Ben 10 fanfic - First of Summer 3

Disclaimers:
Ben 10, Ben 10: Alien Force and their respective characters belong to Man of Action.

--

Chapter Three: Fire Extinguisher

The day for Benjamin Tennyson progressed with the speed of white rapids. The station was abuzz with the usual flurry of phone calls. Complaints ranging from mere vandalism and petty theft to the growing trend of disturbing the peace and trespassing were filed in quick succession. It was getting difficult to keep track of all the complaints and Ben already had a mountain of paperwork to sort through.

“I am never going to get this done.” He groaned as his telephone once again rang right as he was in the middle of filling out a report. “Hello, police department, how may I help you?” He repeated for the nth time that day.

“Oh officer it’s terrible! I need help!” The woman on the line was in hysterics.

“What’s the problem, ma’am?” He asked. Please let this not be about a cat stuck in a tree. We’re not the fire department. He thought sourly.

“Our little Samantha hasn’t come home!” The woman declared. From above her sobbing, Ben could hear her husband spouting worst case scenarios of kidnapping, white slavery, and murder.

“When was the last time you saw her?” Ben tried to sound sympathetic, the last thing a worried parent needed was to be antagonized.

“Last night.”

“And how old is your daughter?”

“Sixteen. Oh officer, please find my baby. She’s such a sweet little lamb!”

Ben grimaced, steeling himself for the reaction he would elicit from the woman when he responded “I’m sorry ma’am, but forty eight hours needs to have passed before you can file for a missing person’s report.”

“That is a load of malarkey! My baby girl could be hurt and hungry and in who knows what danger and you’re telling me you’re not going to do anything because it hasn’t been forty eight hours?!”

“Ma’am, I understand your concern but it’s quite possible that your daughter had attended a petting party with her friends and none of them have quite recovered from the excitement.” He explained, already feeling the beginning of a headache.

“I beg your pardon! How dare you accuse my little girl of doing such indecent things! Harold! Talk some sense into this rude man!”

Ben simply stayed on the line as the father berated him about how it was his duty as a policeman to protect the innocent. With a sigh he waited for the litany to finish, only it came sooner than expected as he heard a squeal from the background.

“SAMMY! Oh my little baby, are you hurt? Where were you? Harold! Samantha’s home! Young lady you and I are going to have to talk!”

Without so much as an apology, Harold hung up on Ben. “Feel free to call again, sir.” Ben muttered before slamming the receiver down on its hook.

“Got chewed out by another disgruntled parent?” A fellow rookie asked from the adjacent table.

Ben could only nod as he massaged his temples in an attempt to control the throbbing in his head.

“Would this be a bad time to tell you that the Lieutenant wants to see you?”

With a sigh, Ben got to his feet. “At least I won’t have to take any more calls.” He shrugged before heading towards the lieutenant’s office. With a polite knock, Ben turned the knob, opened the door and stuck his head in.

“You wanted to see me, Lieutenant Phillips?” He asked.

The office was big enough to fit three desks, but only one stood in the end of the room, flanked by filing cabinets. A typewriter sat precariously near the edge of the table, peering over the wastebasket overflowing with crumpled balls of paper. The strong smell of tobacco lingered in the air despite an open window.

Amidst the thin haze of smoke was a man reaching his golden years. Hearing the young officer’s voice, he looked up from the large folder he held in age-worn hands. “Ah, Ben, come on in. Have a seat my boy.” He smiled and gestured towards the empty chair directly before his desk.

“If this is about the Henderson’s cat, lieutenant, I was only doing my job by telling them to call the fire department.” Ben pre-empted as he closed the door behind him before seating himself down.

“What? Oh no, it’s not about that, Ben.” The lieutenant laughed, “Anyway, call me Uncle Phil now that we’re behind closed doors.”

“I’d really rather not if since we’re still in the precinct.” The young man declined as respectfully as he could. Despite the receding hairline and the numerous white strands peppering the aging officer’s head, Lieutenant Phillips or Uncle Phil as he liked to be called, still managed to command a certain air of authority.

“Heh, Max always knew how to drill respect into someone’s head. Anyway your grandfather told me little Gwendolyn was going to be here for a spell?”

“Yes, sir, she’s here for the summer.”

“I see, I see,” Phil nodded thoughtfully. “I promised Max that I’d help you show her a great time in the city. But with all these cases just sprouting up like weeds, I don’t really have the time to honor that request. So consider yourself given a free pass to show her all the best spots in the city. And I mean the best spots, catch my drift boy?” he winked.

Ben grinned. He knew exactly what the Lieutenant meant and he was confident that a certain dark-haired, gray-eyed individual who could help out. “That’s real swell of you, sir. If that’s all, I’d better get back to work. Those reports aren’t going to fill themselves.”

As Ben began to rise, Phil suddenly spoke out “One more thing, Ben. I know you’re rather busy with certain,” he paused as if grasping for the proper word, “things. But I just want to remind you that the times are getting dangerous, even if we like to tell the press otherwise. Remember to watch your back and your cousin’s. Especially your cousin’s.”

The grave expression on the lieutenant’s face sent a chill down Ben’s spine and the young man quickly exited the room. Returning to his desk, Ben quickly went to work, attacking the waiting pile of papers with a zeal he rarely ever displayed for such mundane things.

“Boy, the lieutenant must have given you a real earful.” The other rookie gulped.

“You can say that.” Ben chuckled.

--

On the twentieth floor of an office high rise, Edwin Pride was busy reading the obituaries of the newspaper. He was glad that amongst the names printed, none of the bonds dealers he had invested with appeared.

“There’s always tomorrow.” He sighed, the brief respite from cynicism quickly passing. He leaned back in his plush, leather-covered armchair, one of the few luxuries he would allow himself to have in his rather humble office. The walls were bereft of any expensive paintings; instead they were decorated by framed news clippings of his and his family’s achievements in the construction and architectural industry. The carpet covered the expanse of the room, hiding the cheap, but practically treated wooden floor.

Function over fashion was Edwin’s motto, though he would have preferred if the two went together. Rather than wasting his funds in buying expensive furniture that only he would have access to, he thought it would be more prudent if he spent his money elsewhere.

Like in his two pet projects for instance.

A smile lit up his youthful face as he thought of the success the first his little endeavors provided him. Granted it took quite a pretty penny to sort through willing individuals of dubious moral fiber. But Edwin was pleased with the way he managed to shape the ragtag of men into the fearsome gang known as the Tricks.

There was only one group who managed to oppose him, and that was the Chains. Even the mere thought of them made Edwin shudder.

While the Tricks were responsible for the disappearances of certain individuals who stood in the Pride family’s way, Edwin always made certain that their method of disposal was, for a lack of a better word, humane. Unlike the rather brutal manner the Chains used when dealing with their own little problems.

“Such dreary thoughts,” Edwin found himself remarking as he put away the obituaries. The telephone rang and he answered it automatically. “Edwin Pride speaking.”

“Hey Edwin,” Ben’s voice greeted, “Think I can call in a favor?”

“No, I’m not jazzing up the rust bucket. My grandfather left specific instructions that his old friend Max’s precious is not to be touched in any way that he deems unfit.” Edwin chuckled.

“Oh it’s not about the car. I’ve pretty much given up on getting her looking like anything but the rust bucket.” Ben laughed, “Listen, I promised my cousin that I’d show her a swell time tonight and I was thinking maybe you could-”

“Pull out all the stops at The Usual?” An amused smirk glided across Edwin’s features.

“You’re like Houdini with that mind reading trick of yours!”

“No, Ben, you’re just very predictable.”

“Says you. Anyway the sergeant’s givin’ me the stink eye for tying up the lines. Gotta beat it.”

And the audible click of the receiver returning to its cradle followed. Edwin smiled, if Ben’s cousin was anything like him, he was in for an interesting night. Getting a fresh point of view on his second pet project would be a welcomed thing.

After all, there was always room for improvement and more importantly a larger margin of profit.

--

Gwen was a nervous wreck; there was no doubt about that. She may have managed to convince the shop owner to at least give her a chance, but really what did she know about selling clothing? She hardly knew the latest fashion trends, so how would she be able to convince anyone to buy anything? She could always just work in the backroom doing alterations and mending. She certainly had a lot of experience darning socks and patching up things for her older brother and cousins.

Yes, that sounded like a good suggestion to make.

Now if only her body would listen to her head. At times like these, the only way she could calm down was by reading a good book. Then she recalled where she was and groaned. Even if she could find a good book, she risked losing track of time and get to the shop late. Or worse, miss the appointment altogether!

But what really got her to work into a conniption was recalling how she so rudely responded to someone who might have been a valued client of the store. Or worse, the actual store owner! After all, could the strangely dressed woman really be the store’s owner? And yes, the platinum-haired woman was strangely dressed even for Gwen. For all Gwen knew, she was just the manager.

“It was his fault.” She reasoned, recalling the tall, broad-shouldered man. There was something about the way he looked at her with his dark brown eyes that was unsettling. It was predatory, intense, appraising and curious all at the same time and in so brief a glance!

He shouldn’t have looked at her that way. If he hadn’t, maybe she wouldn’t have been so eager to distance herself from him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” She apologized when she felt herself accidentally run into someone with a rather muscular chest.

“Don’t worry about it,” He assured her, his strong hands reaching out to help steady her before smoothly adding “Feel free to run into me anytime.”

Gwen felt her face flush before she reminded herself that she disliked men who viewed her as little more than a good time. “I’ll make a note to do just the opposite.” She quipped, “Please excuse me.”

“What’s your rush?” He asked with such a casual arrogance Gwen felt butterflies stir in her stomach. But it was the way he had looked at her with his eyes that made the winged insects within her truly take flight.

“I-it’s really none of your beeswax. And I mean that in the nicest way.” She replied sweetly before hurrying off. When she felt she was far enough, she took a quick peek over her shoulder and saw him entering the store!

“He asked for it,” Gwen declared, “A modern woman doesn’t need to answer to anyone but herself. Except her would-be employer, what have I done?!” She wailed. With the option of reading a good book scratched out, Gwen resorted to rummaging through her things. It was when her dainty fingers felt the small box containing a deck of cards did she release a sigh of relief.