Stake-Outed - Deric Storm

New York City "Stakeouts suck," Deric growled. "Really, D?" quipped the detective in the truck with him, "I never would have guessed that." "Bite me, Wood." Deric growled in response. This was not the first time he had come to this conclusion tonight. He had been stuck in his truck for the past six hours watching the New York City Fire Museum. Among the museum's collection is an authentic New York fire apparatus from 1790, one of the oldest in North America. This fact, along with an anonymous tip about an imminent attempt to steal the exhibit had led to him spending a night in his Avalanche. 'At least they partnered me with Woody' he thought. Chris Underwood had been one of Deric's closest friends since they were in the same class at the Academy. In fact, he had been in Wood's wedding party two years ago to another of their classmates, Rachel Phillips. To say they were close was an understatement. "Message from Starfleet, Captain..." broke the silence, startling both men. "What was that?" Chris asked. Deric dug into his jacket pocket, and pulled out his smartphone. "Text message alert." Deric said, tossing the phone to Chris before grabbing a radio. "Could you read it for me please? Gotta check in with the other stations." "Sure," Chris said, unlocking the phone. "All quiet on the western front. All stations check in." Deric ordered. "South side all clear." "North side's quiet." "East side's a..." Deric didn't hear the rest as it was drowned out by Chris's raucous laughter. Deric shot his friend a dirty look as asked for the last report again, which was an all clear. "Hey, Storm," the team on the north side of the perimeter said, "I'm starting think this tip was bogus." "Maybe, maybe not." Deric responded, looking out the front windshield. "Keep your eyes open. Storm out." Looking at Chris, who still had a case of the giggles, Deric asked, "What the hell is so funny?" Between the laughter and trying to regain his breath, Chris handed Deric the cell phone. "Who's ‘Bombshell'?" Chris asked between breaths. ‘Bombshell?' Deric thought. ‘Only Bombshell I know is... Oh, great googly-moogly.' Looking at the screen on his phone, he saw the message: Hey fazendeiro, I get into town and you are na cessão. Hopefully, I am still around when you are terminou. Me ligue mais tarde. Abraços e beijos. ~ Bombshell. "A friend." Deric answered quickly, which piqued Chris's interest. "This friend have a name?" Knowing he was caught, Deric answered. "Her name is Cali. She's an agent from Brazil." "And Bombshell?" "A nickname I gave her when I found out she was an EOD expert." Woody smirked at that. Deric gave people the most unusual nicknames, but they always seemed to fit. If Deric gave you a funny nickname, it meant he was your friend for life. Some thing stuck in his craw though. Brazilian EOD expert... "Wait a minute, she presented a clinic on IEDs about a year ago. Blond chick, about the same size as Rachel?" "Yep, that's her." Chris whistled. "How long has this been going on?" Chris asked while looking at the museum's receiving area through a set of binoculars. "Nothing's going on." Deric pleaded, "We just hang out whenever she's in town." "Hold on," Chris said, looking at Deric in mild disbelief, "are YOU saying that YOU of all people got booty-texted?" Chris asked, trying to keep from breaking into laughter again. He failed miserably. "God, I hate stakeouts." Deric said, trying to block Chris's chuckling. It was going to be a long night.