Little Napoleon Part 2 (AU,CC,MATURE) COMPLETE - 1/19/13

Finished stories set in an alternate universe to that introduced in the show, or which alter events from the show significantly, but which include the Roswell characters. Aliens play a role in these fics. All complete stories on the main AU with Aliens board will eventually be moved here.

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Re: Little Napoleon pt 2, mature, pg 18, ch 40, cc, Jan 13,

Post by ken_r » Sat Jan 19, 2013 9:39 pm


mary mary:

keepsmiling7: The Hilton was the highest building in Albuquerque for years. I live several miles out of town and i could see it when we were heading to town.

Chapter 41

Charlie/Charlene was sweating profusely. He/she did this every time he/she prepared for a gender change. Sometimes he/she thought maybe just pick a gender and stay with it, but after a time, the desire to see the world from the other side grew too strong. Guerin was insistent with his request to find Tommy. If Charlie/Charlene could find Guerin on the street, he/she wouldn’t have to brave the police station. The looks of every cop who knew who he/she was were sometimes too hard to bare.

Michael and Maria had just come out of a Mexican bar. The Hispanics who frequented that place all knew Maria and many were friends with Maria’s old employer, José from the Brass Pole. Maria claimed she enjoyed the music, but Michael thought she enjoyed the teasing and attention from those who remembered her when she was 19 and dancing at the Pole. That was a reminder for Michael that to keep Maria from straying, he should always encourage her in the performances she did for him. Maria needed the attention. Michael wondered what would happen after they had children. How much of this act would follow through the years of Mama Maria?

The levity and excitement of the bar were broken as they heard running steps from up the streets. “Detective Guerin,” he/she shouted. Charlie/Charlene was panting so hard he/she had trouble getting words out. All the street people were on edge looking for the monster Detective Guerin was looking for. As long as this thing was loose, things for those of the street could not help but go bad. “Detective Guerin, Tommy says he will meet you down town in the alley on Gold street between the Old First National Bank building and the Kreskey’s clothing store. Come after dark and come on foot. Tommy doesn’t want to stir up too much attention in that area,” Charlie/Charlene was having trouble breathing.

Maria and Michael were walking along Central Avenue. The sun had gone down hours ago and this location might have been seen as dangerous to the average citizen. Maria was carrying her Glock with the mandatory two extra magazines of 15 cartridges each. Michael was doing the same, but both he and Maria knew that his real power was in being alien. Being an adversary to Michael in a dark alley could lead to being blasted by the dark energy the aliens had learned to tap, or if you were close, you could end up with silver handprints all over your chest as your liver boiled from the inside. Michael being alien, could do just as Nicholas had done before. The difference was that Michael didn’t want to advertise this ability.

The two detectives turned down the alley. Their strong flashlights showed nothing out of the ordinary about the alley. There were stacked boxes waiting for the garbage trucks early in the morning. Puddles of water or some liquid reflected back at the detectives. It wasn’t as if there was a lot of rain in Metropolis, but many of the businesses just threw out wastewater into the alley. That was when Maria saw the shadow falling from the starless sky.

Its arms and legs were stretched out like a star. If it was screaming, Maria couldn’t hear anything. The lights of the city made the night a gray backdrop against which the strange apparition slowly turned. Maria was taken by the slowness of what she saw. Michael couldn’t react fast enough to try to catch the figure even if he knew how to apply his powers in that way. Why, to Maria did the strange thing fall so slowly?

There was a “Clump” as what ever it was hit the pavement of the alley. Before they even removed the hood covering his face, both detectives knew that it was Tommy. As she gazed into his eyes, Maria saw the fire of life briefly flicker and then go out. The rope he had been using to repel from some place on the roof had been cleanly cut. Once again, Guerin had lost an informant. Once again, the streets had lost one of their characters. For the first time, Mrs. Avery (Ivy) Van Staven had lost a lover. Now all she had was the inattention of her husband. True, he might dust her off from time to time, just like he dusted off his bowling trophies to look at them. Then she, again like the other trophies, would be set back on the shelf.

As the two detectives hurried back to the office Maria couldn’t get the memory out of her mind. It wasn’t as if Maria hadn’t seen dead people before. As any aggressive, hardworking cop could tell you, there had been more than one time when, Maria had planted a few perps to their eternal rest, herself. While she had been still on the streets, a rookie patrol-person, there had been in a shoot out with one of the local gangbangers. While one gangbanger, Cornell Rubio, lay screaming, his kneecap having been blown off, Maria saw that Officer Jimmy Koskan lay dying on the sidewalk. Koskan was a 19 year veteran, just a couple years from retirement. Maria remembered yelling, “Shut that son-of-a-bitch up,” as she tried to bring peace to a man whose life was running down the streets. Her maternal instincts kicking in, Koskan died, his head cradled in her lap. Koskan fulfilled the prayer of many officers as they placed kissed fingers on the poster inside their locker. Maria bent to place a kiss in his cheek, the poster of the heavenly body was what he returned to at the end of his life as he had done, so many times at the end of his shift. The last flicker of life in Tommy the Cat, brought this back to the detective.


They were back at Lieutenant Parker’s office. Even at this late time, all of the principals were crowded into that office. Michael Guerin was pounding his hand into his palm. It could be seen that green lightning was running up and down his arm. “I sent him there!” Michael exclaimed. “I sent him there to verify the information we had been given by the pizza jock. That son-of-a-bitch is too clever. Shellow is on to us. That’s the only answer I can see,” Michael wailed.

Liz didn’t want to touch Michael in this state. There was no idea of what voltages he was making. She waved her hand in a patting motion, his way and said, “Not necessarily. He knows we are getting close and he will either strike or change his plans if something doesn’t happen in the next few days. Michael, you didn’t kill Tommy the Cat, Doug Shellow did. It is up to us to make the sacrifice of Tommy pay off. We have to get that bastard.”

Maria spoke up, “George Howell gave us an address from the old Hilton building across the street from the station. If Shellow doesn’t know about that, maybe we are still ahead of him. He caught Tommy down the street at the old First National Bank building. Shellow might not know we have information about Susan Stuart’s apartment.”

“Yeah and I know the time,” Big Jim spoke from where he was standing in the doorway. This one cost me a bottle of Bourbon as well as the usual bottle of Irish. Richards’ secretary has been slipping me info on the counselor. He is planning a surprise announcement with a press conference tomorrow morning at 10:00. He has an award to present to detective Evans and Lieutenant Parker. He plans to tell them about it tomorrow. It is to be a surprise, but if he is as loose mouthed as he has been, I am sure that Shellow knows all about it.

To none of the detectives’ surprise, Counselor Richards sent word for Detective Evans and Lieutenant Parker to make themselves available in front of the police building at exactly 10:00 tomorrow morning. Jim Valenti had talked to Richards about placing Evans and Parker in such an open position. “Aw, come on, commissioner, I am trying to mend some fences here. There hasn’t been a word about danger to the two detectives anywhere. If you are still worried about Shellow, let the feds handle him. Isn’t that what they are for, taking care of things the local police can’t handle?”

Jim left shaking his head. An out and out traitor, you arrest or beat the crap out of, but a fool is difficult to handle. In politics, there are just so many fools.

Since early that morning, the SWAT team had been out. Tenants were surprised to see the janitorial staff at work so early. Tenants usually ignored support personnel, unless you needed something, they were shadows, most of the time not even named. In many buildings surrounding the downtown police building, there were several over weight personages, dutifully carrying out their daily procedures. It was hard to pull a workman’s jump suit over all that body armor.

Late last night, the manager of the building where Susan Stuart lived had received a call. A very insistant lady had demanded to view an apartment. She had demanded it be on a certain floor and she had instructed Eddie Handover that she expected him to show her and her manager the suite at exactly 9:30 the next morning. She told Mr. Handover that he should draw up a five-year lease. When Maria, followed by Michael arrived the next morning, Eddie wondered what kind of setup was he getting himself into. Maria’s skirt was longer than those she wore while dancing, but she wasn’t wearing a thong. Her panties were from JC Penny’s. Even the fact that this could be known, said much about the way she was dressed. Michael had dusted off his “pimp-glow,” blue suit. Maria was wiggling enough to keep Eddie’s attention. They traveled up the elevator to the floor she had requested and Eddie was trying to say something about the vacant suite, even though he was stuttering.

Officer Valen Valenzuela was on the top floor of the building where Maria and Michael were bamboozling the poor manager. He was drinking a Coke and eating a health food bar. To anyone seeing him, he was a janitor hiding out taking a break. At 9:30, he finished his coke, stuffed the candy wrapper into the empty Coke can and stood up. Val reached into the cart, where the janitorial supplies were kept and withdrew a duffel bag. Hoisting the bag on his shoulder, Val climbed the stairs to the roof. Once out side, he removed his binoculars from the bag. Quickly glassing the rooftops surrounding him, he saw that other members of the SWAT team were setting up. Using a mirror to look over the edge, Val set his rope just above the windows, belonging to Susan’s apartment. Michael and Maria would bust in the door, but if Shellow tried to escape out the window onto the ledge, Val would take him down. Kyle had privately told, each SWAT member, to not beat themselves up too much if Shellow didn’t survive.

Looking at the street in front of the police department, it could be seen that a crowd of reporters and cameras were gathering. If anyone had been studying the roof tops carefully, a head might be seen briefly peeping over the edge or the roof from time to time.

Sergeant Kaminski wasn’t in on the proceedings, but he had that gut feeling that if Richards was orchestrating the operation, it would be bad for police officers. Kaminski believed in the former Sergeant O’Brian. He didn’t give a shit if the pope was listening or not, Sergeant O’Brian had been canonized, if not by the church, by that bigger confederation of worldwide police officers. Those who guided Kaminski’s faith started with Commissioner Valenti and traveled down to the street cop, who daily kissed his poster of Maria fastened to the door of his locker. Kaminski had his own copy of the poster, which he kept in his desk drawer. No, Kaminski didn’t place a kiss on it before and after duty. The poster, not the Detective, was the saint who brought patrol men and women back safely. Kaminski always looked at the poster with a paternal eye.

Now, Kaminski believed that the son-of-a-bitch Richards was endangering officers, whose asses Richards was not worthy to wipe. Kaminski didn’t kid himself, Richards was only doing this because he wanted press attention for himself. Well, maybe, the police commissioner would shoot Richards himself, some day. Kaminski could only hope.

Captain Whitman, supervised Parker and Evans as they donned their vests. The vests were not fool proof, but they showed at least concern for the safety of the two officers. Assistant Chief Valenti did not make his appearance. This really irked Counselor Richards. Something this important, he expected all of the department to turn out. Kyle was in the radio room closely monitoring his SWAT team. DeLuca and Guerin were arguing with the manager about the room he was showing. Ms. DeLuca had stated that she was willing to pay for the modifications she needed. With padding, a few kickbacks the manager would make out like a prince. With the promise of a five-year lease, the owners would probably pay for most of the cost of up-grading the apartment to suit Ms. DeLuca. The manager, for this kind of money was willing to listen to anything that crazy woman said.

The window that Michael had opened let in the noise of applause from the street. Counselor Richards must have come out. Without any ceremony, Michael grabbed the manager by the seat of his pants and threw him down the hall through the door, Maria was so kindly holding.

Valen Valenzuela had carefully measured the distance from the roof to Susan Stuart’s window. On command, he would be through the window within three seconds.

Ex-agent Douglas Shellow had moved Susan Stuart’s bed into the room with the window. If the police were as unorganized as he imagined they would be, he might have time for a quickie before he had to terminate his hostage. The highly modified 22 was every bit as quiet as had been the last one. Shellow had checked it several times without anyone being the wiser. Shellow opened his window just enough to let the bullet travel from the Stuart apartment to the two detectives below on the streets.

Kyle had patched his microphone into the SWAT frequency. “Guerin just opened the window,” the voice of one of the spotters stated.

“Little Napoleon and Evans, have been pulled up to the Mike that Richards set up,” another spotter stated.

“Hey, capt’n, the window of the Stuart apartment just opened,” Kyle heard. No matter what his rank, to SWAT, Kyle would always be the captain.

“Take him out, Val. Throw him through the window if nothing else,” Kyle commanded.

Valen Valenzuela stepped back a few feet and made a running leap off the roof. There was a shock when he met the measured distance of his tether. Val curled up to take the crash against the window with his body. One of the questions he had demanded was if there were any bars or other safeties on the window. If Val bounced against something that wouldn’t give it would be painful and also endanger the mission.

As Max stepped up to the podium, he could feel Liz’s hand seeking his. They were both putting their lives in Kyle’s SWAT team. It could be seen that Max put himself between Liz and the street. If the shot got off, it would probably be a head shot. No powers of the aliens could heal a destructive shot to the head.

As Val fell he gave a rebel yell. The yell had some therapeutic value to the shock of his impending crash into the window. It also alerted the press. They turned from Richards to film the lone person as he smashed through the window.

To say Richards was angry was an understatement. In the middle of his moment, the police had staged a diversion. He was sure that they did this out of spite.

Michael and Maria bolted through the door knocking down the manager still recovering from his hasty exit. For the effect of being a prima donna, Maria had been wearing high heels. She had kicked off her shoes, but this gave Michael a head start. At the end of the hall, there was a stairway going to the floor above. As they approached the stairway, a man appeared; it was Doug Shellow. Shellow snapped off a shot at Michael catching him in his right shoulder. Michael was still able to get off a power blast knocking Shellow against the window at the end of the hall.

When Val hit the end of his tether, he could feel his swing start back against the window. Val had practiced the jump and the swing several times at the academy. Of course, there was no way to prepare for this window or for what would be found inside.

Shellow had been working on his breathing. He had prepared for the trigger slack. Trigger slack was comparative. The target trigger on this prepared rifle was almost un-measurable. The smash through the window, caused Shellow to react backwards. He did let off the trigger, but the tiny bullet was swallowed up in the heavy SWAT vest of Valenzuela. The rifle knocked out of Doug’s hand, Val moved to cover the hostage. Val was carrying a German nine-millimeter machine pistol that SWAT sometime used. Before Val could let off a stream of bullets, Shellow was out the door and heading down the stairs. Doug, no longer being his responsibility, Val turned to the hostage. He radioed in that the perp, Shallow, was on the move. He also radioed in that the hostage was alive.

Kyle needed men on the streets, now. Captain Whitman had assured him that Guerin and DeLuca wouldn’t let Shellow get past them. Kyle’s daddy had taught him to always copper his bets. Shellow wasn’t some alien who could be sent to Never-Never land. Shellow was human and he had killed several police officers. Kyle trusted his men to do what was right. He trusted that Shellow would end up in a body bag, before night fall. He gave the order and his men repelled down from the rooftops.

Richards was still standing with his mouth opened. How dare the police upstage him! He heard the shooting of Valenzuela’s machine pistol. That still didn’t register in his mind. When he saw the SWAT members descending from the roofs, he couldn’t have gotten the press’s attention back to himself, if he had peppered them with a shotgun. There was another single shot and a window lower down was shattered.

Michael could have opened a super conductor conduit with either hand. The problem was he had never been that accurate with his left hand and now, Maria was in front of him. Maria, her skirts rising in very unflattering manners, caught Shellows in mid-section with her shoulder. No superbowl game could have had a more beautiful tackle than that which Maria launched against Doug Shellows. Maria could feel that satisfying feeling of the perp falling backwards. She was covered in glass splinters as Shellow smashed through the window. It was only Michael’s quick reaction in grabbing her that, protected her from following Shellows out the window. The window had in some way been tempered. When Shellow hit the window it exploded.

Much like Tommy the Cat, Shellow slowly spun as he flayed his arms while dropping to the pavement. There after, Maria would never tolerate anyone comparing Shellows death, to that of Tommy. She was sure that Kaminski or maybe Sergeant O’Brian, if they had assigned him a desk at the ‘Pearly Gates,’ would find some way to get Tommy into that blue heaven. As for Shellow, Maria hoped the fires of hell were indeed hot.

Guerin and DeLuca didn’t let Kyle down. Putting Shellow into the bag with a spoon wasn’t quite what he expected from someone with the sensitivities of DeLuca. Later, hearing Guerin talk about his girl, Kyle surely would have like to have seen that tackle.


Your team throws a rogue FBI agent out of a high rise building, how can you top that? Kyle offered Maria a lieutenant position, but she refused it. She would be taking over Liz’s place and as head of the whole detective department, she probably would have to give up the streets. Liz had already resigned as department head. She wanted to return to handling strange cases. That was what she did best. It seemed that at least some of Agent Shellow’s reports had been turned in. Piecing what Shellow had learned and sixty some odd years of their own records, the special unit had finally decided that Yes there were aliens on Earth and the Metropolis City PD would be a clearing house between the two cultures. We can’t say citizen ship, because most of the ones from out there had fully working social security numbers and some were already on retirement plans. Someone in the FBI, wiser than most, had decided that working directly with the Queen would be the quickest way to move communications.
I am very proud of this story, the first part, locked up in the completed section has grown faster and bigger than anything i have ever written. Now i have Mr. & Mrs. Guerin it is a detective story, but it is also a different take on Maria and her mother's history. It is another look at who her father might have been
Good teachers are born that way, not made. No! Good human beings, are born that way. Some of them become teachers.

Of course, life is not fair. You shouldn't expect it to be fair, but you should expect it to be ironic.
JKR 1981-2001
History is made of wars, recovering from wars and preparing for the next war.
JJR 1975-