AN: I meant to have this up sooner but my internet hasn't been working as well as it should be.
Lassiter returned home that night content.
He had made five arrests; four of which had revolved around a Halloween night bank robbery. He was the first on the scene; had managed to shoot out the wheels of the getaway car and after two tried to escape- the other two being smart enough to know when to give up - he had ended up tackling one bank robber in a clown costume and the other he had been forced to shoot in the leg, or the foot to be more precise, a minor injury; only one toe shot off.
The other arrest had been for a usual out of hand Halloween prankster. He hated those punks; he didn't care what age they were, they should learn to respect authority. Unfortunately, the chief had pushed for a warning as opposed to arresting him – a waste of a perfectly good justice system, as far as he was concerned.
His house was pitch dark as he unlocked the door, making sure to look over his shoulder in case Spencer was lurking as he was the night before. Now there was a man who deserved to be arrested, especially with that psychic malarkey he was spouting out. Why anyone bought that clairvoyant crap was beyond him?
He flicked on the light switch; hand on the handle of his gun as he listened for intruders. Safe assured by his highly developed hearing that no one was in the house, he removed his hand and headed to the kitchen to pick up a cloth.
He needed to clean his gun.
He flicked on the light for his kitchen.
The lights flickered above him and he narrowed his eyes in response.
He flicked the light switch again.
A cackle filled the air.
Lassiter quickly spun around to draw his gun.
"Come out with your hands up!" He shouted, and the cackling grew louder; an act which made the vein in his forehead flare in anger.
He moved towards the source of the sound, his feet carefully placed to reduce the amount of noise he was making. He moved the foot he was about to place down on a floorboard he knew had a tendency to creak to the nearest one to the left and to his surprise, music played instead.
He frowned, thinking to himself, 'Is that...Thriller?'
He suddenly had flashbacks to his college girlfriend and he shuddered at the memory. He had made it a point to avoid hearing that song for as long as he could ever since and to hear it now only brought back bad memories of idiots and alcohol and...Jeanine. That girl had been a whirlwind. Had come into his life and almost had stolen more than just his heart...not that she had, of course...stolen his heart. Nope. She hadn't...
He shook himself from his thoughts. This was no time to be thinking; this was a time for action.
He moved towards the door, ignoring the music.
He prepared himself to count to three and by the time he got to two he was kicking down the door, his gun steady in his hand only to find that the room was empty of people. It was however filled with a multitude of cheap imitations, all of which he had seen on people during some point of this very night.
Hanging from thin strings were masks. And on the edges poorly carved pumpkins littered the shelves; their horrible faces stared back at him and he growled at them. Grimacing, he moved towards them, ripping them from their strings.
The first few pulled out with ease, but it was when he went to pull off the clown's face that caused problems.
There was a small click as something pulled loose. A quick whirring sound screeched and Lassiter turned towards the noise, just in time to see something coming his way.
He didn't have time to move; didn't have time to duck or dodge or to make any effort to get out of the line of fire.
The next thing he knew his face was covered in pie and the taste of pineapple and pumpkin filled the taste buds in his mouth.
His face was scrunched up, eyes closed as he shouted with a mouthful of pineapple and pumpkin pie, "SPENCER!"
The cackling laughter rung in his ears, high pitched and shrill as the recording played out on a speaker.
He was going to kill that fake psychic if it was the last thing he did.
Nearby Lassiter's house Shawn and Gus were doubled over in laughter as they watched from a laptop as Lassiter's face was covered in pie – pineapple flavoured, of course; with pumpkin added in for good measure so it the operation name at least held some truth to it.
"Shawn..." Gus managed to gasp out, through a hysterical fit of laughter. He waved a hand in front of his eyes as if action could manage to stop his laughter and the subsequent tears that followed.
"I know..." Shawn said, a grin overpowering his face, "I know."
AN: Review if you enjoyed...