fandomtownies | Freelance Police Headquarters, Tuesday

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Freelance Police Headquarters, Tuesday

Max kicked back on the sofa, picking his teeth with the front sight of his (loaded, with the safety off) Luger. "Ahhh, it's so wonderful to be such a petty, small-minded person," he sighed. "I'm convinced I'm so much better than everyone else, and I'd never change my mind about that no matter HOW much evidence you threw at me." He rolled onto his side to look over at his partner. "And you know what, Sam? I don't tell you this enough, but after me, you're... close to the top of my list of favorite people. More or less."

He sighed contentedly, and started from a sudden inspiration. "Oooh! Oooh! You know what we should have for dinner tonight? Pickles."

Believe it or not, Max was actually completely unaffected by Honesty Day. And the Freelance Police were open for business.

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Because you know you want to.

After her day at the station, Daisy was in more need of a drink than she'd been in a long, long time, but she also had the feeling that taking her time and making sure Sarah and Loki (well, the former, anyway) were a few drinks ahead of her seemed like a damn fine idea as well. And when she wasn't being annoyed with Ralph. She was thinking. She was thinking a lot, about justice, as she had been, for quite some time. Even before the convention, but the convention had made her finally decide to do something about how much she felt she was being a poor servant to justice just sitting behind a desk most of the day.

So, on her way home, a little tired, she slipped into the Freelance Police. She felt a bit odd, being in her Fandom Police uniform while there, but it would maybe help her case as far as experience and ability went.

"Um, hullo?"

Max jumped to his feet and aimed his gun at Daisy. "Ooooh, a client! A client! Don't worry, ma'am, we're on the case!"

There was a small, rabbit-like thing pointing a gun at her, and, somehow, the only thing Daisy could think to say was, "Excuse me, but have you got a license for that firearm?"

"Sure he does!" Sam said generously, tipping his hat to the visitor. "Besides, we're police. We don't need to register our weapons. We've got badges and everything."

He held his out helpfully.

"I'm also the President," Max chimed in. "So everything I do is legal, whether it's against the law or not."

Daisy was just sort of quiet for a moment; she eyed the dog-looking one because he seemed the saner one out of the two of them. "The badges," she said with a nod, "work as a substitute for registration, yeah. And can't the president be vetoed by Congress?"

"Psshhhht, Congress," Max replied dismissively. "They're too busy impeaching me to get anything done."

"They also come after you with pitchforks," Sam supplied. "And they might hand you over for war crimes, but I think they're bluffing."

She shook her head slightly, wondering if she should just call it a night, but before she could think another thought on it, what she was thinking drifted out anyway, "But, well, I'm Detective Constable Daisy Day, with the Fandom Police, and I've actually been wondering if your organization might be...well, hiring?"

"We're always hiring!" Sam said cheerfully. "There used to be a sign in the window, but I used it to squash a bug. It didn't seem very professional to have a window-sign with bug goo on it. Do you have a gun?"

Daisy just looked at the...dog fellow for a moment before reaching for her belt, and pulling out with ease her pistol. "Standard policeforce issue, and I'm a pretty good shot at it, too," she said. "Although I'm going to be honest. It's standard issue because I'm, first and foremost, a copper. I can't work regular, because I've already got a job. But I'm sure you....boys," she wasn't entirely sure that was the proper term to use, "know it's slow around here. I'm going absolutely mad. If something happens, I want in on it, whether it happens through the proper law enforcement or through you guys."

"I dunno, Sam," Max said. "We've already GOT a double agent. You don't think she'll double-cross us with the loiterer, do you?"

"Well, I'm game," Sam said, offering a paw to Daisy. "Don't mind the lagomorph, he's a paranoid sociopath. Although we do have a double-agent. Our secretary, the red-haired kid. He's spying on the blonde girl who breaks in on Mondays."

Also known as: Triela, one of their trusted employees.

"There's a blonde girl who breaks in regularly?" Daisy asked, a little shocked, even as she took the dog fellow's paw. "Well. At least you've got someone on it. I just want to help serve justice wherever I can, sirs."

"She feeds the fish and files some paperwork," Sam sighed. "We keep trying to arrest her, but she's clever. I like justice, too. That's why I got this badge."

It was. He'd walked into the store and picked it out, for that very reason.

"I think," Daisy said, with an honesty that was surprising even her because if there was one thing she rarely talked about, especially professionally, it was this, "justice is the most important thing ever."

"More important than random wanton violence?" Max asked. "Well, to each their own, I suppose -- justice is pretty important, too. I love dispensing tough justice on the unsuspecting populace!"

Daisy was getting the feeling that she and the little rabbit fellow weren't exactly going to be BFFs any time soon.

"Much more important than random wanton violence," she said dryly.

"Don't worry," Sam said helpfully. "I never let him loose on a suspect unless we're pretty sure he's guilty."

Daisy nodded a little. "So..." she said, "which one of you is Sam and which one's Max?"

Max scratched his head. "Sometimes it's hard to remember. Which one are you, Sam?"

"Pretty sure I'm Max, little buddy," Sam said. "I'll check my badge and see what that says."

Daisy made an attempt to follow that and then shook her head slightly. "I'm sure I'll figure it out, sirs, given time."

"All you need to remember is that I'm the charming, debonair one," Max told her.

Oh, that most wonderous of communication devices.

In the afternoon, Linz had one bit of business that she had to take care of.

That of course involved going through the directory... and making a phone call.

RING!! RING!!

"I GOT IT!!! I GOT IT!!!" Max jumped off the couch, dropping his gun, and started running for the phone. The Luger discharged when it hit the floor, putting a bullet hole through the closet door. Probably not through Leonard, though. Probably.

Leonard's possibly injured state was inconsequential. There were bigger concerns, like answering the phone. Sam lunged for the desk lamp and flung it towards Max's head.

Blows to the head usually slowed Max down a little.

Max keeled over sideways, a lamp-shaped welt on his head. And, sure, slowed down. A little. He was almost there.

Dammit. That hadn't bought him nearly enough time. Next time, he'd throw the television. It might improve the reception.

Instead, he picked up the rug of the presidential seal from the ground and hurled it at Max.

Well, it WAS a throw rug.

The heavy fabric swept Max along with it and pinned him to the wall with an "Ooof!". For a few beats -- a unit of time in cartoon physics that was exactly long enough for the audience watching at home to absorb the situation and laugh -- the rug hung plastered flat on the wall, with a rabbit-shaped lump protruding from it. Then rug and lagomorph fell into a crumpled heap that groaned softly.

Victory! Sam gloated over his handiwork for a few seconds before dashing to get the phone while it was still ringing.

"Freelance Police Headquarters," he said cheerfully.

"Hi," Lindsay said leaning back in her chair. "I was wondering if you covered doing surveillance as part of your services?"

"Absolutely!" Sam said. "We surveil with the best of them. Champion surveillance. We also offer survey miles, surveyors, and community service. So long as we can embezzle money from the government to foot the bill for that last one."

"Um. Okay. You sound really strange and weird but this island is pretty fucked up already so I'm going to just go along with it," Lindsay said wondering where the hell that came from. "Anyhow the Mayor of this town has stuck his nose into my employer's business and I haven't been able to bug him. I want to hire you guys to keep tabs on him for the next week."

"We're on the case," Sam said gravely. "This Mayor won't know what hit him."

That was probably all too true.

"Great. Send the bill to Lindsay Boxer over at Stark Enterprises."

YOU MUST ALL BOW AND WORSHIP ME

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Freelance Police Headquarters, Tuesday

Talk to Sam and Max

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PHONE!!!

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OOC