The door exploded inwards, sending splinters flying as the police stormed the place.
"PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!!" yelled Detective Sergeant Martin Finn, echoing the same calls from the rest of the squad, aiming his gun directly at Henry's head.
The squad teams swarmed the area, checking every nook and cranny for firearms and other people.
"Clear!" James yelled.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the infamous Henry Lowell" sneered Marty. Instantly Henry went for his gun. BANG. Smoke wafted out of the end of Marty's gun.
Henry crumpled to the floor, mid-way through raising his pistol.
Although Marty was short in stature, he was the best of his field. High intelligence combined with superb reflexes helped make him the finest police officer the 4th precinct had.
James spun around immediately raising his gun, lowering it after he took in what happened.
"Nice firing there Marty." He said, striding over to pat him on the back, before turning to study the filthy, old room.
Surveying the sight before him, James made a quick analysis. A failed deal involving an old man, past his prime with an over inflated opinion of himself and his stupid blonde attempting to make themselves feel better the easy way. They had no idea what they got themselves into.
"Got here too late, the girl would have died instantly. We weren't to know."
"I know James." Marty sighed, making 3 long strides over to where John was trying to crawl away.
"Stay where you are, put your hands behind your back."
"Sh-S-She's gone!" John whimpered, lying on the floor.
"Get up!" ordered Marty as he hand-cuffed John.
"Follow me." And with that Marty marched through the remains of the door and onto the crowded street.
BEEP
Call sign: Lone Wolf
What was that?
Call sign: Terror Tiger
I don't know? I'll Check it out.
Turning, he spotted it, the bomb concealed in shadow.
Call sign: Terror Tiger
It's a bomb! EVERYONE MOVE OUT!
Every member of the four squads inside turned and ran to the door.
But it was too late.
BOOM!
The building, and every one of the squads inside, were blown up in one all-mighty explosion.
Flying bits of Debris rained down on the witnesses and for what seemed like hours, no one moved. The only sound was the ongoing traffic.
* * *
Freeing himself from the ruins, Marty looked around. He scrambled through the wreckage, digging desperately to find James.
"Marty?" a wispy voice croaked to his left.
Marty scuttled across to where he heard the voice and began to dig the person out.
"James! You okay? Hold on, please!!!" he said, cradling James' head.
"I'm so sorry, we should have found it, it's my fault, please forgiv…" he trailed off, closing his eyes.
"No! James no!! Wake up! You can't die!! You're all I have left!" Shaking James's limp body he cried.
With one last effort he raised his head and let out a blood-curdling cry.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!"
Everything was gone. Henry had taken away his soul. Marty had nothing. No family. No friends. No desire to live. Just the emptiness of the world. He could die right now, and no one would be around to care. That bastard Henry had won.
With that final thought, he raised his gun.
CHINK!
The gun was empty.
CHINK! CHINK! CHINK!
This wasn't fair. He couldn't even choose to end his own life.
Minutes passed, he just sat there, nought but a shell of a man.
Sirens wailed accompanied by red and blue flashing lights. Paramedics rushed to his side. Asking questions, with no response.
Marty had no thought process any more.
He was just a broken man.
* * *
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Hospital machines buzzed and whirred around Marty's bed. Checking his vitals, marking his heartbeat.
"Good afternoon Mr. Finn, I'm Doctor Gregory. We have received you MRI results back, and I'm very pleased to tell you that everything is in order. The ultrasound revealed some minor internal bleeding, but we will be able to fix that with some minor surgery using a general anaesthetic."
Marty just lay there, staring at the ceiling.
"If you're okay with it, we would like to perform the surgery now."
No response.
"I'll take that as yes. Nurse? Please prep Mr. Finn for surgery right away!"
The nurse bustled in, giving him the tablets, doing all the pre-operative safety precautions.
"Now I just need you to sign these papers, just a legal precaution of course"
He didn't even look down. Just signed the papers.
"Are you nervous Mr. Finn?" she asked, raising his head to remove the pillow.
As per usual, he just lay there. Unresponsive. Just a shell.
* * *
Slowly the blurred image of Doctor Gregory came into focus.
"Good afternoon Mr. Finn! I am very pleased to tell you that the surgery went according to plan! We'd like to keep you in here overnight for some observation, but in the morning, you are free to go."
Marty grunted his acknowledgement, turned over and went to sleep.
* * *
The next morning, Marty changed into his stained, dusty clothes, and walked out of the hospital.
"Mr. Finn!! Mr. Finn! Wait up for a second, I'd like to talk to you!" called out Doctor Gregory, running to catch up to Marty
Marty stopped and turned. A look of extreme irritation evident.
"I'd like to recommend that you see a psychiatrist. Events like this can be very traumatising, some people may result to self harm. To ensure nothing like this happens to you, please give Heather Pfeiffer a ring." He handed Marty the business card.
Marty took it, screwed it up into a ball and threw it in the nearest bin.
"Thanks but no thanks Doc, I'll be right on my own." He stalked off to flag down a cab.
"TAXI!"
He opened the door of the yellow cab that parked in front of him.
"1660 8th Ave, thanks."