FIC: Lawyers, Guns and Money [L&O: TBJ]
May. 19th, 2005 02:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darktrent182TITLE: Lawyers, Guns, and Money (because I'm incredibly unoriginal)
DISCLAIMER: All of the characters mentioned here are not mine, but were created by Dick Wolf. I made no money off of this, and I only did this for entertainment purposes. Please don't sue me. I'm a college student, and am very poor.
FANDOM: Law & Order: Trial By Jury
CHALLENGE: "Lawyers, Guns, and Money" at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
thursday100plus
RATING: PG, maybe?
WARNING(S): AU
WORD COUNT: 1,017
NOTES: Why do I have a feeling that the phrase used for the challenge is from a song?
"Tracey?"
"Hmm?"
"Don't you ever wonder sometimes about how ironic this is?" Kelly looked over at her former boss, who was taking one last drag on a cigarette. A flick of her fingers, and the butt flew to land in a rain puddle with a dark fizzle.
Tracey shrugged. "Not really. Would you rather Jack go on this heist?"
Kelly shook her head. "No, not that. Just... we were lawyers."
A feathery eyebrow rose. "And now we're the bad guys?" Tracey prompted.
"It... we can say this is for a good cause, but we're committing a crime to do it." Kelly sighed, leaning against the side of the sedan they'd stolen somewhere in upstate New York, complete with two flat tires that made it lean a little. "I'd feel a lot better if I knew we weren't going to get killed."
She wasn't talking about the security doing the killing, and Kibre knew it. "I don't like it any better than you do, but it we're going to fund a rebellion, we need the funds."
"And breaking into Langley doesn't bother you."
Tracey shrugged. "We'd be stupid to try it, but the rewards would be incredible, right? We'd be able to auction off anything we could find to the highest bidder."
"I'm sure the French will be pleased," Kelly snorted with amusement. "They've been wanting dirt on us for years."
Tracey snorted. "If you think I'm letting anything go to the French without doubling the price at the very least, I didn't teach you nearly as well as I thought I did."
Kelly nodded, and looked down at her left hand. Ever since the nuclear explosion had gone off in Manhattan, her hand had pulsed with dark energy, black veins criss-crossing visibly underneath her skin like blood vessels, throbbing as if the nerves were still alive. Experimentally, she tried to make a fist, but her fingers didn't even twitch.
"It bothering you?" Tracey asked, concern slipping into her voice.
"Just what it can do," Kelly admitted. "It'd probably be able to make more cannon fodder with how dark it looks right now." She looked up, raising eyebrows at Kibre in a silent question.
Tracey shook her head. "We should be all right with just Lennie for now. He hasn't let us down yet."
"Where is he?"
The shorter woman nodded over to a figure in a dark trenchcoat and a fedora carrying two gym bags that bulged suspiciously. "Here he comes."
Kelly frowned. "Isn't Hector supposed to be with him?"
Tracey shook her head. "He's getting a new car for us. The cops'll be looking for this one, and if we can give them an excuse not to look for us that diligently, let's give it to them."
Kelly nodded, and watched the figure approach Tracey. He didn't seem to protest the weight of the bags, but only cocked his head to one side.
"Did you get the models I asked for?"
The emaciated man nodded.
"You're a life-saver." Tracey smiled. "Thanks."
A thin eyebrow arched, and grey eyes cut to the car and then back to Kibre.
Tracy shook her head. "Hector's getting us a new car. But thanks anyway."
Lennie nodded and set the bags down with a grateful expression. He turned his head and looked down both ends of the street before glancing at Tracey.
"That's a good idea." Tracey nodded, understanding the body language rather than reading his mind. "Go ahead and keep an eye out for him."
He nodded once and crossed the street at an easy lope, his footsteps echoing unnaturally in the deserted street. Other than the three of them, there wasn't a soul in sight.
Tracey sighed, watching him go. "It seemed like only a little while ago, we were at his memorial service."
"It's been longer than that."
"Still." Kibre shook her head. "Bringing him back like that... should we have done it?"
Gaffney raised an eyebrow at her. "You said we needed reliable help."
"I know that, but..."
"The fact that he doesn't talk disturbs you," Kelly guessed.
"He always had something to say," Tracey said. "And now it's... what'll happen if he tries?"
"Imagine being out in subzero temperatures in a skimpy bikini. If he managed to get anything out, your heart would literally stop." Kelly glanced down at her diseased left hand. "The living were never meant to hear the dead."
"Strange way of putting it."
"Everything's strange now," Kelly pointed out. "I know we needed guns, but why specific models?"
"They're the kind the soldiers use. It'll be a little less easier for them to figure out who we are. That, and we'll be able to stock up on ammo without being conspicuous."
"Lennie didn't get any?" Kelly frowned.
Tracey knelt down and opened one of the bags, pulling out a gun and examining it with a trained eye. "Enough to keep them loaded for a while, but I'd like to get more."
"I'd like for out brand-new dictator to drop dead, but it's not likely to happen."
Tracey shot her a dark look. "Oh ye of little faith."
There was the sound of a car turning a corner and coming closer, and then a grey Tacoma pulled up. The passenger window rolled down with a whirr, and Hector grinned at the two of them.
"Hey, you ladies need a lift?"
"Where's Lennie?" Kelly asked.
Hector jerked his head to his left. "Who do you think's driving?"
Kelly looked at Tracey. "He's letting the dead man drive?"
Tracey zipped up the bag with a shrug. "My idea," she grunted, picking up both bags with some effort. "If Lennie gets shot, it's not like he'll die again."
"Yeah, but there's only so much the human body can take before it gives out."
Kibre frowned. "You've got a point."
As the two of the got into the back, Kelly climbing in after Tracey, she turned to her former boss.
"What is it they used to say? Lawyers, guns, and money?"
Tracey smirked mischievously. "Now all we need is the money. Lennie, get us out of here."
END
DISCLAIMER: All of the characters mentioned here are not mine, but were created by Dick Wolf. I made no money off of this, and I only did this for entertainment purposes. Please don't sue me. I'm a college student, and am very poor.
FANDOM: Law & Order: Trial By Jury
CHALLENGE: "Lawyers, Guns, and Money" at
thursday100plusRATING: PG, maybe?
WARNING(S): AU
WORD COUNT: 1,017
NOTES: Why do I have a feeling that the phrase used for the challenge is from a song?
"Tracey?"
"Hmm?"
"Don't you ever wonder sometimes about how ironic this is?" Kelly looked over at her former boss, who was taking one last drag on a cigarette. A flick of her fingers, and the butt flew to land in a rain puddle with a dark fizzle.
Tracey shrugged. "Not really. Would you rather Jack go on this heist?"
Kelly shook her head. "No, not that. Just... we were lawyers."
A feathery eyebrow rose. "And now we're the bad guys?" Tracey prompted.
"It... we can say this is for a good cause, but we're committing a crime to do it." Kelly sighed, leaning against the side of the sedan they'd stolen somewhere in upstate New York, complete with two flat tires that made it lean a little. "I'd feel a lot better if I knew we weren't going to get killed."
She wasn't talking about the security doing the killing, and Kibre knew it. "I don't like it any better than you do, but it we're going to fund a rebellion, we need the funds."
"And breaking into Langley doesn't bother you."
Tracey shrugged. "We'd be stupid to try it, but the rewards would be incredible, right? We'd be able to auction off anything we could find to the highest bidder."
"I'm sure the French will be pleased," Kelly snorted with amusement. "They've been wanting dirt on us for years."
Tracey snorted. "If you think I'm letting anything go to the French without doubling the price at the very least, I didn't teach you nearly as well as I thought I did."
Kelly nodded, and looked down at her left hand. Ever since the nuclear explosion had gone off in Manhattan, her hand had pulsed with dark energy, black veins criss-crossing visibly underneath her skin like blood vessels, throbbing as if the nerves were still alive. Experimentally, she tried to make a fist, but her fingers didn't even twitch.
"It bothering you?" Tracey asked, concern slipping into her voice.
"Just what it can do," Kelly admitted. "It'd probably be able to make more cannon fodder with how dark it looks right now." She looked up, raising eyebrows at Kibre in a silent question.
Tracey shook her head. "We should be all right with just Lennie for now. He hasn't let us down yet."
"Where is he?"
The shorter woman nodded over to a figure in a dark trenchcoat and a fedora carrying two gym bags that bulged suspiciously. "Here he comes."
Kelly frowned. "Isn't Hector supposed to be with him?"
Tracey shook her head. "He's getting a new car for us. The cops'll be looking for this one, and if we can give them an excuse not to look for us that diligently, let's give it to them."
Kelly nodded, and watched the figure approach Tracey. He didn't seem to protest the weight of the bags, but only cocked his head to one side.
"Did you get the models I asked for?"
The emaciated man nodded.
"You're a life-saver." Tracey smiled. "Thanks."
A thin eyebrow arched, and grey eyes cut to the car and then back to Kibre.
Tracy shook her head. "Hector's getting us a new car. But thanks anyway."
Lennie nodded and set the bags down with a grateful expression. He turned his head and looked down both ends of the street before glancing at Tracey.
"That's a good idea." Tracey nodded, understanding the body language rather than reading his mind. "Go ahead and keep an eye out for him."
He nodded once and crossed the street at an easy lope, his footsteps echoing unnaturally in the deserted street. Other than the three of them, there wasn't a soul in sight.
Tracey sighed, watching him go. "It seemed like only a little while ago, we were at his memorial service."
"It's been longer than that."
"Still." Kibre shook her head. "Bringing him back like that... should we have done it?"
Gaffney raised an eyebrow at her. "You said we needed reliable help."
"I know that, but..."
"The fact that he doesn't talk disturbs you," Kelly guessed.
"He always had something to say," Tracey said. "And now it's... what'll happen if he tries?"
"Imagine being out in subzero temperatures in a skimpy bikini. If he managed to get anything out, your heart would literally stop." Kelly glanced down at her diseased left hand. "The living were never meant to hear the dead."
"Strange way of putting it."
"Everything's strange now," Kelly pointed out. "I know we needed guns, but why specific models?"
"They're the kind the soldiers use. It'll be a little less easier for them to figure out who we are. That, and we'll be able to stock up on ammo without being conspicuous."
"Lennie didn't get any?" Kelly frowned.
Tracey knelt down and opened one of the bags, pulling out a gun and examining it with a trained eye. "Enough to keep them loaded for a while, but I'd like to get more."
"I'd like for out brand-new dictator to drop dead, but it's not likely to happen."
Tracey shot her a dark look. "Oh ye of little faith."
There was the sound of a car turning a corner and coming closer, and then a grey Tacoma pulled up. The passenger window rolled down with a whirr, and Hector grinned at the two of them.
"Hey, you ladies need a lift?"
"Where's Lennie?" Kelly asked.
Hector jerked his head to his left. "Who do you think's driving?"
Kelly looked at Tracey. "He's letting the dead man drive?"
Tracey zipped up the bag with a shrug. "My idea," she grunted, picking up both bags with some effort. "If Lennie gets shot, it's not like he'll die again."
"Yeah, but there's only so much the human body can take before it gives out."
Kibre frowned. "You've got a point."
As the two of the got into the back, Kelly climbing in after Tracey, she turned to her former boss.
"What is it they used to say? Lawyers, guns, and money?"
Tracey smirked mischievously. "Now all we need is the money. Lennie, get us out of here."
END
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-05-19 06:26 pm (UTC)Lovely, but creepy.
no subject
Date: 2005-05-19 06:27 pm (UTC)Did you like it?
::big brown eyes::
no subject
Date: 2005-05-19 06:32 pm (UTC)*goes back to packing*
no subject
Date: 2005-05-19 06:33 pm (UTC)::notices the packing, and attempts to help::
no subject
Date: 2005-05-19 07:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-19 06:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-19 06:32 pm (UTC)And yes, I rather thought it was bizarre myself, but when confronted with strange phrases like the challenge this time, I seem to think in post-apocalyptic terms.
::facepaw::
I fear for my sanity sometimes.
Good to know it was still entertaining, though. :D
no subject
Date: 2005-05-19 06:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-19 06:40 pm (UTC)Very much so.
:D
no subject
Date: 2005-05-19 06:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-19 09:01 pm (UTC)Lovely fic! Kind of surreal. : )
no subject
Date: 2005-05-19 09:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-20 02:02 am (UTC)Glad you liked.
It's like a woffproff SUP
Date: 2005-05-19 09:28 pm (UTC)Re: It's like a woffproff SUP
Date: 2005-05-20 02:02 am (UTC)Yozza?
Re: It's like a woffproff SUP
Date: 2005-05-20 03:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-19 09:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-20 02:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-23 01:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-23 01:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-26 10:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-26 11:38 pm (UTC)But thank you for the feedback. ^_^