A/N: As Spike was being rocked in his truck by a blue-blood hungry rioters, calling for back up, I thought for sure I knew where this story was going. But it didn't go that way. So, with all due respect to the writers of FP (who, btw, are awesome and do some fantastic work) I rewrote it.
Hope no one hates me… The Chronicler
Flashpoint: Good Cop for a Good Cop
By The Chronicler
The truck was rocking so hard, Spike wondered if they were just gonna roll it with him in it. "Guys….?"
"Spike, we're almost there!"
He saw the steel bat swinging toward him.
Then his world exploded in a shower of glass.
He ducked, but not fast enough.
Glass cut into his skin.
Then the pipe bomb came through the window. It exploded before Spike could even think his good byes.
"Spike!"
Smoke…
So much smoke…
He couldn't see!
He couldn't breathe!
He had to get away from the smoke, the burning… he had to find air!
Spike twisted away as hands grabbed at him through the smoke and broken glass. He climbed over the seats into the back, trying to find some place… any place… where he could breathe.
His eyes were burning.
His lungs on fire.
He was thankful when the door opened, cool, clean air washing the smoke away from him for just a breath.
A black gloved hand reached in, grabbed his arm…
Saved!
Then his world exploded.
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"Spike!" Wordy yelled, pushing his way forward, shoving aside rioter and riot cop alike. "Spike!" he yelled again, demanding an answer from his teammate trapped in the truck.
Coughing, gasping, grunts… they were the only answers.
"Out of the way! Move away!" Sam yelled as he followed close behind Wordy, protecting his back. When a rioter grabbed for Wordy's back, Sam was there to knock the hand aside and throw him back into the not-so-gentle hands of the riot cops.
Jewel was only a breath behind, protecting Sam's wake as assuredly as Sam protected Wordy's.
The riot cops were almost on their own mission, charging at the rioters with their shields, yelling and threatening as they forced their way to the truck, forming a rough perimeter around the vehicle.
Wordy pushed and fought and struggled, but, finally, reached the door of the truck. "Spike, talk to me!" he was yelling into his com. The front door's window was shattered, smoke and heat billowing out. Wordy almost flinched when he heard Jewel's hissed "Oh, Spike…" But then he shook the distraction away.
He knew what he was gonna find when he opened that door!
He knew his friend was fine!
He knew he would be leading Spike back to safety in just a moment and spend tomorrow teasing about smoking in the truck!
He knew!
He knew, damn it!
Yet, when he yanked open the back door, reached through the smoke and heat for his friend, calling for him "Spike! Take my arm!"…
… there was no answer.
"Spike? Spike, talk to me!" Wordy demanded, leaning into the truck, waving at the smoke, trying to clear visibility. "Man, where are you?" he coughed.
The open door on the other side helped to push the smoke out.
Wordy scrambled into the vehicle, looking over, even under the seats, searching for his teammate. "Spike, damn it!" he cursed when he found no one.
"Spike, talk to me, buddy…" came Greg's voice over the com.
"SRU! Here!" came a call from the open door on the opposite side Wordy had entered.
He quickly scrambled through to the open air on the other side. He barely glanced up as Sam slid across the hood to land at his side, gun at the ready, still watching his back.
A sergeant of the riot cops, still snapping orders to his men, held a hand out to Wordy.
When Wordy reached for it a com headset worn by SRU officers was placed in his hand.
"This one of yours?" asked the Sargent.
Wordy looked down at it, his mind freezing in a sudden block of fear.
Sam nodded once. "Yea… yea, that's one of ours." He admitted. He looked around, stepping away from the truck. "Where is he?"
The officer shook his head. "A group ran when we came around the truck, but they got lost in the crowd. That was on the ground." The man stepped away suddenly, yelling into his own head set for the wagon to be brought up. His line was wavering as more angry kids dressed in black returned, recovered from the initial push by the riot cops.
"They took him?" Sam asked, spinning about, searching the crowd. He raised an arm suddenly, blocking a rock thrown at his head.
The sergeant didn't answer as he yelled at his men. "Any resistance, take 'em down!"
Wordy lurched forward, grabbing the man's arm and spinning him about to face him. Holding the found com up in his face, he demanded "Did they take him?!"
"I don't know!" the officer snapped back. "He's not here! We're looking! We're gonna take down every one of these punks until someone talks…"
Wordy pushed him away and grabbed Sam. "Officer taken." He informed the rest of team as he lead Sam back around the truck. "Boss, they got Spike!"
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