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31_days2012-07-16 01:35 pm
insaneladybug.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2012-07-16 01:35 pm
[July 16th] [Perry Mason] How to Start a War
Title: How to Start a War
Day/Theme: July 16th - When the war came
Series: Perry Mason
Character/Pairing: Hamilton Burger, Deputy D.A. Sampson, Deputy D.A. Chamberlain
Rating: T/PG-13
Sampson and Chamberlain are both probably going to start showing up in my mystery fics more than they have. My fondness for oneshot and/or recurring characters with strong connections to main characters rides again.
The building Hamilton's office is at remains unnamed. With my stories being present-day, the office can't be at the Hall of Justice, which was damaged in an earthquake. But, to my frustration, I haven't been able to find out what building the office is in these days. (Did they make a new Hall of Justice in L.A.?)
By Lucky_Ladybug
It happened too fast for Hamilton to fully be able to process it.
One moment he was approaching his office building, to take care of several important business matters before going to court. Sampson, who had stumbled across him at the curb, was walking with him. As they walked, Sampson was telling him of the continuing, aggravating threats he had received against the district attorney’s office as a whole.
“Someone calls me at least once every day,” he ranted. “It’s always a different voice, but I’m convinced it’s the same person. I’ve conducted extensive searches of all the voice actors in the area without success.”
Hamilton sighed, tiredly. “And they always say to give up a certain case or the office will be blown up?”
“Yes! Mr. Burger, the bomb squad has been out here every day for the past week, combing every square inch of the property. But they’ve never found anything!”
Hamilton frowned. He had been away this past week, looking into some goings-on in San Diego that seemed to tie in with one of his current cases. Sampson had tried to talk with him about these problems over the telephone, but interruptions for both of them had not enabled much to be told. And this was quite an overwhelming problem to come back to.
“Doesn’t this person give you any idea why they always call you?” he wondered. “I mean, as opposed to any of the other assistant district attorneys.”
“No,” Sampson retorted. “But it’s nerve-wracking! They . . .”
He trailed off, grabbing Hamilton without warning. As the deputy D.A. started to push Hamilton out of the way, his eyes widened in pain. With a gasp, his grip loosened and he wavered, starting to sink to the ground.
Stunned, Hamilton tried to hold him up. “Sampson! What in the name of . . .”
A chill ran up his spine. Blood was slipping over his hands. Sampson had just been knifed in the back. And an unknown figure was running away after throwing it from a distance.
Deputy D.A. Chamberlain was just coming out of the building. “What happened?!” he exclaimed.
Hamilton wasted no time in laying Sampson on the grass. “Call an ambulance!” he ordered as he took off after the suspect.
The man was fast, but so was Hamilton. Soon he was within grabbing distance. He reached out, trying to snatch at the dark jacket.
Part of it came off in his hand. The wretch dashed around the corner. When Hamilton gave chase, he had vanished.
Hamilton conducted a futile search for several minutes before conceding defeat. Clutching the piece of jacket, he stormed back to where he had left his assistants.
Sampson was still on the grass on his side. He dug his fingers into the blades, his breathing heavy and pained. Chamberlain was trying his best to tend to the younger man while not removing the knife, as the ambulance dispatcher had instructed him not to do.
Hamilton dropped to his knees. “Sampson?” He rested a hand on the trembling shoulder. “Sampson, you saved me. I never saw that knife.”
Sampson looked up at him, his eyes bleary and pained. “Did you catch . . . ?”
Hamilton shook his head. “No,” he said bitterly. “All I got was this.” He held up the piece of jacket. “I’ll have it sent to the crime lab.” His grip tightened. “Sampson, the ambulance will be here soon. You have to hold on until then.”
“I’ll try, Sir.” But he sounded weak.
Chamberlain caught Hamilton’s eye and shook his head. It looked bad.
Hamilton’s heart sank. He had expected it, really. He was surprised Sampson had held out this long.
When Sampson fell silent moments later, slipping into unconsciousness, Hamilton gazed down at the blood still on his own hands.
Someone had been saying for days that they wanted to launch war on the district attorney’s office. Well, now they had gone and done it.
A war was what they were going to get.
Day/Theme: July 16th - When the war came
Series: Perry Mason
Character/Pairing: Hamilton Burger, Deputy D.A. Sampson, Deputy D.A. Chamberlain
Rating: T/PG-13
Sampson and Chamberlain are both probably going to start showing up in my mystery fics more than they have. My fondness for oneshot and/or recurring characters with strong connections to main characters rides again.
The building Hamilton's office is at remains unnamed. With my stories being present-day, the office can't be at the Hall of Justice, which was damaged in an earthquake. But, to my frustration, I haven't been able to find out what building the office is in these days. (Did they make a new Hall of Justice in L.A.?)
It happened too fast for Hamilton to fully be able to process it.
One moment he was approaching his office building, to take care of several important business matters before going to court. Sampson, who had stumbled across him at the curb, was walking with him. As they walked, Sampson was telling him of the continuing, aggravating threats he had received against the district attorney’s office as a whole.
“Someone calls me at least once every day,” he ranted. “It’s always a different voice, but I’m convinced it’s the same person. I’ve conducted extensive searches of all the voice actors in the area without success.”
Hamilton sighed, tiredly. “And they always say to give up a certain case or the office will be blown up?”
“Yes! Mr. Burger, the bomb squad has been out here every day for the past week, combing every square inch of the property. But they’ve never found anything!”
Hamilton frowned. He had been away this past week, looking into some goings-on in San Diego that seemed to tie in with one of his current cases. Sampson had tried to talk with him about these problems over the telephone, but interruptions for both of them had not enabled much to be told. And this was quite an overwhelming problem to come back to.
“Doesn’t this person give you any idea why they always call you?” he wondered. “I mean, as opposed to any of the other assistant district attorneys.”
“No,” Sampson retorted. “But it’s nerve-wracking! They . . .”
He trailed off, grabbing Hamilton without warning. As the deputy D.A. started to push Hamilton out of the way, his eyes widened in pain. With a gasp, his grip loosened and he wavered, starting to sink to the ground.
Stunned, Hamilton tried to hold him up. “Sampson! What in the name of . . .”
A chill ran up his spine. Blood was slipping over his hands. Sampson had just been knifed in the back. And an unknown figure was running away after throwing it from a distance.
Deputy D.A. Chamberlain was just coming out of the building. “What happened?!” he exclaimed.
Hamilton wasted no time in laying Sampson on the grass. “Call an ambulance!” he ordered as he took off after the suspect.
The man was fast, but so was Hamilton. Soon he was within grabbing distance. He reached out, trying to snatch at the dark jacket.
Part of it came off in his hand. The wretch dashed around the corner. When Hamilton gave chase, he had vanished.
Hamilton conducted a futile search for several minutes before conceding defeat. Clutching the piece of jacket, he stormed back to where he had left his assistants.
Sampson was still on the grass on his side. He dug his fingers into the blades, his breathing heavy and pained. Chamberlain was trying his best to tend to the younger man while not removing the knife, as the ambulance dispatcher had instructed him not to do.
Hamilton dropped to his knees. “Sampson?” He rested a hand on the trembling shoulder. “Sampson, you saved me. I never saw that knife.”
Sampson looked up at him, his eyes bleary and pained. “Did you catch . . . ?”
Hamilton shook his head. “No,” he said bitterly. “All I got was this.” He held up the piece of jacket. “I’ll have it sent to the crime lab.” His grip tightened. “Sampson, the ambulance will be here soon. You have to hold on until then.”
“I’ll try, Sir.” But he sounded weak.
Chamberlain caught Hamilton’s eye and shook his head. It looked bad.
Hamilton’s heart sank. He had expected it, really. He was surprised Sampson had held out this long.
When Sampson fell silent moments later, slipping into unconsciousness, Hamilton gazed down at the blood still on his own hands.
Someone had been saying for days that they wanted to launch war on the district attorney’s office. Well, now they had gone and done it.
A war was what they were going to get.