hardy boys fan fiction
THE TROUBLE WITH RED
hardy boys nancy drew fan fiction
by
Phoenix
Chapter 2
hardy boys fan fiction
THE CHAPTERS
Joe leaned back in the driver’s seat, closed his eyes and let out a long weary sigh. This was the first time in the last twenty-four hours that he finally had some down time. As soon as they had finished the case, he and Frank had gone to get their hair dyed back to its original color – like that worked out so well – and then raced to catch a plane.
But now as he waited for his brother, and bemoaned his glowing locks, the young sleuth realized just how tired and sore he was.
He’d gotten jumped yesterday morning outside their motel room, and before Frank and the police had shown up, he’d done a damn good impression of a punching bag. Luckily nothing was broken but his ribs were almost as colorful as his hair, and he had a nasty bruise on his jaw to show for it.
Cracking an eye, Joe flipped down the visor again and took stock of his face, deciding he had been very lucky, but knew his mother was still going to flip when she saw him. And that was nothing compared to the lecture he was sure he’d receive once his Aunt Gertrude saw him.
The formidable older sister of Frank and Joe’s father was staying with them again for a while, and she had no trouble voicing her displeasure at her nephews’ ‘hobby’, without any blatant reminders of just how dangerous it really could be.
“Crud,” he muttered and flipped the visor back up, startling when a uniformed officer that he didn’t know was suddenly standing next to his open window.
And if that didn’t startle him badly enough, the police revolver pointed at him would have…
“Out of the van!” the cop barked, not giving the teen a chance to say anything. “NOW!”
“Whoa take it easy—” Joe started, but the man cut him off.
“Hands where I can see them – NOW!”
Joe had no idea what was going on but decided to go along with the man. His only other option involved getting shot and that wasn’t exactly on his to-do list for this day. So moving slowly, he opened the door and stepped out.
Immediately the man grabbed him and had him down on the ground, the gun pressed against the back of his head and the full weight of his body pinning the boy to the ground beneath the knee in the middle of his back.
“Where are the Hardy boys?” the man barked. “What have you done with them?”
“I—” Joe gasped, his bruised ribs screaming protest at the treatment, but he was cut off, again.
“Don’t say you don’t know ‘cause this is their van. Now I want to know what you’ve done with them and I want to know now!”
‘Wonderful,’ Joe mentally groused. ‘I had to get the Bayport PD version of Dirty Harry…and where exactly is Frank?!’
ooooooOOOOOOoooooo
Frank Hardy was still chuckling to himself about his brother’s bad hair day. Deep down he did feel kinda bad for the kid, but Joe’s whole drama queen impersonation smothered any attempt he made at outright sympathy.
That and Joe’s uncanny way of trying to pin the blame on Frank for the incompetent hair stylist. Sure, she was flirting, the older Hardy knew that – he wasn’t naive – but still…it was hardly his fault.
However, in a show of consideration, Frank stopped long enough to pick up a personal pan pizza, knowing better than anyone that the way to Joe’s heart was through his stomach.
Satisfied with his consolation gift, the dark haired boy stepped out of the pizza joint and then froze at the shocking spectacle playing out before him.
Joe was spread-eagled on the ground beneath a burly police officer, with a gun pointed at his head.
Shoving off the shock, Frank made a move towards his brother when another cop, standing outside the restaurant door, and obviously Keystone Cop #1’s partner, held out an arm, stopping him.
“Whoa kid,” the cop said. “You can’t go out there. We’ve got a situation going on and until it’s under control, it’s not safe.” He eyed the pizza Frank was holding. “So why don’t you just make that pizza an order-in job and we’ll let you know when it’s safe to leave.”
“But—” Frank started to protest, his dark eyes firmly fixed on his brother. He winced in sympathy, knowing exactly how sore his sibling had to be feeling.
“No buts.” The cop started to shove the teen back in the door.
ooooooOOOOOOoooooo
“FRA—”
Joe saw his brother standing in the doorway and started to yell out to him, but the sound of the gun being clicked and the cop screaming at him shut him up.
“One more time,” the man hissed, bending down low. “Where are Frank and Joe Hardy?”
“Right here,” Frank shoved at the restraining hand of cop #2 and hurried towards his brother. “I’m Frank Hardy and that—” he pointed towards the younger teen, “and that’s my brother Joe.” He glared at the officer. “And I’d really appreciate it if you’d get the hell off him…" He paused; his eyes so cold they were black. “Now.”
“ID—” Officer Stuart said without moving, “I need to see some ID – ah, ah…No sudden moves—” he tilted his head towards his partner who quickly frisked Frank down and pulled out his wallet.
Flipping it open, the other man frowned and then made a little cutting motion across his throat with his finger. Immediately the cop holding Joe released him and stepped back.
Frank leaned over, keeping an eye on the overzealous police, and helped Joe up. “You okay?” he asked, turning a critical eye on his brother when Officer Stuart finally put his gun away.
“Oh, I’ve had better days,” Joe gasped, happy to finally be able to take a full breath again. He wrapped an arm protectively around his ribs. “And you?”
“Peachy,” Frank said. He looked at the two men, his glare dark and hostile. “And this happened, how?”
“Uh,” Officer Stuart turned an interesting shade of…red. “Well, we saw him there—” he indicated Joe.
“My brother Joe,” Frank filled in.
“Yeah, Joe,” the cop continued, “and thought he’d stolen your van.”
“Why?” Frank was incredulous. “Has it been reported stolen?”
“Well, no. Not exactly,” Stuart shifted uncomfortably. “But we knew Fenton Hardy didn’t have a red-headed kid so we figured the theft just hadn’t been noticed yet.”
Joe glared at Frank and snorted. “See? Trouble, I tell you – this—” he held out a strand of scarlet hair. “This is nothing but trouble! And it’s all your fault!”
“My fault?” Frank rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Sure, Joe. Whatever. Would you just get in the van—” he glanced at the cops. “Unless, of course, we’re not finished here?”
“You’re free to go,” the second cop said quickly and Officer Stuart nodded.
“Yeah and you know—” he cleared his throat uncomfortably. “If you didn’t happen to mention this to—”
“It’s forgotten already,” Frank assured him, as he pushed Joe away from the driver’s door and towards the passenger side. He passed his brother the pizza. “Good day, officers.”
“What—” Joe started to protest, but this time Frank turned the glare on him.
“Not this time, kid,” he growled. “I’d like to make it home without any further police incidents.”
Joe snorted. “I suppose...” And then a horrified look crossed his face. “Unless of course they think I car-jacked you or something!”
“Joe?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.”
Let the author know what you think of this story
Home Library Authors Rogue's Gallery Vehicles Chums Message Board Rap Sheet Links Contact
Disclaimer
The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.