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Kirkus Hammettus
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Registered: 01-2005
Location: Lost in my own head
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Re: Special Agent Hammett to the Rescue
to put it simply
I LOVE YOUR WRITINGS!!!!!
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Oh My lifestyle (Birth is Pain) determines my deathstyle!
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12/9/2005, 4:24 am
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AwayFromMe
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Registered: 02-2005
Location: Bellingham, Wa
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Re: Special Agent Hammett to the Rescue
I actually think this story is really cool, haha. Props to you for writing it.
It's a nice and light story. I like how Kirk acts in this story, haha.
--- http://kirkhammett.net
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12/9/2005, 6:57 pm
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ExiledAngel
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Registered: 11-2005
Location: none of your f-ing biz!
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Re: Special Agent Hammett to the Rescue
more please...this is a very nice story 
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12/9/2005, 8:40 pm
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Lady Hammett
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Location: Redneck State, USA (Florida)
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Re: Special Agent Hammett to the Rescue
Have you ever seen the movie Cobra with Sylvester Stallone? I got much of my inspiration from his character, Lieutenant Marion Cobretti. The guy is tough as nails, and so smooth.
As a female I had even more desperation to be tough, because it is my opinion that women just are not tough enough. I don't mean to be a traitor to my gender, but I swear, it is like they are asking to be walked all over sometimes.
Maybe it is the way that society raises females, to be soft and sissy . . . I don't know what it is.
But as I dealt with rape cases and domestic violence cases on females, I just didn't understand why on earth these women were so damn scared of men. It didn't make sense. Here we were in the 90's, and women were rising in the working force, but they sure weren't any more assertive than they were back in 1950. Or so it seemed . . .
I was never afraid of men. To me they were just humans. Maybe it is because of all the experience I had arguing with my father all my childhood (crazy Hispanic temper!) As a result when men got pushy they didn't put fear in me - they just made me mad.
I refused to be afraid to walk the streets on nights I was off duty. It was a free country, and I should be able to go out whenever I pleased. I didn't need a man to protect me - all I needed was my trusty Smith & Wesson .38 revolver in my pocket.
One day at the end of 1994, I was walking through the Mission District back from a new friend's house. Two men sprung out of the bushes and you could tell they were blind drunk.
I steeled myself and looked them straight in the eye, making myself look like the predator. Another good tactic is to lower your voice as much as possible. A woman who sounds manly is intimidating to most attackers.
"Hey baby, it's time to play," said one of them. He was tall, white, and had a disfigurement of the face. That was the best I could make of him in the dark.
"Excuse me, son?" I said as gruffly and authoritatively as I could.
"Right now!" shouted the other (fat, white, young twenties, I observed), and he pulled out a knife.
I laughed loudly and said, "Think fast, pebble-****s!" Then I withdrew my gun and shot them both in the feet, one bullet per foot.
As they doubled over and started screaming like banshees, I stood over them and said, "Isn't it past you ****ers' bedtimes?", cackled, and walked away, calm and smooth.
Just the way a woman should be.
Not many people believed my story of bravery. It sickened me that most of the men were too macho to believe it. But Windemere and any other woman that knew how to be tough did.
I would learn that later on, Kirk would believe me too . . .
Oh yeah - as far as the autopsy situation, he did not call Windemere or me for months. It didn't surprise me. He was busy attending college, after all.
One night I assisted the San Francisco State University Police in a civil matter that escalated into attempted murder. It was over a couple living in the dorms, but then the woman moved out into the city. Now she was stalking her ex-boyfriend. We caught her one night running up the stairs to the student apartments where he lived, armed with a knife.
I had the honor of slapping the cuffs on her and escorting her to the car. Fun stuff, right?
The next day I started my shift at six as usual and reported to the same student apartments to interview the witnesses - the ex-boyfriend, Nathan, and his roomates. The arraignment was scheduled for December 10.
Before I got to Nathan's apartment complex I could see Kirk walking towards the parking garage. I quickly swerved into the student apartments so that he couldn't see my face!
When I exited the vehicle I ran into Cheri, one of the cops there at SF State University.
"You should have heard this moron," she laughed. "I was sitting there in Dispatch and Chuck was working. The phone rang and he picked it up, and this woman goes, 'Hi - I'm in your underground parking. I think I'm lost.' Well yeah, she must have been, 'cos we don't have underground parking! She was obviously in the first level of the parking garage!"
We laughed. Underground parking? What a crackup. Of course that made me think of Kirk, walking towards the garage to get into his car.
I forced my mind back on the assignment and headed up the steps of the apartment complex.
Naturally Nathan was very traumatized over what happened. I did my best to counsel him. He was having a hard time trusting women, as you can imagine. I figured that maybe it would be better if a male officer interviewed him, but he assured me that he trusted me, that he would just have problems dating again!
Nathan's problems, of course, were nothing compared to what the entire city would go through as we rolled into 1995 . . .
Last edited by Lady Hammett, 12/10/2005, 4:41 pm
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12/10/2005, 3:30 pm
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Lady Hammett
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Re: Special Agent Hammett to the Rescue
Fighting crime gave me thrills. For every arrest, for every sentence, for every saved victim, for every crime that was stopped by my presence - it gave me a high. I was responsible for justice being served. I was responsible for protecting and serving innocent citizens in my community.
Most people got burnt out working long hours, but I didn't. This was exactly what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. The occassional 24-hour shifts just made me feel more productive in the force. I did not want family or children getting in the way of me doing what I loved.
Mind you, having a husband would be nice, I thought. But could any man understand my love for rigorous schedule and activity?
I was still only 22, so I pushed that to the back of my mind. I was way too young to worry about **** like that.
1995 kicked off with a new police chief after Chief Frost retired. The new chief was Charles Hemmings. Hemmings was tougher than the whole damn force put together.
We learned very quickly that he was the knot the held the strong arm of the law together. We learned this in our January briefing, there in the squad room on a Monday afternoon.
Hemmings wrote out some statistics on the board. They were murder, rape, theft, larceny, and battery statistics. Then he wrote down a rather large number.
"Can anybody in this room guess what this number is?" he demanded. He was tall, broad-shoulder, and gruff with a buzz cut. He looked like an army drill sergeant.
Starling raised her hand. "Number of people held in prison in this county?" she asked.
"Wrong. Next person!"
Windemere shot her hand in the air. "Number of jailed people in this county?"
"Wrong! Next person!"
Trent Yanley was next. "All the incarcerated people together-"
"WRONG!"
Then it dawned on me. My hand shot up.
"You!"
"Number of people in gang related activity in this county," I stated.
"Yes! What's your name?"
"Silvana. Calista Silvana, sir."
"Silvana! Excellent job. That's right, folks. And it's time we got tough on gang activity here. Why? Let me write the number for you ten years ago." He wrote a smaller number on the board. "Ten years ago! Almost five thousand less incidence of gang activity.
"It is time to clean the streets, ladies and gents. We need to start cracking down around here. Do you realize that San Francisco is one of the safer cities in comparison to other large ones? Did you know that there are lower statistics of criminal activity here than New York, L.A., Houston, Detroit, Seattle - ALL of those cities have a much higher crime rate.
"So what's it gonna be? You wanna keep this city safe? Well, it's all up to you! Every individual in this room! Don't hesitate if there is danger. If they've got a gun pointing at you at someone else, smoke 'em! It is not worth your life or the life of ANY of our innocent civilians to risk them pulling that trigger.
"Traffic stops, pulling people over. If they drove like they could kill someone, give them a ticket! Don't let them get by with a verbal or written warning!
"DRUGS. Good gracious people, that is the one thing this city has that could end up being just as bad as any other. NEVER go lenient with the drugs. It's about time we showed this place who is in control! Are we understood?"
"YES, SIR!" we all responded in harmony.
"Alright! Now get out there and get 'em! Break your quota! Out! There will be a meeting on crime fighting tactics next week!"
We all filed out of the squad room, each of us talking amongst ourselves.
"So basically he means kick some more ass," Windemere chuckled.
"And have some damn fun!" I added.
*********************************************
In February, Kirk called me about the autopsy. It happened after I had taken a shower on one of my days off.
Naturally, I was astonished. I had forced myself to dim my hopes down and not expect him to call.
I answered the phone when it rang. "Hello?"
"Hi, this is Kirk Hammett. We met a few months ago, and you said you could show me an autopsy?"
I nearly dropped the phone. I could feel my throat contract, and I began to wheeze softly. I forced myself to stop being a ninny and projected my voice into the phone: "Yes! When would you like to go?"
"Well, I was hoping next week, since I don't have much going on."
"Right! Great, why don't I give the medical examiner's office a call so we can book an appointment?"
"Okay, great," his smooth voice replied. I loved the sound of his voice, so soft, so smooth, like wine following into a glass.
"Um, do you mind if I take down your number? I'm gonna have to call you back. I won't give it to anyone, I promise!"
Kirk laughed softly. "Sure." And he gave it to me!
"Okay, thank you so much, Mr. Hammett - er, Kirk. I'll call you back as soon as I can!"
"Great. Thank you." And we hung up.
I held the paper with his number on it in my hand, my heart about to burst out of my chest. I couldn't believe this! The world seemed to drop away, and I felt like I was in Kirkland . . . I had his number . . .
I put the paper into my planner and copied his number down in several places so I wouldn't lose it. I didn't put his name next to it though. That way if anyone saw it they wouldn't know it was his!
Then I called the medical examiner's office to book a viewing.
"Who the hell would want to watch an autopsy take place?" cried Jermaine, the guy who worked at the office there.
"Ummmm, Kirk Hammett?"
"Who?"
I figured Jermaine wouldn't know who I was talking about. He preferred listening to R&B.
"It doesn't matter. Just mark him down next week. He never specified a time - I'll confirm it with him."
Jermaine booked him for Wednesday at noon. Excellent - I wouldn't be working then, and I would not be working the Tuesday night, so I would not be too tired to accompany him. Awesome!
I called Kirk back and asked him whether that would be okay. He told me that would be fine.
I was so excited I felt like I could never sleep again!
But I knew I would have to come clean about what I did for a living . . .
Last edited by Lady Hammett, 12/10/2005, 5:47 pm
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12/10/2005, 5:40 pm
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Kirkus Hammettus
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Re: Special Agent Hammett to the Rescue
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
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Oh My lifestyle (Birth is Pain) determines my deathstyle!
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12/12/2005, 1:59 pm
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It would give the story a bit deeper vibe and I dunno..I think it would make it better.
I've been giggling like a freak and thank god that no one is home but me so early in the morning! hehe
