Title: Flash Drive
Rating: R
Genre: Drama / Slash / First Time / Big Bang
Present Day / AU
Description: Starsky & Hutch mysteriously get
transported to 2013 Los Angeles.
Everything becomes all mixed up when Hutch is the one to fall in love
with the technology, while Starsky becomes immersed in gay rights and causes.
Notes: Author considers this AU as well,
due to aging of other characters in the 1970s Starsky & Hutch
universe. Also, Starsky & Hutch’s
jurisdiction has been expanded for believability in this story.
1981
All units in the vicinity of 5445 San Fernando Road: be on the lookout
for a two-toned gray Ford Granada with at least three teen occupants. Driver is white male. Wanted for 187 in process of 211 at Jin Sing
Skuteup.
“Damn. Another Korean mom & pop hit,” swore Starsky lightly. “That’s the third this month. What’s going on?” He took a turn, tightening his hands around
the steering wheel.
“I’m guessing the same group of
kids,” Hutch replied from the
passenger’s seat, looking out the window as they drove along near Route 5, near
the Angeles National Forest. “And this
time they upped the ante.”
Starsky glanced over at his
partner. “What the hell’s going on with
these kids now-a-days?”
“You know what you sound like? An old man.
Kids have been stealing from grocers since penny candy came out, and
probably before.”
“Yeah, but it’s one thing to steal
penny candy, and another to do it with a gun and kill someone in the
process,” Starsky retorted to his
partner.
“Touché.”
“Wonder how they think they’ll get
away in, of all things, a Granada.”
Starsky mused.
Hutch rolled his eyes. “We can’t all have fire engine red
tomatoes.”
“Yeah, some of us have moldy
cheese…like your latest piece of mustard colored shit.”
“Hey, the Thunderbird’s a
classic.” Hutch pretended to be
affronted, even though he knew his cars weren’t always in the best of condition,
and prone to breaking down. “Do you know
how embarrassing it is to be seen in a car that…”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, only the bad
guys could love, because they can see it a mile away.”
Hutch took a breath. “I meant, that
only kids drive, but yeah, that too.”
“What do ya mean, ‘only kids
drive’?” Starsky pitched back in faux
irritation.
“Just take a look at this car!” Hutch waved his hand around. “A Mazda RX-7? Really?
For a 38 year old man? One who’s
had a history of bullet wounds and has to unfold himself just to get out of
it?”
Starsky looked wounded at the
reminder, but Hutch didn’t have time to apologize. Out of the corner of his eye, he eyed a
charcoal sedan turning down Paxton toward Laurel Canyon road at a high rate of
speed.
“Hey Starsk? I think I just saw them.”
“Who?”
“The kids we were just talking
about. They just turned on Paxton from
I-5 going north.”
“Shit, Paxton? We just passed that.” Hutch threw the Mars light on the hood and
called in the information as well as a chase.
Simultaneously, Starsky pulled the wheel sharply, pitching the car
sharply in a u-turn and then left down Paxton, so that Hutch was thrown about
like a suitcase on an airplane.
“Ow!
Starsky, watch it!” Hutch rubbed
his elbow, which was sore from smashing into the door handle.
With a quick glance to his right to
make sure Hutch was okay, Starsky apologized.
His right turn onto the I-5 was just as sharp, but not as fast.
He continued chasing the suspect
teens in the gray Granada north on the I-5.
Both fleeing and chase vehicles picked up speed as they left the city
and began climbing the foothills of Mission Point, with the teens weaving and
missing several cars driving opposite, and Starsky crossing the double yellow
line several times.
“Didn’t you learn anything last time
you lost control? Does me being in the
hospital with a concussion and broken arm ring a bell?”
“Bitch, bitch, bitch. You never complain when we get our man.”
“Get
our man? Who are we? Royal Mounties?”
“Well, we do have a lot of
horsepower, and we’re going north.”
Starsky grinned, drolly.
“Ha ha.”
As they approached the Newell Tunnel,
Starsky automatically flipped on his headlights. Even so, with their perps being in a dark
colored car, it was difficult to see them through the darkness of the
tunnel. Only the beams of the Mazda
bouncing off the Granada’s silver bumper gave the detectives any indication the
distance between the two cars.
Just as the lead car approached the
end of the tunnel, it over-corrected the tight turn of the road into the gravel
berm. The tires skid, throwing the car
sideways right into the path of the oncoming RX-7.
With nowhere to turn to avoid the
flailing gray car, the red car with the detectives was poised to hit directly
full force into the driver’s side.
“Starsky!”
“Son of a bitch!”
Then everything turned bright pale
yellow and orange…..
ef
Whoosh!
With a loud crack in the air, like
lightning, a bright orange flash, and a jolt, the Mazda RX-7 tore out of the northern
end of the Newell tunnel.
Starsky applied the brakes hard,
tires squealing, and the car pitched back and forth, tossing Hutch into his
partner, behind the wheel.
After the car came to a stop, both
rattled officers took a deep breath they hadn’t known they were holding, and
looked at each other, amazed they and the car were in one piece.
“What…where? What happened to the kids in the
Granada?” Starsky’s thoughts were fuzzy
and his stomach felt churned up.
“How the
hell did we miss hitting them?” Hutch
wondered in astonishment, looking out the windshield for any evidence of the
gray Granada – tire marks, skids in the gravel berm, evidence of an accident.
Starsky
straightened out the car and proceeded to drive slowly, both men looking
carefully around just in case the teens had run off the road. Both men were quiet, each beginning to
realize that something was off, but unable to figure out just what exactly was
wrong.
As Starsky
finally opened his mouth to say something, a mid-1990s Ford Taurus drove past
going in the opposite direction. His jaw
dropped open in confusion.
“Did…what..what
the hell kind of car was that, Starsky?”
“Not sure,
Hutch. And I know all the Big Three
models. That must be an experimental
one, or maybe something from the Germans.”
“Looks like
a damn jelly bean to me.”
Starsky
snorted in amusement. “Can’t see anyone
wanting to drive around in Easter candy.
It’ll probably flop bigger than the Edsel or Corvair.”
Just then, a
Kia Soul drove around the slower Mazda, crossing the double yellow lines before
crossing back and moving on at a faster pace than the detectives were driving.
“What the
hell is that?! Soul? What kinda name is that?”
“Maybe a
British car?”Hutch just shrugged his shoulders, then noticed something looming
in front of them. “Uh, Starsk? What’s up on the left ahead?”
Starsky
looked at Hutch sideways, while still keeping his eye on the curving road. “Did you hit your head on the side of the
door? Rattle those big brains of your
again? Forget that ‘Magic Mountain’ is
right up the road?”
“Smart-ass. I know
Six Flags is coming up. What I’d like to
know is what is that!” And Hutch threw his hand out in front
of him.
His partner
followed the pointed forefinger to above the trees just ahead, and saw… “When
the heck they add a new coaster? And how
tall is that sucker?” Starsky began to get excited. “Oh, I know what I’m doing next day off! I can’t wait to try that puppy out!”
“Starsky,
they don’t put those coasters up overnight!
Not only that, have you ever seen one that tall? And they’ve either been on a massive building
binge, or some of your aliens have come down and placed fully built rides into
the park.”
With a look
of wry disdain at his non-believing partner, Starsky taunted Hutch. “Just wait.
One day you’ll find out there is intelligent life on other planets, and
then all us believers will fly off to exotic and exciting lands, and you’ll be
stuck here all alone without me.”
“I hope
there’s intelligent life on other planets, because sometimes I’m not sure
there’s any on Earth.” With a nod to
Starsky, Hutch finished, “Present company included.”
“I guess
that means you too,” Starsky shot back
happily. “So, do you want to make a day
of it next time we…. Son of gun! What
the heck happened here?” Now that the
car had approached the entrance to Six Flags Magic Mountain, it was apparent
that things were different. “Did some
giant’s kid’s Tinker Toy set explode?”
“Starsky, do
you get the feeling that something’s not right?”
The other
man didn’t say anything, but pulled into the entrance of the amusement
park. He drove down the driveway that
was much better paved than he remembered.
“I am now,
Blintz,” he replied as he looked around
the parking lot. They spied all sorts of unusual vehicles,
skimpy clothing on people walking toward the main gate, and the many large differences to the amusement park he and Terry had loved to
visit.
“Pull over and let me get out for a
second. I want to check out some of
those plates.”
Starsky, who’d had the same idea, put
his RX-7 in park behind some very futuristic looking vehicles, while Hutch
jumped out to examine a few license plates.
When he entered back in the car,
Starsky questioned Hutch on what they read.
“Well, they all seem to be California plates, but none I’ve ever seen. There’s the word ‘California’ written in red across the plate, and the stickers…” Hutch faltered. “There’re stickers on them – at least I think they’re stickers.”
“Stickers? Like slogans?”
“No…no. These read dates…. I think.” Hutch’s forehead was wrinkled in
bewilderment. “3-14, 8-13, 6-13, 1-14.
Like that.”
Starsky’s face was screwed up in
consternation. “Okay, that’s it.” Starsky picked up the mike attached to the
police radio. “Dispatch, this is Zebra
3.”
An unfamiliar female voice answered,
with a hint of puzzlement. “George, is
that you?”
“No, it’s me, Dave Starsky, with my
partner Ken Hutchinson.”
“I’m sorry, sir. This is an official radio frequency. I need to ask you to stop broadcasting.”
“I am a police officer. Dave Starsky. S-T-A-R-S-K-Y. We’re assigned Zebra 3 with the LAPD.”
The disembodied female replaced more
coldly this time. “Zebra 3 is the call
sign for Martinez and Hernandon. Again,
please remove yourself from this frequency or I will have you arrested.”
“And how do you plan on doing
that?” Starsky was getting livid, so
Hutch grabbed the mike from his hot-tempered partner who looked ready to charge
downtown and terrify the woman.
“GPS, sir. All radios are equipped with them. If you really are cops, turn on your monitors
to the dispatch station and show yourselves.”
The very confused detectives
disconnected their mike and looked at each other.
“GPS?” They asked in tandem.
“There’s only one thing to do now,”
muttered Starsky as he pulled the car away to leave ‘Magic Mountain’.
“Huggy.” They said in unison.
ef
As they drove down the I-5, the
atmosphere inside the car grew increasingly tense and quiet.Views out the
windows showed a brighter, cleaner city with less blight and more newer looking
buildings.
Without saying a word, Hutch leaned
over and turned on the radio.
Bam sounded a
bass drum loudly. “It’s radioactive, radioactive.”
Both men startled at the loud sound
coming from the dashboard speakers and Hutch hurriedly turned the knob to the
off position.
“Thanks, my ears.” Starsky shook his head. “If that’s what the
radio is playing in this day and age…” He trailed off, not wanting to say aloud
what both men were fearing.
They finished the drive to The Pits
in silence.
But The Pits wasn’t The Pits anymore.
The large sign on the front of the
building just said ‘Huggy’s Club’ and it wasn’t open yet.
“Well, at least we know he’s still
around,” Hutch grumbled.
“So what do we do now?”
“Go home? See if we still have our apartments.” Suggested Hutch as he shrugged his shoulders.
ef
“What the….! Where’s my apartment?!”
“Shouldn’t that be ‘where’s the
apartment building’?” Hutch said to try to lighten Starsky’s
lament.
They were both looking at the newer
townhouse complex where Starsky’s apartment building should be.
“What about all my stuff? My clothes, my records, Philip… my stuff?” he
mourned. “Where’m I gonna live?”
“Uh, Starsk. Maybe we should check mine out.” Hutch’s voice now had a minor tremble.
When they arrived at Venice Place,
both men breathed a sigh that the building was still standing.
That relief, though, was short lived
upon walking closer to the building.
“The door’s different. That tree thing’s missing.” Then Starsky also pointed out the sign that
was in place where Helene’s should be.
“Primo-something wine bistro?
You’re the brains, what’s a wine bistro?”
“Got me.” He entered the center doorway and waved to
his partner. “Come on.” He was anxious to get upstairs to see if his
apartment was there. Or rather, if it
was his apartment.
Reaching over the doorway, Hutch ran
his hands across the lintel. No
key. Then he tried the one in his
pocket. It wouldn’t fit, and no one
answered his knocks.
The very helpful male sommelier at
the wine bistro told them a young couple lived upstairs in the back apartment
and used the front apartment as a photography studio.
“You two look like you need a
drink. I’ve got a real nice 1981 pinot
noir from Napa Valley. Only $88 for the
bottle or $10 a glass.”
“$88 for a bottle of wine they make
here in California? I’m a cop and I can
have the Controller down here so fast, those grapes won’t have time to
ripen.” Starsky fumed over the quoted
price, ready to jump over the counter at the poor wine server.
Hutch put a restraining hand on his
partner’s arm. “Leave it be, Starsk.”
As they were leaving a well-dressed
man with thick, brown curly hair graying at the temples, perhaps in his late
40s, asked them if the Mazda RX-7 was theirs.
“Yeah, it’s mine. Why?”
the equally dark haired detective replied, suspiciously.
A distant look came over his
face. “Man, that takes me back. I went to my prom in one back in ’83.”
“ ’83?” Both detectives spoke the question in tandem.
“Yeah. Hot little date. This was back in Pennsylvania. Not much room in the back for any
hanky-panky, though.”
Starsky and Hutch stumbled out of the
bistro and almost fell into Starsky’s car.
They looked at each other, faces white as can be.
“1983!”
ef
“Well, the lights are on inside the joint,”
Starsky remarked when they pulled back up to Huggy’s Club. “Let’s go find out what the hell is
happening.”
As the two bewildered detectives
walked into the darkened room, a familiar voice called out from behind the
bar. “Emilio, that you? You’re late, your black ass is late.” Huggy’s voice trailed off as he stood up and
glared at who he thought was a tardy employee.
Even with his darker coloring, it was
obvious that the blood had drained from Huggy’s face. “Oh, shit…”
The tray of clean beer mugs he was holding fell from his hands and crashed
onto the floor. Pieces of glass
shattered like the Big Bang explosion so many eons ago.
“No...no. It’s, it’s not possible.” The proprietor put his hands over his eyes.
Starsky put his arms out, hands up in
a placating manner. “Hug, it’s us. Starsky and Hutch. Something weird’s going on and we need your
help.”
Ignoring the curly-haired man, Huggy
muttered to himself as he closed his eyes and grasped onto the edge of the
bar. “They can’t be here. I must be hallucinatin’ in the twilight of my
being. Maybe I got Alzheimer’s.”
He stumbled to sit at the nearest
table.
Slowly, Starsky and Hutch made their
way to their friend, looking around and noticing the differences in the bar –
or club as the sign said outside.
There was a small dance floor and
raised platform where the pool table used to be. The bar was the same, but the
swinging doors to the kitchen weren’t next to the bar as they should be. There were autographed pictures on the
wall. Some that the detectives recognized,
like The Love Boat’s Gavin MacLeod,
but who was the short-haired blond with the pert nose and narrowed eyes and a
Spanish last name of Diaz?
When they got to their friend’s side,
where Huggy was holding his head, they noticed that he looked…older, with
wrinkles and glasses.
“Hug, what’s going on?” Hutch asked
softly, reaching out to put his hand on their friend’s arm, but Huggy pushed it
away.
“How…how do I know it’s you and I’m
not havin’ some flashback from smoking the wacky weed? Tell me.”
“Why would you think you’re
hallucinating?” Starsky asked him, as he sat down on Huggy’s other side.
“Because you’re not supposed to be
here. And if you are, you’re sure enough
not supposed to be looking so young.
Unless you got taken away by the…” and he made a whoop, whoop sound
while twirling his forefinger toward the ceiling.
Hutch snorted and shook his
head. “Only you, Hug would come up with
a story like that.”
The now older man stood up and
shouted, “What the hell am I supposed to
think, what you with you two sittin’ here looking all like 1981!”
A young man dressed in a white chef’s
outfit came from the back hallway. “Um,
Huggy, you okay out there?”
“Sure, Gianni. It’s cool, man.” The proprietor waved his hands and sat down.
Starsky shook his head. “What the
hell is going on? Of course it’s 1981!”
“It’s 2013, man. You guys disappeared over 25 years ago!”
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