Favourite Explosion (Sequel to PAPOM)

Clandestine Companions

{A/N: hopefully everyone knows I have zero knowledge of police work. I just wing it off of movies and ask my friend who's interested in it haha. The only legitimacies are the police codes, so don't take this stuff seriously or you'll make a fool of yourself if you ever mention it in real life. Okay? Okay.}

Getting to work was a struggle since I left during the height of rush hour. Normally I would just barely beat it, but Kellin slowed me down. Totally worth it. He was worth anything life could throw at me.

I got to work on time, without coffees. This was so weird for me. I was so used to getting here early, have coffees for all the night workers and get a slow start to the day. Today, everything was already happening when I got there. Jaime jumped from his seat and dashed over to me, holding a spilling case file.

"V-Vic," he huffed, out of breath. "We got a hit on Overchuck's car."

"What?" I gasped. We had been waiting for this since before I met Kellin. He was a gangster of sorts, owning a small block of town and reputed to have made numerous black market trades. We were out to get him, to say the least.

"Yeah, you heard me. Fucking Overchuck!"

"Holy shit, let's go! What the Hell are you waiting for!?" Jaime grabbed his gun, shoved it in the holster and out we went, leaving dust in our footpath. We were sprinting for the finish. All we had to do was find him in possession of illegal merchandise and he would be in jail for the rest of his life. His record was not exactly what I would call squeaky-clean.

We rushed to the turn on the lights and siren, going ten above the speed limit. We were anxious. Beyond anxious, we were petrified, paranoid, and excited all mixed into one big bundle of supercalifragelisticexpealidocousness.

"Unit one-eighty-two heading North-bound on I-ninety-seven. Ten-twenty-nine-F in progress; potential, scratch that, probable ten-twenty-nine-H." We were always told to report where we were headed since Jaime and I tend to do a lot of random-epiphany work.

"Unit one-eighty-two, this is home base. We copy. I repeat, ten-four." We had officially checked in. I parked my hand over my holster, holding the handle on the car door with the other. Time for a show down.

It all went down in a blaze of bullets. He had three men scattered at the sides of a building, each one with a bigger gun than the last. We had to pull the swapping trick from when we were rookies to be able to out shoot them. But we were blocking them from their extra rounds. We had staked out that advantage at least. In a fury, they used them up. I still had four bullets left as they slowly came forward with raised hands from behind the building. One bullet for each man and one to spare. I could shoot each of them and take my own life, handing the glory to Jaime. Or take them out and kill my partner, stealing the glory for myself. Instead, me not being a dirty-rogue-cop, I smiled at Jaime with gratitude and we cuffed each of them, filling up our backseat.

We lead Overchuck through the office with gigantic smiles on our faces. It was finally done. We had cracked them. We sent backup to round up the rest of his crew. Whoever hadn't responded to the call was here, cheering for us as we walked him through. Hoots and hollers echoed in the room, but as I explored each face, I realized not all eyes were on us after all.

As we hauled him through the office to the holding cells there was some kind of non-verbal-message exchange happening. Tony nodded to Norman, who then nodded to a number of other people whom I had only spoken to on a handful of occasions. Then, one by one as if planned, the group slipped from the room. Each face disappearing, unnoticed by all except me. Well that was suspicious. I shrugged it off as a unanimous lunch break and started up on the arrest papers.