This story was first published in 1980. Thanks go to SHaron for scanning and proofing, and to Myha for not eating the entire last page of the zine when it was accidentally left within range of her inquisitive teeth .

The prologue of My Heroes picks up directly after the end scene in Hopscotch, the novel which precedes it.

MY HEROES HAVE ALWAYS BEEN COWBOYS

It was a long way down the mountain into the city.

They made most of the journey in silence. Conversation, by unstated mutual agreement, waited until they were sitting in the White Castle, two cheeseburgers, a Coke, and a glass of milk on the counter in front of them. Starsky sprinkled salt on his french fries, then added a dollop of catsup. "I don't think we should go back to the department," he said finally.

Hutch took a swig of milk and wiped at his upper lip with the back of one hand. "You really don't?"

Starsky, his mouth full, shook his head.

"Okay," Hutch said.

A look of surprise flickered through the amethystine eyes as Starsky swallowed. "That's it? Just 'okay'?"

Hutch picked up his cheeseburger and studied it ruefully for a moment. "You were expecting an argument?" he asked before giving in to the inevitable and taking a bite.

Starsky shrugged.

"Or maybe you wanted an argument. Maybe what you really want is for me to talk you out of quitting. Is this the point where I'm supposed to get all gung-ho, remind you of the nobility of it all, and lead you by the hand back to the promised land of the Los Angeles Police Department?"

They were both quiet for a moment, more involved with the food than their future, although Starsky's brow was wrinkled thoughtfully as he ate. At last, he took a gulp of Coke. "No," he said. "I don't think that's what I want. I really think we ought to bug out while we still can. While we both still can. Together."

"Okay," Hutch said again. He took one of Starsky's fries and tried to shake off some of the catsup. "It's not exactly a new idea, you know. I wanted to quit after Lionel was killed. Maybe I got tired of it all a long time before that, even."

"Why didn't you quit a long time ago then?"

Hutch glanced at him. "Don't know. Guess maybe I was just waiting for you to get tired, too."

"Well, I'm tired." Starsky took another huge bite of the cheeseburger. "I'm tired," he repeated through the mouthful. "It just ain't noble anymore."

"I guess that makes it unanimous." Hutch shook his head. "Kind of anti-climactic."

"Not with a bang, but with a whimper," Starsky said somewhat unexpectedly.

The blond's expression was glum. "There'll be a bang, all right," he said. "When we tell Dobey."

"You think so?" Starsky pushed the last fry around the edge of the plate to sop up the remaining catsup.

"Don't you?"

"Huh-uh. I think he already knows."

Hutch thought about that as he finished the milk. "Maybe so," he agreed.

"It's okay, then? That we don't go back?"

"Suits me."

Starsky relaxed a little. "Dinner's on me," he said magnanimously, reaching for the check.

The street outside the hamburger joint was crowded with people—tourists, hookers, creeps, all the regulars beginning to gather for the usual evening festivities of night-time in Hollywood. A street musician entertained by playing several of his own esoteric compositions on a battered harmonica.

Starsky paused long enough to buy an Orange Julius. "Dessert," he explained.

Hutch shook his head. "So," he said as they moved on, sidestepping a couple in the advanced stages of some complicated courtship rite in the middle of the sidewalk. "If we're not gonna be cops anymore, what'll we do? Head for the unemployment office again?"

"Nope." Starsky slurped more of the thick orange mess through the straw, looking back over his shoulder. "They're not gonna do that there, are they?" he asked, his eyes still on the couple.

"Why? You want to bust 'em?"

"No. Thought I'd watch."

"Your latent voyeurism is showing, buddy."

Starsky scowled at him. "Did you snitch my Improve Your Vocabulary in Sixty Days book?"

"No. Picked those up in Ann Landers. Back to my question, Starsk If we're not going back on the force, what'll we do?"

"A good question. I guess making porn flicks is still out, huh?"

"I guess."

They grinned at one another.

Starsky crumpled the paper cup and dropped it into a litter basket. "Okay," he said briskly. "Time for a little serious consideration of our future." He glanced quickly at Hutch, then away. "I say future, not futures, 'cause I figure we should stick together."

"Sure," Hutch said. "I figure that same thing. Why mess with success?" He nodded hello to a hooker who looked vaguely familiar. "The first order of business is to move out of that place on the hill."

Starsky looked disappointed. "Really? I like it there."

"Well, so do I," Hutch agreed, "but there are two very good reasons why we can't stay there."

"What are they?" Starsky was engaged in a solitary game of kick-the-can as they walked.

"One, it's too expensive. Our money isn't going to last forever."

"That's valid. What's the second reason?"

"Two is the fact that—much as I love you, Starsk—I'm not really ready for us to set up permanent housekeeping together."

"Also valid," Starsky said. "And you'll be glad to know that my feelings aren't too hurt."

"Good. So tomorrow we each start looking for less palatial quarters. The next question is, how do we intend to support our various vices? Like eating."

Starsky gave the can a final kick and it angled off the curb, landing in the gutter. "I've got that all figured out," he said smugly.

Hutch looked at him. "You have?"

"Sure. I've just been waiting for you to ask "

"So now I'm asking. What's your idea?"

There was a dramatic pause. "We're going to become private detectives." Starsky's tone might have been suitable for announcing that the Messiah had arrived at last.

Hutch let a few moments pass. They both watched as a very pretty, very young girl in hot pants and a tight sweater got into a car driven by a middle-aged man. The blue-eyed ex-cop sighed, before returning his attention to his partner. "You really mean that, don't you?"

"Sure. Why not?" They turned a corner and started climbing. "I could probably give you a lot of reasons why it's a good idea—a great idea, in fact—but it all comes down to one thing, really."

"Which is what? Besides the fact that you've always had this compulsion to be Sam Spade?"

"What the hell else are we qualified for?"

Hutch couldn't argue with that logic. That was the problem with so many of Starsky's wild ideas; they sometimes made a crazy kind of logical sense. "I guess we wouldn't have any trouble getting a license," he said finally.

"No problem at all." Starsky still sounded smug. "I already checked it out." They were away from the paved sidewalk now, following a rough path that wound its way among the trees. Starsky moved a short distance ahead, giving his partner a few moments to mull over the suggestion. New ideas had to sort of grow on Hutch. Grabbing a low-hanging branch, Starsky chinned himself twice, then dangled there a moment. "Besides," he said in a loud voice. "I think it would be fun."

"Fun?" The good old-fashioned work ethic flared up momentarily in Hutch.

"Sure." As the taller man reached him, Starsky dropped lightly to the ground again. "Like being cops used to be fun."

Hutch thought about that. "Yeah, it used to be fun, didn't it? I wonder when it all turned so damned...rotten."

Starsky shrugged. "I don't think it got any rottener, Hutch. I think maybe we just got smarter."

"Yeah, maybe."

"But this would be better than being cops. We can pick and choose our cases. No more garbage from the department to put up with. Just you and me." He grinned. "And all those beautiful clients knocking at the door."

Hutch snorted. "You've been reading too many paperbacks."

Starsky stopped walking and looked at him. "Don't you like the idea?"

After another moment, a slow smile crept over Hutch's face. "Damn, Starsk, I love it. I really do. Have fun, make money, and meet broads all at the same time. Sounds great."

"Almost as good as making dirty movies, huh?"

"Better. We don't have to invest in any black argyles."

"Okay, it's settled then." He bounced up and down on his toes. "Race you home?"

"You've got to be kidding," Hutch said, already moving.

"No fair!" Starsky shouted after him. "You didn't wait for on your mark, get set, go! Hutch!"

Hutch laughed aloud, a clear ringing sound that echoed down the hill, and kept running.

**

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Part One