They sailed down 53rd street in their black and white, lazily drinking coffee and in true cop style, munching on assorted doughnuts. Seasons in the Sun began on the radio. Max turned the channel.
"Hate that song," he said.
There was an uncomfortable silence. Something Max knew from experience would usually end in so meone saying anything for the sake of breaking it. Williamson didn't disappoint him.
"Max, you think we're stereotypical cops?"
"What makes you say that?"
Mick Williamson paused at the lights and tried to illustrate his point. He held up the doughnut.
"Nah," Max replied.
T he lights changed and they moved on downtown.
"A beautiful night tonight all right. La luna's never looked better. And those stars man. They are something else."
There was silence for a second.
Max felt it was his turn to break the deadness and as they drove past a TV shop showing the animated series Fat Robots, Max decided to vent his spleen.
"You know what I hate?"
"Do tell."
"Those cartoons where someone gets punched in the face and they see stars. Has that ever happened to you in all your time on the beat? Some felon comes up to you and punches you in the face and you see stars?"
"No Max. I think you take those things too seriously."
They turned the corner and drove rather stylishly through smoke from a drain cover, purely because it looked good.
"I'd just like to see a cartoon one day, or better still, have someone punch me in the face and I see stars. That's all."
They both knew what was coming next."I'll do it." Mick replied. Max shot him a cursory look.
They passed a couple of kids playing on the street with Stormtrooper helmets and guns. At 3am this was no rarity in the projects. Max knew this would set his colleague off on another rant and as much as he hoped, knew the situation was lost. "You know the trouble with Jedi?" Williamson said. "I'm sure you're going to tell me." "The film-makers didn't have the courage of their own convictions. I mean the thing that made the other movies so cool was the bad guy. This big black samurai where you never saw his face. That guy had soul. I mean how cool was The Emperor. Not very cool at all. Some pasty faced guy in a cloak. Reminds me of my school play for Christ sakes." Max sighed. "I think YOU take it all too seriously man. Vader had to show he was okay under the surface. You know. It was a symbol of how even bad guys have some good in them." "Yeah. But just think how good the movie would have been if the bad guys had won. I mean t hat's what made Empire so good. It was the only multi-squillion dollar movie in Hollywood where the bad guys won." Williamson was on a roll now. "But was it a movie or was it the second act of a three part play?" "Well it was a movie you dumb schmuck. If it was a three act play why were there credits at the end of the bastard? Huh? Answer me that. How many plays have credits half way through?" Silence. Williamson had won the argument and felt good with his victory. Mick grinned as the full moon rose over the housing projects. "Hello, hello." "Hello." Williamson finished the sentence. Neither man smiled but the cliche was mentally noted. Their car pulled over to a SWAT van ahead. Large, squarish and formidable. Max took out his binoculars and saw a man in his twenties propositioning a girl of sixteen. Despite the arctic conditions she wore what looked like a nightdress. "So, you reckon they're here on business?" Williamson finished his doughnut. "That's the Second Unit. Val's team. What do you reckon?" "Are we talking bad guys here?" Max nodded as the man looked around at the black and white and then backed away from the teen. A minute later the SWAT truck was away. Max rubbed his chin but didn't pursue. "You figure that was business?" "Last I heard was Valentine was suspended for bad behaviour. You know he got his knuckles rapped over that bombing incident?" Williamson nodded. "Guy's got a head full of bad wiring that puppy. Wouldn't be surprised if our lad didn't have something to do with the bombing." The Nothing 1 The Nothing 2 The Nothing 3The Nothing 5