Fic: Due South: Case Files of the CPD 1/1 Due South
Another of my old Due South Crack fics.
Title: Due South: Case Files of the CPD. By: Lopaka Tanu Disclaimer: I do not own Due South. Warning: Do not attempt to drink or eat anything while reading this. As a matter of fact, do nothing that requires thinking while readin this, either. Rating: Adult Pairing: RayK/Benton Fandom: Due South Summary: A new cop show comes on the air and they are wanting to interview one of the strangest duos in all law enforcement. Author's Note: Oh Dear! _______________________________________________________
Canadian Consulate 12/20/98 - 19:32:08 Chicago, Illinois.
Camera lights shined through the darkened halls as they were escorted by Constable Renfield Turnbull. "I am sure I saw Detective Vecchio come back this way earlier. He seemed to be in high spirits, which is unusual as he is someone what of a... I believe your term is Hard Ass."
"And what exactly is back this way, Constable?"
"That would be Constable Fraser's Office, the water storage tank, a Consulate staff room, and..." His voice cut off at the sound of a shrill squeal. "Oh dear, please excuse me, I have to check on that." Ignoring the protests, he ran off back the way they had come.
"Damn it. Okay, looks like if we want to get done by midnight we are going to have to get this started on our own. Which room down this hall do you think it is?" The camera panned down the hall, picking up the half a dozen doors. "Cute, ass hole, just keep that thing pointed directly ahead while I lead the way."
Another figure came in direct line of sight of the camera, reaching for the first door. Before he could grab the knob, the door behind them thumped hard against the frame causing the figure to jump and the camera to move like wise. The door shook again and again in repetitive motions as something slammed into it.
"What the fuck is that," the host whispered.
"How the hell should I know?"
"Shhh, it stopped. Get closer, I think I hear something."
The camera shook as it was moved closer, the microphone picking up the noise.
"Ray, I said I heard something."
"It was probably Turnbull."
"I don't think so, the voice was too feminine..."
'Feminine,' the host lipped into the camera, obvious outrage on his face.
"Fraser, forgettabout it!"
"But, Ray..."
"That's right, Frase, think about my butt. All lonesome an' aching for your..." The voice was silenced as the door started back up the thumping.
By this time the camera man's mouth was sitting in a big O shape as his eyebrows were in his hair line. He motioned for them to get back from the door, then sit down. At this the camera went dark.
Canadian Consulate 12/20/98 - 21:47:15 Chicago, Illinois.
"Oh yes, god yes! Harder, Frase, harder! Yes! Ah, ah, uhhhhhhhhhhhh. Uhhhhhh. Uhhnnhhhhnn. Ah!" Loud panting filled the hall barely discernable through the smoke screen. "God Frase, that was greatness personafried!"
"Personified, Ray, and I know, you were good as well."
"Whatever, just... Do you smell smoke?"
The camera shook violently as the handler and the host put out their cigarettes and waved their hands to dispel the clouds. When the door opened with a curious blonde head sticking out, they put on their best innocent looks. "Detective Vecchio?"
"Uh..."
"Good, we finally found you. We are with the producers of a new cop show that has tagged your partnership with Constable Benton Fraser for study. We have the full consent of both yours and his supervisors. When do you think a good time would be to begin?"
Ray's face scrunched up as he glared at the host. "Now you listen here, ya fu... mhmhmh!" His words were cut off as a pale hand clamped over his mouth and pulled him back into the room.
The host looked at the camera in confusion as the door shook violently. "Well, that went pretty well." He stood up and knocked on the door. "Detective Vecchio, Constable Fraser, when you are ready..."
Silence filled the hall as the door started to open again. This time the short haired brunette with pale blue eyes poked his head around the door. Using a hand to rub a thumb over his eyebrow, he focused on the ceiling. "Um, it would seem you arrived at a most inconvenient time. Perhaps if you came back at a later date we could talk this out?"
"Sorry, no can do, Mr. Fraser. We only got tonight, your inspector was most insistent on that. She also said you were to... How did she put it?" He looked to the camera man.
The camera shook as the handler pulled something out. He held it up in the camera's light in front of the lens. It was a message recorder. Pressing the play button, a loud screech was heard.
"Silence, Constable Turnbull, if you continue to squirm, it will only make this more painful." Another high pitched scream followed by a relieved sigh. "There, next time you decide to nit, make sure your needles are not left in the chair before you sit down. Now, as I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted, you can have Constable Fraser for the one night, nothing more, nothing less. He is to cooperate with you to the letter of this program's consent form, and if he doesn't... Well I have a suitable punishment for insubordinate subordinates." This was followed by a whimper. "Now put your ass back here, I can't sew it up with you hiding behind the desk. Don't run from me, Constable, I know where you liveeeeee...."
Benton's cheeks flushed as he looked down. Rubbing his eyebrow, he tried to focus on something else. "Oh dear, it would seem that I have no choice. By any chance, do you know when this would have been set up?"
Host smiled at him. "Six weeks ago, your bosses' figured it would be better not to tell you until the night of the event. Something about finding excuses or pirate ships."
Benton flushed again, but disappeared as he was jerked back.
Ray appeared in the doorway this time in all his naked glory, hands on hips, little Ray pointing at the camera. "I know her royal frosty assness is devious enough for this, but there is no way in hell the Lieu would..."
"Shut the hell up, Vecchio! If I even hear of one screw up from you, just one, I'll have your ass in a sling so fast you'll never see it coming!"
Ray visibly wilted as the recording screamed at him. Cocking his head to the now recalcitrant Mountie at his side, he whispered. "What case were we working on six weeks ago?"
Fraser blushed deeper. "The transvestite hooker case, where you had to..."
"Shush, Mountie! I remember!" Glaring at the camera, Ray turned around and strutted back into the office. "We'll be back."
When the door closed, the host smiled painfully into the camera. "So far so insane. Dear god, please just let me make it through the night."
"There you are, I had completely forgotten you were here." The camera panned around to face the rushing forward Constable Turnbull. He had a tray full of steaming mugs and goofy grin on his face. "I figured some hot tea would be... AH!" His foot caught a loose fabric in the carpet and he tripped sending the tray flying at the camera and host.
"Oh... AH! It burns! I'm melting, I'm melting!" The host screamed as he clutched at his tea coated head. "You clumsy idiot, my hair! The gel is melting, I'm ruined!" He turned to send a death glare to the camera and handler. Face a horrible mockery of the crow, he looked like hell. "Turn it off. Turn. It. Off." Stalking forward, he wiped the loosely running gel, mascara, and other beauty products from his now red eyes. Growling incoherently he tackled the retreating camera, handler and all.
Canadian Consulate 12/20/98 - 22:05:38 Chicago, Illinois.
The camera suddenly flashed into life as the now swollen eyed host finished sticking a toilet paper wad up his nose to deal with the bleeding. He flinched when the camera picked up the sound of knuckles cracking. Backing away from the camera, he held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, I was wrong, I shouldn't have attacked you. I've learned my lesson, never piss off an ex-marine cameraman."
The camera nodded.
"Okay," he sniffled and began once more speaking in a nasal tone. "Detective Kowalski and Constable Fraser, are you ready yet?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Ray stormed out of the office shoulders slumped followed by a dignified Mountie. "Pick up the pace, peeps, pitter patter, Frase."
Hurried along, the camera and host followed after them. They exited out the front entrance with Constable Turnbull trying in vain not to look at them. The camera made a threatening pan towards the Constable and Turnbull jumped back with a yelp. Once outside, they walked towards a large black car.
At the car, Ray stopped outside the driver's side door. Looking at Fraser, he glared. "The dog stays here."
It was then the camera looked down at the big white half wolf. Backing up a pace, the camera zoomed in on the half dog. Dief whined at them.
"But, Ray, he has never been on television. The prospect of doing so is..."
"...quite more than he can handle. I heard this same speech before and the answer is still, no. Last time we had a camera crew follow us around he got so excited he pissed all over the back seat, the camera crew, and the camera, ruining it for us. I had to spend weeks airing out the car. No dice, Frase."
Diefenbaker whined as he looked away.
Benton looked up from the half wolf to Ray. "If it is any consolation, he says he is sorry."
"I told you no. Now beat it, Diefenburger!" Ray growled at the half wolf.
"Ray, his name is Diefenbaker." A look from Ray. "I see, very well, Diefenbaker, guard the Consulate. We shall return soon."
Diefenbaker snorted, walked over, hiked his leg up... and jumped up three feet as a bullet bounced off the sidewalk next to him.
The camera panned up to Ray who had a gun out and his glasses on.
"I suggest unless you wish to become Diane Baker, you lower the leg and get the hell away from the car."
Diefenbaker quickly ran back to the Consulate, growling the whole way.
Ray climbed in the car followed by the camera crew and lastly Constable Fraser.
Driving, Lake Side Blvd. 12/20/98 - 22:10:11 Chicago, Illinois.
"Oh for... Out with it, Frase!" Ray looked over the console to his partner. "What is it? You pissed I won't let the dog in the car?"
"That was completely uncalled for, Ray."
"Well I'm not sorry, you know the Goat is my baby." Ray looked back ahead as horn honking let him know he should be paying attention to which side walk he was on. "Cheer up, Frase, at least I didn't shoot him. You know how bad my aim is when I'm scared."
"You were not scared, Ray."
"I was too! He was about to piss on my baby. You know how I feel about my baby."
"What is the big deal, it is just a car." The camera suddenly shot forward into the head rest of the passenger seat as the car skidded to a halt. There was a commotion off camera. "What the fuck? You sonnofa..."
"And don't come back ya dick wad!" At Ray's angry words, the camera righted itself. "I'm sorry you had to witness that, but there are just some people you don't tolerate." Ray lovingly caressed the dash of his car. "That's okay, baby, he don't matter. You aren't *JUST* a car."
South Side Apartments. 12/20/98 - 22:32:18 Chicago, Illinois.
Lights shown in the distance as the camera followed Benton and Ray. There were already uniforms milling around, most over in the shadows holding their sides shaking. All were bent over in some form or another, tryin to avoid the camera. Ray walked up to the one that seemed to be in charge of the crime scene. "What is the situation?"
"We were called to the scene by the neighbors. The husband and wife were..." He started coughing as he held a hand over his mouth. "were arguing. She didn't know what they were fighting about, but it stopped all of a sudden. A few minutes later the wife started to shout as her husband screamed. His words were drowned out by the sounds of..." This time he his coughs doubled him over. He couldn't speak anymore so he pointed to the apartment door.
It was a ground level apartment, the door was ajar and the living room lit up by a dozen crime scene lamps. Ray walked took a look around, then walked back out. The camera caught Benton's face as he did the same. A big smile plastered on his face as he blushed.
Not teen feet away, Ray collapsed against the wall laughing. He pounded on the wall as tears ran down his face.
"Ray! I hardly find this situation amusing. That man is dead in there." Benton's face was twitching as the camera watched him. "Please, Ray, show some dignity."
Ray didn't respond, just clutched his sides as he fell to the ground. Rolling against the wall, he tried to catch his breath only to start laughing again.
They were all three pushed aside as the coroner's team came in carrying the stretcher and body bag. The camera watched as they stopped inside the door way. Once they caught sight of the body, they dropped the stretcher. Once fell over laughing as the second ran from the room holding his mouth.
The camera swept over the cops, displaying them either incapacitated with laughter or trying to get the others on their feet. It then turned towards the apartment and moved closer. At the door, it stopped and panned over the room. It stopped at the center of the living room to the couch. Laid out in a sexual wanting spread eagle, was the body of the husband.
The camera scanned over the body taking in every detail. From the nipple clamps covering most of his body, to the dildos clogging every orifice, the largest of which was shoved down his throat like a sword swallower. There were whip marks up and down the body leaving neat striations on the now cooling flesh. Strapped to his chest was a ham sandwich held in place by a dozen sets of nipple clamps.
The camera moved to the side as an old man in a white coat entered with Ray at his side. "Mort, here is the... victim."
The older man took in the crime seen with a bemused glance. "I would say judging by the placement of the body and the condition, this was a crime of passion. Cause of death most likely Autoerotic Asphyxiation."
Suddenly the entire area broke into howls of laughter.
Mort looked up from examining the body. "What do you find so amusing..." He looked to the ceiling deep in thought. Mumbling to himself, a smile came to his face. "Oh yes, I see. What I mean is he choked to death because he was unable to swallow the girth of the phallic marital aid." At swallow, their laughter increased. Waving them off, Mort went about taking pictures of the crime scene, the normal Crime Scene Photographer against the wall clutching his tripod in order to remain standing.
"This is very interesting. It seems she coated him in petroleum jelly before applying the clamps and dildos." Mort stroked a cotton swab down the side of the guy's throat to take sample when suddenly the body started to vibrate and hum. "What the devil?" Suddenly the whole body was vibrating itself off the couch as all the dildos came on.
At this point the camera shook and fell to the ground. On the way down it hit the couch then went black.
Canadian Consulate 12/20/98 - 23:26:08 Chicago, Illinois.
"You should be ashamed of yourself. I have never in my three decades... I mean years in the business had such an incompetent camera man. How you could lose them, I'll never know. Just be glad I had my cell phone else you would still be stuck in the basement morgue. That broken camera will come out of your pay, you do realize that."
The camera staring at the host's feet, shook up and down.
"Good! Now you behave yourself, we have to get a final shot of the guys to close out the show then we can get out of this god forsaken city... Ow, god damn it! You fucking punks are going to get it if you come back here."
Suddenly the camera shot up and turned to face where the host was shouting at. Three guys stood there with spray paint cans were joined by five others. Before they could advance, a flash of white shot out past the camera at the boys causing them to scatter.
Diefenbaker chased away the original three by biting them on the ass, leaving the others go of their own recognizance. He looked up at the camera, grinned and disappeared around the Consulate.
The camera turned and faced the host, who had a hand over his chest in shock. "Well, it would seem that the wolf got his fifteen minutes after all. If we have time, we won't have to edit it out." A growl came from where Dief disappeared. "Okay, so we'll keep it in."
They started up the steps of the Consulate, the host in the lead. "I still can't believe you damaged the camera because you were laughing too hard. The footage had better be worth it."
The camera panned around in a circle.
"Don't roll your lens at me! Now where the hell is that klutz of a Mountie?" The Host looked around the front doors noting that one was partially open. "That crazy wolf must have left it open. Don't ask me how he unlocked it. I just told you not to ask.... May be he fashioned a key from his front nail." His voice dripped with sarcasm. Shrugging in anger, he walked inside. "Hello? Hello? Constables? Detective? May be they are back in the office again."
Walking at a fast pace, he quickly navigated the halls to the right one. As he brought up his hand to knock, the door behind them shook violently. "What the..."
"Detective Vecchio!"
"Be silent, Mountie."
"Really, Ray, must you always refer to him as Mountie?"
"Yeah, when I am the mounter, he is the mountee!" Ray's voice trailed off in a screech of pleasure.
"By that logic, Ray, you have been a Mountie for a large portion of this evening. Now that I think about it, I find the memory of you in a RCMP official uniform very... exciting."
"I too must confess that I enjoyed seeing you in my uniform, Detective Vecchio." Turnbull's voice was in a husky moan.
"How about I just wear the Stetson?" A moment's pause. "And only just the Stetson."
There came a couple of undignified moans of lust from beyond the door.
The host's face was red as his eyes were bulging. Glaring at the door, he kicked it open. "You bunch of faiery sons of..." was all he got out as the door swung back and slammed into his face. He fell back like a tree landing head first into the adjacent wall.
An opening in the door caused light to shine in the darkened hall. The camera looked up from the sprawled form to see Ray poking his ruffled head out the door. "Mind yer own business, ya fuckin nosy nancy!" He looked at the camera, a goofy smile on his face. Opening the door all the way, he walked out, hands clasped together. Puffing out his jaws and belly, he started walking over the fallen host. Speaking in a deep voice with a British accent, he offered an expressionless face. "Goooood eaven-eing. Some might consider this a tragic night filled with mistakes, brutal murders, and violence. I myself find it a very amusing arrangement of Humanity's darker tendencies keyed in D minor. Perhaps even an M for murder or H for humor. Which ever tickles your fancy, enjoy and gooood neigh Ta." Turning sideways, his profile was viewed against the back drop of the light.
The music of Alfred Hitchcock Presents: started to play as the image went dark. Followed by credits, multiple disclaimers, and a warning of never do this at home.