A foreword: first upload here, so hopefully I didn't fuck anything up.


A ring of police cars laid siege to the World Jewelry Maxim. Officers crouched behind them with their firearms leveled on the building, ready for anything to happen. One officer instead pointed a pair of binoculars at the building. Through the store's entirely glass front he could see four guys in ski masks taking cover behind the counter with weapons of their own aimed outside. The glass allowed for a clear view in or out, but was made of reinforced materials that kept everyone safe on either side. The police and robbers were at a stalemate.

The officer put the binoculars down when he noticed the arrival of yet another squad car. Watching it pull up to a stop, he recognized it not as the standard police Interceptor model but rather high-powered American muscle. That was somewhat unusual by itself; used for highway patrol, you didn't usually see one of these responding to a call. Furthermore, the driver wasn't in uniform, but plainclothes. It all began to make a little more sense when recognition dawned: the car and driver were a well-known pair amongst the precinct.

The new arrival sighted in on him, picking up on his vibe. "Detective Becker," the man addressed him, reading off his nametag.

"Detective Hardy, isn't it?" Becker asked back.

"My reputation precedes me," the newcomer replied. His reputation did indeed, for good reason: Michael Hardy was a Virtua City police officer of some note. "Are you the officer in charge here?"

"Until SWAT gets here."

"SWAT's tied up on a call."

"The boys from the seventh precinct are gonna take this one. So what brings you down here? I thought you weren't on street duty."

"Just thought I might be of some assistance. May I?" He held out his hand, gesturing for the binoculars. Becker handed them over. As he brought them up to his eyes, he asked, "What exactly is the situation here?"

With a sigh, Becker briefly explained the events leading up to the present. "Robbery. Shots fired. A unit in the area responded to the shots and arrived before these guys could make their escape. They exchanged fire until backup arrived." He pointed towards a squad car with a bullet-riddled windshield for illustration. "Then they retreated back into the store. Attempts at negotiations have gone nowhere. Here we are now."

"There's four suspects in there?"

"Yeah."

"They're packing automatic weapons?"

"At least two submachine guns, plus handguns." Such firepower was all too common in Virtua City these days.

"There's a clerk still inside the store too?"

"Yeah, the owner. He's wounded but alive, according to them. They say he pulled a gun on them. They won't let us take him out."

"Is there an updated ETA on SWAT?"

It sounded like he already knew the answers to all these questions and was merely seeking confirmation. "Unknown."

"When did the shots fired call come in?"

"About half an hour ago."

Hardy scowled. "How are the options for entry?"

Becker raised an eyebrow. What was this guy getting at? "Well, there's the front door... Yeah." He didn't elaborate on that option, the situation being plainly obvious. The front of the store was lined with reinforced glass designed to keep people from breaking in, and it didn't care whether they were criminals or cops. Storming the place or using snipers was out of the question. The only possible entry without outright destroying the glass was a single door. They'd have to funnel through the narrow opening and into a hail of gunfire: the very definition of 'chokepoint'. Once inside the store they would then have to contend with a complete lack of cover besides glass display cases. He rattled off the only other option. "The back door is reinforced and not meant to be opened from the outside. No getting in that way without taking it off the hinges. An entry is almost impossible."

"The front door locked?"

"What?" Becker was taken aback by the question.

"Is the front door locked?"

He threw up his hands. "Hell, I don't know. You want to go check?"

"Only way to find out," Hardy replied, dead serious. He returned the binoculars and walked back towards his car. He removed his jacket, picked up a Kevlar vest from the passenger seat, and strapped it on in replacement.

He's not actually thinking about... However, he quite obviously was. "Oh, you gotta be shittin' me... What the hell do you think you're gonna do?"

"Protect and serve. We've got a gunshot victim in there bleeding to death while we sit out here. He might not live until SWAT arrives."

"We're gonna have TWO gunshot victims if you go in there!"

"At least," he admitted. "But that's all up to them."

"We don't know for sure if he's even still alive. You can't just go in there alone!"

"I'm not," he replied as he drew his service weapon, checked to see that it was loaded, then put it back in the holster. Oh god, this guy is for real... Next he stuck a pair of protectors in his ears, demonstrating he was sound of mind enough to bring them along, despite the insanity of what he was planning to do. Finally, he pulled out a ballistic shield from the back seat. He simply stood for a moment, as if having second thoughts in a moment of reason about the wisdom of this planned course of action. Taking a deep breath, he turned to Becker. "Keep everybody else back. And tell the paramedics to stand by."

He began walking towards the store without waiting for an answer. The only response Becker could muster up was, "Aw, Christ..."


Holding the ballistic shield in his left hand, Michael drew his Guardian with the right. Constructed of carbon polymers and ceramics, the gun was surprisingly light. It almost felt more like one of those video game peripherals used to play on-rail shooters than a lethal weapon. But it certainly didn't feel like a toy when fired, especially to those on the other end of the barrel. It held thirteen .45 ACP rounds in a magazine, with a possible fourteenth in the pipe. Currently in limited production, the guns being manufactured were all going to members of a select few law enforcement agencies, the Virtua City Police Department being one of them. The weapon was almost unanimously embraced by the force, carried by nearly every officer save for a few old-timers who had grown attached to their previous trusty sidearms.

He could just make out a few of the voices around him: "Where is he going?" and, "What the fuck is that guy doing?" Approaching the store with a weapon in one hand and a shield in the other, he couldn't help but imagine himself as a modern-day knight. Yeah, a real blue knight... He was now just outside the store. The robbers inside all fidgeted, watching his every move.

"He's coming in!" one yelled in an almost hysterical voice. This guy was clearly not a hardened criminal, but that didn't mean any of his friends weren't.

He tapped on the glass with the barrel of the gun. "We have the building surrounded! Put down your weapons and come out with your hands up! This is your last chance!" Well, an officer SHOULD ideally always give them a warning first...

"Fuck you!" another one of them yelled back.

Oh well, I tried... Time for the moment of truth. If the door was locked, that would be the end of it, and he'd have to turn back, looking mighty foolish after all that buildup. Fortunately, the idea had not occurred to the robbers, as it was not. The door opened inward- he threw his weight against it. The door swung freely. Two chimes sounded. He held the shield in front of him, making sure that every part of his body stayed behind it. He had expected to be promptly greeted by a hail of bullets, but the gunmen held their fire, apparently too stunned by the lone police officer's brazen actions to do anything but stare with eyes wide as golf balls. He broke the ice. "Drop the guns and-"

That was as far as he got before the robbers opened fire. He held onto the shield for dear life as the fusillade of bullets crashed against it, doing nothing but simply standing his ground as the barrage continued unabated. Nearby display cases exploded in showers of glass. Firing on full-auto nonstop, the two guys with submachine guns emptied their weapons in mere seconds, though it felt like an eternity. That left 'only' two handguns firing at him. The man furthest to his right, one of the robbers armed as such, ceased firing on his own accord. He was apparently a bit smarter than his buddies and realized firing on the shield was just wasting ammo. When the gunfire completely paused a moment later, Michael took advantage of the lull to cast the shield aside just enough so that he had a line of fire on the man but was still protected from the others. With lightning-quick reflexes he leveled the Guardian, aimed, and fired- before his target could get another shot off. Malefactor 1's head snapped back, the rest of the body following to flatten against the wall and slide down.

Somebody cursed, "Shit!" He pivoted and swung his weapon over to the next rightmost crook, who had not yet finished reloading what looked like an Uzi. Malefactor 2 ducked before he fired. He tracked the crook's descent as he fired, the bullets only shattering the glass display and burrowing into the wooden counter. Meanwhile, Malefactor 3 had reloaded his SMG by now and resumed firing. This time the weapon chattered in short bursts. Ah, he's a quick learner... Mike couldn't help but wonder exactly how many bullets the shield was capable of withstanding before deteriorating...

Malefactor 2 popped back up with weapon now fully loaded as well, moving down towards the other end of the counter. That was disconcerting. They were spreading out, making it harder to keep himself shielded from them all. Perhaps they were smart enough to try flanking him. Yes they were- Malefactor 3 made his way down the other side of the counter. Malefactor 4 remained where he was and continued to fire ineffectually with his handgun. Mike retreated back towards the door in order to keep the robbers in front of him. The sheer amount of lead flying around made exposing himself too risky, so he simply stuck his gun's barrel around the shield and fired at Malefactor 2, who was coming up fast on his right. The angle was wrong- the shots went wide. But they came close enough to make the shooter duck. Malefactor 3 ducked down too, probably to reload. That was fortunate, because HE had to reload now too.

Holding the shield with one hand, Michael had to reload with just the other. He worked quickly but calmly despite the incessant pounding of bullets. With a press of a button, the empty magazine dropped out of the Guardian. Malefactor 2 came back up, still on the move. Now he might really be in trouble. He trapped the gun between his left arm and the body, grabbed another magazine from his belt with the now-free hand, and shoved it into the weapon. He grabbed the Guardian again and thumbed the release. The slide snapped shut. He was back in the fight not a moment too soon.

Malefactor 2 had advanced to capitalize on this vulnerable downtime, but now instead found himself caught off guard by a loaded gun pointed at him and went down in a burst of fire. Malefactor 3 jumped onto the counter on the other side, trying the same maneuver to get on the officer's unprotected flank. Without shifting his position, Mike simply crossed his right arm under his left and fired several times. With his target on an elevated surface, his shots hit low, taking out the man's legs. Continuing forward on momentum, Malefactor 3 pitched off the counter to crash headfirst into a display case. He didn't get back up.

One criminal standing. Realizing this, Malefactor 4 panicked and unloaded what was left of his clip to no effect. He ducked out of sight. Acting quickly, Michael jumped over the counter and landed two feet away from the criminal, who was just shoving another magazine into his weapon. "DROP IT!" he commanded. Malefactor 4 didn't comply, instead trying to get back up to his feet as he racked his weapon. Hardy charged forward, slamming the shield into the man before he could finish. He went down, the gun flying out of his grasp. Despite the fact that he had no chance, the robber crawled desperately for his firearm. Oh for the love of... Michael aimed and fired once... The gun jumped off the floor and away from the criminal, who yelped and grabbed his hand. "Think it over, creep," he said in his best imitation of Robocop.

There was a long tense moment where neither man moved. Glass tinkled. Mike spun, swinging his gun arm around while keeping his shield between himself and Malefactor 4... Malefactor 3 was still in the game, rolling onto his back and struggling to raise his weapon with what little strength he had left... Mike fired first, second, and third. Malefactor 3 flattened against the floor, hopefully for good this time. However, the Guardian was now empty once more. Seeing this, Malefactor 4 made a play for his gun. "Shit!" The man snapped up his weapon and chose flight over fight, running for the doorway to the back of the store, firing behind him for cover. Hardy managed to reload just as the crook disappeared.

He didn't know what the gunman's plan was. He could try to escape out the back door, get to the clerk for a hostage play, or just simply find someplace better to fortify himself. At any rate, he wanted to end this NOW. He ran after the fleeing robber into a small hallway with a door directly ahead and one to the left. Malefactor 4 was just ducking around the right side of the doorway ahead. He fired a shot- it took a chunk out of the doorframe. He ran forward and dove to the floor sideways, on top of the shield. It slid across the carpeted floor and carried him through the doorway. Malefactor 4 had turned and aimed his gun at the doorway... They both opened fire... Malefactor 4 had been aiming for a higher target; his shots passed harmlessly overhead. Hardy's shots were dead on- center mass. Malefactor 4 flopped onto a desk and rolled across it, knocking a lamp, phone, and some other clutter off it.

Michael stood up, leaving the shield on the floor. Keeping his weapon trained on the fallen man, he approached and kicked the gun out of his grip. The lack of any reflexive reaction told him the man was already unconscious, if not dead. There was a commotion in the front of the store. The rest of the VCPD was coming in- took them long enough. "Clear!" he announced, stepping back into the hall to meet the others. "There's a suspect down in the backroom-" He faltered slightly as he saw a body sitting in a pool of blood through the other door off the hallway. THE OWNER. He rushed into the room. It was another office. An empty bag lay in front of the safe. Apparently the robbery went to hell before cracking it. That wasn't important now.

He knelt beside the man. "Hey! Can you hear me?" The man didn't so much as stir. He put his fingers to the man's neck and felt a pulse. The man was slumped upright against a wall, and it appeared he had tried to staunch his own wound- that was good. "WE NEED THE EMT'S IN HERE NOW!" he shouted, as much to anybody within earshot as the officer who had appeared in the doorway. He turned back to the wounded man. "Just hang on... We got you... The paramedics are on the way..." He didn't think the man was hearing him but spoke anyway.

Somebody said, "Make way!" He didn't know who but obeyed the command all the same. A couple of paramedics rushed past him and swarmed the fallen man. There was nothing more he could do, so he left the paramedics to do their job and walked back through the scene at the front of the store. The robbers were receiving much less attention. Two of them still lay right where they had fallen, although their guns had been secured. A pair of EMT's worked on the third, but soon gave up. Realizing that his weapon was still in his hand, he went to holster it. He missed on the first try- his hand was shaking too much. No... his entire body. I'VE BEEN HERE BEFORE.

"Goddamn..." Turning, he saw Becker approaching, the presumed speaker. Becker simply looked around the store for several moments before speaking again. "That shit was crazy. I ain't never seen anything like that before." He fell silent again, then looked at him with concern. "Hey, you alright there?" Michael must have looked as bad as he felt. He opened his mouth to respond. Instead he puked his guts out. "Jesus, man, you alright? You want a medic?"

He recovered enough to say, "I'm okay... I just..." Shot four men and am crashing down from combat high? This wasn't his first shootout; these guys weren't the first to meet their end at his hands, though the most intense. He and his partner once chased a local drug dealer for a short while before he crashed his car. The dealer fled across an open area in one direction while firing in another; they crouched behind their vehicle and fired back. It was no contest. "...feel like shit."

The paramedics wheeled the owner out of the store on a stretcher and into an ambulance. Becker asked, "Is he going to make it?"

"I don't know," Hardy replied truthfully.

"Yeah..." Becker said, as if he should have already known the answer. There were no certainties in this job, especially in matters of life and death. "Well, thanks to you, he's got a better chance now." After another period of silence, he spoke again. "I guess we should probably call off SWAT before they get here."

Somehow, he found that to be the funniest fucking thing in the world he had ever heard.


DVD Commentary: I should mention that this will be neither a prequel nor a sequel to the game series, although it can be considered an adaptation.

Any real Virtua Cop fan knows that the original Guardian was a 6-shooter, and its successor (introduced in #3) only held 9 (10 if reloading hot) rounds. Having 6 shots was kind of a staple of shooters at the time, but it's a big anachronism in the (generally) futuristic world of Virtua Cop. Hell, revolvers were already outdated even in the 90's. And 9 bullets is also pretty weak for cop work, so I'm taking a liberty.

Other ideas I had for the scene:

I envisioned Hardy jumping over the counter at one point shield-first and sliding down it (the shield) while shooting some sucker. Then I remembered the shield's only like 5 feet long. Oh well.

I also thought of Hardy actually crushing a thug under the shield, pinning him on the ground, then reaching around the shield, and shooting the trapped dude. Then I realized that it was pretty cold-blooded and rather close to an execution. Not exactly good cop behavior. What? I'm not sadistic. Stop looking at me like that.

I freaking LOVED this idea, but it's incompatible with the scenario I had already thought up. After realizing he is the last man standing (and that he is not Bruce Willis), Malefactor 4 reloads, sticks his gun over the counter, and blindly fires. With the shield protecting him, Hardy simply walks right up to the counter, reaches around the shield, and shoots the oblivious guy right in his hand pointblank (for a Justice Shot!) Maybe I can recycle it.