My first piece of work involving the Dirty Harry movies crossed over with Death Wish; I felt, despite the two men's differing ideals, they would be kindred spirits of a sort.

Enjoy.

Two Vigilantes, Two Kindred Spirits.

Aiming his prized gun straight at the bastard's head, Inspector 'Dirty Harry' Callaghan glared down at the man, no the thing that was cowering on the ground, shaking with fear as he gazed up at him while he had his right hand clamped tightly over his wounded arm to stem the blood flow from the bullet wound. Callaghan couldn't help but smirk inwardly in satisfaction the arrogant bastard was no longer arrogantly boasting about what he had done.

Michael Allen, once a respected teacher now a notorious paedophile, had crossed the line. After five years of sexually assaulting kids and investigated thoroughly and always walking despite the several investigations because Allen somehow managed to hold back his boasting, he had moved up and actually strangled a kid. The poor kid had been grabbed and somehow she had managed to get away, but he had grabbed onto her and strangled the life out of her but two other kids and a teacher saw it and reported it in. And now Allen had been outed as the piece of shit he was.

It was way past being about time.

As if he needed to hear it again, the bastard had been boasting about his sick rape of several kids. Callaghan had heard of guys who had done things like exposing themselves to women, or smacking them around and not even realising they were doing anything wrong, but for it to go this far…

Callaghan bit his lip, angry with the orders that said this piece of shit had to hauled in. Why did nobody understand this guy if he was ever let out would likely do it again, repeating the entire cycle all over again?

There were times he was seriously sure the justice department in their desire to treat prisoners and suspects humanely to give the impression to the public the police were heroic, rather than constructive.

"So, what're gonna do, 'Dirty Harry?" Allen sneered, but Callaghan picked up on the fear of the man.

Callaghan felt as if he were about to be sick saying the words. "I'm taking you in."

"What?" There was genuine surprise in Allen's voice, but there was a sneer in his voice that made him sound insincere. "I've heard of you, Inspector. You've never given a damn about orders before. What's wrong, losing your touch?"

It took all of Callaghan's self-control to stop himself from throwing himself towards the little bastard and making what happened afterwards to Allen look like an accident so his superiors wouldn't reprimand him. Again. In the end, he just decided to get it out of the way, and he lunged forwards. Unfortunately, Callaghan wasn't sure what happened next - later he would wonder if Allen had come to a completely different plan or a host of them, and simply chose the one which made more sense at the time - but somehow the murdering paedophile managed to break free and ran off down the street, kicking the police inspector in the process.

Callaghan shook his head to shake off the pain in his head, and he took off after Allen. The good thing was he hadn't been that badly stunned, and he'd recovered quickly. But Allen had a significant lead on him. The only good thing about that was he was wounded, and Callaghan hoped the pain in his arm would make the paedophile flag and make it easier to catch him or run him down.

But the long chase never happened. Allen must have gotten halfway down the street when a man suddenly appeared ahead of him and shot Allen, making the paedophile drop to the ground before smacking him in the head with something like a pipe or a metal bar.

"Hold it!" Callaghan yelled, aiming his gun at the other man. But as he approached, he saw the man step into the light slightly, a tall middle-aged man with a weatherbeaten face, dark moustache flecked with grey.

A spark of recognition dawned in Callaghan's mind. "I know you."

The man stepped back. "No, I don't think you do."

Suddenly Callaghan recognised him. "I know you. Yeah… Paul Kersey."

He had heard of the architect turned vigilante from New York of course, and the tragic story of how he had become a vigilante. Callaghan knew if his own family had been raped and assaulted by a bunch of muggers who broke into his home, he'd have chucked in his badge and shot down every fucking mugger he could find; it wouldn't make his family better, but it would make certain nobody else suffered in such a brutal way.

And he wouldn't have cared.

He wouldn't have cared if it ended his career as a police officer although he would have been upset his chances of making a difference were over.

He wouldn't have cared one little bit if he had slaughtered every single mugger, murderer, and thief in the city.

All he would have wanted was to make the city safer.

But he had never crossed that line, skirted it a few times, but he had hardly crossed it. But Paul Kersey had crossed it, and he had found a world he thrived in.

Callaghan made it a point to know about every vigilante group of individuals that sprang up even in different cities, but he had not expected to meet this man here, in San Francisco.

"You know who I am?" Kersey looked uncertainly at him, although it was clear he was curious.

"I'm Inspector Harry Callaghan, SFPD."

"I dunno if that's better or worse than the alternatives."

"Trust me, it's better. What are you doing in San Francisco in the first place?"

Kersey shrugged. "I became a bit of a nomad after my identity was exposed in New York. The police officer in charge of the investigation was privately sympathetic after my wife and daughter were…attacked by muggers who broke into our home, and he urged me to leave. I took him up on his offer, but I'd started to enjoy being a vigilante. I've been moving around ever since."

Callaghan wasn't surprised to hear that. Most people got a thrill out of seeing their work had a lasting effect, he was no different. Ever since the day he had become so tired of how his work as a cop seemed to be like a revolving door; no matter how many times and no matter how many hours he worked, it never seemed to do any good.

"I know who you are as well; they call you Dirty Harry because you have a habit of shooting first, asking questions later?"

Callaghan wasn't offended. He actually felt that fit him down to a T. "Something like that. How long are you gonna be in San Francisco?"

Kersey shrugged. "I dunno. Are you going to arrest me?"

"No, there's no point. You haven't done anything wrong. You might have shot Allen, but you didn't kill him-."

"I saw you chasing him; had the situation been different, then I would have killed him. But I heard the police wanted him alive - God knows why - but I was not looking for him."

Callaghan wasn't sure if he believed him, but it could have been simple blind luck Kersey had seen Allen in the first place. "What were you doing, and with a gun?"

"Old habits. I learnt a long time ago that muggers are usually afraid if you show them you're gonna fight back."

Callaghan was intrigued. "How did that happen?"

"After my wife and daughter were attacked, I created an improvised weapon; I filled a sock with some quarters, and I went out into the streets and it didn't take long before I ran into someone. I smacked him in the face and he ran off when he realised I could fight back."

Callaghan chuckled. "Yeah. Many of them are cowards."

"Do you mind if I ask you something?" Kersey seemed more relaxed now they were speaking without guns being pulled on each other.

"Sure," Callaghan said amiably. "What's up?"

"Why do they call you 'Dirty'?"

Callaghan sighed. "A long time ago I became disenchanted with the law, and how it seemed to favour the scum, so I decided to take the law into my own hands. I showed I didn't give a damn about crossing the line, and hence I was known as Dirty Harry."

"I'm not going to be one of those people. I saw the way you were chasing down this piece of shit," Kersey kicked the still prone Allen gently with his toe. "But I know of your reputation just as you do mine. I also knew the police and the DA office wanted him alive, but I wasn't expecting to deal with him tonight."

"I was tempted to kill him," Harry replied, filing away the possibility Kersey might have actually been looking for Allen, but had been prepared to not encounter him, but the inspector didn't have any proof and in truth, he didn't care; it was possible and more likely Kersey had merely been wandering the streets looking for regular muggers to kill, and he got lucky.

"After what he did, I don't blame you. Anyway, he's your problem," Kersey smiled and offered Callaghan his hand. The police inspector took it, both of them sharing a moment. Kersey and Harry Callaghan stared into one another's eye, both of them seeing the other was the same in some way.

Both of them kindred spirits.

Both of them vigilantes, and both more than willing to do whatever it took to ensure justice won out.