A/N - A special thank-you to everyone who has left suggestions for future chapters. Please don't think I'm ignoring you. I am pondering each one, and I really hope my muse will cooperate because they are all great ideas!
This one came from StarlingJedi who said: "How about something from the POV of one of the SWAT team raiding the Library at the end of "Deus Ex Machina"? I often wondered what must they have thought of the abandoned library, and the computers and the pictures and the dog bed?"
Here you go, StarlingJedi - I hope you like it.
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The A-Team (no- it's not a crossover)
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(As always - I am not profiting from this is any way other than the joy that I get from the reviews- thank-you!)
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When I graduated from the academy and became one of the NYPD's finest I was excited - terrified, maybe - but excited. I was ready to make a real difference in the world. And for several years, I thought I was. I had one of the best arrest records in my precinct.
When I got a position in the ESU, I was proud. It felt like proof that I was doing my part to make the city a better place to live. I was leaving the misdemeanors and the drug pushers to someone else and taking down the really bad guys. Next I set my sights on the A-Team.
The Apprehension Tactical Team or "A-Team" was the elite of law enforcement in NYC. They participated in most of the city's more notable criminal take-down operations, so that was where I wanted to be.
Now I'm in my second year with the A-Team and it's everything I hoped it would be. It's intense and the hours are long and some of the people I work with are a little crazy, but I'm doing what I love. I'm making a difference.
Recently though, we had an assignment that made me question what we do.
We were briefed that this was the hide-out of some of the worst criminals the city had ever seen. We were told that certain alphabet organizations had been hunting these guys for years and couldn't find them. We had. Now all we had to do was go in and take them down with extreme prejudice. We were warned that this group of four - possibly up to seven perps - would be better armed, more highly trained, more violent, and more desperate to escape than perhaps any we'd seen before.
Needless to say tensions were running high on the ride over.
The location was the old library. I actually went here as a kid. It was a haven from the rest of the world and I had a lot of good memories there. It made me furious to think that someone had taken it and twisted it. Used it to hurt and to destroy lives when for so many years it had stood for all that is good in this city.
I don't think that's what happened though.
When we went in, I expected to see the usual: filth, garbage, drug paraphernalia, weapons and ammo. I figured I'd see rare books and art that had been used for target practice or worse. I expected the usual feeling of needing a shower afterwards - just from the atmosphere. And at first, I wasn't that far off. The lower levels were trashed. But we continued our sweep.
Everything was quiet. Absolutely silent. The only sound was our own carefully light footfalls. It was eery and I worried that some of our newer members might get skittish. They are highly trained, but they're only human.
On the upper floor, we finally found what had to be their HQ. But I still didn't see anything like what I was expecting. The first thing I noted after clearing the room was an advanced computer set-up. That wasn't so surprising since a lot of the bigger monsters are going digital these days. But that's where the similarities ended. This was organized, efficient, and clean. The floor was carefully swept. There wasn't even dust on the shelves. There was no evidence of drugs or even alcohol. Instead there was some soup, dry packets of noodles, coffee, and loose tea near a mini fridge and microwave set off to one side. This was a place where people worked - where things got done.
I'd expected a cesspool. What I found felt more like a sanctuary.
Up here, every book was on the shelves and a quick glance told me they were as ordered as if old Mrs. Welsh was still tending them.
Some of my teammates started to trash the place in their 'search', ripping out drawers, smashing and tipping things over. I get it - when adrenaline is pumping that hard and you are expecting to be in the fight of your life, it's hard to turn that off. Sometimes it has to go somewhere. And some of the guys really hated it when it turned out a team with our level of skill was unnecessary. No one wants to feel useless. But the wanton destruction made me sad and I had the distinct feeling that if the occupant saw this he might weep.
I began to wonder if law enforcement had any place being here at all. There was a dog bed for pete's sake! A nice one with some toys and rather expensive kibble nearby - as if someone had really cared about this dog. These were not our usual brand of criminals. I wondered if they were criminals at all.
Instead of feeling like a conquering hero, I felt like an intruder here to defile and desecrate.
I moved on from there to help clear the rest of the floor and found even more anomalies. I found a closet with some nice suits and shirts in it. There was a cot in a quiet corner, a feather pillow at one end, covered neatly with a clean blanket. In one of the reading rooms I saw an old leather couch with a small lamp next to it. An ancient book with a well preserved leather cover sat on the table next to it. A bookmark was visible as if someone had just set it down and had expected to return.
I did finally spot some alcohol. In a cupboard in one of the back rooms were some dusty bottles of wine, and a couple bottles of whiskey - the good stuff - better than what I could afford on my salary. One of the whiskey bottles was was about a third gone.
The bathroom was my last chance to find some incriminating drug paraphernalia. But it was very clean except for a few, rather expensive, high quality men's toiletries, and - oddly enough - a couple toothbrushes. In my experience, criminals are just not that big on dental care.
On my way back to the computer room I saw that one of my teammates had finally found some drugs. They were inside a red bag - part of an extensive first aid kit. Some of them could be misused - narcotic pain relief and the like, but I had a feeling that's not why they were there...
The thing that seemed most out of place was the list. There had been a list of numbers in the computer room. A list with pictures, notes and news articles pinned to them. I headed back to there with new purpose. I decided I needed to get eyes on it before the detectives or whoever came in and took over. I snuck out my phone and snapped a couple pictures of it so I could look into them later.
For the next couple weeks, my time off was busy as I looked into every person on that list. I combined information I found online with the notes from the board. They were all dead. Obviously my first thought was that these were the group's victims. That was the story being circulated by those in charge: Our criminals were hit men: expensive, highly skilled assassins.
But as I looked deeper that became less and less likely. The cases seemed too widely varied. And few of these people had enough money to attract the attention of high class criminals. I didn't buy the gun-for-hire story. It fit what we had found - it explained everything - but it didn't feel right.
A couple weeks later, I was lying in bed when it all came together for me: The closet. The closet I'd pulled open while searching for our quarry had held a couple of dark suits and several white shirts.
You had to be deaf and blind to be a part of the NYPD in the last few years and NOT know about The Man in the Suit.
That detective in the 8th had chased him for a long time without finding him and then rumor had spread that he'd been killed by a car bomb. That was the feds' story anyway. But I never completely believed he was gone.
If he was dead then someone was continuing his work.
The NYPD had unofficially adopted a 'look the other way' policy where he was concerned. He was doing good work. And while I wasn't exactly in favor of vigilantes in general - in his case I was willing to make an exception. As long as he didn't cause any trouble, but continued to prevent it, I wasn't going to say anything and neither was anyone else. I was pretty sure the NYPD needed him.
Add the fact that in the weeks since our raid his work seems to have finally ceased, (crime is up all over the city) and I'm sure my theory is correct.
I also have developed a theory about the list. I don't think it's a list of their victims. I think it's a list of the people they tried… and failed... to save. I find that interesting because I would expect their HQ to be covered in records of their victories - not their failures. The existence of that list told me volumes about these men: These deaths were displayed - not as trophies - but as reminders of why they did their work - why they risked their lives to save people they had never met.
It torments me to think that I was part of the group that ended their valiant work. Sometimes I wonder if I should quit. If my unit is doing this kind of harm perhaps I should not be a part of it.
But then I get up in the morning and go to work. If The Man in the Suit and his friend(s?) are really gone, then it is up to people like me to take up the slack.
The world needs more people like them.
