Fingerprints

Eighteen

The man gazed up at the evening sky, pink and orange clouds covering the city in a beautiful light. Thomas wandered down the street, blond in tow, back toward his apartment. He hummed softly, lost in thought, as the brit was. Thomas wanted to find Teresa, and Newt wanted to find Sonya. He knew they could work together, they could find them. He had hope, and even if that was it, he'd still hold onto that like a lifeline.

They came out onto the high street, the hum of traffic in the background of Thomas's mind. That was until Newt smacked his arm and pointed toward a tourist bus zooming past. Inside, everyone was frozen to their seats, looking up intently at a man at the front of the bus, who Thomas guessed was the conductor. That was until he saw the handwritten note that someone had discreetly pushed up against one of the windows. It said: BUS HIJACKED CALL 911.

Thomas made eye contact with Newt.

"You can't seriously be thinking about-" But Thomas was already off running in the direction of the bus. Newt groaned and went after him. Despite his limp, he caught up pretty quickly, falling into the buses blindspot.

"You didn't have to come ya know"

"I'm your partner, unfortunately." Newt scoffed, "Well what's the plan Rambo?" He asked over the roar of the vehicle.

"You're letting me be in charge?"

"You're the one who went after the bus in the first place." He shrugged. Thomas huffed out a breath through his nostrils.

"Get your ass on the back of that bus. I'll distract him." The american pulled out his gun and his radio. Newt grinned and gave a curt nod. Thomas gave him a 'be safe' nudge and ran out of the blind spot when he saw a truck pass. He bit his lip, timed it, and jumped. He managed to land, somehow, on the back of the vehicle, rolling onto his back to see his partner glowering at him with a 'how about you be safe you idiot' look. Thomas just grinned at him, and watched as he fell from his view as the truck sped up. He pushed down on his radio.

"Jorge, I got a hijacked bus on main street, I need back up now to find out what the guy wants and get the hostages off." he reported.

"On it, whats the number?" Jorge answered immediately, no questions asked, just accepting the fact that the two were basically doing the police's job.

"25"

"Got it." Thomas let go off the button and slid his radio back into his belt. The truck slowly began to take over the tourist's ride, and the man sat up. He met the bus drivers eye, who was practically white with fear. 'Open the door' Thomas mouthed, pointing to his gun to show that he was a cop, or something of the sort. The driver just nodded and reached out to the button with shaking fingers. The door opened, and Thomas jumped for it. Rolling into the bus without firing his gun was a feat in itself, let alone trying to avoid shooting anyone else. As soon as he could he righted himself, only to be faced with the hijacker.

He was a middle-aged man, with long blond hair, unshaven and ravenous. His blue eyes were filled with fear and anger, and the large gun he was handling was shaking with either fury or fright. The people on the bus were greatly diverse, an elderly black couple, three younger girls, a couple of middle aged men and two teenagers, clearly on a date gone array. The one who had made the sign was a young girl, of about twenty, glaring at her captor with defiance.

"Who the fuck are you?!" The man spat, eyes wide.

"My name is Thomas Greene, I'm from the detective branch here in NY. I'm here to find out what you want, and how to get all of these people off the buss safely." he said calmly, holding his hands above his head in surrender. The man just watched him with intent and suspicion. "What's your name?" Thomas tried.