Hey, it's a new chapter. Wait... We're at Razer already? Dang.
Actually beta'ed, for once. Give a hand to the lovely WtchCool by reviewing one of her pieces!
- o -
Chapter Eleven: Razer
Pizza was becoming a bit of a thing around the apartment for dinner, Dana decided with a grimace as she and Trip walked down Sycamore Boulevard. It was an incredibly nice day for December, and she had elected to leave the car at home so she and Trip could walk. Trip was carrying the pizza box, and begging to play on his xbox when they got home.
(She was going to have to murder Hartman for getting Trip the games to go with the xbox. And then she was going to murder Vince for getting Trip the damn thing in the first place. Trip's grades were bad enough without the gaming system.)
Dana looked up at the sound of a roaring engine. A gold-colored car was roaring around the corner, and it didn't look good. The public defender swore under her breath and grabbed Trip to drag him away from the scene. A few seconds longer, and they might not have made it behind the silver Toyota in time.
This was not good for her pregnancy, and getting shot at wasn't good for Trip.
"Are you okay? Are you hurt? Are you okay?" she asked frantically, holding her son tightly as the shooting stopped. Trip clung to her, sobbing that he was fine. Dana breathed a sigh of relief as she saw Hartman appearing out of nowhere. The pyromaniac had a soft spot for Trip, and the shooters were going to regret their actions later.
She sighed as the first ARK patrol car roared to a stop on the street in front of her.
Oh joy. Interviews.
By the time the interviewer had reached her, Dana was fed up with the paramedics fussing over her. She was perfectly fine, the kid was fine, and all she wanted to do was go home and veg. Hell, even having Hartman set something on fire would have been great at this point!
"I didn't see who was in the car," Dana insisted as the man, a Detective Farris, questioned her. "We were…on the ground."
"Plates, anything." He sighed. "'Cause normally, this neighborhood… It's pretty quiet."
"Quiet?" Dana scoffed in disbelief, pushing her son behind her. "Do you live here?"
"No."
"I'm a public defender; gang violence is spiking, and this drive-by was aimed at ARK cops!" She was building up a head of steam over this issue, and the hormones weren't helping. "My son and I were caught in the middle of your gang war!"
"You're upset."
No shit, Sherlock. "You're damn right I'm upset!" Dana fired back. "If…if this shooting wasn't aimed at ARK cops, you wouldn't even be here! I spend my days defending victims of ARK police brutality, but apparently it isn't doing any good, because I still have gunfire on my front stoop!" She glowered at the man, who drew back with a look of fear.
"You people are corrupt, and incompetent," she finished in a low hiss.
"Take your son home." He turned to leave, before pausing. "And Mrs. Faraday, be very, very careful."
She glowered at him and left, Trip trailing behind her. Hartman caught up with them as the detective passed out of their line of sight. He was playing with a lighter that had more in common with a Bunsen burner, and there was a manic glint in his eye.
"You want I should set him on fire?" he asked casually as they crossed the street.
"No," Dana replied automatically. She still wanted to know how he'd gotten out of the asylum, because she sincerely doubted it had been legal.
Hanson was waiting in her apartment when Hartman escorted her and Trip in.
"Your husband is doing something incredibly stupid."
Well, that was a surprise.
- o -
Dana sighed as she watched the news later that evening. The gang war was causing all kinds of hell for ARK, and all the media could focus on was how it all led back to her "dead" husband. It was insane. Couldn't they focus on something that didn't involve how ARK had framed her husband? Jesus Christ.
She jumped as the phone rang. A quick check of the caller ID had her groaning in disgust. She wasn't home today. Or she was asleep. Either way, she didn't want to talk to Travis until work tomorrow. Goodbye, Travis.
The public defender was almost asleep when the phone rang again. She cracked open one eye to glower at the handset, and was instantly awake when she saw who was calling.
"Vince?" she asked, holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she began searching for a pen and paper. "What's… WHAT?" she bellowed, hearing Vince's explanation for what he was doing. Her husband was an idiot.
"Fine," she growled, throwing the pillow at the easy chair Hanson had dragged in from somewhere. "On your head be it. Don't come crying to me if you blow yourself up, you idiot."
Her husband was insane. And this gang war was about to get a hundred times more interesting…
- o -
Dana stumbled into work the next morning, bleary-eyed and desperately wishing she could drink coffee or something with caffeine in it. She'd spent all night worrying about Vince and his stupid plan to infiltrate Scales' gang, and…
Speak of the Devil… Dana's train of thought screeched to a halt as she saw who was in the center of the lobby. Of course. The man was beyond insane, at this point. She glanced over at her bodyguard on duty—Winny, this time—and shook her head slightly. The gun disappeared back under his coat, and Dana continued towards her office.
If she ignored him long enough, Scales would just go away like usual.
"Mrs. Faraday?" Ah hell. So much for wishful thinking.
"Yes?" she asked, turning around as best she could. She wasn't very fast these days either, so hooray there. "May I help you…?"
Scales was looking down at her, eyebrows raised. He had a stack of folders in his hand, and if Dana had read them correctly, they were full of union paperwork. What the heck was he doing here, when half the city wanted him dead and the other half wanted him in prison? (Anyone with a modicum of sanity would have gone to ground with sentiments like that aimed at them… Oh wait. This was Scales.)
"Just lookin' fer someone wot files paperwork," he replied, leaning against the wall.
Dana resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her life was about as surreal as it could get, but at least he wasn't hitting on her. (What was he doing with union paperwork anyways? Wasn't he a smuggler?) "Upstairs; should be the first corridor on your left."
"Thanks very much," the smuggler said, leaving without another word.
Dana stared after him for a few seconds, before shrugging. It was the lack of caffeine that was getting to her, honestly. In a few weeks, she could go back to drinking coffee, and everything else would go back to normal as well. (Except for Vince, though. That was a bit more difficult.)
She made it through the work day with a minimum of fuss, from Winny and Travis especially. Hartman appeared at some point around lunch to take over from the demolitionist, chattering excitedly about someone from ARK who'd managed to set himself on fire. It did have the side effect of getting rid of Travis, so she couldn't complain.
And then she got home and listened to her answering machine. Spending time with Travis would have been a hundred times more preferable to hearing how her darling husband had gotten himself beaten by Scales and his men. Max, on the other hand, was now her hero for saving Vince from the product of his stupidity. Vince had gotten evidence against ARK, though, so in his mind, the beating was worth it.
Why couldn't her life be less complicated?
- o – o -
So, what did you think? Good? Bad? Think people should stop pissing off a pregnant Dana? Drop a line and let me know!
