It Could Be Worse
Episode 3: The First Mission
By Sulia Serafine
[1-15-01. A Protector of the Small fanfic set in an alternate universe; all credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me.
Oh, one more thing: BAD LANGUAGE (I. E. cursing, swearing…). You have been warned!
I'd also like to thank those who gave me help with the character descriptions. If anyone else want to help me, please e-mail me at silverwLng@aol.com, okay? I'm finally getting around to working on my tiny website, and there's a new section for my Tortall stories. I'll tell you the address when I deem it worthy to be seen by you. Enjoy the chapter, I know you've been waiting for it! Please, tell me what you think. I'd also like to once again thank those who made ALLO a success. This one's for you.
P.S. Something I forgot! This Story takes place in 949 H.E, but it is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE!]
Keladry approached the 556 -shuttle bus to Corinth. It was almost like the greyhound buses from a century ago, except that it was designed with hovering capabilities and more storage space without compromising seating room above. She waited until she got past the crowd of tourists and other travelers to throw her duffel bag in among the rest. She spied an area to the back of the compartments. Two family sized compartments had been sectioned off for something else.
"His bike," she realized and shook her head. "Of course. How could I forget." Keladry sighed and got back in line to get on the bus and have her ticket taken. It wasn't paper, but a piece of plastic that was reused over and over again like subway tokens was used. The line moved swiftly and Keladry stepped up to put her token in the slot. The screen flashed green and she continued past.
Waiting for people to get their belongings up in the overhead compartments, she scanned the bus for her partner. Keladry wished she could find her own seat far away from him, but it wasn't for her to decide. Finally, the isle was clear and she proceeded to the back of the bus where Joren sat in the last seat. He glanced at her before returning his gaze to the window. His knee was propped up against the back of the seats in front of him and his elbow rested on his knee. Keladry hesitantly sat down beside him.
"I hate isle seats," she thought. But then, she became optimistic. "There's not much scenery to look at from here to Corinth anyway. I don't talk as much as others, so there's no reason to be upset over lack of conversation." She paused. "But I should worry about the bike I'll have to ride when we get there. I've only ridden one of those things at the academy! And I wasn't even the one driving. I just sat behind him. I'll look so foolish and amateur." She blinked. "Wait, I am an amateur. Oh well." Insecurity settled in her mind for a permanent stay.
When they got to Corinth two and a half days later, Joren retrieved his bike from storage and made sure his bag was strapped on tightly to the back. Then he motioned for Keladry to follow him when they went to the vehicle sales company across the street. A short balding man greeted them.
"Hello, welcome to Dunlath Vehicles, the best in Mithros. How may I help you?"
Joren leaned on the counter that separated them. "Yes, I need a bike for her." He turned to her and started giving her the once over. "Probably one of the newer Softail Springers-- something better than 1450cc. Okay?"
The man frowned and looked at Keladry. "Maybe the young lady would prefer something more suited to beginners. There are some nice new scooters in the back that the third class female officers around here are fond of renting."
Joren glared at the man. He leaned forward and said in a low voice, "She'll take what I suggested, pal."
Keladry's eyes widened. The other man was offering her something for beginners-- which she obviously was one-- while Joren insisted that she ride something advanced. He was either out of his mind or complimenting her by trusting her with something as high-leveled as that. The man checked his database and told Joren what number it was in the garage. He reached for Keladry's wrist. She obediently let him scan her pager ID.
"And who will be paying for this?" the man inquired. Joren glanced at her.
"My salary may be great, but it goes to my little siblings back home," Keladry replied.
Joren shrugged. "Whatever. I'll pay for it." He held out his wrist to be scanned and also repeated his account number from memory for the database. There was an approving-credit beep. Joren lowered his wrist. "So, where is it?"
"Number 79 in the back," the man jerked a thumb over his shoulder. Joren headed to the back of the garage with Keladry at his heels. Now she was even more uncomfortable than before. He bought her a bike. She owed him a lot of money. But how much did she owe? Keladry coughed quietly into her fist. He caught a glimpse of her in the corner of his eye as he walked.
"Yes?"
"How much did that cost?" she asked nervously.
He paused before responding. "At least 750 Nobles."
"W-what?" she stammered in disbelief. "You didn't have to--"
"Don't worry about it," he interrupted. "I'm glad to get a great ride like that out of a nothing place like this."
She lowered her gaze to the floor as they continued toward the back of the garage. When they finally reached it, Keladry was in awe. Its chrome shined like the sun was hitting it for the first time. She couldn't believe how smooth it felt under her touch. It was deep red, the same color as the stripe on Joren's uniform. She put one hand on the buckhorn handlebar and inspected the low-profile headlight.
"A beauty, isn't she?" Joren smiled. Keladry noticed then that he only smiled when talking about bikes. She wordlessly nodded. He continued. "Yeah, a classic. I can't believe they stopped making them after this latest model. A century ago, it was styled after a HD front fork. But unlike the old versions, this one has a shaded windshield like mine and the fuel capacity is more environmentally safe. Not to mention the interchangeable database." He patted the seat. "I could fix this one up for nothing."
She stared at him. "You… you'd do that?"
He narrowed his eyes. "Don't get any ideas. I do this for the bike, not you."
Keladry frowned. "Oh. That's okay. So, what would you add?"
"Tracking system if you're on a chase. Maybe some low-class hidden weapon compartments." He scratched his head. "I'm not sure. Well, let's take this baby out. We're going to Carthak."
Keladry paled a little. "I, um, don't really know--"
Joren snorted. "Oh, come on…"
"Hey!" she snapped. "It's not like they make you take classes for riding at the academy!" She desperately tried not to blush. "So…"
They spent all afternoon at Dunlath, Joren instructing her on the basics. Keladry couldn't feel like more of an idiot the whole time. She wasn't used to encountering things like this. She was accustomed to be the top of her class, and now she thought otherwise. Finally at 5:32 PM, they left Dunlath and started out for Corinth. The 1B officer nervously tried to get used to riding. The helmet felt so weird the first time she put it on. Joren of course, had no problem and always remained ten to fifteen feet in front of her. If she dropped back, he would look and see and then drop back with her-- although she knew he didn't like it.
Speed was so obvious when you looked at him. He ached to race along the highway. He didn't seem to care about the nice countryside around them. The fresh green grass or the mountains in the distance. The unbelievable blue sky soothed Keladry more than she anticipated. Tortall was beautiful, but nothing compared to nature herself.
And another two days later, Joren and Keladry boarded the ferry across the Great Inland Sea to where Carthak was situated on the coast across from them. Mumbling something she didn't catch, Joren went upstairs after parking in the garage. Keladry turned off her bike's database and went up after him, slightly confused.
She found him sitting at a booth in the corner while the other passengers of the ferry flocked to the middle to buy food. Her stomach grumbled a bit, but she wanted to talk to her 'partner' first. Keladry slid into the seat across from him. "Hey. What's up?"
His mood still remained the same from when they first met. He glanced at her and shrugged. "Nothing. We have to change clothes before we reach the mainland again. No sense in letting everyone know we're DJPF."
"Right," she nodded. "Are you hungry?"
"No," he replied in a drab voice and leaned his elbow on the table. "Go ahead and get something to eat. I don't care."
"You never care," she thought and went up to get in line. When she returned with a meal consisting of two triangle sandwiches, a bag of chips, an apple, and a can of orange soda, Joren was holding a portable database in his hands. She assumed he kept it in his main belt since she didn't notice it before. "Are you sure you're not hungry?"
"I'm sure," he looked up with an expression of annoyance.
She popped the tab on her orange soda and continued, "Well, I don't want a partner who works on an empty stomach. It isn't healthy and I know for a fact you haven't eaten." She thought to her self, "Oh, there you go again, Kel. Lecturing somebody on what they should do, just like Neal or Owen."
Joren glared at her. Kel stared at him, and happily won the staring match as he reached for her apple and started to polish it with his sleeve. He put down the portable database. Before he took his first loud crunching bite, he pointed to it. "That's our guy."
Keladry leaned over the table and turned it around to see the screen right side up. On the holo-screen was a man with bronze skin and short dark hair. His menacing eyes tried to intimidate her, as well as his scowl. His nose was prominent in his face, and his eyebrows thick and low. His high forehead left something to be thought of. Whenever she saw high foreheads, she thought of someone keeping their chin high up as well.
"Ozorne Tasikhe," she breathed. "That's the guy?"
"Yeah," he said, holding his half-eaten apple in his hand. "There are no leads to his location except that he's in Carthak and he's been causing loads of trouble." He quickly finished his apple and tossed the core into the waste can three feet away.
Keladry chewed on her sandwich and took another sip of her drink. "So, Mr. Special Operative, what do you want to do?"
He thought for a moment, and then replied, "We'll stake out one of the clubs in the slums. I know a few places down there with reputations for brawls involving rebel members. Look it up if you have to." He stood up. "I'm getting out of uniform."
She finished her lunch while reading up on the most dangerous areas of Carthak. Then she took his database with her when she went to change into some civilian clothes. Keladry hardly wore civilian clothes. Her whole life had been in uniform. This time, she inspected herself in the mirror with a disapproving look. The 1B officer wore a sleeveless blue shirt with a gray vest, then a pair of blue jeans and faded white sneakers. She fit her handgun into its holster under her thick vest, then slipped her collapsible energy glaive into her ankle brace.
"I look normal," she bit her lip. "So why does it feel so weird?" She rolled her eyes. " Oh, that's right. I'm not normal. That's why."
Then she put on her gloves and her wristband again. With a satisfied mind, she left the bathroom. She returned back to the passenger area. She spotted Joren at the same booth before and went to join him. He didn't look too much out of uniform-- black pants, boots, black jacket and a shirt with red collars. He retained his cold mood.
"If he wasn't such a rude jerk, I'd think he looked handsome," she thought and sat down. "Hey. So, are we almost there?"
"Yeah. Don't screw up our covers, Mindelan."
She narrowed her eyes. "Same goes to you, Stone."
~~
Carthak was like a futuristic Gotham City. The place was dim, not just because of the smoke and the high skyscrapers that blocked out the sunlight-- but the people who lived there. Trash littered the streets while homeless people gathered around steel barrels with fire inside. Ground cars drove past, while hover cars were flying three stories above in their own traffic lighted traffic lanes. Thieves and criminals lurked in the shadows. Housewives bolted their windows when they could not afford digital locks. Children played inside, confined to their rooms for fear of being snatched away from their families.
Keladry and Joren rode into a private garage. The man there had a good reputation. Their rides wouldn't get stolen. Joren and Keladry wore false ID pages over their real ones and let the man scan those. They were undercover, after all.
"There's a place called Crypt near here. I don't want to go inside unless we have to, so we'll hang around the entrance."
She nodded and they walked silently to the ominous club. They heard loud music as they rounded the corner. A man with white blond hair cropped close to his head was strolling down the sidewalk toward the entrance. He had large brown eyes, but a frown on his face. Joren stiffened. Keladry glanced at him.
"What is it?"
"I know that guy from the Wanted List. He works for Tasikhe."
"Do you think our guy is here?" she whispered back.
A black hover limousine lowered itself slowly from the hover lanes above and parked in front of the Crypt.
"I guess that answers your question," he said and pulled her over to the side of a building. With wide eyes, Keladry was backed up against the wall. Joren put his arms around her waist and pressed himself up against her.
"Hey!" she whispered fiercely. "You pervert, what do you think you're d--"
"Shut up!" he growled. "Put your arms around my neck and look over my shoulder. Watch the damn limo. We're not officers here, remember, Mindelan?"
Keladry blushed slightly and did as she was told. She shivered nervously when she felt his nose touch her ear.
"What do you see?" he asked.
"The guy you pointed out earlier--"
"Kieran LaMinch."
"Yeah. LaMinch is opening the door to the limo," she whispered, while trying to keep her head down on his shoulder. "A man is stepping out."
Joren closed his eyes. "What does he look like?"
"So far, all I see is black hair. He's… he's shaking hands with LaMinch," she squinted. "Okay, okay. Now he's turning around… It's our man, all right."
"Shh! Don't talk so loudly." Joren paused. "What now?"
"They're going in."
"Then we are, too." He let go of her and stood back. Keladry kept her face lowered still. No one had ever held her like that. It definitely wasn't in the job description. "No wonder I never became an undercover agent," she thought to herself. "This requires a lot of acting that I'm not good at it one bit."
"Hello? Are we going?" Joren glared at her. She snapped out of her thoughts.
"Yeah. Right." She followed him to the entrance of the club. The bouncers, two giant men with headsets, checked their ID's and admitted them entrance. There was a discount price for couples, so the two partners hooked arms and smiled falsely.
"I can't believe this," she muttered.
"Stop complaining. Somebody will hear you."
Crypt was a big club. There was a large dance floor with flashing colored lights and holographic projections on the ceiling. Men and women danced wildly to the fast-paced beat. Others sat at the long bar drinking their cocktails and beers. Others sat at private stalls and tables. Keladry spotted Ozorne and Kieran at the lone booth at the far end of the dance floor.
"I am not dancing," she whispered to him with determination when he saw them as well.
"Neither am I," he replied. "Damn it. We'll have to hang around the bar until I think of something."
"We think of something," she corrected.
"Whatever."
They ambled over to the bar and sat down on the end closest to the dancing floor. Joren leaned toward Keladry. "Psst. I'm going force some information out from the bartender. Why don't you go flirt with those henchmen over there."
"What? No way! How do you even know they're henchmen?"
Joren tapped his belt where his database was concealed. She folded her arms. "Can't we just wait until we single out Ozorne and arrest him, there? The guy is filth, through and through. Why exert more effort than we have to?"
"He attacks the government for reasons we don't know," he stated coldly.
"Yes, we do know," she argued. "He wants power."
"Maybe so, but there's more to it than that," he replied. His eyes were misted over slightly. "I know there is."
She decided not to ask questions. A girl sitting beside her turned around. She was short, plump, only giving her the advantage of sensuous curves, with long dark hair, brown eyes, and full lips. She was dark skinned and had a dangerous smile. "I'm sorry. I couldn't help but overhear your… conversation."
She flipped her hair over her shoulder, not in a ditzy way, but in a confident, in-control manner. Joren glared at his partner.
"You were talking too loud."
"I was not," she protested and turned back to the girl. The stranger looked to be 22 to 24 years old. She wore a light green duster over a white halter top with forest green embroidery and flared black pants. Keladry once again felt the insecurity of her own looks creep in. "Um, excuse me, but how much did you overhear?"
"Oh, enough. So you want Ozorne, right? You must be with the DJPF because you certainly don't look like bounty hunters. Well, maybe he does, but not you, honey," she said while drumming her fingers on the bar top.
Joren scowled. "What do you want?"
"I'm kind of thirsty…"
"And that means what to me?"
"Dirty Martini. Please."
The operative from Tusaine mumbled something incoherent, although Keladry was sure it was vulgar, and lifted his hand to signal one of the bartenders. A middle-aged man with dark hair and a full beard walked over. Joren ordered the drink with a sneer on his face and turned back to the mysterious woman.
"Is that enough to keep you quiet?" he asked with mock politeness.
"I guess so," she sighed. She held out her hand to Keladry. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Lalasa Isran."
Keladry shook hands with her a bit reluctantly. "Nice to meet you. I'm, uh… Adalia," she said quickly, taking her sister's name. It was also the name on her fake ID. She hoped her sister didn't mind. Well, not that Adie would find out. It was for the good of the country, after all.
"And your boyfriend's name?"
The two officers grimaced visibly. Keladry shuddered. "He's my partner, not my boyfriend."
"Don't tell her we're partners!" Joren scolded.
"She already knows we're DJPF," she pointed out. "So, Lalasa, you really won't tell anyone about us?"
Lalasa opened her mouth to rich laughter. "Of course not. To tell you the truth, I'm not too fond of Mr. Tasikhe."
"How can we trust you? We don't even know you," Joren hissed.
She leaned toward him and smiled again, an enrapturing, perilous smile. "You don't have much of a choice, do you?"
The two officers exchanged looks. They didn't.
Lalasa sipped her Dirty Martini and stood up. "Thanks for the drink, sweethearts." She began to walk away, and stopped two steps away. She threw a glance over her shoulder and called, "You can find him after hours downstairs. Go through the alley, climb the wall, and find the extremely rusted sewer cover. It's the back way in."
And she was gone. Keladry stared after her, trying to catch glimpses of the strange woman in the crowd she disappeared into. She turned uncertainly to her partner. "So, what do you think?"
"We've got nothing to lose," he shrugged-- something she now concluded was his default reaction to everything.
"Except our heads, maybe."
"That's what missions like these are about," Joren said. He signaled for the bartender and asked for some scotch. Keladry glared at him with a slight look of horror etched in her face.
"You can't be drinking now. We're on the job! And besides, no active officer is allowed to drink. It's one of our codes."
Joren rolled his eyes. "Stop being a good two shoes. Relax. We have hours until we check out Ozorne. I'll stay sober." He patted his disgusting flat stomach. "I've got a good constitution."
"By Glory," she muttered. She rested her chin in her palm again and watched the dance floor. It was a pity that she couldn't dance very well. Who had time for fun when you were an aspiring officer trying to follow in the footsteps of a nearly legendary figure? She sighed and shook her head.
Hours later when Keladry was practically asleep from boredom, Joren shook her shoulder. Sure enough, he seemed sharp and sober. They left the Crypt, not having to navigate through throngs of people anymore. The crowds had thinned out. Keladry looked at her wristband. "It's 2:00 in the morning," she groaned. "We've been here for five hours."
"Tough," he replied and led them out. "That Lalasa woman better be right. And if it turns out to be a false tip, then we're screwed forever. We can't put on the record that a strange woman gave us this information. We'd be discharged from the friggin' service."
They entered the alley beside Crypt and climbed over the wall by using a couple of metal trash bins as their footings. Joren jumped down, not even offering a helping hand to Keladry as she gripped the top of the wall. Of course, she reminded herself, she didn't need help. She was a first class officer, wasn't she? Keladry swung herself over the wall and dropped to the ground.
They were now in an alley that opened up to the opposite street behind the Crypt. And just as Lalasa dictated, there was a very rusted sewer cover two feet away. Joren hooked his fingers into the sewer cover's holes and lifted it up. There was a clean metal ladder underneath that led into the darkness. He shook off the rust that was left on his gloves.
"Well, let's get to it. Go first. And be careful, for crying out loud," he warned her.
"I will," she said through gritted teeth and climbed down. She moved away when she reached the ground. Joren came after her and closed up the sewer hole after them.
"Do you have a light?" Keladry whispered.
"Use your pager light. The smaller, the better," he replied.
She touched her pager, turning on the tiny light that came with the mini-screen. Joren did the same, advancing ahead of her. He gestured with his hand for her to follow him as they traveled down the narrow tunnel to a square of light at the end. They reached the square of light, which was actually a dark window overlooking a secret room beneath the club. And there was Ozorne with Kieran, talking about something they could not hear.
"Hey, we can take them," Keladry whispered. "As long as there aren't any other henchmen around. Do you think there are?"
"Ozorne is a confident scum sucker, but he isn't stupid. Yeah, there probably are."
"So what do we do?"
"What are you armed with?"
She felt for her gun under vest. "A nine-millimeter Glock and an energy glaive."
"Any extra clips?" he asked.
"Just two. I couldn't fit any more under this vest. You?"
He drew two Desert Eagles from under his jacket. She stared wide-eyed at the two handguns. "You brought those?"
"Yeah. An Uzi, too," he said sarcastically. "Come on. Lift your jaw up off the floor and let's crash the party."
"You're kidding."
"No, I'm not." He pointed to the door and then to the metal chair Ozorne was sitting on. "How much do you want to bet I can block that door and knock LaMinch out before the first brainless guy bursts through the door?"
"I'd bet however much I owed you for the bike. That's crazy!" she said through clenched teeth. "The room has to be monitored. They can… They can… have hidden guns in the wall. I don't know!"
He gripped the edge of the window panel. "There's only one way to find out." He pointed further down the tunnel. "See? There's another window above the door. You go down the tunnel and find the other opening. Page me when you're there."
Keladry glared at him as she got up and went down the hall. It circled around, just as Joren thought, and she paged him.
"Okay, so now what?" she spoke into her communicator.
"Directly on three. You take LaMinch and knock the chair under the doorknob. As soon as you do that, move away from the door. Ozorne is mine."
Her heart was beating rapidly. She suddenly found it hard to breathe. Nothing could have ever prepared her for this.
"Hey, hey. What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she gasped and closed her eyes. "Just give me a second."
"Hurry it up. We'll be in and out of this place. Don't let it get to you."
She opened her eyes. "How the hell do we get out of here?"
"Knock out Kieran, tie him up. I'll climb up through the window again by standing on the table. I haul up Ozorne after me and you have your gun trained on him-- same way up the ladder and into the alley. See? It's in and out, Mindelan. Just relax."
"Easy for you to say," she muttered. "Okay, I'm ready."
"All right then. One… two… three!"
Joren slid the window panel open and dropped in at the same time as she did. In a split second, Joren had his gun pressed against the back of Ozorne's head, yelling at him to put his hands up. Keladry kicked the chair against the door, setting it under place under the knob. She aimed at Kieran.
"Put your hands up!" she shouted.
Shouts came from down the hall outside the door. Joren cursed and carefully approached Ozorne. "Keep your hands up, Tasikhe!"
"What the hell is this?" Ozorne screamed, outraged.
"Shut up! Keep your hands where I can see them!" Joren yelled and removed the rebel leader's guns from under his suit jacket. He tucked them into the waistband of his own pants and moved to remove Kieran's weapons. Lucky for them, he only had one revolver and a pocket full of bullets. Joren handed the revolver to Keladry and slipped the bullets into her jean pocket since she was busy aiming at the two criminals.
"Okay, we'll take this very smoothly, gentlemen," Joren said coldly. "Tasikhe, get over here. LaMinch, we'll send the Carthak DJPF for you later." He cautiously approached the other man and slammed the hilt of his gun on the back of his head. The man crumpled to the ground. Joren took out a pair of handcuffs from his jacket and chained him to the pipe on the wall. "Mindelan!"
"Doing fine," she replied. More noises came from the other side of the door. "Go ahead and take him up."
Joren pushed the table under the high window near the ceiling. He climbed up after holstering his guns and reached down to grab and angry Ozorne. "Don't try anything or she has permission to shoot. Not like anyone would miss you, right Mr. Tasikhe?"
"Fuck you," the man spat and climbed into the tunnel.
"Watch your mouth, pal," Joren warned. He drew one of his guns again and aimed at him. "Okay, Mindelan. Get up here now."
"Coming," she said and jumped up. She gripped the edge of the window and grunted as she pulled herself up. Just as her feet got into the tunnel, the door burst open. The chair was thrown into the table. The henchmen opened fire.
"Shit!" Joren screamed and yanked her back from the window. "Get up the ladder, now! NOW!"
They ran down the tunnel, dragging a kicking and cursing Ozorne to the ladder. There were sparks in the dark where the bullets ricocheted off metal. Keladry went up first; knocking aside the sewer cover and pulling up the bronze skinned man after her. Joren fired back down the tunnel where the henchmen were already climbing up. He scrambled up the ladder as he heard bullets hit the ladder rungs.
Joren put the sewer cover back on. Keladry held back their prisoner while Joren shoved a dumpster over the sewer opening. He panted with the effort. Then he used his pager to call the local DJPF.
"They're not going to get here in time," Keladry said nervously. "We should have called them first."
"No. Someone would see them miles away and scatter the Crypt's scum everywhere. Ozorne would have been gone." He cursed under his breath and held a second gun up to the man. "Well, Mr. Tasikhe. I hope you have a nice time rotting in prison. I heard Carthak Penitentiary is very nice this time of year."
Keladry shook her head.
"There they are! Get them!" a man screamed as he entered the alley. He began to shoot at them.
"Behind the dumpster!" Joren yelled. They took cover. He fired around the edge. There were about a dozen strong-looking men, all henchmen for Ozorne. The man himself grinned when he knew they couldn't keep it up. Keladry took out her empty clip and put in a new one. She joined in firing back while Joren kept his gun trained on him.
It was about ten minutes when they heard sirens. The shoot out was finally going to end. Ten squad cars of the Carthakian DJPF pulled up, their red and blue lights flashing. The sirens continued to blaze as the officers opened fire on the henchmen, causing most to fall injured, but not dead.
"Yes," Keladry breathed. "It's over." She loosened her grip on Ozorne's collar when she turned to look at them.
"I don't think so," Ozorne said and shoved her way. He made a desperate run for the wall.
"No! Get him!" Joren yelled as he ran after Ozorne. He shot at the rebel leader. One shot grazed him in the shoulder, but he still managed to vault over the next wall over. "We can't let him get away!"
"No!" two officers shouted as they neared. "He has to be alive for the trial!"
"Oh shut up!" Joren yelled back. He cleared the wall without any problems and took off after the sprinting older man. For his age, Ozorne ran pretty fast. He rounded the corner. Joren came closer. From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something red blinking. He looked.
It was an explosive.
~~
Keladry climbed over the wall with two other second class officers. Just as she dropped to the ground, she heard a great loud noise from not too far off. She covered her ears and closed her eyes. It made her ears ring anyhow. She shook her head, trying to clear it, and ran in the direction of the explosion. There was smoke trailing up into the sky.
"This does not look good," she thought to herself. Keladry rounded the corner and found Joren on his hands and knees coughing. His face was black from the dirt and ash that rained down on them. Several objects in the street were on fire, and dark gray smoke drifted everywhere. The two officers dashed back to get help.
Keladry jogged over to her partner. She offered him a hand up, but he didn't take it and got up on his own.
"What happened?"
"Blinking red light… next thing I know… boom," he coughed. "He got away."
She looked into the smoke as if she would receive answers. Instead she received disappointment. "My first big mission. Failed."
"Hey."
"What?"
"You owe me at least 750 Nobles."
"Argh…"
~~
Author: Whoa… that must have been the longest chapter I've ever done. Well, I hope it tides you over. I'm going to have a busy two weeks trying to catch up on work I've neglected for school and otherwise. I'll try to fit in a chapter every now and then. Please, please be patient. Once again, I welcome all comments and criticism.
Disclaimer: Gotham City belongs to Warner Brothers and the modified look of the Softtail Springer belongs to Harley Davidson. I got all my information from a rental place called Eagleriders, so give information credit to them. Also: all gun information I received does not mean I support violence of that sort. (Does anyone remember Columbine?) It's bad, and I'm sorry I had to use it. As to where, I received the information, well I just watch violent movies. (Don't start criticizing television, please. There's enough of that.)
Closing Credits:
Special thanks to those who helped me with descriptions:
( Note: these people are VERY cool. Do not mess with them.)
Kestrel
Erin (Hyper Girl to the Rescue)
Sullychkk (Ack! All I remembered was your e-mail! I'M SO SORRY! E-MAIL ME, OKAY?)
And also to the people who volunteered to help with my web page:
FireLily
Jaelawyn Noble (please e-mail me)
And if anyone is good with fixing web pages, please e-mail me. My e-mail is listed at top.