Reply to thread

Message

<blockquote data-quote="arwink" data-source="post: 2172167" data-attributes="member: 2292">About seven years ago, Nick was trained in the fine art of staying cool under pressure.&nbsp; He learned to disarm a bomb while hanging upside down from a rapelling cable, just to prove that he could do it.&nbsp; He was in the line of fire dozens of times, and never lost his head.&nbsp; Even when he saw the demon among the flames of the siege gone wrong, he didn't freak out any worse than your average civilian does when they're caught in the middle of a downtown militarized conflict.This probably explains why he's staying calm right now, quietly ignoring the fact that Ammie has the van roaring along the interstate at a hundred and twenty miles an hour.&nbsp; Even the sound of angry horns and the squeal of tires doesn't get his attention.&nbsp; Ammie keeps her eyes locked on the road, her fists clenched around the steering wheel.&nbsp; She does her best not to think about the small arsenal they loaded into the back of the van, alongside the film equipment.&quot;So,&quot; Nick says.&nbsp; &quot;How do you think the dodgers are doing this year?&quot;&quot;Don't follow sports,&quot; Ammie says.&nbsp; She slams the wheel to the side, squealing around a slow-moving mail van.&quot;Right,&quot; Nick says.&nbsp; &quot;Me either.&nbsp; What about the whole war thing that's going on?&quot;&quot;Haven't thought about that either,&quot; Ammie says.Nick nods again.&nbsp; The two hour trip to Gary is filled with half-hearted attempts at awkward silence.Once they hit Gary, the first thing they do is set about establishing their cover.&nbsp; A phone call to the local council, applying for permission to shoot in public spaces.&nbsp; Lots of cruising aroudn town, getting to know the layout of the place, taking stock footage that can be looped through the miniature editing studio in the back of the van in case they actually need to look professional.&nbsp; Nick is unanimously named the face of the pair, leaving Ammie the camera duties. It takes the better part of the day, and both of them are bored as hell by the time it's done.&nbsp; When they figure they've been as obvious as possible about what it is that they appear to be doing, the van is parked outside Gary PD and they're on their way inside.The police station is small, more run down than any Nick can remember seeing.&nbsp; There's a young guy on the front desk, little more than a rookie, who seems surprised to have a film crew on his hands. &quot;Um, yes?&nbsp; How may I help you?&quot;Nick gave him his best soothing smile and offered the officer his hand.&nbsp; &quot;Nick DeLatre, pleased to meet you,&quot; he said.&nbsp; &quot;I'm a documentary maker here to get some background on the attacks that have taken place in the sewers.&quot;&quot;What?&nbsp; Listen, sir, I'm not allowed to say anything on current investigations.&quot;&quot;Of course not,&quot; Nick says.&nbsp; &quot;Not your place.&nbsp; You're meant to be out there, fighting crime, not running around pandering to the desires of reporters.&nbsp; But I'm not the press son.&nbsp; Documentaries, completely different kettle of fish.&nbsp; How about you call the media liason for your department and let me talk it over with him.&quot;The young officer stammers a few seconds, then reaches for the phone.&nbsp; Ammie raises an eye-brow at Nick, who appears to have taken the basic interview training Hoffman offered them and mutated it into a whole new thing entirely.&nbsp; Especially when he leans over the desk and commanders the phoen while the officer is stammering his way through an explanation.&nbsp; He talks for a few minutes, smiling the entire time, then passes the hand-piece back to the officer on duty.&quot;Thanks son,&quot; he says, still beaming.&nbsp; It lasts only a few more seconds, until he's turned and the young cop can't see him.&nbsp; By then he's scowling.&quot;Lets go,&quot; he mutters.&nbsp; &quot;I'll explain outside.&quot;Ammie waits until they're back in the van before she gives him the raised eyebrow.&quot;They're giving us the run around,&quot; Nick says. &quot;Did it plenty of times in my day.&nbsp; Lots of excuses about long meetings and being busy.&nbsp; Have to nail the bastards down on a time.&quot;&quot;But you got it?&quot; Ammie asks.&quot;Sure,&quot; Nick says.&nbsp; &quot;7 AM tomorrow morning, bright and early.&nbsp; Only time they had avilable, and even then I had to catch him in a double-talk.&quot;&quot;Screw that,&quot; Ammie says.&nbsp; &quot;Some of us like sleeping.&quot;&quot;And some of us need a camera crew to maintain out cover,&quot; Nick says.&nbsp; &quot;You're coming.&quot;Ammie glares at him.&quot;I'm hungry,&quot; Nick says.&nbsp; &quot;How about we head back to the steakhouse before we find somewhere to crash for the evening?&quot;</blockquote>

[QUOTE="arwink, post: 2172167, member: 2292"] About seven years ago, Nick was trained in the fine art of staying cool under pressure. He learned to disarm a bomb while hanging upside down from a rapelling cable, just to prove that he could do it. He was in the line of fire dozens of times, and never lost his head. Even when he saw the demon among the flames of the siege gone wrong, he didn't freak out any worse than your average civilian does when they're caught in the middle of a downtown militarized conflict. This probably explains why he's staying calm right now, quietly ignoring the fact that Ammie has the van roaring along the interstate at a hundred and twenty miles an hour. Even the sound of angry horns and the squeal of tires doesn't get his attention. Ammie keeps her eyes locked on the road, her fists clenched around the steering wheel. She does her best not to think about the small arsenal they loaded into the back of the van, alongside the film equipment. "So," Nick says. "How do you think the dodgers are doing this year?" "Don't follow sports," Ammie says. She slams the wheel to the side, squealing around a slow-moving mail van. "Right," Nick says. "Me either. What about the whole war thing that's going on?" "Haven't thought about that either," Ammie says. Nick nods again. The two hour trip to Gary is filled with half-hearted attempts at awkward silence. Once they hit Gary, the first thing they do is set about establishing their cover. A phone call to the local council, applying for permission to shoot in public spaces. Lots of cruising aroudn town, getting to know the layout of the place, taking stock footage that can be looped through the miniature editing studio in the back of the van in case they actually need to look professional. Nick is unanimously named the face of the pair, leaving Ammie the camera duties. It takes the better part of the day, and both of them are bored as hell by the time it's done. When they figure they've been as obvious as possible about what it is that they appear to be doing, the van is parked outside Gary PD and they're on their way inside. The police station is small, more run down than any Nick can remember seeing. There's a young guy on the front desk, little more than a rookie, who seems surprised to have a film crew on his hands. "Um, yes? How may I help you?" Nick gave him his best soothing smile and offered the officer his hand. "Nick DeLatre, pleased to meet you," he said. "I'm a documentary maker here to get some background on the attacks that have taken place in the sewers." "What? Listen, sir, I'm not allowed to say anything on current investigations." "Of course not," Nick says. "Not your place. You're meant to be out there, fighting crime, not running around pandering to the desires of reporters. But I'm not the press son. Documentaries, completely different kettle of fish. How about you call the media liason for your department and let me talk it over with him." The young officer stammers a few seconds, then reaches for the phone. Ammie raises an eye-brow at Nick, who appears to have taken the basic interview training Hoffman offered them and mutated it into a whole new thing entirely. Especially when he leans over the desk and commanders the phoen while the officer is stammering his way through an explanation. He talks for a few minutes, smiling the entire time, then passes the hand-piece back to the officer on duty. "Thanks son," he says, still beaming. It lasts only a few more seconds, until he's turned and the young cop can't see him. By then he's scowling. "Lets go," he mutters. "I'll explain outside." Ammie waits until they're back in the van before she gives him the raised eyebrow. "They're giving us the run around," Nick says. "Did it plenty of times in my day. Lots of excuses about long meetings and being busy. Have to nail the bastards down on a time." "But you got it?" Ammie asks. "Sure," Nick says. "7 AM tomorrow morning, bright and early. Only time they had avilable, and even then I had to catch him in a double-talk." "Screw that," Ammie says. "Some of us like sleeping." "And some of us need a camera crew to maintain out cover," Nick says. "You're coming." Ammie glares at him. "I'm hungry," Nick says. "How about we head back to the steakhouse before we find somewhere to crash for the evening?" [/QUOTE]

Verification