Duncan's arms were limp at his sides. He had a dead look in his eyes, as if his mind was elsewhere. Stumbling forward a few paces, the captain's legs gave out and he went down on his knees. He brushed the ground with his right hand, and some of the black dust came with it. Dead-eyed, he eyeballed at it with disinterest.
He lay in the ruins of what used to be the District Police Department. The ground was layered with a thick coating of ash and dust. The stench of smoke and shattered dreams floated in the air. Here and there, a wall or piece of floor would have survived, but all in all, the police station was gone, and Duncan had only one thing to say about it.
"HOW THE HELL DID THIS HAPPEN!"
"As a cop, I dealt with every kind of bum and criminal. They all have more integrity than some Hollywood people."
Courtney stood on the road, observing the tragedy. She scoffed and flipped hair over her shoulder at Duncan's public display of emotion. His sadness was understandable, but he was overdoing it. She turned to Bridgette, who was constantly in her wake. "Do we have any leads on how this happened?"
Bridgette raised an eyebrow, looking at a clipboard she produced from hammer space. "The people we've assigned to the job haven't pinpointed where the fire started yet, but it won't be long." She informed her.
"See to it," Courtney commanded, moving away.
"I can tell you who started this fire." She heard from behind her.
She hadn't noticed Duncan approach until he spoke. She decided to humor him due to previous events. "Who?" She asked.
Duncan clenched his fists and ground his teeth, taking a step away dramatically. "That goddamned gang, the Priests! They waited for Tyler to get out of the hospital, and then lit the building on fire while he was inside! I'll kill them for what they did!" He growled through his teeth.
Courtney titled her head to the side, sympathetically looking at the man in front of her. "What happened was unfortunate, but we need to move on." She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow quizzically. "But why would they do that?" She asked.
Duncan turned on her, pointing a finger in the air. "But they're excessively violent, remember? This is definitely something they would do!" His eyes were red rimmed, and more than a few hairs were out of place. His Mohawk tilted at a dangerous angle.
"I see the logic in your reasoning, but we have no proof. It's not like we can march on down to their crack house guns a' blazing!" Courtney cried.
Duncan narrowed his eyes, whipping out his gun and cocking it with a flourish. "Actually, that's exactly what I plan on doing." He took a step in the other direction, but Courtney caught his arm.
"What gives you the right!" She challenged.
Duncan pulled a crumpled up piece of paper from his back pocket, and held it up to Courtney. "This," He said, matter-of-factly. Courtney took it from him pinched between her forefinger and thumb as if she might catch a disease. "Be careful, there are a few…vulgarities." He smirked.
Courtney examined the paper, a scowl evolving across her lips as she got further in. When she was done, she turned back to Duncan. "Are they really that flexible?" She asked.
Duncan shrugged. "I dunno, but look at this!" He pointed to a symbol at the bottom of the page. Two gently curving lines intersected in the center, in an even X. Lightly shaded around it was a sloppy cross with two straight lines intersecting in the middle. On the outside, a small line crossed through the protruding edges. At the bottom and top, a dot was placed.
Courtney nodded earnestly. "That's the Priests symbol!" She gasped.
Duncan smiled. "Exactly. Now, are you going to let me cap a hoe, or we going to stand here and flap our gums?"
Courtney copied his smile, an evil glimmer in her eye. She cleared her throat dramatically. "Allow me to revise my previous statement." She explained. "What gives you the right…to go without me?" She corrected.
"Let's kick ass!" Duncan smirked from ear to ear.
Running excitedly to the parking lot, Duncan hopped into the driver's seat of his police cruiser, and firmly put two hands on the wheel. He jammed the key into the ignition a little more forcefully than necessary. His foot hovered over the gas pedal expectantly. He looked up to find Courtney looking at him contemptuously from outside. "What?" Duncan asked, anxious to be on their way.
Courtney narrowed her eyes and stuck out her bottom lip. "I'm driving." She stated.
"But this is my car!" Duncan argued.
"But I outrank you!"
"You don't even know where we're going!"
"But I wanna drive!"
They argued back and forth for several minutes, until Duncan gave up, stomping over to the passenger side. Courtney gracefully put herself into the driver's seat, and started the car. "Alright," She began purposefully. "Where are we going?" She pinched her eyebrows together.
Duncan sighed. "The second left straight ahead," He said.
Courtney's lips formed a tight line. "How do you know where these guys are based?" She inquired.
"It's not like these guys just showed up yesterday!" Duncan cried. "Now drive!" He commanded harshly, crossing his arms across his chest.
Once they were on their way, screeching down the road with the siren on, Courtney had to ask. "What's the plan?"
Duncan looked at her surprised. He raised his gun. "I thought we had an understanding that they would have a little meeting with me and Scruffy." He said.
"You named your gun Scruffy?" Courtney asked with disbelief.
"What wrong with Scruffy?" Duncan's eyebrow creased angrily.
"Oh, nothing." Courtney turned her eyes back onto the road. "But I had a feeling that would be your answer." She began to explain. "The letter was signed by some guy named Longstorm," Courtney held up the note for Duncan to read. Sure enough, his name was at the bottom of the note. "So I pose as some low-life street trash looking for a good time, and once I'm in, I can incapacitate them, when you and "Scruffy" come in and take the rest of them out." She explained.
Duncan arched his eyebrow, his eyes widening in surprise. "…low-life street trash?" He repeated. "Are you sure that isn't too much of a stretch?" He didn't wait for her to respond. "No you're right it's perfect." He nodded.
Looking around, Duncan's directions had brought her to the wrong neighborhood. It looked as if the sun didn't rise in this area. Shabby houses lined the street, looking like they were held together with duct tape. Or worse. Weeds and other fowl plants grew uncontrollably in the yards. Several things were lit on fire just for light on the side of the road. And was that a blood smear on the pavement?
Courtney decided to look straight ahead instead of analyzing their surroundings further. Duncan motioned to the side of the road. "Pull over here," He said.
Courtney did as he instructed, moving behind a thick Evergreen tree. Because of the shadow, they were completely obscured from view from the road. Courtney felt compelled to say something cool and encouraging. "Let's go gang bang!" She cheered.
Duncan turned in his seat to stare at her with eyes wider than grapefruits. His eyebrows were arched in surprise. The comment caught him completely off guard. "Excuse me?" He asked.
"You know…" Courtney rolled her eyes, annoyed at Duncan for not getting her youthamism. "Make a gang go bang!" She explained, elaborating further with hand gestures.
"Right…" Duncan held up his pointer finger in the universal signal for 'one minute'. He got out, and swung around to the trunk.
Courtney drummed her fingers on the wheel, and couldn't help but wonder what he was getting. Were they near the base? Was Duncan getting some kind of high tech gun out of the trunk? Her curiosity was only heightened by the cruiser's trunk creaking closed. For all Courtney knew, Duncan could be hiding a disembodied head in a burlap sack, only to whip out and get her to faint, after which he would take pictures and post them on the Internet. Scratch that idea, it's stupid.
Duncan flopped down into the passenger's seat again, holding a burlap sack in his lap. Courtney automatically cringed away. "It seems like you've never seen a disembodied head before." Duncan said scornfully. The chief's top lip automatically curled up, and she moved to exit the car before she was infected with murderer disease. "Kidding!" Duncan mended the bridge, dumping the real contents of the sack onto the dashboard.
Courtney raised an eyebrow, and recoiled. She could actually feel the stench of trash enveloping her. "Why do have these in your car?" Courtney cried.
Duncan let a chuckle slip out. "I wouldn't worry about it. But if you're going to fit in as "some low-life street trash" you'll have to get some new clothes." He explained, gesturing to the "clothes" now strewn across the front seats.
Courtney said nothing for a while, fixing Duncan was a cold, hard stare. "I hate you, McMillan."
"I always thought that the badge a cop has was more like the shield that Captain America has. It's an obvious sign of good and something you'll protect other people with, but it will also protect you."
It was 15 minutes until, after extreme coaxing, Courtney donned the outfit Duncan had laid out. Tight fitting jeans, with an unbuttoned trench coat revealing the fancy bra beneath. Duncan couldn't help but fix his eyes on the magnificent, tanned midriff sported on Courtney's stomach.
Courtney put her hands on her hips, and treated Duncan to the same glare that he had become accustomed to recently. "I hope you're happy." She said coldly. Luckily, Duncan was able to employ his cat-like reflexes to dodge the ensuing slap.
Quickly positioning himself on the other side of the car, Duncan decided to follow up before Courtney could. "Well, you'd better get going!" He said with an awkward smile. "The base is right down the street, and you'll also need this." He slid an empty beer bottle across the hood to Courtney's side.
She picked it up, and sniffed the top. The pungent odor made her crinkle her nose. She held the bottle as far away as she could. "This is disgusting!" She reported to Duncan.
"You don't have to drink it, just pretend like you did." Duncan explained.
Courtney didn't smoke, but she could have really used a cigarette at that moment.
She gripped the beer bottle loosely, stumbling drunkenly out of the protective shadows of the trees. The run down shack that Duncan had pointed out came into focus in front of her. She came close to tripping over a low bush, which had probably been growing out of control for years. Loose dirt shifted under the shabby sneakers Duncan had given her. The building had one story. Auburn paint peeled off of rotting wood. Shingles on the roof were constantly cracking and falling to the ground.
She moved up to a wooden door that was practically hanging on one hinge. She held the beer bottle by the neck, and rapped a few times with the base. After a few very long moments, an eye hole slid open. Two cold, hard eyes were revealed, staring into Courtney's very soul. A raspy voice called, "What is your business 'ere?"
Courtney batted her eyelashes and pouted. "I was just here…for…Longstorm." She replied in her most slut-like voice.
The eyes blinked once, the only sign of weakness. "Are you sure that a sexy fox like you is into that kind of thing?" He inquired, wiggling two skinny, black eyebrows.
Courtney held his gaze, although she did wonder what he meant. "Hell yes, fruit cup." She liked that last part.
"Well come on in!" He said slowly.
The door swung open, although Courtney had her suspicions that it even had an operating lock in the first place.
She waltzed in, and to further her purposes, winked at the man who had greeted her. It took all of her self control not to laugh at his appearance. He was a completely bald, light-skinned man, who would probably only come up to her neck bone. And by no means was Courtney a very tall person.
The inside of their shack wasn't any more impressive than the outside. Moss crawled across the floor. If there was a basement, Courtney feared that the floor would give in, and she—along with anyone else in the building—would tumble into it.
Courtney hadn't noticed the men beginning to form a ring around her until it had been completed. There were eight of them in total, including the bellhop. Each of their faces was more dastardly and gruesome than the last. All of their mouths were twisted into hideous smirks, and their dirty hands hovered in the air. Courtney knew what was coming.
One of them, Courtney didn't know and didn't care which one, spoke. "The boss is busy right now," Some kind of strange hissing/purring sound came from his throat.
Another once of them chimed in. "But you can have a little bit of fun out here, if you'd like…" It wasn't stated as a question.
Courtney blew a lock of hair out of her eyes. It looked like she'd have to get her hands a little dirtier than she'd originally planned.
Duncan snorted, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel of the cruiser. It was getting boring, sitting on the sidelines, not even knowing what was going on inside. Courtney had gone in a few minutes ago, and there had been no noises, bad or otherwise. The worry was eating him alive. He chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. Immersed in thought, he hadn't noticed the two men approach his car.
They were both Mexicans, one carrying a gun, the other with a knife. The one with the gun banged on Duncan's window, making him jump. Regaining his composure, he rolled down the window casually. He arched an eyebrow. "Can I help you?" He asked haughtily.
"Get out of the car." He nodded his head to the side, and smiled to reveal several missing teeth. The look in his eyes said to Duncan that this man had been drinking, and his judgment was a little bit off. An example being that he didn't see POLICE painted onto the side of the car.
Duncan smiled. It was about time that he got to have some fun. "I don't think so." He defiantly stated.
"Yo, do you wanna get cut?" The man behind him threatened. He jerked his knife in Duncan's direction to emphasize his point.
Duncan said nothing, fixing the two men with a steely glare that he had perfected over the years. He opened his door quickly, bashing Man #1 against the metal. The gun flew from his hand as he toppled to the grass. The second man barely had time to respond before Duncan foot flew out the door. It was soundly lodged in his gut, sending him flying backward. It was all one fluid motion, barely taking a second.
Time to go, Duncan thought to himself.
The fight broke out fast. The first three men to get close got a very unfortunate surprise. Courtney broke her empty beer bottle over the first one's head, instantly incapacitating him. Courtney jammed the heel of her shoe into the second's neck, and he flew backward. Courtney followed up on the third, hitting him in the nose with a palm-heel strike. Those three taken care of momentarily, she moved to next two enemies.
They seemed to be the only ones armed in the room. The gang hadn't been expecting this kind of resistance. Angered at the harsh treatment of their companions, they whipped out guns. Other members moved quickly, not wanting to get hit accidentally. Before their first shots could be fired, however, Courtney whipped out her own handgun from her back pocket. The men had been more obsessed with her upper regions, and had failed to notice the large lump in her pants.
Courtney was extremely proud of her gun, and hated to waist ammunition on these cretins. It was a Makarov PM pistol, manufactured in the early 70s by the Soviet Union. She fired off two quick rounds, each of them hitting their mark, burying into the skins of the two shooters. They dropped the guns, opting to fall and clutch their shins. Many words, most that Courtney had heard before and some that she hadn't, spewed from their mouths.
Somebody grabbed Courtney's arms from behind, holding her in place. Dropping her gun, she was defenseless. She might have been able to outmaneuver them, but they would definitely win in a contest of brute strength. Another one stepped in front of her. "You're gonna pay, girlie!" He cackled, pulling back his arm, a switchblade clutched in it. Courtney gritted her teeth, and utilized her legs. She stretched her right one up, and brought it crashing down onto the attacking man's left shoulder. She brought him all the way to the floor, hearing a resounding crack. The man cried out painfully, his mouth the size of a watermelon.
Courtney used the momentum to throw herself backward, onto her holder. After making contact with a perfectly sculpted chest, they were both thrown onto the floor. The large man took the full heat of the contact, the air being forced out of his lungs. Courtney quickly rolled out of his range, coming back to her feet. Just as well too, because two of the men were coming at her again.
It was the man who greeted her at the door, with the man whose nose she smashed. It was flat against his face, blood still flowing out of it. He had armed himself with a metal baseball bat.
The short man got to her first. He was clumsy though, and Courtney easily danced out of the way. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and hoisted him up in front of her. Due to his size and lack of muscle mass, he was incredibly light. He acted as a shield, taking the full blow from the second man's bat. His face shattered under the blow as he was ripped from Courtney's grasp, hurtling against the floorboards. Before Flat-nose could rear up again, Courtney grabbed one of his wrists. She brought it down against her knee, bending it back the wrong way.
"Ah!" The man stumbled backward, clutching his limp wrist against his stomach. The bat clattered to the ground. Courtney flew forward with incredible skill, landing a jump kick against his forehead. He flew backward two meters, and hit his head against the wall. A blood stain was left behind as he fell to the ground with a concussion.
Courtney panted, allowing one moment of rest. The situation got even worse after that. The big man who grabbed her from behind, the guy with the broken shoulder, and the first attacker who got hit with the beer bottle all got up and advanced on her. The men who originally handled guns had fled, leaving their guns on the floor. Broken Arm and Beer Bottle picked them up, and then Courtney realized that Big was wielding her Makarov. Courtney gulped, realizing that she was now backed up against the wall perpendicular to the door. There was nowhere to run.
If she moved, they would shoot. If she stayed still, they would shoot. Either way, she would end up as the equivalent of human Swiss cheese. She closed her eyes. She'd led a good life, rising up from her family's fortune to accomplish her dream of becoming Chief of Police.
There was only one plan of escape that she could construct at the time. In the moment directly before they fired, before they could change direction, she would dive to the side, narrowly avoiding the bullets and gaining a shot to get out the door. She sniffled. This was really what it meant to be the Chief of Police, wasn't it? To lay down your life to ensure the safety of the people around you. Courtney came to terms with her resolve, rising to her feet, bending her knees and clenching her fists.
There it was! They all simultaneously tightened their trigger fingers, giving Courtney her opportunity. She dived to her left, and the shots erupted behind her. The wall was torn apart, and Courtney ears began ringing. It threw off her balance more than she anticipated, and she caught her foot on the bald guy's unconscious body, and she fell hard on the floor. She lost her breath, and felt that moment of clarity that every soldier feels directly before they die.
It all happened as soon as she closed her eyes. The entire wall exploded, sending wood chips and dust into the air. The sound was huge, like a rocket had been set off outside. A car horn sounded loudly in Courtney's ears, and she felt a huge presence fly over her body, landing with a crash across the room. All of the men with the guns screamed, and a sickening crunch followed. Thin planks of wood rained down, battering Courtney's body. And then there was silence. As the dust settled, Courtney found it safe to open her eyes.
The scene was astounding. Junk was littered all around the already messy room, which was now open to the world. A part of the ceiling had also caved in, showering the building with wood. Courtney was now laying in one of these piles of debris. On the other side of the room, the gentle hum of a motor was heard. And surprisingly, Duncan's cruiser was sitting in the middle of the floor! On the other side, the three men's bodies lay battered and broken in a heap.
Duncan sat nonchalantly in the driver's seat, eyeing the gang members with disinterest. He yawned, and stretched his arms out as much as he could in the car. After that, he glanced in Courtney's direction, and waved enthusiastically, flashing his signature smirk.
Courtney bit her lip angrily, storming up to the car with as much confidence and anger as she could muster while still in awe at the amazing stunt.
"What the hell was that!" A feminine voice screamed, although it wasn't hers. In the corner of the now demolished bungalow, a door flew open. It hit the wall so hard that the rotting wood actually splintered. Out of the doorway, a tall woman appeared. She wore fish net stockings, partially covered by a fancy dark purple cape. A long braid of sleek black hair reached down to her waist. Purple lips were twisted into a pompous smirk that didn't reach her eyes. They were mesmerizing. It looked like her blue-gray irises were staring into the depths of your soul and pulling out all of your bravery.
An involuntary chill shuddered through Courtney's body. "So," The woman spoke. "Which one of you woke me up from my nap?" She spoke angrily, gesturing with her right hand at the gaping whole in the building.
Regaining her composure, Courtney thrusted her pistol which had been hastily recovered, at her. "Where's Longstorm?" She cried. After all of this hubbub, she was at her wit's end.
To her annoyance, the woman only stood there. It didn't even look like she registered what Courtney said at all. She yawned, suddenly turning her demeaning gaze on Duncan. "Are you the one?" She asked.
Duncan only blinked in confusion. Most people would be angry about you driving a car through their wall. "Um…okay?" He finally said.
The woman body was then racked by a serious of tremors and palpitations. Her eyes took on a murderous gleam, as she tightened her fists and clenched her teeth. "UNFORGIVABLE!" She shrieked. Turning on her heel, she briefly disappeared into the room she came from.
Duncan and Courtney's eyebrows were arched in surprise. For once, she was speechless. "This girl is weird." Duncan observed casually.
Then she returned, heaving a gigantic metal contraption over her shoulder. It was multi-barreled, and had a large tank on the side. Duncan realized what it was only as it was being aimed at him. The words Hasta la vista, baby barely registered in his mind before he was screaming at Courtney to move. It seemed like she had also recognized the weapon, and took a leap backwards; she shielded her eyes for the following torrent.
Flames leapt out of the triple barrels, twisting and flying into the air. Both of the law enforcers gasped at the sight. The light filled the entire room, bringing with it an evil heat. Courtney was safely out of range, but Duncan had neglected to get out of the car after his stunt.
The all-consuming evil climbed over his car, looking for an opening. The door was shut, so there was no immediate way in. Duncan felt as if he was about to melt. Then, all of the anger and frustration from earlier came surging back in one incredible blast. His pupils dilated, and his mind hardened into one iron-hard spear point of focus. There was only one thought resonating through his mind.
Kill. Her.
Duncan floored the gas, and the car surged forward in response. The flames seared against the metal, launching a front on his tires as well. The vehicle screeched forward in a way that can only be described as angry.
Courtney had to shield her eyes as the gleam off of the flaming car caught her. "You idiot!" She screeched, even though she knew Duncan couldn't hear her. She felt it unnecessary to even try and arrest anyone at this point.
One lone battle cry was torn from the fray. "This is for Tyler!"
Without warning, the room began to shake. The floorboards raddled, and Courtney could actually feel the nails slipping from their holes. A thundering echoed around the building. She quickly took a knee, and looked around. Flames were now ringing her, and the heat was unbearable. Sweat rolled down her in waves, and for the first time since entering the building she was glad her shirt was in the back of Duncan's cruiser. After a brief moment of consideration, she realized that she probably wouldn't be getting it back. She should probably call her tailor—ouch!
A spark ignited on where her right hand was resting, making her jerk back. She cradled her arm in the other. Courtney quickly tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Even in the most dangerous situation of one's life it was good to look professional.
At this point, smoke had completely obscured her vision, so she didn't know that the building was already crumbling around her.
Duncan didn't know if he had hit the woman or not. Flames and debris had made him completely lose sight of his target before he had gotten moving. All he knew was that he wanted the woman, Longstorm, the whole gang, hell, even the damn building to suffer for the loss of his headquarters. The car collided with something large, presumably the wall, and after brief resistance, gave in.
The ruined cruiser burst out of the building, showering the whole area with dust, ash, and other such nuisances. Old Man Helterskink's cat's coat might never be the same. Whatever was left of his tires kicked up dirt as he skidded to a stop. He panted, and appreciated the brief respite.
He threw open the door and hopped outside. His muscles and joints screamed in protest. Although the physical exertion of the entire thing hadn't been that much, breathing in all of the fumes and smoke, as well as driving a car through two different walls of the same building, had taken their toll. He bent over and supported himself by bracing his hands on his knees.
The building beside him still had roaring flames all around it. Cinders traveled upward into the sky, along with the smoke. Heat rolled off of the building, and with plenty of air to pollute, breathing was almost worse on the outside. The flames cackled and roared menacingly, almost sounding like a taunt at him. Looking at it, they reminded him of the fire that ravaged the headquarters, which renewed his anger once again.
This far deep in the slums, he couldn't expect any help from fire trucks or the police, so he could only hope that the fire didn't spread.
He hadn't noticed her immediately, but the woman from before was standing just a few meters away. Despite a little clot of blood at the corner of her mouth, it looked like she had avoided injury. She must have been smart enough to move out of the way after lighting the building on fire.
At that point, Duncan realized that the two unrelated buildings had probably been sent to the Great Main Street in the Sky by the same weapon. That only made Duncan angrier.
"Nice stunt, stud." The woman called out, winking at him.
Duncan clenched his fists, and took a menacing step forward. "Screw you; it's time to finish this!" He cried, pulling Scruffy out of his back pocket and pointing it at the woman. His hands were shaking, and the edge of his vision was blurry. There was no way that he would be able to hit her in a life-or-death situation. "Where's Longstorm!" He practically screamed, demanding an answer.
To further antagonize him, she chuckled and rolled her eyes. A gentle smirk was on her lips. She said nothing.
"What's so damn funny?" Duncan growled from between his teeth.
"Idiot," She scoffed. Then she rotated her body so that she was looking directly into his eyes. "I am Longstorm!" She laughed evilly. She clenched her fists, and began a scary transformation from boozed up junkie girl with a flamethrower to a very, very intimidating gang leader.
Duncan gasped. He had never considered that Longstorm would be a girl, let alone the one standing in front of him. He didn't exactly know what he was expecting, but it surely hadn't been that.
"Ha, ha." She gave one last laugh, before turning completely serious. The eyes of a hawk were now staring Duncan down. He gulped. The transformation was complete alright. "And you killed all of my men." She whispered the statement just loud enough so that Duncan could hear her and have it sound like a threat.
Duncan tried to straighten his eyesight for a shot, but failed and opted for some smooth talking instead. "So what if I did?" He matched her tone.
"Oh, that's easy!" A fake joyous tone slid into her voice. Duncan was distracted by the sudden change in mood, and didn't notice her pull out the semi-automatic shotgun until it was too late. She fired off a round, which exploded around Duncan's legs. He had been incredibly lucky to not be dead. Longstorm must have been a little delirious too.
Duncan moved as fast as his woozy legs would carry him to shelter behind his ruined cruiser. He caught his breath, and waited for his mind to catch up to the situation. He was now facing down a woman by the name of Longstorm, who burned down his police station. He couldn't even focus his eyes, and she was almost completely fine, armed with a shotgun. !
Longstorm finished her statement. "Kill you."
Courtney knew that her right leg was broken. Because of the searing pain, that much was certain. She lay defeated on the concrete of the basement. When she had tried to escape the burning building through the gaping hole that Duncan created, the floorboards gave out. She tumbled into the darkness, and landed awkwardly on the now broken leg. She managed to roll over onto her back, into a suitable position to feel sorry for herself.
Now that there was one hole, the entire floor was in danger of caving in on top of her. She could already see several floorboards coming loose. Courtney doubted that she had the strength to get to her feet. If she could just do that, she could limp to the ladder.
She clenched her teeth prematurely so that she ensured that she wouldn't bite her tongue. Courtney had excellent upper body strength, and could get onto her knees with relative ease. Then came the hard part. She placed both of her palms face down, and moved her left leg underneath them. So far so good. But when she tried to push off with one leg, the results weren't so good. The right leg had to at least play a small part, which it couldn't fulfill. Courtney crashed back onto the ground, face first. Well, she bit her tongue anyway. Blood welled up in her mouth. It was one swift stab of pain that wouldn't keep Courtney down. She spat on the ground next to her. She'd get back up before the referee finished ten counts.
The slow and careful approach didn't work, so Courtney opted for a more direct method. She launched herself forward on her right leg to begin with. She let out a blood curdling scream in pain. What she felt was ten times worse that she expected, but it was over. She swung her left foot forward, and she was standing lopsidedly. But she was standing. Strange how a normal bodily function could be one of her greatest accomplishments.
Now she had to get to the ladder in the corner of the chamber. Floorboards were now falling through, so Courtney guessed that she had at most a few minutes to get out before the building completely kicked the bucket. She limped slowly and painfully across the concrete floor. Courtney also assumed that one of her ribs was cracked, which explained her difficulty in breathing.
It felt like she being stabbed every time her right foot touched the ground. But she sucked it up, and pressed on. This wasn't going to get her down. Nothing was going to get her down. She was the Police Chief. She was Courtney Strike! It took a ton of work, but she made it. The ladder was right in front of her.
All that she had to do was climb it, and she was home free. Well, sort of. If it took that much work to stand up, it would be triple times as hard to climb a ladder. She decided to get a "jump start" literally. She crouched, with another cry from her back, and sprang up like a crippled cat. She caught the fifth wrung from the top, and realized that it was searing hot. She wrenched her hand back, and fell like a rock to the ground.
The breath flew out of her lungs like a drunk waking up next to a pregnant woman flies out of a bedroom. A spurt of blood flew from her mouth, and fortunately didn't land on her. At least she would die clean.
Bridgette lay on her couch, twisting around the curly cord from her house phone with her toe. The TV ran muted in the corner of her apartment. Her light glared dimly, giving Bridgette darkness to enjoy her day off.
"Yeah, I would never say that to a monkey." She informed her friend on the other line. Bridgette glanced at her watch. She had to make sure to get to bed at a decent hour so that in the morning she could pick up that new suit from the—
Suddenly, she dropped her phone onto the ground, and sprang to her feet.
"Hello?" Her friend called, but the voice fell on deaf ears.
Bridgette fell into a crouch, and reached for her running shoes. She glanced side to side wearily. "I sense a disturbance in the force." She growled.
"In France they spend six months training policemen, then they give them a gun and put them on the streets, and I don't know that that's enough. I think that if someone wants to be a cop there's got to be a problem."
Duncan maintained a tight grip on Scruffy. His knuckles were white, and he gulped nervously. He could hear Longstorm's footfalls on the other side of the truck. They were almost deliberately slow, but who could blame her? She had all of the time in the world. She had a semi-automatic shotgun, and was up against a single 9mm.
It looked like Scruffy was going to get some action after all. Turns out that in the end, that wasn't true.
A loud rumbling that almost shook the ground thundered across the neighborhood. "What is that!" Duncan cried under his breath. He risked a quick look around the edge of the car.
Down the already ruined road, a large cloud of dust surged forward. It was bigger than an airplane, as if something incredibly fast and large was thundering down the road. It all culminated in a surprisingly small point. It slid to a screeching halt in front of the still burning building.
Before the dust had a chance to settle and Duncan could catch a look at the inside, it surged forward inside. It was so fast that it looked as if it actually blew out some of the flames. It surged forward into the basement and was gone.
Longstorm was also preoccupied with the spectacle. That was Duncan's chance. Before she could even turn around, Duncan surged at her. His footfalls were quiet and well-timed, so he got the jump on her. After abandoning his gun, he caught the back of her neck, and brought them both to the ground. He almost bit his tongue on the impact, but knew better of it.
He flexed his stomach muscles, and kept his breath inside. Longstorm, however, wasn't so lucky. Blood was smeared with her lipstick, and the breath was gone. This gave Duncan the advantage.
He quickly wrestled the shotgun from her grasp by karate chopping her wrist like a badass. He tossed it to the side. Then Longstorm began to fight back.
She kicked out against his stomach, and dug her heel into his flesh. He felt it like a gigantic needle, and suppressed the scream of rage that would almost inevitably follow. There would be plenty of time for that later.
But when it came down to a good old-fashioned fist fight, Longstorm was outmatched by far. She swung a hook at his head, but it was futile. He ducked out of the way, and gave a swift uppercut to the jaw. She probably bit her tongue again, but he didn't care. He gave no thought to the fact that he was beating the living crap out of a woman. The only thing registering in his mind was that he was beating the living crap out of the person that burned down his base.
He kneed her in the stomach, and she fell down flat on her back. He dug it in deeper, and grasped for her neck. She was powerless to resist his overwhelming power. He dug his fingers deep into her esophagus. She made a choking noise, and struggled hard under him.
She squirmed with the last ounce of strength she had, but she was growing weaker. Duncan guessed that she was going into tunnel vision right about now. Finally, her last drop of energy faded away. Her head went slack against the ground, as she slipped into unconsciousness.
Duncan relented at that point, rising to his feet. He looked down upon the one who had rained hellfire and brimstone upon his life for the past day and a half. He could kill her, but that would be too good for her. He whipped the pair of handcuffs that he always had with him from his back pocket.
Grabbing the back of her collar, he carelessly dragged her through the dirt over to a streetlight on the side of the road. He slapped them around her wrist, corresponding with one of the poles holding it up.
Duncan dusted off his hands and smiled. All in a day's work.
"Out of quotes."
Courtney panted, lying on the ground outside of the now floored building. The flames tinkered out, their damage done. She panted, grabbing at the grass flattened next to her. Soot covered her body. Anybody who didn't know her might not have known that she was Caucasian. Her vision was blurry, so she could only just make out her savior standing over her.
Bridgette leaned down so that she filled Courtney's complete line of vision. "I heard…um…through the grapevine that you were in trouble!"
Courtney heard Duncan behind her, but couldn't actually see him. "Through the grapevine? What are you, some kind of psychic?"
The last sound she heard was them both gasping as her eyes closed, and the world went black.
"Still out of quotes."
Duncan sat next to the hospital bed. Sunlight shone brightly through the window, onto the bed. A bird cried out happily outside. The heart-rate machine beeped normally, reporting that the patient was in a normal state.
"Can I get you anything?" The nurse looking over Duncan's shoulder asked him. She had curly and bouncy auburn locks, framing a soft face. Duncan had gotten to know her recently, with all of his visits. Her name was Daisy, and she was an aspiring nurse at the hospital. She still lived with her parents, at least until she could save up enough money to go back to medical school and become a full-fledged doctor.
Duncan waved her away with one hand. "No, thank you." He rested his chin on the palm of his hand, and groaned impatiently.
"I'll check in again later!" Daisy enthusiastically replied. She winked at him, and glided gracefully out the door.
Duncan turned his attention back to the person on the bed as soon as the door shut. They breathed evenly, showing no signs of the struggles endured the previous day, except for bandages placed here and there, covering all of the burns.
Their eyebrows fluttered, and for a second Duncan thought that they would wake up, but still laid flat on the hospital bed. Deciding that one hour of staring at an unconscious person was enough, Duncan dusted off his pants, and got up from the incredibly uncomfortable chair.
Walking across the white tiled room, he reached for the doorknob, and had one afterthought. He turned to look at the unconscious figure on the bed. "Hang in there, Tyler." Making sure that no one thought he was deep, he promptly exited the room.
"There aren't any quotes! Leave me alone!"
Duncan raced down the burning hallway of the police headquarters. He had turned on his heel and chased after Tyler. Making a guess, he headed toward the back rooms, where Lindsay liked to take naps.
It was in an even worse state. Rafters were crashing through the ceiling, and the walls were crashing down. He almost shed a tear, realizing that there was no saving his beloved station at this point.
Then he spotted Tyler and Lindsay lying down in the hallway. He dashed forward until he was standing above them. It looked like a chunk of the ceiling had fallen down on top of Tyler, K. him. Lindsay had been dumped there after that. Mysteriously, the room that she had to have been in was still blocked by burning rubbish.
Duncan didn't have much time to dwell on it so, grunting the whole way, he fireman carried them all the way out of the building, where the fire department was waiting.
"I already told that we can't find any more quotes! *Sniffle* Stop being mean!"
The room was almost pitch black, lit only by a large lava lamp, standing tall next to the man's throne, made out of hard metal. The man wore a purple animal hair coat, and twirled a diamond-studded cane in one hand. His face was hidden in shadow.
Four people knelt in front of him on the concrete floor of the warehouse, their heads bowed in respect. One of them, a slender woman with long black hair spoke. "Longstorm has been captured, sir. A man by the name of Duncan McMillan took her in yesterday." She said it with no emotion, simply conveying a fact.
The man on the throne scoffed arrogantly. "That's what she gets for openly using our gang name. Hatchet!" He snapped at a large black man, at the end of the line.
He lifted his head. His eyes were that of a hardened criminal. "Yes?" His scratchy voice could send shivers down the bravest man's spine.
"Make preparations for this "Duncan" fellow to be killed, would you?" He said it nonchalantly, as if ordering a pizza. And throw an extra pepper in the box for me, would you?
Hatchet rose to his feet, unable to hide the smile. "Gladly."
A/N: So, was this one worth the wait? I sure hope so. So, Duncan and Courtney have avenged their team's headquarters by taking out Longstorm. In the process, it looks like they've irked a very powerful individual.
The "no quotes" running joke stems from me being too lazy to do my annual Google search. If you guys have any quotes that you want to suggest, I'll be glad to include them!
And if you guys thought that Tyler was dead, I'm almost sorry. ;)
I have big plans for the next chapter, so if any of you are wondering "What could he possibly think of next!", then that question will be answer in full.