A foreward: first upload here, so hopefully I didn't fuck anything up.

A ring of police cars laid siege to the World Jewelry Maxine. Officers crouched behind them with firearms leveled on the building, ready for anything to happen. Detective Becker instead pointed a pair of binoculars at the building. Through the store's massive front window he could see four guys in ski masks taking cover behind the counter with weapons of their own leveled. The store's front was entirely glass, allowing for a clear view in or out, but was of reinforced materials that kept everyone safe. Both sides were at a stalemate.

Becker noted the arrival of yet another squad car. Watching it pull up to a stop, he recognized it not as the usual police Interceptor model but rather high-powered American muscle. That was a little unusual by itself; used for highway patrol, you didn't usually see one responding to a call. What was really unusual was that the driver wasn't in uniform, but plainclothes. It all made a bit more sense when recognition dawned: the car and driver were a pair.

The new arrival sighted in on him. "Detective Becker," the man addressed him, reading off his nametag.

"Detective Hardy, isn't it?"

"My reputation precedes me," the man replied. And for good reason: Michael Hardy was indeed an officer of some note. "You the officer in charge here?"

"Until SWAT gets here."

"SWAT's tied up on a call."

"The boys from the seventh precinct are gonna take this one. So what brings you down here? I thought you weren't on street duty."

"Just thought I might be of some assistance. May I?" He held out his hand, gesturing for the binoculars. Becker handed them over. As he brought them up to his eyes, he asked, "What's the situation here?"

With a sigh, Becker briefly explained the events leading up to the present. "Robbery. A unit in the area responded to shots fired and caught these guys before they could make their escape. They exchanged fire until backup arrived." He pointed towards a squad car pockmarked with bullet holes for illustration. "Then they retreated back into the store. Attempts at negotiations have gone nowhere. Here we are now."

"There's just four suspects in there?"

"Yeah."

"They're packing automatic weapons?"

"At least two submachine guns plus handguns." Such firepower was all too common in Virtua City these days.

"There's a clerk inside too?"

"Yeah, the owner. He's wounded but alive, according to them. They said he pulled a gun on them. They won't let us take him out."

"Is there an updated ETA on SWAT?"

Hardy already seemed to know the answers to all these questions, merely seeking confirmation. "Unknown."

"When did the shots fired call come in?"

"About half an hour ago."

The other detective scowled. "What are the options for entry?"

Becker raised an eyebrow. What was this guy getting at? "Well, there's the front door... Yeah." He didn't elaborate on that option, the situation being plainly obvious. The front of the store was lined with reinforced glass designed to keep people from breaking in, criminals and cops alike. Storming the place or using snipers was out of the question. The only possible entry without destroying the glass was a single door. They'd have to funnel through the narrow opening and into a hail of gunfire- the very definition of 'chokepoint'. Once inside the store they would then have to contend with a complete lack of cover besides glass display cases. He rattled off the only other option. "The back door is reinforced and not meant to be opened from the outside. No getting in that way either. An entry is almost impossible."

"The front door locked?"

"What?" Becker was taken aback by the question.

"Is the front door locked?"

Becker threw up his hands. "Hell, I don't know. You want to go check?"

"Only way to find out," Hardy replied, dead serious. He handed back the binoculars and walked back towards his car. He reached inside and picked up a Kevlar vest from the passenger seat, then removed his coat and strapped it on.

He's not actually thinking about... However, he quite obviously was. "Oh, you gotta be shittin' me... What the hell do you think you're gonna do?"

"Protect and serve. We've got a gunshot victim in there bleeding to death while we sit out here. He might not live until SWAT arrives."

"We're gonna have TWO gunshot victims if you go in there!"

"At least," he admitted. "But that's all up to them."

"We don't know for sure if he's even still alive. You can't just go in there alone!"

"I'm not," he replied as he drew his service weapon, checked to see that it was loaded, then put it back in the holster. Oh my god, this guy is for real... He stuck a pair of protectors in his ears. From the back seat he pulled out a ballistic shield. He stood for a moment, apparently having a sane moment of second thoughts about the wisdom of his planned course of action. Taking a deep breath, he turned to Becker. "Keep everybody back. Tell the paramedics to stand by."

He began walking towards the store without waiting for a response. All Becker could muster up was, "Aw Christ..."

Hardy held the shield in his left hand and drew his Guardian with the right. Constructed of carbon polymers and ceramics, the gun was surprisingly light. It almost felt more like a toy rather than a lethal weapon. But it certainly didn't feel like a toy when fired, especially to those on the other end of the barrel. It held 13 .45 ACP rounds in a clip, 14 with one in the pipe. The gun was currently in limited production, with the ones being made all going to members of a select few law enforcement agencies, the Virtua City Police Department being one of them. The weapon was almost unanimously embraced by the force. Nearly every officer carried one, save for a few old-timers who had grown attached to their previous trusty sidearms.

He could just make out a few voices around him. "Where is he going?" and, "What the fuck is that guy doing?" Approaching the store with a weapon in one hand and a shield in the other, he couldn't help but imagine himself as a modern-day knight. Yeah, a real blue knight... He was now just outside the store. The robbers inside all fidgeted, watching his every move.

"He's coming in!" one yelled in an almost hysterical voice- clearly not a hardened professional.

He tapped on the glass with the barrel of the gun. "We have the building surrounded! Put down your weapons and come out with your hands up! This is your last chance!" Well, an officer SHOULD always give them a warning first...

"Fuck you!" one of them yelled back.

Oh well... Time for the moment of truth. If the door was locked, that would be the end of it, and he'd have to turn back, looking mighty foolish after all that buildup. However, the idea had not occurred to the robbers, as it was not. The door opened inward- he threw his weight against it. The door swung freely. Two chimes sounded. He held the shield in front of him, making sure that every part of his body stayed behind it. He had expected to be promptly greeted by a hail of bullets but the gunmen held their fire, apparently too stunned by the lone police officer's brazen actions to do anything but stare with eyes wide as golf balls.

He broke the ice. "Drop the guns and-"

That was as far as he got before the robbers cut him off. He held onto the shield for dear life as bullets crashed against it. He did nothing but stand his ground as the barrage continued unabated for several seconds, although it felt like eternity. Nearby display cases exploded in showers of glass. Firing on full-auto nonstop, the two guys with submachine guns quickly emptied their weapons. That left 'just' two handguns firing at him. One of the such-armed robbers, the man furthest to his right, ceased firing on his own accord. Apparently he was a bit smarter than his buddies and realized he was just wasting ammo. Taking advantage of the lull in firing, Michael cast the shield aside just enough so that he was still protected him from the others. With lightning-quick reflexes he leveled the Guardian, aimed, and fired- before his opponent could get another shot off. The man's head snapped back. Malefactor 1 fell against the wall and slid down.

"Shit!" somebody cursed. He pivoted and swung his weapon over to the next rightmost crook, who was still reloading his SMG. Malefactor 2 saw it coming and ducked before he fired. The bullets shattered the glass display and burrowed into the wood counter. Malefactor 3 had reloaded his Uzi by now and resumed firing. This time the weapon chattered in short bursts. Ah, he's a quick learner... Michael found himself wondering exactly how many bullets the shield was rated to withstand...

Malefactor 2 popped back up with his weapon now fully loaded as well. He moved down towards the other end of the counter. That was disconcerting; they were spreading out, making it harder to keep himself shielded from everyone. Perhaps they were smart enough to try flanking him... Yep, they were. Malefactor 3 made his way down the other side of the counter. Malefactor 4 remained where he was and continued to fire ineffectually with his handgun. Michael began retreating back towards the door in order to keep the robbers in front of him. The sheer amount of lead flying around made exposing himself too risky, so he simply stuck his gun's barrel around the shield and fired at Malefactor 2, who was coming up fast on his right. The angle was wrong- the shots went wide. But they came close enough to make the shooter duck. Malefactor 3 ducked too, probably to reload. That was fortunate, because HE had to reload too.

The shield required one hand to hold, so Michael had to reload with just one. He worked quickly but calmly despite the incessant pounding of bullets. With a press of a button, the empty clip dropped out. Malefactor 2 came back up, still on the move. Now I'm really in trouble... He trapped the gun between his left arm and the body, grabbed another clip from his belt with the now-free hand, and shoved it into the weapon. He gripped the Guardian again and thumbed the release. The slide snapped shut. He was back in the fight, and not a moment too soon.

Malefactor 2 had advanced to take advantage of this vulnerable downtime, but now instead found himself caught off guard by a loaded gun pointed at him. He went down in a burst of fire. Malefactor 3 jumped onto the counter on the other side, trying the same maneuver, getting on the officer's unprotected flank. Without shifting his position, Michael crossed his right arm under his left and fired several times. With his target on an elevated surface, his shots were low, taking out the man's legs. Continuing forward on his momentum, Malefactor 3 pitched off the counter to crash headfirst into a display case. He didn't get back up.

One criminal standing. Realizing this, Malefactor 4 panicked and unloaded what was left of his clip to no effect. He ducked out of sight. Acting quickly, Michael jumped over the counter and landed two feet away from the criminal, who was just shoving a clip into his weapon. "DROP IT!" he commanded. Malefactor 4 didn't comply, instead trying to get back up to his feet as he racked his weapon. Hardy charged forward, slamming the shield into the man before he could finish. He went down, the gun flying out of his grasp. Despite the fact that he had no chance, the robber crawled desperately for his firearm. Oh for the love of... Michael aimed and fired once... The gun jumped off the floor and away from the criminal, who yelped and grabbed his hand. "Think it over, creep," he said in his best imitation of Robocop.

There was a long tense moment where neither man moved. Glass tinkled. Michael spun, swinging his gun arm around while keeping his shield between himself and Malefactor 4... Malefactor 3 was still in the game, rolling onto his back and struggling to raise his weapon with what little strength he had left... Michael fired first, second, and third. Malefactor 3 flattened against the floor, hopefully for good this time. However, the Guardian was empty once more. Seeing this, Malefactor 4 made a play for his gun. "Shit!" The man snapped up his weapon and chose flight over fight, running for the doorway to the back of the store, firing behind him for cover. Hardy managed to reload just as the crook disappeared.

He didn't know what the gunman's plan was. He could try to escape out the back, get to the clerk for a hostage play, or just simply find someplace to fortify himself. At any rate, he had to end this NOW. He ran after the fleeing robber into a small hallway with a door directly ahead and one to the left. Malefactor 4 was just ducking around the right side of the doorway ahead. He fired a shot- it took a chunk out of the doorframe. He ran forward and dove to the floor sideways, on top of the shield. It slid across the carpeted floor and carried him through the doorway. Malefactor 4 had his gun aimed at the doorway... They both opened fire... Malefactor 4 had been aiming for a higher target; his shots passed harmlessly overhead. Hardy's shots were dead on: center mass. Malefactor 4 flopped onto a desk and rolled across it, knocking a lamp, phone, and other clutter off it.

Michael stood up, leaving the shield on the floor. Keeping his weapon trained on the fallen man, he approached and kicked the gun out of his grip. The man was already unconscious, if not dead. There was a commotion in the front of the store. The rest of the VCPD was coming in- took them long enough. "Clear!" he announced, stepping back into the hall to meet the others. "There's a suspect down in the backroom..." He faltered slightly as he saw a body through the other door off the hallway. THE OWNER. He rushed into the room. An office- an empty bag in front of the safe. Apparently the robbery went to hell before cracking it. That wasn't important now.

He knelt beside the man. "Hey! Can you hear me?" The man didn't so much as stir. He put his fingers to the man's neck and felt a pulse. The man was slumped upright against a wall, and it appeared somebody had tried to staunch the wound- that was good. "WE NEED THE EMT'S IN HERE NOW!" he shouted, as much to anybody within earshot as the officer who had appeared in the doorway. He turned back to the wounded man. "Just hang on... We got you... The paramedics are on the way..." He figured the man wasn't hearing him but spoke anyway.

Somebody said, "Make way!" He didn't know who but obeyed the command all the same. A couple of paramedics rushed past him and swarmed the fallen man. There was nothing more he could do, so he left the paramedics to do their job. He walked back through the scene at the front of the store. The robbers were receiving much less attention. Two of them still lay right where they had fallen, although their guns had been secured. A pair of EMT's worked on the third, but soon gave up. Realizing that his weapon was still in his hand, he holstered it. He missed the first time- his hand was shaking. No... his entire body. I'VE BEEN HERE BEFORE.

"Goddamn..." Turning, he saw Becker approaching. He simply looked around the store for several moments before simply speaking again. "You fucked 'em up! That shit was crazy. I ain't never seen anything like that before." He fell silent again. Finally, Becker looked at him with concern. "Hey, you alright there?"

Michael must have looked as bad as he felt. He opened his mouth to respond. Instead he puked his guts out. "Jeez, man... You alright? You want a medic?"

He recovered enough to say, "No, I'm okay. I just..." Shot four men and am crashing down from combat high? This wasn't his first shootout; these guys weren't the first to meet their end at his hands, though far more intense. He and his partner chased a local drug dealer for a short while before he crashed his car. The dealer fled across an open area in one direction while firing in another; they crouched behind their vehicle and fired back. It was no contest. "...feel like shit."

The paramedics wheeled the owner out of the store on a stretcher and into an ambulance. Becker asked, "Is he going to make it?"

"I don't know," Hardy replied truthfully.

"Yeah..." Becker said, as if he should have already known the answer. There were no certainties in this job, especially in matters of life and death. "Well, thanks to you, he's got a better chance now." After another period of silence, he spoke again. "I guess we should probably call off SWAT before they get here."

Somehow, after having about two hundred rounds fired at him, he found that to be the funniest fucking thing in the world.

DVD Commentary: I should mention that this will be neither a prequel nor a sequel to the game series, although it can be considered an adaptation.

Any real Virtua Cop fan knows that the original Guardian was a 6-shooter, and its successor (introduced in #3) only held 9 (10 if reloading hot) rounds. Having 6 shots was kind of a staple of shooters at the time, but it's an anachronism in the (generally) futuristic world of Virtua Cop. Hell, revolvers were already outdated even in the 90's. So I'm taking a liberty.

Other ideas I had for the scene:

I envisioned Hardy jumping over the counter at one point shield-first and sliding down it (the shield) while shooting some sucker. Then I remembered the shield's only like 5 feet long. Oh well.

I also thought of Hardy actually crushing a thug under the shield, pinning him on the ground, then reaching around the shield, and shooting the trapped dude. Then I realized that it was pretty cold-blooded and rather close to an execution. Not exactly good cop behavior. What? I'm not sadistic. Stop looking at me like that.

I freaking LOVED this idea, but it's incompatible with the scenario I had already thought up. After realizing he is the last man standing (and that he is not Bruce Willis), Malefactor 4 reloads, sticks his gun over the counter, and blindly fires. With the shield protecting him, Hardy simply walks right up to the counter, reaches around the shield, and shoots the oblivious guy right in his hand pointblank (for a Justice Shot!) Maybe I can recycle it.