"The cop and the pimp. What a beautiful love story."
"Shut up, Johnny.", came Steve's rude remark, his eyes never leaving the bar across the street, and with it the continuous stream of patrons coming and going.
"Easy now, Stevo, you gotta learn to relax a bit more, man…", the other man mumbled with an ulcer-inducing smile and played with the ends of his greasy pony tail that was draped over his shoulder and reaching halfway down his chest, "You're so uptight, you know? Maybe a stick of grass and some female action could get you to ease up a bit, you know what I mean? I could hook you up."
"Didn't you hear what I just said?"
Feeling his voice beginning to tremble from aggravation and the anticipation of an impending arrest, Steve nervously tapped the steering wheel of the Galaxy, then slowly exhaled.
He'd been trying to stay quiet, as if that would somehow avoid alerting Mike's oversensitive hearing from across town when it came to doing something he was absolutely and positively not supposed to be doing.
Then again, neither was the rest of the Homicide department.
"No need to be rude, Stevo. I am the one taking a huge chance here.", Johnny countered and helped himself to another cracker, the noise of the wrapping paper disrupting the tense silence.
"You owe it to Mike, and you know it. You think I was just going to rely on your word, your…your honesty, and spend all night sitting in front of the wrong place? I know you far too well for that."
"Geez, you know…you used to be a nice kid back in Vice.", Johnny said between chews, leaving crumbs all over his shirt and the floorboard, "What has the department done to you? I didn't know you turn into such a prick whenever somebody thumps your partner."
"You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us.", Steve growled and reached for the radio, never bothering to look over at the well-known pimp turned stoolie, "Inspectors 8-1 to Inspectors 8-4, 8-5, 8-9 and Central Unit 7A, are you in position?"
As the collection of 10-4's echoed through the airwaves, the young Inspector glanced across the busy two-way street in unmasked eagerness, seeing the three unmarked police cars, as well as Sergeant Andrews' Black and White unit parked in the back.
The vote had been unanimous from the get-go.
Haley and Haseejian had a light case load and were ever so keen for an arrest. Tanner had just come back from vacation when he'd heard the news of Mike's attack, his disbelief mixed with anger about the Lieutenant's injuries. He and Lessing had taken separate cars in case of an extensive foot chase, considering that they were after four men, not just one.
Art had stayed back to man the phones in case of an emergency, and to cover their absence, should Olsen question it so late in the day.
It was obvious that the unprovoked attack had raised the collective ire of the entire Homicide department, and beyond, all for good reason.
"I will let you know as soon as I make a positive ID, Steve.", Doyle Andrews assured him once again, as the nearby clock tower struck 2AM.
Despite the late hour, the nightclub continued to swell with patrons, the music inside loud enough that they could hear it all the way across the street.
"This is quite the…entourage you gathered for what you're trying to accomplish, my friend. Does Stone even know you're doing this?"
The question made him glance over at Johnny "Double J" Jackson blankly, the pimps' knowing brown eyes scanning his with a wily smile.
"Oh oh, Stevo…baby…he doesn't know, does he? He's probably told you to go home, have some hot cocoa and marshmallows, watch a cartoon and snuggle into bed, eh?"
He was about to lash out at his annoying passenger once again, when the radio sprung back to life.
"Central Unit 7A to Inspectors 8-1. I just made a positive ID. Suspects are headed north on Buchanan, all four of them. Leader is wearing bright green jacket with gold sword emblem on back. Do you want to move in?"
"10-4.", Steve answered, the hand grasping the radio receiver shaking, "Let's move in, guys."