P o l i c e m a n

The car smelt of tobacco, a rich, stale sent that had long since settled into the interior, making its presence known every time one closed the windows. Alex took a moment to curse at his older partner, tightening his grip on the flask in his hands. It was titanium steel and warm all the way through. It scorched his hands but still he clung to the warmth.

Ever since Dan had totaled the heater system, Alex had been spending every night at stakeout, bundled up in blankets and coffee. He supposed it would be a bit of a fail if someone actually did decide to rob the store (The jewel shop just across the road. They had a few robberies lately by some punks calling themselves the purple dragons) But at that moment, Alex didn't care. He snarled at the air, looking towards the driver seat where his partner usually sat. The bastard had left the window open too.

Who walked away in the middle of a stake out?

Sometimes Alex wasn't quite sure how serious his partner was about the job. It was always hard to think of the man as a senior officer. But then he'd remember all the times when the tough, hardened cop had taken down punks single handed. His partner could be quite scary actually. All gruffness and bad-assery.

Alex pinched the bridge of his nose. And then he did something like this. Alex may have been fresh to the force, but he was no slacker on the rules, and even he knew what Dan had done was wrong.

For some reason though, people always seemed to over-look Dan's mistakes. Maybe it was a perk of being the senior partner.

Alex had a sick feeling that Dan was in the restaurant just a block up, not in the restroom as he's claimed, but in there enjoying the warmth and light and food. Alex's stomach growled and he took another sip of coffee.

New York, he decided, was a very strange city. Having grown up on the coast of Port Elizabeth, the traffic and lights rivaled even that of Johannesburg. The city of gold had been enough of a shock to him when he'd left for the academy, fresh out of school. New York had just been a huge jolt to his system. The cold especially. It was always so bloody cold.

It was somewhere between his second and third flask of sweet, sweet coffee that Alex heard it.

It was that pitched horrible, wailing sound that filled the air before every robbery. It was a sound that Alex had learnt to hate, as it meant leaving the warmth and comfort of his car. But he could see the class that was littered across the ground, looking for all the world like he was re-visiting the evening of Kristallnacht. Gritting his teeth, Alex threw his flask to the back. He fumbled with the safely latch of his seatbelt. Nothing. The tips of his fingers were still too cold, numb, and his uniform shirt was hooking on the latch as he tugged.

"Damn it…" He muttered. He could see them now, moving through the shop, taking whatever they damn well wanted. And he could see them. And he was a cop but this stupid safety latch was stopping him from doing his job.

"Bliksem…" He grunted.

He abandoned the latch, leaning over and grasping at his phone, "Bliksem…" He muttered again, punching in his partner's number, "Kom aan, Dan…Maak gou…"

"What?"

His partners greeting was rough, clipped but Alex paid him no mind, "Dan, hulle's heer. By die winkle. Come gou, my foken veiligsheidsgordel sit vas!"

Alex knew he must have sounded panicked, frantic even, but somehow, Dan still managed to sound calm. And pissed. He definitely sounded pissed.

"Damn it, Alex, speak English and calm down for Gods sake."

Crap. He'd lost track of his languages, "The store is being robbed!"

"Then do something about it… you're a cop right?"

"My seatbelt is jammed. Get over here."

He could almost feel the irritation through the phone. Dan took a loud, heavy breath and growled low, "Fine." And the call was ended.

Alex turned his attention back to the store.

He blinked.

He blinked again.

Then, in a flash, he was rolling down his window and leaning out, all thoughts of the cold forgotten.

He stared.

He stared some more.

There were two…

No, three.

Or was it four.

Four what, exactly?

He blinked again.

And stared some more.

The punk dragons were going down.

But what was taking them down?

Alex blinked.

He was suddenly very hot, slick with icy perspiration. He wiped his forehead.

And then, he wiped his eyes.

He frowned.

Then he thought he felt sick.

So he grimaced to stop himself.

He was on duty.

He couldn't stop himself from uttering a breathy, awed, "What die Fok?"

Then those things started walking towards him.

They were like those things from District Nine.

"Foken Prawns…" He muttered under his breath,

He retreated into his car, but somehow, he forgot to close the window and one of those creatures poked its head into the window.

"Ya okay?"

Alex was motionless.

"Ansa me!"

Alex nodded, hard, frantic, "Yes!"

The frog-like creature leant back. He had a red mask on. He looked towards the others.

Three others.

Four.

"See Leo, he's fine. Let's go!"

He looked back at Alex, snarling, "Ya got a problem?"

"Let's move!"

The other three disappeared and this one… the red one, stared at him for a moment later, a angry, disgusted look on his face, "Cop…" He scoffed and then he followed after the others.

Alex didn't move, didn't even blink when Dan finally arrived, wrenching the door open.

"Ya get em?" He gestured to the store and the unconscious punks.

Leaning back in his seat, Alex, the policeman, shrugged.

Well, this was just to satisfy myself and write my own challenge.

Translation:

Bliksem – An Afrikaans swearword

Kom aan, Dan…Maak gou – Come on, Dan… hurry up

Dan, hulle's heer. By die winkle. Come gou, my foken veiligsheidsgordel sit vas! – Dan, they're here. By the shop. Come quickly, my fucking seatbelt is jammed!

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