What Kind of Logic are You Using? ~Miami Vice Fan Fiction

Logic ((written with the help of Sonnycrockett))

This was the furthest thing from what Ricki had imagined would go down. Things had gone so far down hill it would take half a century to unearth with a backhoe. The sound of the gunfire whizzing by her head rang through her ears as if, she had just provoked thousands of angry wasps all at once. Hot lead pierced the air like firecrackers glowing and dividing the night sky. Every moment of the unpleasant ordeal was still branded fresh upon her mind. Her heart beat like the thundering of a thousand drums, even after the threat of imminent death had passed. The task of forgetting was still harder to complete than getting through the mounds of unfinished paperwork that lined the desks, shelves, and walls of the police department.Her partner came rushing into the fray. Immediately he demanded to know what her problem was and why the heck she had made such a risky move. There is a sense of anger that radiates off of his skin, the way heat does a working stove. 

"It seemed like the logical thing to do at the time, Crockett," Ricki breathed with an undertone of slight annoyance.  

"Logic ain't even a part of the picture! It ain't even the frame, man that was flat out spontaneous and impulsive and so far from 'by the book' I could just spit!" Sonny growled, his fury unquestionable. 

"Where the hell is the logic in goin' into a firefight unarmed?" He implored. 

"Okay...sooo...." Ricki started to explain before an icy chill curled down her spine. The startling familiarity of Crockett's irate and furious tone being used was best associated only with dealings involving the lowest of scum on the earth. Ricki didn't like it when Sonny happened to aim it in her direction. Each of his words happened to be more cutting and damning than the last. His words were delivered with such a force that she couldn't help but wince as though, he had physically struck her. Inhaling sharply and folding her hands in front of her, she tried to devise some sort of excuse that would at least, keep her from being killed by her own partner. 

Exhaling she continued, "I admit, it wasn't the world's greatest idea.. or mine for that matter...." Her brown eyes hesitantly locked upon her partner and another sigh pushes passed her lips. Fingers, now trembling more ferociously than they had before, pushed through her dark hair. "Come on, Sonny. You and I both know that if I went in there armed, I would have been made for a cop and then our cover story, our months of surveillance, and paperwork would have been down the drain....." she calmly stated, crossing the room to stand beside him. But he was right. Going into a firefight armed with only the briefcase of requested money, believing that the criminals lived by the same code and creed as the police was foolhardy and rash. But then again, she wasn't paid to play things safe.

Trying to get his mind, as well as her own, off of her questionable decision Ricki breathed, "our covers are tarnished a bit, but I do believe they are salvageable..." The truth was that they were only remotely redeemable because Burnett/Crockett didn't let her die in the intense fire fight that had ensued the deal, which had gone horribly awry. "What is our next move?" She asked, turning over the control to Sonny. It was obvious he didn't trust her to make the choices right now and she didn't wish to keep feuding with him over such trivial matters, that could not be changed even if Ricki had desired to make the desired amends. 

"Salvageable," he spat back under his breath. "Why, I never—yeah, thank God our covers are salvageable, or else I'd feel real  bad about runnin' back to somebody that tried to blow your head off! Now that I know who they think we are, everything's just fine."

Sonny got really pissy when he was out of breath and running on adrenaline and dragged somebody out of gunfire– but bickering with Tubbs over what she should and shouldn't have done wasn't going to get them any more out of there and alive. That didn't mean it didn't feel good to let off some steam as he gave the two of them a once over for anything that might've grazed him or whether or not they had enough ammunition to get out of there alive.

"Our next move is that we're gonna get the hell out of here alive with one gun and a shot deal. Then we can figure out what the hell went wrong or why they burned you at the last minute. Should be easy enough if we go out the way I came in— long as those dudes are still knocked out." And with that, he was all back to easy smiles and creeping ahead of her so as not to alert anyone to their presence. Once they didn't find a body, they'd be swarming to plug the two of them.

                       She let out a long sigh. It didn't take a genius to be able to tell that Crockett was more than a little peeved with her. Ricki wasn't sure she could add anything to the conversation to defuse his sometimes explosive temper. Although to be quite honest, lighting the fuse just to let it burn a few seconds before stomping it out could be rather fun, if this wasn't a life and death situation. And from the way he reacted to having to interject himself into the situation on her behalf, Ricki knew better than to press more buttons than she already had. She didn't really want to survive enemy fire to die by a friendly round.

As he scolds her, Ricki's trembling and nervous hand finds its way down to her one leg. Her pants torn from the knee down on one side. Between the jaggedly sliced sides, there was a steady stream of blood flowing from a three inch wide and from the look of it, deep, gash. It would probably require stitches or glue- or both. She let out a low hiss as the dirtied fabric brushed up against it. Now, probably wasn't a good time to tell Sonny that she was injured... though if anything, the fresh blood on her hand might give it away. In the adrenaline-filled rush Ricki hadn't felt her leg get caught on the piece of sheet-metal. It happened the moment she had leapt over a large wooden crate for cover.

Go figure. This factory was a in a way, supposed to be a death-trap for trespassers, cops, vagrants, and dealers alike- hence the "condemned" sign hanging up somewhere along the structure's outer wall. But when all hell broke loose and the bullets started flying, she did the only thing she could think of.... and that was to run and hide. Had Crockett not brought a firearm and ammo in with him, she would have been terminated, just as the lease on this place had been about twenty-years ago or longer.

Ricki nodded in agreement with Sonny's plan, though, if she didn't know any better she'd swear it was kind of a half-bull-crapped one that would best come out improvised. The curly haired police woman made sure to remember the key point of the mission was to get out of this place alive. Then they could spend all the time they wanted to thinking about where the hell this plan and this deal went wrong. But suddenly it hit her.... one of the informants could have been playing doubles, a modern-day turn-coat, pitting the players against each other hoping that one or both sides would get burned. The money caught up in the balance would be theirs for the taking, which, to Ricki's delight, would make an excellent sticking point for motive. After all, she had brought along quite a large sum in the now missing briefcase.

As quickly and quietly as she could, Ricki followed his progress. Her movements were more purposeful and cautious than Sonny's, so that she might avoid agitating the wound she had sustained. Her gait may have contained a slight limp. The female detective didn't have a gun on her and for perhaps, the first time that night, the true nature of that mistake dawned on her. It felt so weird not having a weapon to fall back on. Looking to her left, she noticed an iron bar- not much larger than a crowbar and without flinching, she pulled it into her hand. She might not have been a gun, but coming from the big city and having played baseball with her brother and his friends, it could serve her well. Ricki didn't care what kind of strange looks her partner would give her. Having something was better than nothing, right?

"If he isn't knocked out...." she looked menacingly at the iron bar in her hand and then flashed Sonny a smile. "We can totally fix that...." Ricki added with a slight air of amusement. Working with Crockett had given her a bit of a cynical streak when it came to having a sense of humor.

In a softer more sentimental tone, Ricki breathed, "Sonny? Thanks. Thank you for everything.... but especially for coming to my rescue." She was truly grateful and appreciative for his help even when she didn't exactly deserve it. Then again, they weren't out of danger yet. Or as baseball fans might say, the fat lady didn't sing ---yet.