Chapter 10
Will made good on his word and used his EMT certification to join Star City's paramedic fleet. A solid move in his opinion. The work was fulfilling and exciting, all the adrenaline with only a quarter of the danger.
His first few months as a probie flew by with the guys training and razzing him in equal measure. His ability to think quickly on his feet and a lifetime of his dad's workout routines helped him easily meet and surpass the training expectations and his practice at blending in helped him bond with his squad mates who'd had a field day when they'd realized the Queen in Clayton-Queen referred to his father, the mayor. The firehouse's running joke was a Dear Mayor Queen wish list they kept near the dartboards. It detailed all of things their firehouse desperately needed to ensure the mayor's son was safe and comfortable. It was completely ridiculous (a Jacuzzi, an indoor ski slope, a live-in butler) and there seemed to be a competition between the firefighters and the paramedics to see who could come up with the most outlandish requests. Since the guys all seemed to understand he could never actually take the list to his dad, Will took it in good humor, even adding to it once or twice (a sushi chef on Fridays, a full-time sandwich artist).
Overall, he liked his crew. The eclectic mix of personalities combined with their calls to make every shift entertaining. On Will's shift there was Judd, an older black guy around the same age as Will's dad, who could always tell you the line ups for whatever local team was playing that day and their chances of winning (The Star City Stars have a better chance of winning the lottery than a pennant), Cooper, a wiry, Hispanic guy who liked to crack jokes and could speak three languages, none of which were Spanish, and Gigli, pronounced like the movie he always insisted, although Will didn't know what movie he was talking about. Not that it mattered. As far as everyone else was concerned it was 'jiggly' which got shortened to Jig.
Judd and Cooper rode ambo together, as they had for over ten years, which paired Will with Jig, which for some unknown reason made the old timers yell 'Gettin' jiggy with it' and do a weird shoulder bounce dance whenever they came on duty during Will's first month. Will eventually googled it and found out it was from a pop-rap song that was wildly popular a few years before he was born. The 2000s had apparently been a weird, neon-colored decade. Jig was a good partner and an even better medic, able to triage a patient at fifty yards. Will learned something every time they rolled out together.
Outside of work, Will was pleased to realize that working full-time meant he could afford a place to stay without his dad bankrolling it. After his third pay check, he moved into a reasonably priced one-bedroom apartment a few blocks away from the firehouse. It wasn't nearly as nice as his dad's loft, but he didn't have to worry about coming home and finding the place ransacked either. And having his own place meant Tyler came over as much as she possibly could without officially moving in and incurring the wrath of her overprotective and staunchly Catholic parents who for whatever reason were willing to ignore occasional overnight stays but would not condone official unwed cohabitation.
Regardless, life with SCFD was good. Tyler was relieved he was no longer so secretive and came home in one whole, unbruised piece and more than once she'd taken the opportunity to show him how much she appreciated a man in uniform.
"Will, are you happy?" she asked after one such occasion, her slim fingers running down his bare torso as they lounged in his bed.
"Of course." He lazily pulled her hand up to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. "You make me happy every day and in every way."
She smiled. "Flattery will get you everywhere, mister."
Tyler hummed and shuffled a bit until she was tucked snug next to him, her head resting on his chest. "I meant are you happy with what you're doing? As an EMT. You've always wanted to keep people safe, but I know this isn't exactly how you imagined it. Do you miss it? Being the other guy?"
Will didn't hesitate. "Nope. I have what matters most to me. There's nothing to miss."
The lie came easily. Maybe because there was a grain of truth in it. Will did feel useful, like he was doing the city some good.
And if he felt a little wistful every time they pulled up just in time to see his dad's trademark green suit dart around a corner as they rushed to tend to a victim or when they arrived to find a bad guy pinned to a wall by a green arrow, well, that was just nostalgia.
Go, Dad. Go.
Harder to ignore, though, was the niggling guilt he felt when they arrived at a scene littered with bullets to find some innocent bystander hurt.
This kid's lucky. A few centimeters to the left and this bullet would have killed him.
Or Speed Warper could've moved it a few inches to the right and it would've missed the kid all together.
Will worked hard to keep his mind blank from those thoughts. After all, he was still helping. And he'd made a promise.
A promise made should be a promise kept.
"Alright, CQ. You ready?" Jig asked as they strapped in.
"Always."
They were being dispatched for a collapsed patient, male, unknown age, unknown cause.
Pulling out of the firehouse bay, Jig drove as Will navigated, controlling the lights and sirens as they went, every kid's dream. The city whipped by as they raced towards their destination.
"Turn left here," Will instructed.
They pulled onto the street, looking around as they eased down the street, siren silent but lights still flashing. It was a row of mostly abandoned houses, years of wear and tear apparent on their facades, paint chipped and worn, but a few were clearly still occupied. Jig pulled the ambo to a stop, the powerful engine letting out a heavy breath as he engaged the air brake and clicked the two-way strapped to his shoulder.
"Dispatch, this is Star 5-1. We're on-site. No sign of a patient or any bystanders. Do you have an exact address?"
Static burst followed by a muffled voice. "Standby Star 5-1. We'll attempt to get a 20 on the caller."
Will climbed out and headed to the back of the rig to grab his go bag and pull the gurney if needed, all the while gauging in his surroundings. It was mid-day but this particular area was preternaturally quiet, as though the usual inhabitants had some sense of foreboding and were bunkering down to see how it played out. His one patrol with his dad may have been a disaster, but he remembered this distinctive feeling.
"Keep your head on a swivel," Jig called back to him, obviously sharing the gut feeling. "This ain't the best area."
Will nodded, still trying to pin what exactly had been goosing his neck hairs since he climbed out of the rig.
It wasn't until the guy stepped into the clearing that Will figured it out.
Ambush.
"Gimme the fuckin' drugs or blow your fuckin' head off," the man yelled.
He was beyond skinny, the kind of skeletal that only came from being too strung out to care about eating. He had stringy, scraggly, dirty blonde hair. His bloodshot green eyes nearly engulfed his gaunt face and Will could see his constricted pupils even at this distance. He was sky-high and waving a huge gun in twitching hands, the barrel aimed straight at Will.
"Hey, man, take it easy," Jig said calmly, hands raised in surrender. "Nobody has to get hurt. Just take what you need and go."
Will flinched as Twitchy darted towards him, but forced himself to remain completely still as the guy pulled the strap of the go bag off Will's shoulder before retreating a few steps and dropping it to the ground. Twitchy's eyes darted between Will, Jig, and the unzipped bag. He pawed frantically through the contents, scanning the labels, stuffing the ones he wanted into the pockets of his ripped coat, flinging aside the ones he didn't. Will couldn't help but grimace as vial after vial of extremely expensive, lifesaving drugs shattered as they were tossed aside carelessly.
"Hey man, I'm not trying to stop you but we use that medicine to stop strokes in old people and help asthmatic kids breathe," Will said. "Maybe if you told me exactly what you're looking for, we can get that for you and you can leave the rest of it so people don't die."
Twitchy looked up and a brief moment of irritation flashed across his face before being replaced by uncertainty, followed by shaky agreement. "I want all your oxy."
"We don't carry oxy."
"Bullshit."
"No bullshit," Jig said. "Our job is to get people to the hospital alive. Our meds cover Airway, Breathing, Circulation, Deadly bleeding, and Defibrilation. Pain relief is a distant sixth."
The agitation creeped back into Twitchy's face. "You have to have something. You guys help, like, pregnant ladies have babies and shit. You can't tell me you don't give them somethin' for that."
"We have morphine," Will suggested, not bothering to point out that they did their level best to keep from delivering babies in the back of the rig and most of their drugs could be fatal to fetuses.
"Yeah, gimme that."
Will nodded and turned to climb into the rig.
"Wait!" Twitchy barked. "You could have anything in there. I'll go."
Will shrugged. "Fine."
He dared a glance at Jig and could tell his partner was thinking the same thing. As soon as Twitchy was inside, they could close and lock the doors behind him. There was no way out without the key and the metal would stop any bullets he might fire.
But the drug haze must've lifted just enough for Twitchy to see the flaw in his plan. "Nah. No way, man. I'm not stupid. You're not trapping me in there."
He renewed his aim at Will, staring him down, and barked at Jig. "You. You go get it."
Before Jig could move, his radio crackled to life.
"Star 5-1, what's your 20?"
Both he and Will froze. Help was just a click away, but that click could set this guy off.
"Don't answer that," Twitchy hissed.
"If we don't answer a hail, they'll send the cops," Will pointed out. "We already told them we couldn't find a patient. If we don't answer they're going to assume something's wrong."
"Star 5-1, I repeat, what's your 20?"
Twitchy scrubbed at his hair, agitation spazzing through his whole demeanor.
"Fuck. Okay. You, you get the meds," he demanded, pointing his gun at Jig. Then he swung it back to Will. "And you, you answer whoever that is."
"Okay, fine," Jig said and slowly crossed over to the back of the open rig.
"Star 5-1, we need your 20 ASAP," the dispatcher demanded more urgently.
Will carefully reached up to click his two way, his mind racing. "Uh... Yeah, Dispatch, this is Star 5-1. We're Code 30, over."
We need help. EMERGENCY!
"10-4, Star 5-1. That's a 10-31."
Help is on the way.
Twitchy's eyes flared wide and his lips peeled back from lips. "Nah, man! I know the fuckin' codes, you fucker!"
It took Will a moment to realize that the next few seconds weren't time slowing down the way most people described terrifying events. Instead, it was his powers flaring at the sound of the first bullet firing out of the barrel, followed by a second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth. It wasn't until both Jig and Twitchy gasped and swore that Will realized what he'd done.
His hand was still extended and the bullets are floating, rotating slowly in the air, headed towards his chest at a glacial speed. A flick of his hand sent them plonking to the ground, tinkling like harmless pennies.
"What the fuck?" Twitchy backed away, completely stunned, then frightened and turned to run. Something snapped in Will and he roared before executing a flying tackle that would've made any NFL defensive lineman proud. He and Twitchy thudded to the ground, gravel scratching under their impact. They were quickly joined by Jig. Together, they pinned Twitchy and used medical restraints to hog tie him.
"Star 5-1, 10-31 in T-minus 2. Confirm your 106."
Are you okay?
Will huffed and reached for his two-way even as he kept a knee in Twitchy's back. "Star 5-1. We're 10-4. We'll be waiting for that 10-31."
As they waited, the adrenaline ebbed and Will slumped, completely drained from the sudden effort, not having used his powers in months. He felt simultaneously ravenous and sick to his stomach.
"You okay, CQ?" Jig asked, studying him with a carefully blank look.
He nodded, swallowing hard against the nausea. He'd be fine.
When the cops finally showed up, Twitchy told everyone who'd listen (and even those who wouldn't) that Will had made bullets freeze in the air. The cops looked at Will and Jig with raised eyebrows.
"Guys, I don't know what's he's hopped up on, but it's really strong," Jig covered. "He was shooting at us and it's only pure luck he didn't manage to hit anything. My partner and I definitely dodged a bullet, but not literally."
The cops, used to much weirder things in Star City, nodded and loaded Twitchy into the back of their squad car with him ranting the whole time about the guy who could slow speeding bullets.
Once all the reports were filled out, Jig and Will climbed back into their rig. Will clicked off the lights that had been flashing the entire time and they both stared out the windshield carefully not making eye contact with each other. Will sat tense, waiting for the questions. But they never came. Instead, Jig shifted the transmission into gear and pulled away.
"Let's take it in."
Will nodded silently in agreement, more than ready to put this whole thing in the literal rear view.
As the houses faded from view, Will caught the barest glimpse of green leather in the side mirror.
Back at the house, the fire and police chief were both on hand and equally freaking out. The raw anger of having two medics held up combined with the overwhelming fear of the mayor's son nearly being murdered on their watch and they were tripping over themselves to make sure Will and Jig were really okay. In an abundance of caution, they were immediately sent off duty, even though their shift technically still had nearly twenty-four hours left.
Will, dressed in his street clothes, pulled his duffle strap over his head and settled it on his shoulders. He was supposed to go home, but he couldn't bring himself to do it just yet. Instead, he stood just outside the firehouse doors waiting on Jig to exit.
But once he did, Will didn't know what to say.
Jig saw him waiting and paused for a brief moment before heading in the opposite direction. "I'll see you next shift, CQ."
Will nodded dumbly and headed home to Tyler more unsure than he'd been in years.