Fake Fan Fiction ❯ Ode to...That Guy ❯ Ode to...That Guy ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: FAKE doesn't belong to me. It's a sad thing. I would love to keep my own personal Ryo in my closet and bring him out to cook for me. But then I would have to deal with Dee coming over and the two of them making out on my kitchen table while I'm trying to eat. So maybe it's better this way.

 

 

A/N: This is my little tribute to a special member of the FAKE cast. This poor guy has been mentioned once, and only shown once. Let us now raise our glasses to toast the one, the only, Marty.

 

Ode to…That Guy

 

 

 

Hello. My name is Marty, Marty…Well I'm not sure if I even have a last name. You see, I'm having a bit of an identity crisis. I don't seem to know anything about myself. No, that's not entirely true. I know what I am. I am a detective in the criminal investigations unit of New York City's 27th precinct. Now that's a job I had to work hard to get. I graduated from Cornell University with honors and a degree in criminal psychology. Impressed yet? You should be, considering that I'm not sure if that's even true. Then it was off to the police academy. I walked the beat in NYC for over eight years before I was promoted to criminal investigations. During that time I met my lovely wife…can't recall her name offhand, and fathered a son and a daughter named…well I can't really recall their names either right now.

 

Anyway, I'm a real family guy. I always try to avoid the third shift so I can spend time with them. But it does happen. Thankfully I work with some really nice, and single, guys who are willing to switch. Like Randy. He switched with me on Christmas Eve so I could be with my family. Great guy, Randy. It's a shame he's one of those homosexuals. I have a cousin who he would have liked…Wait…Do I even have a cousin? Oh never mind, it's not important now.

 

So that is what I am. I'm a detective with a nice degree and a great family. But as for who I am, that is a different story altogether. I can't seem to think of any hobbies or interests that distinguish me as an individual. I haven't had any crazy experiences in my life (outside normal police work, of course) and I don't seem to have any connections with important people. Well…the chief is an important person, but I mean really important people; like the US president or the store manager at Bloomingdales.

 

So who am I? Right now, all I can see is who I am not. I'm not a rebel like Dee. I don't jump at every opportunity to insult the chief with animal nicknames or have shouting matches over nothing with Commissioner Rose. I have never stepped over the line between protocol and police brutality and had to fill out mountains of paperwork to smooth it over…or had my partner do it instead. On the other hand, I'm not a brownnoser like Randy either. And it's a good thing too. While it got him on the chief's good side, it made him an easy target for the commissioner. There is no way that I am going to let Rose kiss me in the middle of the sidewalk in broad daylight. So it's no kissing up for me.

 

To my knowledge, I don't have any zany character traits. Ted's a complete cheapskate and a booze hound. Yet he has the devil's luck sometimes; especially with that archery thing of his. Drake's a whiner with virtually no respect and JJ's just insane. Randy's anal retentive about keeping things clean and organized. How he survives with Hurricane Dee as a partner is a mystery to me. It might have something to do with those moans I heard when the two of them got locked in the file room yesterday. Then there's Dee. That guy has to be the horniest man on Earth, next to Hugh Hefner. I swear every other word out of his mouth has some sort of innuendo, especially when he's talking to Randy. It might be just me, but that's really distracting when we're standing over a mangled corpse in a back alley. But who am I to judge?

 

I can't say that I'm an exceptional cop. And I don't mean exceptional in the good or bad sense. Drake's a no talent bootlicker who's only gotten as far as he has by leeching off of others. I think Ted is the same way too, always mooching off of everyone…or is that where money's concerned? So I'm no bad cop, but I'm not a good cop either. Correction, I'm not a super, excellent, I-can't-believe-I'm-not-head-of-the-department-yet cop. That's where Randy takes the cake. He has this uncanny ability to get others to trust him. And what makes him a really good cop is that he doesn't take advantage of that. As for me, I'm in the grey area. I've punched my share of suspects and I've put smiles on the faces of many orphan children….right? I mean, I hope I've done those things. Punching people sounds like great stress relief. Hmmm…maybe Dee knows something that I don't…

 

I've never had a problem with relationships either. My wife Jane…or is it Chanice?...or maybe Sunshine Clover Grass? Well whatever her name is, she is the only love in my life and I remind her of it every day…right? In any case, I'm happy with my relationship. I'm not constantly being dumped by superior women like Drake is. And then there's his crazy partner JJ. You would never catch me chasing after a guy who rejected me years ago. If someone screams at me after tackling them to the ground for the fifty-seventh time, I know it's time to move on. Then there are Randy, and Dee, and the whole gay thing. Thank God I am perfectly secure with my very straight masculinity. I probably could not have survived the mental angst that Randy had when he met Dee. Imagine having to come to terms with the fact that you are attracted to your male partner while he keeps trying to pounce on you. And to make matters worse, half of the people in New York are trying to separate both of you and screw you silly. In all honesty, I think that Randy came out of the closet just to get Dee off of his back. I don't think it worked though. From what I heard, Dee's been on his back even more since then…literally. Once again, I'm glad to know that I am straight. Hey wait…I'm straight! I know something about myself now! Let's see if we can figure out more.

 

I don't have a tragic past like some of my coworkers. I wasn't found abandoned in a dumpster as a baby and raised in an orphanage in the slums like Dee. And unlike Dee, I've never been a juvenile delinquent and witnessed the death of a father figure. I assume I grew up in a loving family like Randy did. But unlike Randy, my parents were never shot to death in a case of mistaken identity during a botched drug smuggling operation. But don't tell him I said that. I'm not supposed to know. Blame Dee for leaving the report open in the break room. I haven't had a partner who went psycho and turned to crime like JJ. At least I haven't heard of any that went psycho. But since none have shown up and tried to shoot me, there's no way to be certain.

 

Then again, I'm not sure if I have ever had a partner before working at the 27th. Come to think of it, I don't believe I have a partner now that I am at the 27th. But I suppose that's a good thing when I look at the people around me. It seems that all of the partnerships around here end up as homosexual hijinx. First there was Dee and Randy, and now I've seen JJ making googly-eyes behind Drake's back. Or maybe that only happens when single guys are partnered up. Without any women around, I don't blame those guys for getting desperate. But not me. I have my lovely wife…something…and I don't need any hormonal guy breathing down my neck all day.

 

So that's me. I don't have any extraordinary traits as a detective, or as a person. But that's ok. I suppose I can live with that. I may not be a super-duper goody-two-shoes like some, but I'm not a slip-up punk like others. No. I suppose that I should be happy for who I am. And I am happy. I'm just happy being plain old Marty.

 

 

…Right?