was the only one to watch that show?
“Well, guess we can get the keys DNA’d and track down the owner.” Sam told me as he literally dragged his feet to the door in which the stairs were at.

Chapter 2
(Narration of Ema Felkis)
My alarm clock went off at 7:30am. I angrily yanked the plug out of the wall. Hoover Dam it, I was feeling like a train wreck today. In between throwing up blood and cramps in my leg, I knew there was no way in the other place that I was going to work today. Heck, I’d be hard-pressed to get out of bed.
I turned the TV on in my somewhat-likable CyanPDX apartment and started watching the news. And lookee here, an actor on that one show, Bargaining Chip, just got killed! Oh my god, David Roberts didn’t die, did he? Wait a minute… what do I care? He’s a horrible actor, in my opinion. Like David Caruso from CSI Miami that Mic loves ever-so-much. Bleh.
Let’s see what else is in the news. Actor dies, actor gets shot, actor is killed, oh, come on, peoples! He’s a side actor, who really gives a flying crap? Okay… sorry, I’m sick, it makes me grouchy.
Anyway, to sum it up, this is pretty much breaking news. Hopefully Sam and the crew know about it already, because God knows that I am too sick to even try to call anyone.
I sighed and lay back in bed, shutting the news off. God, I hate being sick. I sure hope this all ends soon.
_________________________________________________________________________________
(Narration of Sam Eastman)
We arrived back at Niklaw’s Tavern, on our way to the secret police station downstairs… which, come to think of it, is not so secret anymore.
Nicolas greeted us at the door, as he was scrubbing the windows. “Ello, mates and lady.” He grinned ear-to-ear, great guy as he is. “And emphasis on lady. Where be the fiery-headed one?”
“Beats the heck out of me.” I shrugged as if it was nothing.
“You mean you don’t know?” Nico replied incredously. “Lawd Almighty. Hopefully she hasn’t bee, I dunno, kidnapped or anything.”
I smacked my forehead in what Nico would call a face-palm. “Yeah, Nico. We didn’t care until now. She’s probably sick, that’s all.”
Nico laughed. “My bad, mates! Anything to drink before you get started?”
Kim opened her mouth to reply, but I was smart enough to interrupt with “No, thanks, Nico. We’ll get started and finish it up as fast as we can. Can we borrow Suki for awhile? We have some keys we need to get DNA off.”
He nodded, but even his attempt at cheerful Aussie-ness couldn’t hide the disappointment in his eyes. “Well, okay. You do that. I, uhm, have some dishes to wash. Plus I gotta response to my Wanted Ad, and… you know, work.”
I nodded, not really wanting to address the fact that Nico wasn’t really 100% lately, and started to head downstairs into the police station. Man, it seems so weary and dark without windows.
Suki met us downstairs. You may be wondering, why is Suki downstairs working with us? Well, she and Nico attend college part-time at Portland Community College, Suki for forensics, and Nico for cooking. Now, Nico’s was predictable, but Suki’s? Not so much, but she was glad to get some practice helping us out. Nico, however… I don’t know, I just… I don’t know.
She snapped some gloves on, and opened the Ziploc bag. “Well, okay, guys just give me about 30 minutes and I’ll have the car keys ready.”
I nodded. “Good luck, Suki. And thank you.”
She nodded. “Thank you. I’ve a big test at PCC tomorrow, this is excellent practice.”
I smiled and gave her a high-five. She smiled back until she realized at the same time I did that she’d have to get a new pair of gloves. “Oops.” She giggled as we left.
I sped up the stairs to the tavern, ready right about now to get a nice drink. It was Sunday, however, and school-teens were taking advantage of that, the restaurant was nearly filled. Nicolas looked as if he was going to lose his mind, rushing back and forth between tables. I resisted the urge to trip him when he had a handful of plates, good thing, too, he probably would have killed me.
After he seemed to have everyone satisfied, he sat at the front of the bar, where we also sat. “My GOD, Sam.” He told me. “It’s just… oh my god.”
“This bad, eh?” I said. “We can get Suki up here if you need to.”
“And risk a potential killer getting away? I know the more important things in life, Sam.” He replied. “But fret not. I have a plan. I’m hiring a new bartender. He starts tomorrow.”
I raised an eyebrow. Things weren’t going as smoothly since Alex Card’s death, but I wasn’t sure if he’d actually spend the money on hiring someone else. “Oh really? Who would this person be?”
“His name is Zed Callahan. He used to be on my forums. Had the name of Zed98, which I now know the meaning of?” was his response.
I raised an eyebrow. Man, I was never gonna friggin escape the Runouw.com connections, no matter the insignificance.

(Narration of Ema Felkis)
Around 9:30am, I was feeling a bit better (as in, I wasn’t barfing my guts out) so I decided a bit of fresh air would do. I carried myself, Snuggie and all, to my third-story balcony and prepared to watch the city go by me. While I was stuck here. Sick. Not doing what I loved. While other people were. Goddang it. Life really sucks sometimes, even I have to admit.
I looked down and saw my car was perfectly parked on the curb. Yes, even I got a car in recent times. Nothing like Sam’s restored Ferrari, I have to admit. But my 2008 Hyundai Genesis was pretty darn good. Totally my style of car. Classy, fun and beautiful, if you’ll pardon my momentary egocentrism.
I figured I was well enough to take a drive to Voodoo Doughnut, maybe if I made it there, I would go try to work. I went to look for my keys. About 5 minutes later, I realized that they were nowhere to be found. Cue me nearly having an aneurysm.
I rushed around the room like a rabbit on crack, looking everywhere, tearing up furniture, ruining my perfectly organized clothes drawers, and then I heard a car start.
I muttered more than a few obscenities as I ran to the balcony and saw someone was in my car. With my Snuggie acting as a parachute, I jumped from my balcony onto the roof of the car. Do not try this at home.
Especially after I heard a bone crack in my leg when I landed on the roof of my car. I screeched out in pain (and while doing so sounded like a dying eagle) and hung on for the ride. Not for very long, however. Around 5 blocks up, conveniently in front of an outdoors news conference at City Hall, I fell off the car onto the Mayor, crying out in pain again.
God almighty, I hope Sam is not watching the news.
____________________________________________________________________________________
(Suki Lee Narrates for once)
I got the keys out, and observed them closely. I noticed they had the Hyundai symbol on them. Rather new, these keys seemed. Whoever had this car was not about to die in an accident. Now if they had a Toyota…
Jokes aside, I got a q-tip out and put some chemical you’d never understand on it. I brushed the q-tip all across the keys to make sure I got a fingerprint on it. Whoever used these keys last with a bare hand would be sure to show up on it. Of course, if someone did use gloves, there’d be traces of latex on the keys, but whoever uses the keys the most would show up as well. They’d be our most likely suspect.
I put the q-tip on a highly-advanced scanner that detected fingerprints and got prepared to wait. This is the fun part. A bunch of faces flash on the computer screen, and you pretty much watch a roulette of people pass by. I try to see how many I can identify.
Usually. But I couldn’t get my mind off of Nico. He seemed very odd lately. Okay, I should be more specific. Stressed. That’s what I mean, which is odd for him, because for him, odd is normal. Which is very confusing, I realized, so I got back to watching faces.
When the machine found a match, I realized I recognized the face. In fact, it was one of my best friends.
I got a new q-tip out, re-swabbed the keys, and put this swab in the scanner. I was horrified to find out that it was the same person. It was definitely that person.
I ran upstairs in shock, and approached Sam, Kim, Nico and Mic, all of whom were drinking some fruity little non-alcoholic drink. Our specialty.
“Guys,” I prepared to say. “It’s Ema. These are her keys.”

[MICrophone]

The lowered his crane-chair thingy and felt solid ground beneath his feet again.

All right, so, I'm assuming this episode isn't complete, but, on what you have so far, it's good in terms of plot, as all of your stories are, but this in particular is not very well written, as evidenced in the quoted line. I suggest that you edit these a bit better before posting; what you did with The Runouw.com Connection in terms of revisions was excellent. If you could imitate that, that would be very good. But good work; keep going!

[MessengerOfDreams]

Thanks, Mic. Chapter 1 posted. PLEASE MOTHER Fricking comment!

[MICrophone]

OK. Good, but, you don't make it clear who's narrating and the flow is a little weak. Other than that, I'm liking it, though so far it's not as cleanly written as TRC1 & 2.

[MessengerOfDreams]

Okay, let's try Chapter 2 pt 1, eh, Mic, A.K.A. MY only fan?

Edit: To anyone (read: Mic) who reads and comments, part 2 is up, the whole chapter complete.

[MessengerOfDreams]

Chapters MAY turn out slowly due to peoples lack of comments and tsw.

[MICrophone]

OK. Good, but, you don't make it clear who's narrating and the flow is a little weak. Other than that, I'm liking it, though so far it's not as cleanly written as TRC1 & 2.

My overall comments remain the same, but I do like the plot twist with the keys.

[MessengerOfDreams]

Anyone else?

Trade comments on your story for comments on mine!

[Buff_]

It was alright, not really my type of story but I guessed I should read it.

Can I just say, presentation needs work. Presentation can make and break a story, and with this I found it very hard to read it without looking away.