I'm actually quite happy with this one, I think it's an improvement on the rest. But I'll not judge wether it's good or not, you guys are the audience, and as such, I'm your bitch....

CHAPTER 3: THE BODY...AND VOMIT. (CRIMINALS' PERSPECTIVE)

"I got one boss, but the uniform's got bullet holes in it."
"God you're a freakin' idiot!"
"What? What did I do?"
"I specifically told you NOT to fuck it up!"
"I didn't! Ya just gotta patch it up!"

Ghyfty paused, looking incredulous at Thimbles. He stared at him like he was about to leap on him and slice his throat with a rusty knife.

"...Boss?" Thimbles was getting nervous.
The boss let out a long sigh, relaxing the muscles in his weary face. He was an older man, with more experience than Thimbles. He'd been in and out of jail more times than the guards through the years, mostly just for minor offences like assault, but that didn't stop him.

"Alright let's see it." He said.
Thimbles led him round to the trunk of the car, and brought out his keys. He paused again.

"This is gonna be gross, he's been in there for twelve hours, you sure?"
The reply came not with words, but a swift bitchslap.
"I take that as a yes then."

He pressed a button on the key, and the trunk popped open a little, flashing lights at either side. Both men took a step back as they were hit with a foul smell from inside, coughing.

"Holy shit rookie! The hell you got in there?"
"Well it used to be a cop..."

Ghyfty pulled the top of his Blue T-shirt from his jacket and pulled it over his nose.
"Do this, it masks the smell a little."
Thimbles thought about making a "captain obvious" joke, but decided against it, considering the circumstances.

They lifted the loose trunk top, gagging and coughing.
"I told ya ya'd like it."

Hauling the bleeding corpse of a city police officer across the loading bay of BBR's at four in the morning was not an experience Thimbles would forget any time soon...unfortunately.

By the time he reached the stairs to the basement there was a trail of blood drops behind him and on his hands. His Jeans were covered in it too, thanks to the gaping exit wounds in the officer's back hitting his knees every time they took a step.

----------5:30AM NGT----------

"Hell, the motherfucker wouldn't even help me hose the blood off the ground!
"Yeah, Ghyfty can get like that when he's stressed." Said Ron as he passed another shot of General over the bar.

"You sure you should be drinking that much?"

"Aaaaaaaah I can handle it." Muttered Thimbles, in a somewhat slurred way.

"Nah I don't think you can, you're banned, no more posts for you for 12 hours at least. Don't try to wriggle out of it either or I'll throw you out for good! You have 11 hours 59 minutes and 59 seconds left."

"...yeah you're probably right, I'm gonna hit the road then."
Thimbles pulled himself up from the barstool and started staggering toward the exit.

"Hey!" Ron shouted at him.
"Yeah?"
"Don't go home, go to a hotel, the cops are buzzin' around like flies out there."
"Thanks Ro...was that GENUINE CONCERN? You're losing your edge old man! Yeah I'll go to a motel six. See ya."

And with that he staggered out into the empty street, looked up at the sunrise...and vomited on a streetlight.

...except in one respect, I choose when to write the next part! :P read and review please!

Dedicated to George Carlin, who died recently of a heart failure.