Joke's On You

[Trent Resnick]

Trent's standing orders were to report to report to Lieutenant Quinn – his new partner – though he used the word loosely, since he already had a partner back in Guns & Gangs. No doubt this new guy would be some kind of hardass, meant to whip him into the precinct's idea of a model officer. Trent wanted to hurl, though some of that could be attributed to the aftereffects of his hangover. If only Trent could make it through the sure to be excruciating Day 1: he had no desire to be judged for doing the right thing.

Stopping at Lieutenant Quinn's office, Trent knocked on the closed door. This entire situation could only be described as a nightmare. It had all started with one lousy gangbanger, who had been approaching a park filled with children. Somehow his superiors still reasoned Trent had used excessive force in stopping the lowlife. Yeah, politics – with all of their needless red tape – just got in the way of people like him doing the jobs they were trained to do. Trent squinted. Was it a little too bright in here, or was it just him?

At least Trent had made the best of a bad situation last night. Besides having entirely too much to drink at his cousin's bar, Trent hadn't gone home alone. Joined by a woman he had only just met, the two of them had blown off some steam together. A blonde, no less. He preferred blondes. Also redheads, but mostly blondes. By the time their fun was over, he'd even managed to get her to scribble her phone number on a piece of paper. And, hell, if today went as poorly as expected, he might have to give her a call tonight.

Harland Quinn

[Harland Quinn]

"We are gonna burn
it to the ground."

Harland was well aware of the former detective’s situation. Resnick was lucky to still be a cop from what she understood. They had wanted to can him but she’d stuck up for him to keep him going back through retraining. Nothing like having to be her partner too. She just hoped that she could trust this Resnick person, trust was hard to come by these days though.

“Come in.” Harley called through the door. Her head was down in her paperwork. Wait a minute, he looked familiar. She pulled the photo out of the corner of his transfer paperwork. Son of bitch. It was the guy from the bar last night. Damn, there was no way in hell he was calling her back was there?

Harley collected the paperwork into a nice neat pile. She didn’t like to look at paperwork when she spoke, it made her feel like she was dependent on information. In this case, she already knew all the facts of the why he was here and the how he had gotten here. No, she didn’t need to look at his file.

Trent Resnick

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRPHY 2.0

[Trent Resnick]

When Lieutenant Quinn called him into her office, Trent opened the door and stepped inside, frowning. That voice sounded vaguely familiar, but so much of last night was a blur. No, it couldn't be the same person – the one who had scribbled her phone number on a small piece of scrap paper. In case he 'wanted to do this again,' which remained a tempting possibility into the next morning. At the time, Trent had reasoned that something had been bound to go right, but screw that absurd sentiment; this just wasn't his week. He'd managed to arrange a convenient outlet for stress relief. But now… all that had undoubtedly gone out the window.

"You're Lieutenant Quinn?" Trent stood in the doorway, openly staring at the woman sitting behind the desk. Life had partaken in a cruel joke at his expense. Maybe he should be closing the door for this conversation or… something. There was a reason Trent went to Derek's bar: to avoid other cops. In the end, he'd bitched about his problems to the one person who had probably already been briefed on the situation. Sure, Harley had been drunk, same as him, but could she have recognized him?

Oh hell. Closing the door behind him, Trent remained standing. Last night – with the bar and everything else – had been more than enjoyable. Except Harley being his boss threw a wrench into the works, didn't it? Now he had to work with the woman he had slept with. Him and his damn weakness for blondes.

Harland Quinn ,

[Harland Quinn]

"We are gonna burn
it to the ground."

Harland chuckled when he asked if she was the Lieutenant. “Yes, Yes, I am” She pointed at the seat in front of her. “Have a seat Trent.” They were already on a first name basis, unless he corrected her she saw no point in going back and making things too rough on the edges for him. Harland smiled some. “We both know why you are here.” She replied picking up his file and playing with it. She had a habit of fidgeting with things. There was a slight pause.

“But you are here because someone still sees potential in you.” Harland could lie, but she preferred to tell the truth. “Before last night. I already knew most of the story. Last night, I sort of got some of the story without realizing it.” She looked towards him and shook her head. “Until I saw your file this morning…” She was caught off guard apparently. “However, I should probably let you know I made a deal with the Chief to keep you on the force.” No, she wasn’t going to hide things.

“You’re a good cop, who got the raw end of the stick. I’ve seen your file Resnick. One thing I don’t do is blow smoke up a cops ass. That’s not my style.” She set the file down. “I’m not just telling you things to tell them to you. You’re my partner now whether you like it or not. Honesty, never hurts.” She sighed. “I play politics because I have to, not always because I like to do so but you are a good cop and it would be a shame for you think otherwise.” She slid his patrol badge across the desk. “You’ve got an outlet for stress, you can lay off the trigger happy.” She smiled some trying to get him to at least smile.

Trent Resnick

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRPHY 2.0

[Trent Resnick]

Trent stifled a string of curse words; an attractive blonde, interested in going back to his place, and it turned out to be his new boss. In a place like Chicago, avoiding cops after hours could be especially tricky, but that's why Trent favored Derek's bar. A notorious locale, even among those carrying a badge: people looking for a good time frequented the joint, but rarely left alone. Trent had gotten his good time, leaving with the hottest woman there that night, only to watch a good thing go up in flames the morning after. Taking a seat on the opposite side of her desk, Trent braced himself for the usual political bullshit. Harley could tear into his decision all she wanted, but it didn't change facts.

Except the judgment never came. At least not the kind he'd been anticipating. Listening to Harley detail the situation, from her position, he found himself not at peace with the outcome, but at least willing to play ball. If what Lieutenant Quinn said was accurate, she had fought to keep him because she believed in him as a cop -- the only reason he wasn't completely off the force. Either she was different than every other cop and politician in the city, or she was bullshitting him. To what end, he had no idea, but Trent wanted to keep serving the community where he had spent most of his life growing up. "That's not what everyone else seems to think. As far as they're concerned, I'm toxic. They wouldn't touch me with a ten foot pole."

Trent picked up the patrol badge, weighing it in his hand. It wasn't quite the same as his detective badge, but he'd be fortunate to ever get that back. By accepting this, however, it would at least allow him to continue doing something he loved. Although last night complicated things. There weren't technically any regulations standing in the way of having a relationship on the side, provided you could keep said relationship out of work. Until Trent knew what to expect of them, he planned to remain professional with her. "You're implying you want to continue with the off-duty stress relief, Lieutenant?"

Harland Quinn

[Harland Quinn]

"We are gonna burn
it to the ground."

Oh Harley had been playing the political violin all week making sure that Resnick stayed on the force. Though drunk, she hadn’t remembered his face in the slightest. Vaguely familiar maybe but perhaps at the time he had just reminded her of someone. Though, now sober even the finer details of who he was came into focus. “You really don’t remember me do you?” No her last name wasn’t the same as it had been years ago; but that didn’t mean she forgot. She bit at her lip well this was going to hell faster than she thought it would.

Either he was trying to peg her for every other cop in the city or he thought she was full of it. “Damien Bishop.” She despised using the man’s name. “Does the name mean anything to you?” She pulled her hair out of its bun so it framed her face. “Internal affairs?” She was trying to see if he could put two and two together. Perhaps if she wasn’t in a uniform it would make things easier for him.

“You’re damned good police, that’s not debatable.” Having been former internal affairs she wanted to go have a word with whomever had made that decision. Well to be fair, she had already had words with those in IA and that’s how Resnick was here. “As for off-duty stress relief, I wouldn’t say no.” This was not how ‘first meetings’ were supposed to go. Harley pulled her hair back into her tightly wound bun and looked towards Trent again, now that she’d thrown all her cards on the table.

Trent Resnick

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRPHY 2.0

[Trent Resnick]

Over the years, Trent had worked on and solved many cases as a Guns & Gangs detective. It was impossible to remember each and every one, but some cases stuck with you more than others. Taking a closer look at Harley – her long, blonde hair loosely framing her face – and repeating the name several times in his head, it started coming back to him. Damien Bishop: the infamous killer who had executed one of their own in cold blood. Not a man Trent cared to bring up in polite company, but there was another young man he would. "Patrick. Your son. I remember."

Those weren't the only pieces to click into place. A former Internal Affairs officer would have connections to take advantage of. If you listened to the politicians, silently judging his actions from the safety of their own offices, Trent had screwed up. Someone must have stepped in for him to be sitting here now. The one common thread, because he had investigated the case and thrown Damien into jail, was Harley. "You pulled strings to get me here, didn't you?"

Trent couldn't complain. He still had a job – that, in itself, was a positive – and the offer of stress relief was still on the table. Technically, this hadn't been their first meeting, nor had last night. Even, despite their shared history, Trent couldn't say no to the standing offer. "Then say yes. I am."

Harland Quinn

[Harland Quinn]

[attr="class","Harleyner"]

[attr="class","Harleyner1"]

[attr="class","Harleyback"]

[attr="class","Harleynert"]Harland couldn’t deny that Patrick sometimes talked about the man who kept coming to visit. “Mr. Policeman” as he had started to call Trent at the time. Harley got up from her desk and moved towards Trent. “He asks about you sometimes.” She was making conversation but the truth was she knew Patrick could use the company of a male figure in his life. Even if it was just a co-worker of hers. Who better than her partner to extend the offer to? “You should stop by sometime.” Yeah, last night had been far more let loose and enjoy the night. Today was like that hang over that wouldn’t go away.

When he asked about her pulling strings. “No.” Well in reality she hadn’t really pulled strings to get him anywhere. But she had fought for his job. “But I’ve got your back.” She affirmed. Having his back is something she would have done for any other cop in his position. Being able to take it from an IA look maybe gave her a more logical fight than any other average patrol cop. She’d tried to get them to keep his old job but this was the middle ground. The only ground. “After a four hour phone conversation with me telling them every damned reason in the book it was a good shooting, they asked me if I wanted a partner.” She had made the deduction that had been their only offer. Though she wasn’t about to tell him the rest of the conversation.

Harley set a finger down on the table. “It wasn’t an implication. It was an expression of interest in wanting to to continue.” She picked her hand up and ran a thumb across his lips. “Because these lips are amazing.” As if to prove her point she reached out and kissed him briefly. “Off the clock.” She reminded him, of what she was suggesting. “On, the clock it’s Lieutenant or Ma’am.” Harley added.

∵ Trent Resnick ∵

[attr="class","Harleyner2"]

[attr="class","Harleynerlyric"]Les lumières sont éteintes et je te connais à peine
Je savais que tu viendrais

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

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[Trent Resnick]

[attr="class","Trentnah"]

[attr="class","Trentleft"] [attr="class","Trentleft2"]

[attr="class","Trentright"] Trent had no children of his own -- not because he didn't want them, but because he'd just never given much thought to the idea. Such things were a future consideration, if he ever ended up in a serious relationship. So, it shouldn't have come as a surprise to anyone, when that ended up on the backburner. For someone else's kid to take a liking to him... Trent didn't know how to respond to that. "I didn't realize I'd made that big of an impact." As he recalled, the young boy liked baseball. Or was it football? There had been trophies in Patrick's room. "I could stop by. Maybe play catch with him." Nonetheless, Harley claimed she hadn't pulled any strings to get him here. In fact, she'd had the chance to say no... and hadn't. It sounded like, maybe, he'd been too quick to rush to judgment. Trent didn't know how to put a 'thank you' into words, but he gave a grateful nod. Hopefully that conveyed the sentiment. Otherwise he was going to be left floundering for words. Trent qualified under interested, if that's the word they were choosing to go with in lieu of implication. Time would tell how this decision worked out, but it was a hard offer to refuse. Being a cop wasn't easy, the stress built up, and this was an outlet. His boss, yes, but also a very fine outlet. "Understood, Lieutenant. I already know what you prefer off the clock. No need to rehash last night. You can count me in." Harland Quinn [attr="class","Trentright2"]

deltra of gangnam style

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[Harland Quinn]

[attr="class","Harleyner"]

[attr="class","Harleyner1"]

[attr="class","Harleyback"]

[attr="class","Harleynert"]Harland shook her head. It wasn’t hard to make an impact on Patrick as a male figure. “Kids pick up on a lot.” She decided to just leave it at that. The woman started drawing circles on her desk with her index finger. “He would like that.” Patrick loved baseball and Harland was the only one who would play catch with him. She’d never really had a real father figure in his life. Sometimes she wondered if her lifestyle was going to do her son any good as he grew up. She wasn’t ready to settle down with anyone.

The only thing Harley really knew about Trent was his professional accomplishments and what others saw as misgivings. She also knew what he liked in the bedroom but she far from knew him on any level beyond that. It wasn’t like she would sit down and have a cup of coffee after being hammered with vodka the night before. He probably knew about her than she did of him.

Harley was about to say something when her phone started ringing. She held up one finger as she answered it. “Lieutenant Quinn. Patrol.” It was quick and professional but also very schooled. There was a moment of her trying to process whomever was talking. “I want every unit enroute and get me SWAT.” She hung up the phone and grabbed her badge and gun from her desk drawer.

Throwing her keys at the floor on accident she picked them up. “Someone took Patrick when he was outside playing. My babysitter just phoned it in. Let’s go.” There was a distant expression in her eyes as she made a beeline for the door and then the parking deck. Silence as she decided how she wanted to handle this. Her kid was abducted and she was trying to hold herself together.

∵ Trent Resnick ∵

[attr="class","Harleyner2"]

[attr="class","Harleynerlyric"]Les lumières sont éteintes et je te connais à peine
Je savais que tu viendrais

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

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[Trent Resnick]

[attr="class","Trentnah"]

[attr="class","Trentleft"] [attr="class","Trentleft2"]

[attr="class","Trentright"] Trent could only shrug. His own experience with kids was limited: you sometimes dealt with them while working a case, but that was hardly seeing them at their best. Beyond that, however, he had no knowledge to draw upon. He probably would have had better luck relying on Google for his information rather than trusting his own intuition. Yet, if he and Harley were to become better acquainted, then perhaps Trent shouldn't dismiss the notion. No doubt he'd be learning more about Patrick in the coming weeks and months, but there was nothing wrong with some general knowledge in advance. "I wouldn't know," Trent clarified, providing some insight past the statistical facts contained within his file. "Never been married, mostly because the job always took priority. So no kids of my own." As soon as Harley picked up the phone and started speaking, Trent knew it was back to business – something serious if she wanted every available unit and SWAT involved. Trent reached forward for his new badge – he'd need that, if they were going out in the field – grabbing it from off his partner's desk. From the determined, but worried, expression on her face, they were doing just that. Trent didn't mind one bit, waiting for Lieutenant Quinn to fill him in on the details. Putting bad guys away was the best part of this job. Harley hadn't been on the phone long, so information about Patrick's abduction might be limited. Nonetheless Trent began to question his partner, looking for additional details like the make or color of the vehicle, a general description about the kidnapper – any little bit now could help later. It was also a good way to let Harley know that he was in her corner whatever happened... whatever she needed. "What do we know?" Harland Quinn [attr="class","Trentright2"]

deltra of gangnam style

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[Harland Quinn]

[attr="class","Harleyner"]

[attr="class","Harleyner1"]

[attr="class","Harleyback"]

[attr="class","Harleynert"]Right now Harland wasn’t ready to admit that she needed someone to keep her calm and from blowing heads off of the first person she thought was responsible. “I need you to pull the traffic cameras pulling into the neighborhood. The backway is blocked by construction. They either played demolition derby or we have them on camera.” She tossed a laptop at Trent. “Make yourself useful?” Right, she couldn’t search and drive. “They said there were gunshots on the other end of the line while the babysitter was talking. They already sent a unit out for a welfare check.” She was afraid of what she might find. Though Harley knew most of the cars that lived in the neighborhood but that didn’t rule them out.

Harley made a beeline for the patrol car and once she was inside she landed a fist on the dash in frustration. There was a lot of pent up energy inside of the Lieutenant right about now. Angry energy that needed to come out. Patrick should have been safe at home. There were times she wished Patrick’s dad would have still been around. Her partner Patrick Sr. was missing his son grow up. Harland was raising him alone. Even before Damien had snapped he wanted nothing to do with Patrick. Harland was tired of losing partners, so she was feeling protective of Trent. If thing went sideways, she wasn’t going to let Trent be the one not going home. She’d promised herself that after her recent loss of partner. It was a cursed position.

Sticking they keys in the ignition was a measured but quick movement as they headed towards where she lived. She listened for the radio, for any activity over in that area. Somewhere along the lines she deduced from the radio traffic that Patrick was still alive and inside the house. The babysitter was dead and her son was hostage in the babysitter’s house. Harland felt like puking. Though she hadn’t said a word to Trent since asking him to be useful. No, she wasn’t in a pleasant mood.

∵ Trent Resnick ∵

[attr="class","Harleyner2"]

[attr="class","Harleynerlyric"]Les lumières sont éteintes et je te connais à peine
Je savais que tu viendrais

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

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[Trent Resnick]

[attr="class","Trentnah"]

[attr="class","Trentleft"] [attr="class","Trentleft2"]

[attr="class","Trentright"] The laptop landed squarely in his chest, but Harley was already out the door by the time Trent got a secure grip on it. Running to catch up to his partner, he got to the cruiser about the same time she did. Lieutenant Quinn shouldn't be on this case, but when was Trent ever one to play by the rules? He slid into the passenger seat of the patrol car, booting the laptop up. Harley had gone to bat for him, so he'd have her back on this one. Trent started to piece together the limited information Harley passed along. Gunshots could have been an intimidation tactic, but one with the unfortunate side effect of attracting the attention of nosey neighbors. No, the far more likely option, at least the way Trent saw it – the babysitter was lying in a pool of her own blood. Possibly already dead. Someone willing to kill to abduct a kid probably wouldn't be too concerned at shooting a cop, if one got in the way. As Harley weaved wildly through the traffic, Trent tried to balance the laptop on his knees. "It would have been better if I drove. You know the cars local to the neighborhood better than I do." He was scanning through the recent recordings, trying to find something that stood out from the ordinary, and not having much luck at the moment. "Wait. Here's something. White van. No tags." Harland Quinn [attr="class","Trentright2"]

deltra of gangnam style

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[Harland Quinn]

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[attr="class","Harleynert"]Harley just snapped when Trent started going on about being better if he drove. “You don’t even know where my babysitter lives.” She pointed out. “GPS won’t cut it.” Nor would going the speed limit. Something Harley was clearly willing to break as she weaved in and out of traffic with the siren’s going. It wasn’t until she was within siren earshot of the house she flipped them off but still continued with her speed. Something about a white van.

“You mean that white van?” She pointed to it sitting in the driveway of the babysitter’s house. Harley knew they should wait for SWAT, every bit of her training was telling her to wait but her motherly instinct wanted to get to her kid. “SWAT is too far behind. Come on.” Harley shoved the car into park. They needed to wait on more backup. One more car pulled up and it made four officers there. That was enough for her.

“Screw negotiators.” She grumbled under her breath as she headed for the house. Soon shots came firing out the window at the cop cars and the glimpse of a face. “Dammit. that face.” She felt a lump in the back of her throat. “I thought he was behind bars. You put him there. I never got a…” she slipped her phone out of her pocket to check to see and there it was. Her face turned a lovely shade of white. “Who the hell let a cop killer out of prison?” She hissed before slamming the phone back into her pocket and moved for cover closer to the house, her eyes giving away her intent to break down the door. Damien was in the house but she’d no idea that Patrick wasn’t.

∵ Trent Resnick ∵

[attr="class","Harleyner2"]

[attr="class","Harleynerlyric"]Les lumières sont éteintes et je te connais à peine
Je savais que tu viendrais

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

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[Trent Resnick]

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[attr="class","Trentleft"] [attr="class","Trentleft2"]

[attr="class","Trentright"] Trent allowed Harley to practically snap his head off without offering anything in the way of a response. The instincts of a mama bear protecting her cub should never be underestimated. There would be a time and a place to keep Harley from doing anything stupid, but that would be once they actually got to the babysitter's house. Because then, despite all of her training as a cop, who knew what she might do to protect Patrick? Jumping out of the patrol car behind Harley, Trent took cover behind the passenger door. At least his partner was willing to wait for some back-up – even if it wasn't SWAT. Trent knew he should be grateful, since she could be reasonable with her son at risk. He'd been afraid that even that much might be difficult. "Yes, I mean that white van." As soon as another patrol car screamed up to the driveway, Harley started making a beeline for the house. Damnit, Trent cursed, keeping low, but racing up to her from behind. Before she could get too far, Trent grabbed her arm to stop her. If it kept Harley from getting shot by the man holed up inside the house, whatever her reaction would be worth it. He fixed the lieutenant with a stern gaze. Trying to barge in through the front door would be a mistake. "We need to be smart about this, Harley. Follow me." Trent questioned Harley as he led her around to the rear of the house. His partner had seemed to imply that he knew the kidnapper too: a cop killer that he'd once put behind bars. It couldn't be Damien – the guy they'd just been talking about in her office – could it? People like that weren't supposed to ever get out of prison. "You know this guy?" Harland Quinn [attr="class","Trentright2"]

deltra of gangnam style

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