LifeShield

Police Protects

"Can I get grilled chicken over rice, with white sauce and a tiny bit of hot sauce?"

Officer Konstancja Woźniak angles to catch the breeze around the corner while she waits for her food, not that much gets through the uniform. A line stretches behind her at the food cart, but Rihab had seen her and waved a hand to come forward. It'd give her a few more luxurious minutes off her feet while she ate.

CRACK!

"What the fuck!"

Konstancja's head snaps around, hand already drawing her weapon. People duck at the sight of her, but otherwise the scene around her is calm. But a ghost image overlays them, where a wiry hispanic aims a gun straight at her.

Crack! Crack!

Flame and smoke erupted from the barrel. A whisper of blue fills her vision. She flinches at the impacts, even as she makes the connections. LifeShield, but somewhere else.

She takes in details. Cropped black hair, beard, mustache. 5'7", approximately 150 lbs. Cutoff white t-shirt, ragged jeans, steel-toe construction shoes. Tattoo of a devil woman, right arm. As she sees the faded red awning in the background, she knows exactly where it is. A block uptown.

"Police, move!" She yells as she sprints. In her ghost vision, the shooter sprawls backwards over a heap of trash bags, scrambling backwards.

'Is this real,' she asks herself. 'How's it happening.' With her weapon held towards the ground in one hand, she pulls her mike with the other.

"Officer Woźniak. Shots fired. Requesting assistance." They'll pick up her location from GPS.

Has to the the LifeShield somehow. She'd been astounded when the captain had called her, told her she was getting one. "Luck of the draw, Woźniak. Active responders going on duty. I don't even get one. Now get your butt down there before your shift starts."

She'd seen the videos, of course. Half the force had. Far more helpful than the machine had given. Especially the slow motion one by the local journalist, comparing the reactions of the LifeShield against swords and the bullets from the assassination. But none of that had mentioned something like this.

Something new? She couldn't be imagining this shit, could she?

All morning she'd walked around trying to feel...something. Her vest she could feel, and understand. She'd been shot once, in the scariest moment of her life, feeling the thud of the bullet against her vest. This thing though, requires a bit more faith.

In the ghost vision, the shooter races off. In the background, she sees the same building turned sideways as the real one in front of her. Directly at me.

She skids past the corner, already ducking as he barrels into her. Oh, it's real all right!

Her world flashes sapphire as the man flies over her, scraping across the sidewalk while his gun clatters into the street. She darts over, gets a boot on his back before he stops, barking, "Police, don't move."

The man goes limp, arms spreading out like an angel. She twists arms and feet into zip ties, then stands to wait for the patrol van to arrive.

I could get used to this.