The rear door to the Kings Row police station opened and I shoved the gent through into the station with a gruff Get in there! Mike Harding, 37. Spousal abuse and kidnapping. Thats what his docket would say when I got him to the front desk. The warrant had been out a week and Id been one of the officers tearing up every pot-hole and link in the city. It wasnt personal. It was my job. But, then, Id seen the photos of what hed done to her and it was only me taking it impersonal that was stopping me taking his head off and ending up in front of the beak myself. Id found him at a friends place and I was pulling the friend in behind me too on an assisting an offender charge. I pushed him slightly too hard towards the front desk and he smacked his midriff into the desktop. Mornin Sarge. I said merrily. Two for you. Arding here is wanted by Atlas division and this little hysgum, Thomas Martin, was elping him hide. Got im on an assistance charge.
Little what? The sergeant asked.
Gentleman. I lied.
Riight. He commented. I wondered why it was he didnt believe me. Probably ad something to do with the length of my hair or the fact that, as one officer had delicately put it, my face looked like it had been repeatedly battered by a frying pan. Ill take them. The Captain wants to see you. Somethings up.
I left them to the desk officers tender mercies and proceeded down to my senior officers office. Knocking on the door I waited for permission to enter. It came in a few seconds. Mason. Captain Francis said in greeting. Hes about forty, IC5 and slim built. Not always my favourite officer.
What am I supposed to ave done this time, sir?
He looked confused. Nothing. So far as I know. Anything you want to tell me? I shrugged and he continued. Weve got something of a situation going on in the Paragon National in High Park. I waited. He elaborated. Malta have taken hostages. They were hitting the bank when officer De klrk went past. He raised the alarm. Now we got Malta in the bank with the tellers and S.W.A.T. on the outside, waiting to go in. We have a stalemate.
They made any demands?
None as yet but you know how itll be. Helicopter. One hostage to travel with them. All the cash. That sort of thing. Theyre not getting a helicopter. Budget doesnt run to one. A bus, maybe. If they ask. I need you to take charge of the exterior situation whilst we wait for a negotiator. I bristled. Negotiator was often used as a codeword for super type. The Captain could see my reaction. We go in, lives get lost. They go in, less lives get lost. He looked at me. I was probably not on my best poker face manner in that moment. Your mutation doesnt mean you get to go in, Mason! You only heal a LITTLE faster than any other officer. I nodded. I knew that. I also knew that, in Kings, we tended to get the capes that hadnt begun to learn how to control their abilities yet.
Ten minutes later, I got out of my second hand 1988 M3 and spoke with the officer on the scene. His control of the exterior scene was good. Hed kept the area clear of onlookers and press. I could see seven snipers in position, ready to fire. The ground was secure as much as it could be, I supposed. What we got in there? I asked Sergeant Kale. She looked me over. $40 trousers, a $10 dollar shirt, $30 jacket and $25 dollar shoes. I still looked like [censored], I supposed.
Five Operatives, a cowboy and a sapper. No Titans. Five hostages, of which three are tellers.
That all? I replied, a little surprised.
Were in a recession, Mason. She replied. Weve put calls into Statesman and his buddies. No reply yet. What about your bunch?
She was referring to the fact that, as I had to have a hero card as well as a police one, Id been assigned as PPD liaison to the New Heroes Union. Hadnt even considered ringing them Not answerin, I replied. The ones I trust ave day jobs. Lights on or off over there?
Powers down. Sprinklers are on internal. She replied. Well get a hostage in trade, then turn it on. One other fun little wrinkle. She added. Banks a family business.
I considered. Lot of bad blood between them recently. Malta are [censored] at the family for summat. Don want Kings caught in that. I looked up at the other buildings. One of my hair brains was beginning to form. Alarms silenced? I asked. She nodded. Right. I decided, turning my back on her, You take command here until I get back. Im gonna go check the perimeter.
Nothing crazy, Mason.
Like Id do that. I replied, doing up the jacket Serge had made to look old and battered. Dont do crazy. I checked my revolver was loaded and my baton was safely affixed. Then I headed over to the right-hand side building.
Four minutes later, I was on the roof, some three storeys above the banks roof. Itd take skill to land a heli here and Malta knew it. No chopper was ever coming here. They had something else in mind. At least they didnt have a Zeus or some other Titan with them. Eight foot tall and five foot wide. Theyd never have got through the door. Ok, this is Paragon. PROBABLY dont have a Titan. One good thing about being a Liaison? Sometimes it pays. One of the Union lot had given me a talisman of flight and I was about to sort of use it. Not summat I normally do. I took a running leap and powered the amulet some ten feet off the roof of the bank. Still went down hard but not hard enough to shatter my legs now. I rolled and wondered what the S.W.A.T. sniper was saying to Kale. Nothing complimentary, probably. I made my way to the roof door, silenced my radio before she called and opened the door. Good thing the alarms were still down. I entered quietly well, as quiet as I could being six feet tall and 200lbs. There was no-one about in the passageway but it still had the stink of ozone. The sapper had been here not long back. Good. If I had to take one out first, Id rather it be the one who could drain my strength like a tap. He could still be close. I drew my baton. The revolver was for when there was no point being quiet. I could hear a voice coming closer. Stairwell. Could I get in an office fast and quiet? I tried the only handle in reach. It didnt move. Locked. I traversed backwards and found myself in the bathroom with an interior door at ninety degrees to the hallway one. Full mirrors in there, I checked. No place to hide. So I hid behind the first door and readied my truncheon. The footsteps were outside. Id heard him saying about how he needed the John anyhow. He was coming in. I pushed myself far into the corner as he opened the door. I brought the truncheon down hard on the side of his neck even as he opened the inner door and saw me in the mirror. No time to turn, no time to react and, most preciously, no time to call anyone. Before he came back to his senses I had him stripped in case of hidden keys, removed all weapons and weapons and had then handcuffed to a toilet. I looked him over. You ave the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You ave the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights? I didnt wait for his answer. Toilet pipes were Iron. Should hold him. Wasnt the sapper though. Was one of the Tac types. I took his weapon. Palm coded. [censored]. I found it a good hiding place and continued downstairs. I opened the door and found a machine gun at the tip of my nose. The door opened. And his hand moved towards the radio. Buais jyst yn chwilio 'r doiled I told him in Welsh knowing he wouldnt know I was telling him I was looking for the john. . Handy having a different first language. Handy in this case because the unexpected assault of vowels made his hand pause on the way to the radio. I pushed his gun away with one hand even as my other smashed into his throat. I got lucky. His finger hadnt been on the trigger and he discovered he could hardly speak now. I repeated the Miranda rights and put my foot to his face. Ard to keep your control of a machine gun one anded, isnt it, aye? I asked him. Didnt have time to waist hiding this one so I tipped him to the other side of the banister and handcuffed him through the bars so he just dangled there. A quick check of his pockets located another pair of cuffs. Pink and fluffy but cuffs all the same. I gave him a glance of amusement before I tore a strip from his jacket and gagged him.
Something smashed through a window below and I knew whatever time I had had just started running down fast. A hero had arrived. Now they would start threatening the hostages. Sooner than Id wanted. I leapt down the stairs a section at a time to bottom floor, hearing the distinctive fwassh of fireballs. A fire blaster type which meant . Yup, I thought as rain started to fall indoors, there go the sprinklers. Great. Now I had to move fast to save some half power idiot from getting himself killed.
I took a glimpse through the half mirrored glass and wished Id been to this bank before. Not my regular. Didnt know the layout from that side. The spandex was down, as I figured hed be, the sapper keeping him out of strength whilst two others kicked the [censored] out of him. One other operative was keeping his weapon on the three hostages. I couldnt see the slinger. Had to be somewhere an, knowing my luck, itd be one of them ab ast teleporters an hed port out here and They were really laying into that well meaning idiot. I wondered if he could still stand. Time to act, Mason. Open that door. I took out my revolver and opened the latch lock. Had time for one shot before they turned on me, I reckoned. Had to make it count.
Still I was behind em and the door opened quietly enough that they failed to hear me above the sounds the purple and red clad fella was still making. I took a chance, put the gun away, drew my truncheon baton sounds like something a girl twirls to me - and charged towards the fallen guy. I wasnt picking him over the hostages because of his cape, far from it, I was picking him because it meant the guy guarding the hostages would have to turn on reflex to see what was going on. Natural. I managed to hit the sapper first, my left foot, trained by Martial artists in Aberystwyth (And twenty or so Dolph Lundgren films) impacting neatly on the small of his back a second before I swung a punch at one of the operatives. The operative rode the blow, such as it was ad fired back a tooth rattler with his rifle butt. Silly boy. A rifles for firing, not for clubbing, I thought stupidly before punching to his kidneys. The sapper was back up ad made aim but I managed to smack the gun slightly to my left with my truncheon and he hit his own man square between the eyes. One of the others was trying to bring his gun to bear now but was being hampered by the fact that someone had set his underwear ablaze. Give the costume kudos, he had fight. No brains but fight. I straight punched the sapper in the facemask and cursed my own stupidity. Then I pulled it off him and nutted him. This time he went down and a knee to the nose ensured he stayed there amongst the blood hed spilt and the blood hed just dropped. I turned around to check on the hostage holder. He was struggling with one of the hostages. The gun between them. Had to wait for my opening here. Couldnt take him on now coz, if the gun went off, it could be the hostage who fell. Had to wait until There! Hed thrown the hostage clear by a few feet. Before he could swing the gun around, my foot had him, just under the chin and he was flying into the wall behind. A fair of pink handcuffs later I was feeling it was all over.
That, of course, is when I found out I was right about that Gunslinger. With a rushing sound he appeared in the room and I felt his bullets slide across my back as I dove and rolled for cover. Sod, this guy was fast! He ejected the shells and fired again. I felt one slam into my arm and the hot feeling that accompanies getting shot followed close behind. I managed to raise my .38 and returned fire. First bullet missed its mark by a good five metres. The second took his hat off. Hey, never said I was good with a gun, did I? But one thing I am good at still is protecting others by putting me in the line of fire so, when he took aim at the guy on the floor, I took steps to put myself between him and harm. Both shots hit my chest with the impact of a trip-hammer. One thought went through my head as I felt the pain. Why didnt I spend the extra to have Serge put Kevlar in the sleeves too? My gun spoke again as I felt the sounds of boots on stairs behind me. Here came SWAT, in response to the shots. The slinger dropped to one knee. Id hit him in the left leg. Id been aiming for the right one. I felt my arm. Thatd take a few days to heal. I placed my weapon on the floor and dropped to my knees as half a dozen sights focussed on the balding gun slinger. One fired a precise shot and his teleporter went up in a fizz. His hands slowly raised and I looked over at the spandex kid. He was still moving. Medic! We need a medic in here! I looked at my watch. Twenty minutes gone.
If one of the hostages hadnt been a media type known for her front-line reports, I might have been in worse trouble than I was with the captain. But, following her reports, I didnt just get off without a yn cnoi i maes- or bollocking as the English would say, I got put in for promotion. For doing a spandex types job.
Now, after I finish my Spag Bol for one Im going to go see if I can find out who murdered Mrs Joanne Vasquez. Yknow, real police work? Someday maybe Id find out why Malta went to rob a Family bank. Probably not though.
I was fine with that.
'You lose more of your femininity every day Doroe. It's very appealing.' - SLEDGEHAMMER!
The rear door to the Kings Row police station opened and I shoved the gent through into the station with a gruff Get in there! Mike Harding, 37. Spousal abuse and kidnapping. Thats what his docket would say when I got him to the front desk. The warrant had been out a week and Id been one of the officers tearing up every pot-hole and link in the city. It wasnt personal. It was my job. But, then, Id seen the photos of what hed done to her and it was only me taking it impersonal that was stopping me taking his head off and ending up in front of the beak myself. Id found him at a friends place and I was pulling the friend in behind me too on an assisting an offender charge. I pushed him slightly too hard towards the front desk and he smacked his midriff into the desktop. Mornin Sarge. I said merrily. Two for you. Arding here is wanted by Atlas division and this little hysgum, Thomas Martin, was elping him hide. Got im on an assistance charge.
Little what? The sergeant asked.
Gentleman. I lied.
Riight. He commented. I wondered why it was he didnt believe me. Probably ad something to do with the length of my hair or the fact that, as one officer had delicately put it, my face looked like it had been repeatedly battered by a frying pan. Ill take them. The Captain wants to see you. Somethings up.
I left them to the desk officers tender mercies and proceeded down to my senior officers office. Knocking on the door I waited for permission to enter. It came in a few seconds. Mason. Captain Francis said in greeting. Hes about forty, IC5 and slim built. Not always my favourite officer.
What am I supposed to ave done this time, sir?
He looked confused. Nothing. So far as I know. Anything you want to tell me? I shrugged and he continued. Weve got something of a situation going on in the Paragon National in High Park. I waited. He elaborated. Malta have taken hostages. They were hitting the bank when officer De klrk went past. He raised the alarm. Now we got Malta in the bank with the tellers and S.W.A.T. on the outside, waiting to go in. We have a stalemate.
They made any demands?
None as yet but you know how itll be. Helicopter. One hostage to travel with them. All the cash. That sort of thing. Theyre not getting a helicopter. Budget doesnt run to one. A bus, maybe. If they ask. I need you to take charge of the exterior situation whilst we wait for a negotiator. I bristled. Negotiator was often used as a codeword for super type. The Captain could see my reaction. We go in, lives get lost. They go in, less lives get lost. He looked at me. I was probably not on my best poker face manner in that moment. Your mutation doesnt mean you get to go in, Mason! You only heal a LITTLE faster than any other officer. I nodded. I knew that. I also knew that, in Kings, we tended to get the capes that hadnt begun to learn how to control their abilities yet.
Ten minutes later, I got out of my second hand 1988 M3 and spoke with the officer on the scene. His control of the exterior scene was good. Hed kept the area clear of onlookers and press. I could see seven snipers in position, ready to fire. The ground was secure as much as it could be, I supposed. What we got in there? I asked Sergeant Kale. She looked me over. $40 trousers, a $10 dollar shirt, $30 jacket and $25 dollar shoes. I still looked like [censored], I supposed.
Five Operatives, a cowboy and a sapper. No Titans. Five hostages, of which three are tellers.
That all? I replied, a little surprised.
Were in a recession, Mason. She replied. Weve put calls into Statesman and his buddies. No reply yet. What about your bunch?
She was referring to the fact that, as I had to have a hero card as well as a police one, Id been assigned as PPD liaison to the New Heroes Union. Hadnt even considered ringing them Not answerin, I replied. The ones I trust ave day jobs. Lights on or off over there?
Powers down. Sprinklers are on internal. She replied. Well get a hostage in trade, then turn it on. One other fun little wrinkle. She added. Banks a family business.
I considered. Lot of bad blood between them recently. Malta are [censored] at the family for summat. Don want Kings caught in that. I looked up at the other buildings. One of my hair brains was beginning to form. Alarms silenced? I asked. She nodded. Right. I decided, turning my back on her, You take command here until I get back. Im gonna go check the perimeter.
Nothing crazy, Mason.
Like Id do that. I replied, doing up the jacket Serge had made to look old and battered. Dont do crazy. I checked my revolver was loaded and my baton was safely affixed. Then I headed over to the right-hand side building.
Four minutes later, I was on the roof, some three storeys above the banks roof. Itd take skill to land a heli here and Malta knew it. No chopper was ever coming here. They had something else in mind. At least they didnt have a Zeus or some other Titan with them. Eight foot tall and five foot wide. Theyd never have got through the door. Ok, this is Paragon. PROBABLY dont have a Titan. One good thing about being a Liaison? Sometimes it pays. One of the Union lot had given me a talisman of flight and I was about to sort of use it. Not summat I normally do. I took a running leap and powered the amulet some ten feet off the roof of the bank. Still went down hard but not hard enough to shatter my legs now. I rolled and wondered what the S.W.A.T. sniper was saying to Kale. Nothing complimentary, probably. I made my way to the roof door, silenced my radio before she called and opened the door. Good thing the alarms were still down. I entered quietly well, as quiet as I could being six feet tall and 200lbs. There was no-one about in the passageway but it still had the stink of ozone. The sapper had been here not long back. Good. If I had to take one out first, Id rather it be the one who could drain my strength like a tap. He could still be close. I drew my baton. The revolver was for when there was no point being quiet. I could hear a voice coming closer. Stairwell. Could I get in an office fast and quiet? I tried the only handle in reach. It didnt move. Locked. I traversed backwards and found myself in the bathroom with an interior door at ninety degrees to the hallway one. Full mirrors in there, I checked. No place to hide. So I hid behind the first door and readied my truncheon. The footsteps were outside. Id heard him saying about how he needed the John anyhow. He was coming in. I pushed myself far into the corner as he opened the door. I brought the truncheon down hard on the side of his neck even as he opened the inner door and saw me in the mirror. No time to turn, no time to react and, most preciously, no time to call anyone. Before he came back to his senses I had him stripped in case of hidden keys, removed all weapons and weapons and had then handcuffed to a toilet. I looked him over. You ave the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You ave the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights? I didnt wait for his answer. Toilet pipes were Iron. Should hold him. Wasnt the sapper though. Was one of the Tac types. I took his weapon. Palm coded. [censored]. I found it a good hiding place and continued downstairs. I opened the door and found a machine gun at the tip of my nose. The door opened. And his hand moved towards the radio. Buais jyst yn chwilio 'r doiled I told him in Welsh knowing he wouldnt know I was telling him I was looking for the john. . Handy having a different first language. Handy in this case because the unexpected assault of vowels made his hand pause on the way to the radio. I pushed his gun away with one hand even as my other smashed into his throat. I got lucky. His finger hadnt been on the trigger and he discovered he could hardly speak now. I repeated the Miranda rights and put my foot to his face. Ard to keep your control of a machine gun one anded, isnt it, aye? I asked him. Didnt have time to waist hiding this one so I tipped him to the other side of the banister and handcuffed him through the bars so he just dangled there. A quick check of his pockets located another pair of cuffs. Pink and fluffy but cuffs all the same. I gave him a glance of amusement before I tore a strip from his jacket and gagged him.
Something smashed through a window below and I knew whatever time I had had just started running down fast. A hero had arrived. Now they would start threatening the hostages. Sooner than Id wanted. I leapt down the stairs a section at a time to bottom floor, hearing the distinctive fwassh of fireballs. A fire blaster type which meant . Yup, I thought as rain started to fall indoors, there go the sprinklers. Great. Now I had to move fast to save some half power idiot from getting himself killed.
I took a glimpse through the half mirrored glass and wished Id been to this bank before. Not my regular. Didnt know the layout from that side. The spandex was down, as I figured hed be, the sapper keeping him out of strength whilst two others kicked the [censored] out of him. One other operative was keeping his weapon on the three hostages. I couldnt see the slinger. Had to be somewhere an, knowing my luck, itd be one of them ab ast teleporters an hed port out here and They were really laying into that well meaning idiot. I wondered if he could still stand. Time to act, Mason. Open that door. I took out my revolver and opened the latch lock. Had time for one shot before they turned on me, I reckoned. Had to make it count.
Still I was behind em and the door opened quietly enough that they failed to hear me above the sounds the purple and red clad fella was still making. I took a chance, put the gun away, drew my truncheon baton sounds like something a girl twirls to me - and charged towards the fallen guy. I wasnt picking him over the hostages because of his cape, far from it, I was picking him because it meant the guy guarding the hostages would have to turn on reflex to see what was going on. Natural. I managed to hit the sapper first, my left foot, trained by Martial artists in Aberystwyth (And twenty or so Dolph Lundgren films) impacting neatly on the small of his back a second before I swung a punch at one of the operatives. The operative rode the blow, such as it was ad fired back a tooth rattler with his rifle butt. Silly boy. A rifles for firing, not for clubbing, I thought stupidly before punching to his kidneys. The sapper was back up ad made aim but I managed to smack the gun slightly to my left with my truncheon and he hit his own man square between the eyes. One of the others was trying to bring his gun to bear now but was being hampered by the fact that someone had set his underwear ablaze. Give the costume kudos, he had fight. No brains but fight. I straight punched the sapper in the facemask and cursed my own stupidity. Then I pulled it off him and nutted him. This time he went down and a knee to the nose ensured he stayed there amongst the blood hed spilt and the blood hed just dropped. I turned around to check on the hostage holder. He was struggling with one of the hostages. The gun between them. Had to wait for my opening here. Couldnt take him on now coz, if the gun went off, it could be the hostage who fell. Had to wait until There! Hed thrown the hostage clear by a few feet. Before he could swing the gun around, my foot had him, just under the chin and he was flying into the wall behind. A fair of pink handcuffs later I was feeling it was all over.
That, of course, is when I found out I was right about that Gunslinger. With a rushing sound he appeared in the room and I felt his bullets slide across my back as I dove and rolled for cover. Sod, this guy was fast! He ejected the shells and fired again. I felt one slam into my arm and the hot feeling that accompanies getting shot followed close behind. I managed to raise my .38 and returned fire. First bullet missed its mark by a good five metres. The second took his hat off. Hey, never said I was good with a gun, did I? But one thing I am good at still is protecting others by putting me in the line of fire so, when he took aim at the guy on the floor, I took steps to put myself between him and harm. Both shots hit my chest with the impact of a trip-hammer. One thought went through my head as I felt the pain. Why didnt I spend the extra to have Serge put Kevlar in the sleeves too? My gun spoke again as I felt the sounds of boots on stairs behind me. Here came SWAT, in response to the shots. The slinger dropped to one knee. Id hit him in the left leg. Id been aiming for the right one. I felt my arm. Thatd take a few days to heal. I placed my weapon on the floor and dropped to my knees as half a dozen sights focussed on the balding gun slinger. One fired a precise shot and his teleporter went up in a fizz. His hands slowly raised and I looked over at the spandex kid. He was still moving. Medic! We need a medic in here! I looked at my watch. Twenty minutes gone.
If one of the hostages hadnt been a media type known for her front-line reports, I might have been in worse trouble than I was with the captain. But, following her reports, I didnt just get off without a yn cnoi i maes- or bollocking as the English would say, I got put in for promotion. For doing a spandex types job.
Now, after I finish my Spag Bol for one Im going to go see if I can find out who murdered Mrs Joanne Vasquez. Yknow, real police work? Someday maybe Id find out why Malta went to rob a Family bank. Probably not though.
I was fine with that.
'You lose more of your femininity every day Doroe. It's very appealing.' - SLEDGEHAMMER!