Author: Daydreamer
Posted:

The Market

"Open the fucking register!"

"God, Tommy, stop shooting! You shot that guy. You shot him. He was just standing there, man, and you fucking shot him!"

"Aw, shit, Hutch! Hutch! I'm hit!"

"Hang on, buddy, I'm coming."

"Like hell you are! Don't move or I'll shoot you, too!"

Tom -- you said no one was gonna get hurt!"

"Shut up, Danny, just -- shut up. And you, don't move!"

" 's all right, Hutch. I'm okay. Just a little f-flesh wound. Just gonna -- cough -- sit down now."

"He's bleeding all over the floor, Tom!! He's gonna die!"

"He's not going to die -- you hear me, Starsky? No dying."

"Don't move, either of you! Open the damn register, old man! Danny, keep 'em covered."

"Starsk? You hear me?"

"Yeah, Hutch. I hear. No dying."

"Look, let me go help him. Just let me put some pressure on the wound."

"Let him, Tom. I'm not going down for murder."

"He's not going to die, Danny. The bullet just nicked him."

"That's a hell of a lot of blood for a nick, Tommy. Let the man help his friend. Please. Nobody's supposed to die."

"Fine. Fine. Help your friend. Just sit on the fucking floor next to him and don't fucking move. And you -- open the fucking register -- now!"

"I'm coming, Starsky. Easy, easy. C'mon, buddy. Let's get you lying down. There. Now, just be still. 's gonna be all right."

"Hurts."

"I know. Hang in there. You -- Tom. I need something to stop the blood."

"Use your fucking shirt."

"Hutch ... don't take off your coat, babe. I'm okay."

"He's got a gun, Tom!"

"No -- man! Easy! See? Hands up! I'm taking it out slow. Putting it on the ground! It's cool -- all right?"

"What are you, a fucking cop? Danny, get his ID."

"Ah, shit, Tom! He is a cop. Detective Ken Hutchinson."

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I do not fucking believe this!"

"Tommy, let's just go -- let's get outta here. Screw this. We didn't come here for this."

"Check the other one."

"Easy, man. Don't be so rough with him."

"Detective David Starsky, Tom. I got his gun, too."

"Easy, Starsk, easy ..."

"Tommy, forget it. Let's just go."

"I shot a fucking cop, Danny! And you're an accessory! You think we can fucking walk away now?"

"Hey, Starsk... That better? Head on my coat? A little softer than the floor, eh, partner? You still with me?"

"Yeah, man. Hurts though."

"I know. You hang in there. I'm getting my shirt off. I'm just gonna hold it here, over the wound. Looks like a clean shot, buddy. In and out, through the shoulder. Hurts like a bitch, but it'll heal up fine, I know it will."

"If you don't open that register right now, old man, I am going to start shooting one limb at a time. I am fucking tired of waiting. Now move!"

"Hutch -- they didn't get my back-up gun. Didn't even check for it."

"Yeah. I know. Real braniacs, these two."

"Can you do something?"

"Trying. The young one, Danny, keeps watching us."

"Fuck, Tommy! You shot the old man!"

"I told him I was tired of fucking around!"

"Tommy! He's -- he's dead!"

"Freeze, assholes! Both of you! Nah-ah-ah! Do you really want to see how well I can use a gun? Drop it, Tom. Now."

"Jesus, Tommy. We're going to jail."

"Shut up, Danny. Just -- shut up."

"You -- Danny -- take these cuffs and cuff your friend there to that post. You -- Tom -- arms around the post. Hug it like it's your new best friend."

"Watch him, Hutch!"

"Tommy -- you do not want to do that. I promise you. Just hug the damn post. I shoot my gun, I've got a week's worth of paperwork, but for you, asshole, I'm willing to do it!"

"My c-cuffs ... on my belt, Hutch."

"I know, buddy, I know. Almost done here. We'll have you out of here in no time."

"Hospital again ..."

"Yeah, probably. Danny, your turn. Next post. Hug it. Good. Now don't move."

"Why the fuck did I ever listen to you, Tommy?"

"Danny, I swear, if you don't shut up ..."

"This is Detective Ken Hutchinson. I'm in Jackson's Market on Henderson Avenue. I've got an officer down. Officer down. Get me an ambulance and back-up. Now! Jackson's Market -- Henderson Avenue."

"Hutch?"

"Ambulance on the way, Starsk. How you holding up?"

"Been better."

"Just a little longer. Just hang on."

"Mr. Jackson? Is he ...?"

"Yeah. Shit. This is gonna kill his wife."

"Argh! Damn! Hurts, Hutch."

"Then stop trying to move, dummy. Just lie still."

"Trying. Just -- hard."

"I know, buddy, I know. Listen? Hear that? Help's on the way."

"Tired ..."

"No! No sleeping, Starsk. You wait. You wait for the paramedics."

"B-bossy p-partner."

"Damn straight. Hey! Over here. Gunshot wound to the left shoulder. Yeah, yeah, it looked like it came out to me, too."

"Argh ... Fuck!"

"Easy with him, you morons! The man's hurting!"

" 's okay, Hutch. Jus' doin' their j-job."

"They're taking you to Mercy, Starsk. I'm coming. I'll be right behind you."

"C-careful. With my. Car."

"Yeah, yeah. Sheesh. All you do is nag ..."

"Hutch?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

"Th-thanks for the shirt."