V
We blue boys have a reputation. Some of it, I completely understand. The titles bestowed, the lies we preach, or the bodies we kill on accident, all in the name of peace. Oh, and the donuts thing is completely true.
As the law, we're always there to inconvenience the day, always late to the scenes of crime, and never send the right people. I do not deny it, but we all look the other way.
But besides that, one thing we damn do well is scheduling a raid. I know we're not the best in that business, sometimes very few of us make it back. What we have over the competition is the government. Where we lack in funding, we make up in modern acquisitions.
The cryptic boys from the P.I. biz gave us a mighty fine clue. We've heard many rumors about the Greek shenanigans, but those were only rumors until now. A few tips here and there later, the Chief was confident he could schedule a raid to find the perps of the Subway Shoot-out.
Our office was busy with other…organizations. This wasn't the first time the proud blue boys of New York teamed up with a private group. It hurt our pride, but it was that or lose our pride as the fine blue boys.
The Cheif's method wasn't too bad since our allies were always given police uniforms to ease the minds of the real officers rather than follow official rules. It's happened so often that we permanently loan these uniforms rather than deal with all the paperwork of checking them in and out.
None of this is legal. We can't do things without the Court's permission, and can barely scrap enough funding to keep ourselves afloat. So we have to scrap barrel bottoms from someone else, someone who's interested in the law. Legalities aside, people forget the police have friends in the business.
Who would've thought dumping everything in the trash solves problems? The housekeeping crew nearly lost it when their leader decided to rid of everything damaged and broken instead of sorting out goods, listing what could and could not be fixed, and planning phases of refurbishment. The company's process always worked.
But processes are bureaucratic.
To get a job done, nefarious groups don't care how or why. They want to know if and when. For the Hunters, it was yes and before lunch.
In the mad scramble to toss it all, one instruction of salvation remained: set aside anything valuable and return it after a proper caretaking session. But an obvious problem arose.
The Hunters budgeted well.
Even Percy couldn't ignore the pleading eyes of his workers. They knew the difference between wasted and restorable. So much was already wasted and on its way to landfills. Surely, as proud employees of Hestia Housing, they could do something about a few relics?
So they were torn between this item and that. With time a limiting factor, the other was how much they could carry back to the workshops. All the workers were picked up by the Hunters in their expensive, comfortable, non-cargo sedans. All except for one who drove a cheap, back-aching, military surplus truck.
"Can I-we please have it?" begged Nyssa, clutching an expensive but shot-up enameled cast-iron oil radiator close to her chest like a toy doll.
Percy eyed the sizably weighty object, then changed his gaze to his creaking Blackjack, overloaded with a small mountain of curios larger than the truck.
"I…yes, but that's the last thing I'm taking!" Nyssa carefully secured the radiator as Percy watched his suspension bottom out.
"That the last of it?" Percy asked, worried that he'd only make it halfway back to their shops.
Everyone agreed their work was done. It was the best they could do without paperwork. Once official filings went through with the repair team, the place should be ready for commercial use again.
With nothing else left to do, each went find to their assigned Hunter-driver. They had cozy places to return to after all.
On the not-so-bright side, low clouds still plagued the winter city, though it was significantly brighter now. While Percy was freezing earlier, he was frigid now. The old riding gear was locked up in some places. If Percy stayed any longer, he was afraid he'd truly become a popsicle.
Time to fire up—
"Shoot, leaving so soon?"
And here comes the hardwood Christmas tree with gifts of joy and peace!
Percy feared she actually meant 'shoot' since his Hunter had a new toy strapped to her side.
"I believe we're done here."
Damn, he did it too fast. Thalia was tempted to cause more of a mess to keep him in her clutches for a little longer, she even cooked up an entire plan for bonding time.
There was that imposing promise the Seaman forced her to sign years ago…maybe she'll let Percy off the hook this time.
"Sure Barrel Boy, but Arty wants a word with you!"
His hunter pointed towards the approaching Pierce-Arrow limousine. The windows were so heavily tinted, Percy was sure they were those new one-way mirrors. The occupant, Artemis, directed angry silver eyes on him as she rolled the down window.
"Well?" Percy sighed, not wanting to deal with this former client.
Artemis seethed in her comfortable lounge upholstery, warmed by self-made pelt blankets. "...I will talk to Hestia personally about compensation."
Those weren't the words. Greek Families always held each other to their word. "Come on, Arty. Say it…"
Thalia steeled her face, oblivious Artemis had beat her in meeting her cute catch. She'll have to double down on that problem, but for now, she pointed her old reliable at Percy for disrespecting her family.
Wait, weren't they all related?
"Fine!" Artemis relented, her eyes filled with hate. "The old score is twice as much."
Satisfied with successful business, Percy grinned as the vehicle sped out of the complex, unknowingly swooning his hunter's heart a tiny bit.
"I-I'm…next?" Thalia sputtered.
Focus, Grace! Stop thinking about how much of a book character he is! What was your plan again?
"FREEZE!"
A commotion started over at the entrance. Shots echoed off the walls, the intensity of fire growing as hunters rushed to respond.
Two Hunter sedans quickly formed a barricade on the alley path between the HQ and the only other exit. More hunters streamed out of the building, brandishing heavy and heavier weaponry.
"Woz's going on?" Percy nervously asked, noticing his Hunter drawing her own reliable weapon.
"In your accent," she teased, "Wheeze abouta 'ave fun."
The sound of torn metal rang from around the corner. The ruined gates flew into view, clanging to a stop. Cops flooded the scene, backed up by two mechanical marvels Percy once trained with: the Ford 3-ton tank.
The small-ish contraption was no bigger than the Pierce-Arrows and dwarfed by Percy's Mack AC. Even the French considered them small compared to their Renault Ft-17. Someone called them a 'tankette,' in lieu of their cute size compared to proper tanks.
Right now, they weren't looking too cute.
"Get down, Kelp-head!" Thalia hissed, taking cover behind the Hunter's hastily assembled barricade.
Percy scrambled to the floor with Thalia and a few other hunters behind one of the blockading cars. Almost all the Hunters had an expensive-looking rifle, all except his Hunter who hugged the side of the vehicle, ready to pop up with her popping reliable.
"There's no need to make things worse!" Thalia cussed, recognizing that voice. "Just surrender your leader and we won't lock anyone up."
The hidden Hunters glanced at their present Lieutenant, not with consideration, but determination. Rarely do the Hunters ever wait to take down their prey, but not everyone present behind the barricade was a Hunter.
Percy was absolutely terrified. Sure, he could handle himself in a firefight, but his fellow cleaners were scattered amongst the Hunters. Some were still inside the groaning building when the police arrived. Last he checked, none of them knew how to use a gun.
"Back for round two, Castellan?" Thalia spat.
The squeaking tracks of the tanks stopped, letting the speaker's laugh be heard over the engines. "And hello to you too, Grac—"
Bang!
Percy nervously watched his Hunter take a standing position and fire her weapon, followed by the Hunters, standing out of cover with their rifles ready to fire.
"Package your mouth to Jersey, postcard!" Thalia roared, enraged by the nerve of this previous prick.
"Been there, done that. Now where is Artemis?"
BANG!
A different Hunter fired a warning shot, but the police held their fire. "Quiet, pig! Our lady does not answer to the likes of your company!"
"But I have a business proposal for the head of Hunting Quarters. Unless she'd rather miss out on a rather lucrative deal?"
Percy risked a peek under the car. Both tanks took center stage, ready to rake the dead into bags. Police officers took cover behind the tanks and their own barricade of cop cars, mirroring the Hunters with their assortment of weaponry ready to fire.
It was a classic stand-off. Sharply dressed opponents with powerful, modern guns ready to obliterate.
Thalia trained her gun on a young officer who slowly moved to their leader with his hands up. He kept eyes on the Hunter's line as he quickly passed a note, before retreating to safety.
"That…that car wasn't a ruse?" he huffed in disbelief, "That car that just left was Artemis?!"
"Snow, rain, heat, or night, your mail crew takes too long!" Thalia jeered, grasping the edge of the vehicle to steady herself.
Mr. Castellan nearly lost his cool, "At least we make deliveries certain! Whatever, get Echoles on the line!"
"Oh no you don't. Hunters—"
"Ready boys—"
Percy held his breath, praying they'd be too distracted to notice his fellow cleaners.
"FIRE!"
Weapons of all types blasted away. Missed shots zipped past their heads, with more well underway. The clink of hot casings rained on the snowed surface, sizzling where they landed. Windows sprayed their harmful shards from shots aimed through them.
Interestingly, Percy noticed the uniformly-armed Hunters preferred potshots as the opportunity arose while the police, despite their motley collection of weapons, attempted volley fire to suppress the Hunters.
Shots went back and forth every which way. Just as someone would take a shot, a bullet would force their head down, then they took their shot before cowering from the next bullet. No one had taken a fatal wound yet.
Then he noticed the cars didn't have bullet holes in them. Every time a police volley fired, a volley of pings ricocheted off the vehicle, gently rocking the civilian beast. The Hunters barely returned to full cover, trusting their up-armored cars for protection; law enforcement fully hid, but the Hunter's weapons barely dented the police vehicles.
Percy put away an idea for up-armoring Blackjack. For he and the Hunters had another problem to worry about, two in fact.
Clang clang clang! "The hell you guys doing? Start shooting already!"
The two 'little' tanks let their machine guns blaze away, drawing lines of lead across the walled-off area. Though sturdy, the metal shells constantly rang under fire, communication between groups of the besieged nearly impossible. Percy flinched when something small pecked his neck. He found a small piece of shrapnel instead of blood and a small cavity on the side of the car.
Their armored shield was failing.
Under synchronized fire, the Hunters were forced down by the sheer volume thrown at them. The Police added their weight, moving up and suppressing the Hunters from side angles.
Those on the receiving end huddled closer and closer to the centers of cover, covering the caught-out civilians with thick and thicker cloaks to mitigate the ever-increasing shrapnel from their own protection.
"Why are we the ones surrounded?" Thalia asked, peering over the top of the car and dropping down as a burst missed her. "And how much candy do they have?!"
A bullet hole appeared in the car between Percy and Thalia. Splinters and rocks attacked the Hunters from the other direction. Screams came from the building; it wasn't armored.
The Hunters counted themselves lucky. They could keep the fleshy cops at bay, and the tanks couldn't maneuver around the luxury barricade. This wasn't an equal fight, but it wasn't a seal clubbing either.
More holes appeared in the cars. Despite the serious upgrade, the unstoppable firepower of the raiding force will eat through anything the Hunters had to offer. A Hunter behind Percy dropped to the ground clenched up to stave off the pain.
Then the tanks stopped firing.
"Tally-ho girls!" Thalia cried, vaulting over the smoking Pierce-Arrow and charging the enemy with any Hunters still able to raise hell.
It was a lifting sight to see such an angel begin deliverance, until she landed on her bad leg and ate snow. Refreshed, Thalia changed magazines and went on about her very exciting day.
While the cops were distracted by the very loud and dangerous threat coming for their addresses, Percy dash-limped to the next firing line that supported the rushing Hunters. He found Lou-Ellen and a few other cleaners huddled together, all with varying injuries, but thankfully none fatal.
He had no time to mull over the fear in their wide eyes, or the tears streaking from some, he had to get them out…somehow. Those tanks would eventually start firing again, and bullets are always faster than the foot. Against the average mafia man, Percy could deal with it quickly. Against a team, he could hold out long enough to make an escape. Against a professional law enforcement force, there wasn't much he could do, even if he had a gun.
Those luxy cawrs could easily send them packing with their weight, but those tanks…how much do they weigh again?
A brilliantly stupid plan formed in his head. He never went to school, but Percy was very sure he could count to ten.
"Lou, where's the rest of the crew?" Percy grilled, amazed at how his Hunter's charge panicked the Blue Boys.
"I-I don't know?"
"Duck scrubber," he cursed. A shiny piece of brass in the shape of a cartoon arrow caught his eye. With ridges on one edge, he handed the little object to Lou-Ellen. "Find out which one this key goes to, then get ready to book it when you see an opening, capiche?"
She began jumbling with the lock on their current cover. As fate would have it, it did not unlock the luxury sedan. Percy pointed at another car under less fire.
The tanks unleashed their fire again, but they were the only ones doing so. Percy hit the deck as the tanks did some sort of ballet dance on tracks to hit the swarming Hunters, some of whom used the tanks as a springboard to dive on their opponents.
More guns clattered to the floor, the Hunters gaining ground in the ensuing melee action. Supporting fire from injured Hunters slowly picked off ignorant boys. A wild shot hit a car's radiator, spewing a cloud of warm vapor into the fight.
Wait for it…steady…now!
Percy dash-limped to his creaking Blackjack, frantically searching for the engine crank. He found it with the handle missing.
Ok, a metal stick is still a metal stick. He inserted the crank into the starter hole and pulled on what he could grasp. One half-turn, two half-turns, three half-turns.
"Comaahn geezer, pull ya self ovah!" Percy strained, the crank slipping off on the fourth try.
"Oh, this is your automobile?" Zoe asked, skidding to a stop after jogging through the rickety HQ, "Allow me."
Just like his Hunter, the copper-skinned girl cranked the engine in one go.
"How?"
"I built a few myself." They ducked as a wild burst of bullets pinged off Blackjack. "Do you intend to flee?"
"Oi, I've got my girls to worry about!" Percy pulled himself into the driver's seat with hands flying over the controls to keep the coughing engine alive. "One of them has a key to youse's cawrs. I owe you one!"
Percy gunned the throttle, then let the clutch fly. At least 10 tons of Mack gained speed toward the fight. The Hunters wisely retreated, and anyone who couldn't scampered out of the coming freight weight.
Blackjack went for the gap between the Hunter's barricade, shoving them aside like a strike in the bowling alley. One of the cars flipped over, the other permanently warped. Blackjack shrugged it off as Percy gunned it.
The police saw it too late. They tried in vain to fire anything at the charging mechanical bull, but Percy had done the math. Ducking behind the dashboard, Bullets flew into the front of Blackjack. A shot hit the radiator and sprayed Percy with boiling water, melting the ice layer coating his battle-tested riding gear.
There was no escape from this, Percy needed every bit of speed he could get, even if it meant weathering the impact.
Thalia watched the idiotic charmer courageously charge overwhelming odds as she pushed the last cleaner into a working sedan. She exchanged her old reliable for a modern automatic, steeling herself for another charge.
"Punch it, PUNCH IT!" Thalia ordered, riding outside the vehicle on the wide side-step. She grasped the lightened machine gun with one hand, the other holding on to the roof racks for dear life.
She watched the old vehicle go for the twin tanks. It wasn't fast, but it sure wasn't stopping for anything.
Thalia nearly lost her grip when the stupendous crash happened. Each 3-ton tank was crushed upon impact, spinning off to the alley sides. The sound only amplified in the tight walls of the alley, sure to draw attention.
And the truck? It kept miraculously kept chugging along, rounding the corner towards the exit.
The Hunters managed to get two sedans running, packed with cleaners on the inside and Hunters on the outside. Following the laden lorry, Thalia squeezed the trigger of her imported war trophy, sweeping the Police in a drive-by.
Their screams were beautiful in retribution after hearing her own comrades fall silent. One of the Hunters would be back to honor their dead, but for now, Thalia relished the cool air as they broke free of the compound.
New Yorkers stared in mild interest as an improbably crawling truck and two riddled luxury sedans with heavily-armed girls in silver suits on the outside fled the scene. Thalia had brightly instructed the drivers to follow the slow-moving lorry. She forgot to mention when to stop following.
"Zoe, pull alongside!" Thalia called, waving her large weapon at the previous vehicle to follow.
Many articles fell out during the ram but the drivers swiftly swerved around anything that continued to fall. Zoe eventually managed to pull alongside Blackjack, maneuvering into (hopefully) normal voice range.
"You good?" Thalia asked normally.
Beneath the thick leather skin and large rectangular goggles, Thalia saw someone who fought a bull inside one of those new washing machines while plummeting down Niagra Falls. His breaths formed thick clouds in the cool rushing air, swept away by the slipstream.
Her catch was surprisingly intact, his hands still flying over the controls. "Justabout, you?"
"Still got plenty of payback!" Thalia replied, resting the machine gun on her shoulder. "Hey, we gotta split!"
"Yeah…" Percy sighed, coming down from his adrenaline high. "How youse gonna call me?"
His hunter shot him a shell-eating grin. The Pierce-Arrows veered away to their destination, Thalia yelling encouraging words as sirens wailed from behind, "Trade secret, Washboard!"
To be continued in Section II...
Whew, y'all have no idea how much that took outta me. I'll admit it's not even close to my best. Good thing there's this wonderful thing called editing.
I'm taking a quick break, as this nicely closes out Section I. Don't worry, I've been working on Project Moonlace - Refined, and I'm confident about this one. Thanks to my personal Beta for helping me make these chappies not suck as much in their original draft...
...Oh, what's this?
Now, on to business. You see that crate? Yeah, that imaginary wood box with chains and a padlock next to ya. Boss tells me you haven't reviewed in a while. How 'bout this, you leave a review, and I'll tell the boss you're a slippery one, capiche?
- The Commander.
...I'm sure that isn't for me. Cheers!