A Snippet From The Last Captain

“Hey, Venkman!”

Baptiste looked up from the report writing terminal, exhaustion robbing him of any real interest. Report writing was the one thing they always avoided showing in the dramas, and he knew exactly why. The partners had been at it for four hours, and had about two more to go before they’d fully documented the incident.

The interviews had taken the longest. Not because the actual interview had taken long, but because of all the different pukes that had to be called up to participate.

“What?” Venkman answered, more short than he normally would. He didn’t look all that tired, but the noises his gut had been making for the last hour or so had been keeping Baptiste awake at his terminal. The big guy’s blood sugar was probably running low.

“Nothing, just heard you had quite the day.”

If this were a purely local matter, Venkman would have been off for the next few days on administrative leave while everyone who had not been there second-guessed his every action and dissected a situation most had never been in. Then they would come back and interview him again in light of any ‘evidence’ that they though important and believed wasn’t included in the report.

It was only IMP involvement in the case that was keeping Venkman on the streets. The internal investigation of the incident would likely take a few more days, but Baptiste knew his partner would be found to be acting within policy.

“Yeah, Delacroix, I had quite the day. What are you doing here so early? I thought you were still midnights,” Venkman said.

“Overtime, brother. Someone’s gotta keep the lid on while you are out fighting the enemies of the Imperium.”

Venkman laughed, a little louder and harder than the weak joke warranted, but if he was at all close to being as tired as Bap felt, he was entitled to be a bit slap-happy.

Delacroix clapped the big man on the shoulder and walked out.

Bap looked at the terminal, sighed, and asked of no one in particular, “When will it end?”

“What, reports?”

Baptiste nodded.

“Well, when we’re dead, they’ll have to do some cleaning up and a final filing, but I think that might be an end to it, at least for us.”

“Might?”

“Nothing in life is certain but death and taxes.”