This story follows The Streak, which should be read first.  
 

“I’m telling you, Roy, we’re marked men! Gage is going to get us as soon as we let our guard down!” 
 

“You know something, Chet? You’re paranoid.” 
 

“Paranoid? After what we did to him? I don’t know about you, pal, but I’m watching my back!” 
 

Roy shook his head. Johnny had been a good sport after the Phantom’s prank. Sure, the paramedic had been pretty steamed after being caught in the parking area in his birthday suit, but Johnny wasn’t one to hold a grudge. 
 

Or was he? 

 

The Streak’s Revenge 
 

Chet watched Johnny as the latter poured himself a cup of coffee. The paramedic had come on duty acting as though nothing had happened. He had greeted everyone with a lopsided grin and an animated version of his date the previous night, but not one word about the trick that had been played on him. It was just too weird. 
 

The object of Chet’s study sat at the table, completely oblivious to the fact that he was causing serious consternation. He sipped his coffee, then looked to see who was the most likely candidate for talking. It happened to be Chet. 
 

“So, anyway, Chet, this chick was absolutely perfect. I mean, she was perfect,” he went on with a leer, drawing an impossibly curvaceous hourglass shape in the air with both hands. “We must’ve talked for an hour at the restaurant, and then we went for a walk, where we did a little more talking.” He leaned back, placing his hands behind his head. “Yes, she was quite a talker, if you know what I mean!” 
 

Marco and Mike chuckled at Johnny’s innuendo, while Roy pretended he hadn’t heard. Chet eyed John suspiciously. 
 

“Yeah, that’s great, Gage,” he replied absently. This was not his normal pigeon. Something was up. 
 

“I’m telling you, Chet, I can’t wait for our next date.” 
 

“Yeah.” 
 

Johnny swallowed more coffee, then tapped Roy on the arm. “What’s wrong with him?” he asked, nodding toward Chet. 
 

“Nothing’s wrong with me!” Chet replied for Roy. “Why would you ask?” 
 

“He’s afraid that you’re going to get back at him,” Roy said.  
 

Chet glared at him. “Roy!” 
 

Johnny placed a splayed hand against his chest. “He’s afraid that I’m going to get back at him?” he repeated. “Why would he think that? I mean, why should I even have the desire to get revenge after what he did to me? Why would he be worried? I mean, all he did was embarrass me in front of my fellow workers, not to mention Boy Scouts and student nurses! Why should I let a little thing like that bother me?” 
 

Chet opened his mouth to reply, although he had no idea what he was going to say, when the claxons sounded, calling the engine out for a dumpster fire.  
 

Later, the firemen dragged into the station. Chet and Marco were especially hot and eager for a shower.  
 

“Go ahead,” Marco offered. “I’m just gonna lie down for awhile.” 
 

“Sure thing,” Chet replied. Gathering up his clothes and a towel, he gratefully stepped into the cool shower.  
 

Ten minutes later he reached out for his towel. Nothing. Looking out the door, he quickly realized that not only was his towel missing, but also his clothes. 
 

“Gage!” he muttered. “I can’t believe this.” 
 

He slipped from the shower, determined that his pigeon would not get the upper hand. “No way am I going out of this room,” he told himself. “No way.” 
 

He went to his locker and laughed when he found it empty. “Nice touch, Gage,” he called. “But so unoriginal!” He placed his hand on John’s locker. “And I suppose I’ll find all the lockers empty! You need to think a little harder-” 
 

His voice was abruptly cut off as he opened Gage’s locker and was hit in the face by an impossibly huge puff of flour. His wet body seemed to attract the powder, creating instant goo. 
 

“Gage, I’m gonna kill you!” he shouted, turning around. “I’m-” 
 

A flash from a camera stopped his rant. Johnny advanced the film, then fled the room one step ahead of Chet. The Phantom realized his mistake just a moment too late, sliding into the apparatus bay and straight into Cap.  
 

The taller man fell back but couldn’t escape receiving a fair share of pasty goo.  
 

“Kelly!” 
 

“Er-sorry, Cap!”  
 

Cap looked down at his pasty uniform, then took a deep breath. “Kelly, I’m going to suggest that you immediately remove yourself from my sight.” 
 

“Right, Cap. Sorry.” Chet shrank back into the locker room and fled for the shower before he hardened into papier-mâché.  
 

And the pigeon? He huddled behind the engine, trying to keep his laughter from reaching his captain. 
 

“One down, one to go!”  
 

 

The Streak’s Revenge, Phase Two  

 

Chet was an angry fireman. Roy knew it as soon as he walked into the locker room to change into his uniform. 
 

“Roy! He’s your partner! Tell me why he did it!” 
 

Roy backed away from the half-dressed man. “Did what?” 
 

Chet buttoned his shirt while talking, not an easy task because he constantly gestured with his hands. “Gage took that picture of me and posted it on the bulletin board at Rampart! And you wanna know how I found out? Well, let me tell you how I found out that a picture of me, naked and covered with wet flour, ended up on the bulletin board at Rampart. Gina told me! Gina, the new nurse! Gina, the chick I’ve been wanting to ask out! She saw it!”  
 

Roy hid a grin. “Uh, gee, Chet, that’s too bad.” 
 

“Too bad! Too bad! That’s not even the beginning of it!” Chet forced his way between Roy and his locker. “Your partner had the gall-the GALL to make at least one other print of that picture and hang it on the bulletin board at my APARTMENT! And every chick that I’ve been wanting to ask out SAW it!” He paused for breath, then continued in a slightly calmer voice. “He’s ruined me, DeSoto. That’s all there is to it. The pigeon has ruined the Phantom. It’s a sad day at Station 51.” With his head hanging, Chet turned away and finished dressing. 
 

At that moment the Phantom killer himself came into the locker room. Chet growled at him, then buried his head in his locker. Johnny’s eyebrows raised. 
 

“And just what is your problem, Chet?” he asked. 
 

“Need you ask?” Chet replied, his voice echoing in his locker. 
 

Johnny sauntered over to his victim. “Oh, this wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain photograph, now would it?” 
 

Chet’s groan tugged at Roy’s heart, and he decided it best to intervene.  
 

“Johnny, maybe you went a little too far with the picture. I mean, posting it at his apartment? That’s pretty mean.” 
 

Johnny looked shocked. “Roy, I’m surprised at you! Surely you haven’t forgotten Chet’s little prank at my expense! Can you just imagine the trauma that I suffered at his hands? Exposed like I was, nowhere to hide, no one to help me. I tell you, I may have been scarred for life.” 
 

Roy shook his head. “Well, at least you’re even now. Chet can relax.” 
 

Chet removed his head from his locker. “Relax? You think I can relax? I have no life left!” 
 

“Now, Chet, surely it’s not as bad as all that,” John comforted him, patting him on the shoulder. 
 

“Well…maybe not.” Chet suddenly brightened. “You know, maybe that picture can be modified. You know, fixed so that the flour is removed or something!” 
 

Both paramedics made faces of horror as Chet closed his locker and started for the door, still expounding on his idea.  
 

“…so the negative is retouched, a new print is made, and voila! I’m back in business!” Chet finished with a flourish as he reached the door. “Oh, one more thing,” he added with a significant look at Roy. “You’re probably right that I’m out of the woods. But I just want to warn you.” He glared at Johnny. “That’s one dangerous pigeon, Roy! I’m living proof. So watch your back, pal! Bwahahahaha!” 
 

Roy paused. He turned to Johnny, who merely smiled and began to whistle. 
 

One to go… 

 

Roy’s Choice 

 

The shift settled down quickly, and Roy found himself beginning to relax. He’d known Johnny for a long time, and the dark-haired paramedic was just too good-natured to hold a grudge. Chet had gotten what he deserved.  
 

Just to be safe, however, Roy had decided to stay away from the shower. 
 

The day passed with routine runs, and Johnny acted as though nothing was amiss. Roy allowed himself to believe that he had escaped. Sure, Chet kept giving him significant glances, but if John were going to retaliate he’d have done so by now. But Johnny never mentioned the prank that had been played on him, even when a trip to Rampart brought laughter from three student nurses.  
 

“I’m telling you, Roy, you can’t let your guard down,” Chet warned him during a quiet moment just before dinner.  
 

“Look, I’m not going anywhere near the shower,” Roy protested. “It’s over!” 
 

“What’s over?” Johnny asked as he entered the day room. 
 

“Nothing…look, Chet, just let it go, okay?” Roy shot both men a reprimand as he went over to Marco who stood cooking at the stove. 
 

“Stew tonight, Marco?” 
 

“Yeah, my Irish stew,” Marco replied. He glanced over his shoulder, then leaned closer to Roy. “You need to listen to Chet,” he whispered. “Johnny’s not through.” 
 

Roy rolled his eyes. “Not you, too, Marco!”  
 

“Just don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Marco warned. 
 

It was the call right in the middle of dinner that sealed Roy’s doom. A seven-year old with stomach flu upchucked all over the senior paramedic, and after enduring the wrinkled noses at Rampart, Roy knew that it was inevitable. He had to take a shower. 
 

“I’m warning you, Johnny,” he said as he gingerly removed his uniform shirt in the locker room. “Don’t even consider trying anything.” 
 

Johnny rolled his eyes. “Roy, I’m surprised at you. Thinking that I would take advantage of your predicament. I’m hurt!” 
 

Roy pointed his finger at him. “I mean it! Don’t try anything!” 
 

The dark-haired man shook his head. “You’re really hurting my feelings, Roy,” he said as he left the locker room. 
 

Roy snorted. He stepped into the shower, and after trying several times to glance out into the locker room decided that it wasn’t worth the effort. Besides, he really stunk. 
 

It was when he reached out for his towel that he realized his mistake. Of course it was missing. 
 

“This is unreal!” he said to himself. “How’d he do it?” 
 

He sighed heavily, acknowledged that he’d been caught, and started to open the shower door. It was at that moment that Johnny burst through the locker room door. 
 

“Roy! Before you exit the shower, allow me to present you with a certain proposition.” 
 

“Just hand me a towel!” Roy thundered. 
 

Johnny raised his hand. “All in good time. First, the proposition.”  
 

Roy bit back the rude remark that had jumped to his lips. “What?” he snapped. 
 

John flashed his brilliant lop-sided grin. “I knew you’d see it my way! Now, you have a decision to make. You have two choices, and I’m leaving it up to you to choose. Choice number one: you wear the clothes that I have placed in your locker. Choice number two: you go to your car and get your uniform.” 
 

“What kind of clothes did you put in my locker?” Roy asked, his face growing paler by the minute. 
 

Johnny wagged his finger. “Ah, you can’t ask that! Those are your choices. Now I’m going to join the others to wait to see your decision.” 
 

“Wait a minute! What others?” 
 

Johnny grinned again. “Oh, just the guys.” He paused. “And Dixie.” He paused again. “And the student nurses. You see, they weren’t content with their last visit here. Seems they had a few questions that only you could answer. So I invited them back.” 
 

Roy looked like he was about to faint. “Johnny…” 
 

“Sorry, Roy. But at least I’m giving you a choice!” With a wicked laugh, Johnny once again left the locker room. 
 

Roy stood stock still, his mind racing. He couldn’t run out to his car…naked! But what could he expect in his locker? Surely it couldn’t be worse than streaking! Or could it? 
 

“What am I gonna do?”   

 

Pretty in Pink  

 

Roy stood in the shower for perhaps two minutes, debating. At last he went to his locker. 
 

“I can at least see what he’s got in here,” he reasoned to himself. “Then I can decide.” 
 

He opened the locker and peered inside. “Oh, no!” 
 

A frilly pink tutu hung on a hanger. 
 

“No way! I can’t wear that!”  
 

He sat naked on the bench, staring at the tutu as though hoping that it would miraculously change into something just a little less embarrassing. But it stubbornly refused to alter its appearance. 
 

He tentatively reached in and touched the material. “Yech!” he said, jerking his hand back. He got to his feet and determinedly walked to the door. 
 

“Dixie!” he breathed, remembering. “And the student nurses! Joanne will kill me!” He looked back at the locker. “She’ll kill me if I put that on, too!” 
 

Catch 22. Caught by the pigeon. Where was Chet when he needed him? 
 

Grumbling very improper oaths under his breath, he returned to the locker and yanked the tutu from its hanger.  
 

“I wouldn’t even let Jennifer wear this!” he grumbled, holding the offending item at arm’s length. He sighed and glanced at the door, then back at the tutu. “I’m gonna kill him.”  
 

Somehow the tutu fit. Roy put aside his disgust for a moment to wonder how on earth Johnny had found a ballerina outfit that would fit a grown man, but just as quickly he dismissed his charitable thoughts. “I’m gonna kill him!” 
 

He tugged at the frills that adorned his behind, then pulled at the bodice so that it set higher on his chest. “Well, here goes nothing.” 
 

No one was in the apparatus bay. Roy paused at the end of the engine, waiting for the shouts and laughter that he was sure he was about to hear. Maybe he had taken so long in the locker room that the others had grown bored. Maybe they had all left. Maybe he would be able to slip out to his car without being seen. 
 

And maybe pigs could fly, too. The minute he stepped outside the station a chorus of hoots and whistles greeted him. Comments that he wisely chose to ignore flew from the men that he used to call his friends, while Dixie showed a new side to her humor. 
 

“Don’t you guys have anything better to do with your time?” Roy asked crossly as he made his way across the parking lot. 
 

Johnny looked at though he were about to burst, his face was so red from laughing, and he was about to make a response to Roy’s question when the klaxons sounded.  
 

Everyone froze as they listened to the dispatcher’s voice. It was for the squad, a man down. Johnny broke first, trotting for the squad. Roy started to run, but jolted to a stop before Cap. 
 

“Cap! What am I gonna do?” 
 

Cap shrugged. “You’ll just have to go like that.” 
 

“But Cap!” Roy squeaked. 
 

“Sorry, pal.” 
 

Roy ran for the squad, ignoring the roar of laughter that followed him. Johnny had already taken down the address and was sitting in his customary seat in the squad.  
 

Roy pulled from the station, and without so much as a glance at his partner he said, “I swear that I’ll kill you if you say even one word about this.” 
 

Johnny tried to look in Roy’s direction, but the sight of Roy wearing the pink tutu was too much, and he quickly turned away to stare out the window. By the time they reached the address, he had managed to stifle most of his silent laughter, but he unobtrusively wiped his eyes as they pulled up next to the shop. 
 

A small crowd had gathered on the sidewalk, surrounding a beefy man lying on his back. Their attention was instantly diverted from the supine man to the strangely attired paramedic, and Roy cringed as a smattering of laughter began to float over his head. 
 

“Sir? Sir, can you tell me what happened?” he asked, kneeling over the dazed man as Johnny set up the link to Rampart. 
 

The large man started to answer when he caught sight of the pink tutu. His eyes grew wide, and his level of consciousness rose to a state of hyper-vigilance. “What the…who…get your hands off of me.” He rose to one elbow and rolled away from Roy. “Don’t touch me! What kind of ambulance man are you?” 
 

Johnny attempted to calm the patient, whose vitals were rapidly rising. “Sir, I want you to calm down. Can you do that for me? Just calm down and let us help you.” 
 

The man gestured toward Roy. “I don’t want that…thing near me.” 
 

Johnny struggled mightily to stifle a grin. “Okay, sir. We’ll keep him away. I’m just gonna get some vitals on you, okay?” 
 

Roy shot John a look that could have melted a polar cap. “I’ll contact Rampart,” he said, picking up the receiver. 
 

The remainder of the call consisted of a crowd that couldn’t take its eyes off Roy and a patient who had squirmed as far away from him as possible. As the ambulance pulled up, the man tugged John’s sleeve. 
 

“Hey, I gotta ask you a question,” he whispered huskily. 
 

Johnny leaned closer. “Sure, what is it?” 
 

The man nodded toward Roy. “Him…her…whatever. How can you work with something like…that?” 
 

Johnny looked like he was giving the matter deep thought. “Well, it’s like this. If we let him wear his…uh…clothes, he doesn’t parade around the station naked. It’s a trade-off, if you know what I mean.” 
 

The man winked. “Riiiiight,” he replied. “Heck of a choice, though.” 
 

“Don’t you know it.” John held up his hands. “But what can you do?” He patted the man on the shoulder, then stood back for the ambulance attendants. “I’ll ride in with him, Roy,” he said. “I think he’d prefer it.” 
 

Roy glared at him. “If you let me wear my clothes, I don’t parade around the station naked,” he repeated. “Johnny, I swear, if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll-” 
 

Johnny jumped into the back of the ambulance. “Later, Roy!” he called as the doors closed on the remainder of Roy’s threat. He peered through the window as the ambulance pulled away, wondering how much he needed to worry about his return to the station. After all, just how much damage could a man in a pink tutu do, anyway? 
 

Johnny laughed, then gulped. “Wonder if I’ve got any vacation time coming?”  

***********************************  

 

This story was, without a doubt, the most fun I’ve ever had in writing. It was originally posted on the AllEFanfic list as The Streak, and the incredible reader feedback kept it growing. I decided to divide The Streak into two stories, with The Revenge of the Streak being part two. The third and final installment is Confessions of a P***** Off Paramedic. 

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