Stop. Now. It is time.
The voice in your head makes you freeze immediately. Your shoes scratch with the sidewalk below as you come to a sudden halt. From beside you, your partner notices you do so and waits, patiently. All of a sudden, your throat feels dry and your hands begin to shake.
For what?
Crisis, death. You can feel it in your blue soul, Inland Empire warns with a sombre tone, referring to the previous discussions of the mercenary tribunal.
What am I supposed to do?
Be prepared, make sure you have your pepper box in hand.
Your fingers reflexively reach for the Villiers 9mm pistol in your pocket. The metal is cold as your fingertips make contact with it, though you stroke the trigger with some reassurance. You swallow before turning to the lieutenant.
"I'm not sure I feel ready for what lies ahead" your voice sounds unsure, but tenacious, like a soldier about to step into the line of fire for the first time.
Shouldn't a soldier be among others on the frontline? Espirit du corps chimes in. Your eyes look to Kim, who flashes a small, reassuring smile.
Behind that smile, a minuscule flash of doubt, Empathy adds.
"Then you'd better get ready" he frowns, then quickly adds, "whatever happens, I've got your back". It's a sentence with the intent of comforting you, but a part of you wonders if it's also for the lieutenant to bolster himself. Your eyes stay on Kim for a few moments longer, words cannot express how thankful you are for not tackling this situation alone. You're about to move again, before Inland Empire rings once more.
One of you is going to be shot.
A great cold rushes over you, chilling you to your very core as you process the words. A nervous twitch in your right leg flares suddenly.
Woah woah woah, breathe. What's going on? Composure steadies you on the spot. There's no way you can leave it like that, you go back into your mind with questions.
Shot?
A lead devil will pierce one of your bodies and will put you to sleep. There is going to be blood, Inland Empire doesn't even try to soften things up.
Oh god. Shot like a dog on the street, Half Light sounds scared and cornered.
Shot on the front line like a good soldier, taking a bullet for their unit, Authority says.
You could dodge it, you could dodge anything, Savoir du Faire brags.
It is physically impossible to dodge a bullet, Visual Calculus argues.
Don't listen to the know-it-all over here, dodge it like one of those super cop movies, Electrochemistry says. None of the given answers are enjoyable.
Am I going to die?
You will carry on walking, your soul will be too vast for the bullet to shoot down, Inland Empire says, the voice soothing your worries. A sigh of relief and a slight flicker of happiness.
You are tired, but you are not finished, Volition reassures.
The show must go on, Conceptualisation backs. You manage to break into the smallest of smiles, a petrified, still terrified smile, but a smile none the less.
Aren't you forgetting something? Interfacing says, your attention being directed towards your chest. Your finger lifts itself to where your heart is and taps the body armour you put on earlier that is underneath. The porcelain material clicks happily in response, a reminder that it's purpose is to protect you.
Oh. Right. Forgot about that, Logic apologises.
Thank fuck, you couldn't of taken that shot, Half Life seems relieved.
You could've taken it, don't listen to them, Pain Threshold says.
No you couldn't of. On a better day, maybe. You're hurting too much as it is already, Endurance reminds you. You gain a momentarily spark of hope, bringing out your chest, almost putting it before any other part of your body, the twitch in your leg stops, like an engine slowly dying. A pair of police officers stand on a street, the fire of a tribunal slowly growing just a couple dozen feet away from them. They will get in between the two sides that are looking to kill each other eventually - they're cops - they have to. Bullets will be fired and people are going to get hurt. A noose is hanging around the neck of one of the officers while the other one holds the knife that will cut them free. Your eyes widen at the thought before warily looking over to your partner.
What about Kim?
There is a grey desert in your mind, radio silence, utter darkness as every thought is stopped like somebody pulled the plug on the power. Until finally, a light in the shadows, illuminating the response in your mind.
The lieutenant will be shot and removed from this story entirely.
A deafening thought for your mind and for you yourself to comprehend. You can't even remember which voice spoke to you with that terrible, terrible information. The lieutenant is looking ahead of you both at this moment, looking forwards to where the commotion is starting to begin. While you don't know the limit of the lieutenant's tenacity, you aren't sure that his mortal flesh could survive that gunshot.
He'd be out with just one gunshot? What a namby-pamby, Physical Instrument says.
Now's not the time, Empathy politely cuts in.
Forget all that, you need to tell him now! Reaction Speed blurts out.
That won't help. Telling someone that they're going to be shot will just make things worse, Logic says.
You need to be calm right now, he needs to be calm right now. Think rationally - I'm barely holding you together here, Composure says. Your mind races for a possible solution, from finding the shooter that has the highest probability of shooting the lieutenant, to wondering if you should just make an excuse to leave him behind. As you shift your body to look at him, a familiar series of metallic clicks sounds off, reminding you of the armour you currently have on your body. Your eyes light up at the inanimate object you're wearing, the idea formulating in your head.
No. Fuck that, you need that armour, Half-Light barks.
Without that armour, there's a 43% chance that you'll die, Visual Calculus says. You stop in your thoughts for a moment. 43%? That's pretty high.
Sire, there is no guarantee of the event taking place. These are all but humbled estimates my liege, Drama speaks up. A momentary pang of hope…
YOU'LL BE LYING IN A POOL OF YOUR OWN BLOOD AT THE END OF IT ALL
…utterly smothered by the single line from Inland Empire.
Take your final bows, detective, Conceptualisation almost hums.
Someone shut these guys up, if we're going to be shooting soon, then we need a steady hand, Hand-eye coordination reminds everyone.
I got this, come here you two, Composure reassures.
Hey! What?! Conceptualisation sounds taken off guard.
Who? Me?! Inland Empire says. You hold your hands together, squeezing as tightly as you can in an effort to stop them shaking. Your mind is a room of arguments, shouting and foul mouthing - where there is no single answer that feels like the right choice. You've been here before; Precinct 41. Grown men and woman in a screaming match upon what the next step will be, what mistake will be made next before a clearing in the harsh clouds of uncertainly shows. You can't make out what thoughts are speaking anymore, every one of them trying to make their voice heard only to be drowned out by the others. All but one.
Sitting at the head of the table, hands resting in front of them, utterly serene. Calm. Composed. Everything you aren't right now. This one does not often sit in that place, nor does it command much authority over the others. But for once, when it clears it's throat, the ocean of voices stop to listen.
The lieutenant is the reason why you're alive right now, Empathy says.
At first, a brief moment of confusion, as you can't recall a moment where your partner has directly saved your life. There's been no heroic dive in front of a bullet, no last-second catching of your hand before you fall. But then, you are reminded in a washing of memories of what this voice truly means.
The night where you had nowhere else to go, he sold those flashy hubcaps so that you could pay for the damages and sleep in the Whirling in Rags. Those spinners meant a lot to him, he was sad to see them go. But in the end, he did it so that his partner could have a place to stay. Or what about the time you passed out from reading that note in your ledger, unconscious in the morning soil. He carried you to his motor carriage, brought you back to conscious world by giving you water and making sure you could walk. He did all that for your health. How about the time down by the ice? By your sunken motor carriage. You exclaimed how you hated yourself and how the station wasn't going to take you back after this. 'People are more valuable than motor carriages' the words still ring in your head. His genuine happiness when you found your badge that held your name and rank. He did that for your sanity.
In the end, all of his deeds, his good-doings, he's done it for you.
What have you done for him?
The question from Empathy catches you completely off guard, mainly because you can't think of an immediate answer. A dozen things about what the lieutenant has done for you pop up, but nothing for what you've done for him?
That's not true! You dedicated that karaoke song to him! Electrochemistry shouts from the back row. It isn't a strong argument, and besides, that's one thing. A brief mutter of conversation in your brain reminds you that no, there isn't a single thing you can name, coming full-circle to Empathy once more.
Do this one thing. For him.
Your swallow, catching your breath as the inside of your mouth begins to feel dry again. You turn to face the lieutenant.
"Uhm - K-Kim" you get out, looking ahead to the commotion ahead of you while your hands fumble with the collar button of your shirt. The lieutenant looks to you, then immediately flinches upon seeing what you're doing.
"Officer, this isn't time for one of your ridiculous 'visions'. Please keep your clothes on-"
"No - Kim it's not, please trust me on this" you silence the lieutenant, your hands managing to undo the top three buttons of your shirt. You hands work as fast as they can and you realise halfway through your buttons that you aren't shaking anymore. You whip your shirt and jacket off, seeing them fall in the dirt beside you. You couldn't care less. Now moving on to the armour, you unbuckle the necessary joints and clicks in the armour until it pops off, a sad metallic chime sounding as you do so.
Like a dog watching it's owner leaving them tied to a post on the roadside, Conceptualisation says before Esprit Du Corps speaks.
East Jamrock, patrol officer Alexandre Maguire closes the door on her motor carriage to examine a mutt on the side of the road. It's shivering, frightened, with a half chewed leash wrapped around a rotting post. It's ribs are spread up against its stomach - it looks as if it hasn't eaten in a day. She brings a blanket from her motor vehicle, taking the leash off the post and wrapping the animal up, carrying it back into her car without a single word being spoken.
You bring the armour away from your body, examining it as you hold it with both hands.
Your musk is the first thing your notice, the scent of booze and sweat reeking from the under layer - good god - when was the last time you washed? Perception points out. With a sturdy hand, you hold the armour out towards the lieutenant and give it a gentle shake, a gesture that says: here, take it. The lieutenant eyes the armour, quizzical at the action, before his eyes settle in realisation. He looks you in the eye.
"Detective, I don't think that's necessary" he says. The tone of his voice is ever-so-slightly reassuring, yet he's still concerned about why you're doing this, Empath comments. You shake your head.
"Kim" you say the lieutenant's name in a mix of sternness and begging.
Steel yourself, you are the commanding officer, say it is an order, Authority says.
No, tell them of what you've said, structure it like a poem, Inland Empire suggests.
Yes. Keep him guessing, like a lethal puzzle, you'll need all the pieces to see the final image, Conceptualisation agrees.
Stop this. You know what to say next, Empathy says.
"Please"
There is a sincerity to your voice that speaks louder than if you would of shouted at the top of your lungs for the lieutenant to take the armour. You spot Kim blink twice in quick succession; he is surprised by your genuine tone, Perception points out. There is a moment of silence between the two of you as he gauges your action, to the point where you can almost make out the gears moving in his head. Finally, he takes the breastplate in his hands.
Thank god he's wearing gloves, can't even imagine how much you were sweating against that armour, Interfacing comments in relief. You watch the lieutenant feel the weight of it in his hands, before beginning to take off his orange jacket and strip away the tank top he's wearing. The lieutenant's physique is thin but not underweight, still holding a certain amount of mass to it to keep him able.
His physique could also be considered as attractive to some, Electrochemistry purrs. You look away from the lieutenant changing, a hinge of embarrassment lingering in your mind for a moment before disappearing altogether. Hearing the fastening and clicks of the armour being adjusted gives you a wave of comfort, knowing that the lieutenant will be somewhat protected against what is to come. When you turn back around, Kim has all of his clothes back on, putting his hand through the right sleeve of his jacket as you look. The armour underneath his vest is somewhat obvious, like his clothes don't fit right afterwards, but in the heat of the moment, it would be easy to miss. Straightening out his jacket, he looks to you, shifting his eyes up and down.
"Your clothes, detective?" he says. The tiniest curving a smile forms to the left side of his mouth - he finds this funny, composure spots. You blink, once, before looking down and seeing that you have forgotten to put your shirt and jacket back on. The Expression flashes quickly to give the reassuring 'I'm not crazy' smile to your partner before beginning to get dressed again. After a few moments though, after you're changed, any smile between the two vanishes; a knowing sign of worry over what has to come next. You steady your breath, prepping yourself, both physical and mentally. You take a single step forward.
Stop! Go back! Half Light pleads.
No. It is too late now, this has to be done, Logic says.
Keep your chin up soldier, you have this, Authority bolsters you.
I'll be here if things go south, you know what I'm like, Hand-eye Coordination says.
Me too, we've got your back, Suggestion adds. Suddenly, a wave of clarity and confidence sweeps throughout your system, an electric song of your senses lining up together.
Every.
Single.
One of us.
The sun disappeared a long time ago.
Kim Kitsuragi looks to his watch, seeing it turn just past one in the morning. His right hand holds the circular time-teller on his wrist. Was it really that late already? Never mind. He'd rather get this done now. A slim needle is pulled away from the table, the lieutenant's jacket being laid out in front of him. Sewing was not one of the lieutenant's strong suites, which was odd - since he had stitched plenty of wounds shut in his lifetime - but tailoring itself was always a different matter. He was almost finished, the small hole that had been punched through his jacket merely a marking of the past. The past. The force of the bullet slamming up against the armour that day was something special, something he had never experienced before. The shooter had caught him completely off guard, firing at him from behind as he was tending to the detective on the floor who had just been shot. It wasn't the blood beneath him that unsettled him then, it was that look in the detective's eyes. That lost, searching and satisfied look - like he had seen this play out before, yet he had still accepted the fate that had been brought upon him, as if he had been waiting years for it to come. The lieutenant's concentration broke once more, sighing as he rest his hand down. He turned to view the man laying on the sofa bed behind him in the dark. It was a relief seeing his body rising and falling, hopefully the detective was in a deep sleep and recovering - it was the best thing for him at the moment. The detective had been shot, twice. Once in the shoulder, the other in the leg, barely missing a vital artery. The lieutenant was almost certain that the armour could've helped prevent the first shot from happening at all, which led him deeper into a pit of questions. His eyes met the face of the sleeping detective, their unkempt hair drooped across their eyes in threads as they snored. Out of all the things in his mind, only one mystery remained unsound and unanswered.
"How did you know that was going to happen?"
The lieutenant's words hung in the air, nobody giving an answer to the question that sat so prominently in his mind.
It was impossible. Truly. It was luck. Yes - he just got lucky. But then again, why did he seem so certain when he gave up that armour. The lieutenant's gaze lingered for a hesitant moment before eventually, he turned back around to continue sewing up the bullet hole left behind in his jacket.
The lieutenant hoped that the detective would be able to walk tomorrow, they still had a case to solve.