We have officially arrived at the end of ACT II. Thanks for hanging in there thus far. As for the PJ pants and cowboy boots, let's just say, some of us have been there one too many times before.
The call to arms had sent Mike's fear spiraling and he gunned the engine of the lime-green Galaxy once again, rushing north on Van Ness, flanked by a handful of police cruisers.
The quiet race against time fed his ongoing anxiety about their case, his active imagination painting countless frightening scenarios explaining why Steve's girlfriend had called in the emergency instead of the young Inspector.
And one scenario in particular bugged him the most.
The one about his arguably over-courageous partner going after a potentially dangerous suspect without the least bit of backup.
Taking a sharp right onto Union Street that sent the paperwork on his dash flying onto the floor, Mike kept track of the dozen city blocks that still separated him from his partner's apartment, thankful that traffic had died down completely throughout the night, allowing for effortless travel.
Several hundred yards out in the distance, he saw a patrol unit shoot out of Mason Street, leading the little army rushing toward the aid of one of their own.
With the radio remaining strangely silent, Mike skillfully navigated the large sedan around the rows upon rows of parked cars, losing track of time until he finally crossed Montgomery and put on the brakes when the road made a sharp dip.
Between the streetlamps and headlights of the approaching police cars illuminating the area, Mike took in the whole scene, trying to get a grasp on what was going on when no unusual activity stuck out against the stillness of the night.
In front and behind him, the patrol cars mirrored his actions, then slowly fanned out to take up open parking spots along the narrow road.
Identifying the tan Galaxy and Steve's Porsche parked below his apartment, Mike proceeded slowly, then parallel-parked his car to block the road off for the time being. Unnerved by the deceiving quietness, he risked another glance around, using all his senses to read the scene as it presented itself, then radio'ed his arrival before getting out.
Up above, the front door to Steve's apartment was shut, the living room and bedroom lights turned on.
The thick, damp air coming off the bay gave him the chills, his breaths drifting back up the street where two more units were parked to cordon off the entire area, uniformed officers getting out of their cars, one hand held against the grip of their firearm in careful expectation.
You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us, Mike quietly reiterated and stepped toward the concrete stairs of the apartment building, when he saw something out of the corner of his eye.
"What in the world…?"
He could tell by the walk that it was Steve coming around the corner a hundred feet out, completely shirtless, shoulders slumped, the revolver still in his hand as he marched uphill toward them.
Ignoring the curious glances in their general direction, Mike bridged the distance to the young Inspector, meeting him halfway.
When he noticed the Lieutenant, Steve's pace slowed considerably, like a student dreading to come home after a failed exam.
"I lost him, Mike. I almost had him, but I lost him."
Immediately noticing his partner shiver, Mike took off his overcoat and draped it across the young Inspector's bare shoulders, tightening it symbolically to offer some warmth.
"Never mind all that, what's going on? What did you call in that was so urgent you…you jumped out of bed like this?"
"A prowler. Possibly the guy Karpa sent after you. And everybody you know.", Steve said beneath chattering teeth, "I saw him tamper with the Galaxy…he did something underneath the dash on the driver's side. He noticed me halfway down the stairs and took off, I gave chase. But then I lost him around the damn corner."
"Well, in that case, let's get the lab crew down here, see if he left any traces behind and tow the car back. Both of them actually. Your Porsche and the Galaxy, just to be safe. See what our friend tried to accomplish."
Giving his partner a final onceover, noticing the cowboy boots beneath the checkered pajama pants, Mike reached for his elbow, ready to drag him back to his apartment for a detailed discussion, when Steve hesitated.
"I can't be one-hundred percent sure, but I think I know who we are dealing with now. That…that guy working for Karpa. Let's head downtown and look at some mugshots together."