Present Day
Fucking bitch.
Fucking whore, fucking cunt, fucking mother fucking assholes.
Because it was not just Tess Danvers fault that he had a hole in his fucking shoulder. Don't get him wrong, he still didn't like the bitch but he couldn't help but be impressed when his fellow patrol officers visited him in the hospital and let him know she had ripped that giant Russian nutjob's spine out from the back of his god damn neck. Not the whole thing, though he had imagined it like that, like something out of an adults only cartoon but it didn't really matter.
Ripping any part of a man's spine out was still ripping a man's spine out.
In his opinion it was messed up as shit what she'd done, that she had trained for it, to rip a mans dick off they had corrected him but for some reason he was the only one who actually found that more horrifying. His spine was one thing, one terrible fucking thing but to lose his cock? He knew which he'd prefer, and he knew exactly what he thought of the woman who'd done it but to hear them speak she was some kind of fucking god. It was like they'd all forgotten that just a few months ago she'd gotten whole units of their friends benched, that even when they'd come back they hadn't come back whole. And that lots of them hadn't come back at all. The blue line meant shit to these ones apparently, except the truth was it didn't. Even some of these dumbasses that he actually liked, or had, were on her side, were pulling her to their side, so determined to protect her that it had actually made him laugh.
Tess Danvers was not and would never be one of them but since he hadn't been able to say that he'd had to pretend the drugs were the cause of his laughter. Had to pretend to smile at the bitch when she came in, sans her boy toy who was laid up with his own injuries, apologizing that he'd gotten shot because of her, that men had died because of her. At least he could tell that did weigh on her.
Good.
She deserved to carry it.
He hadn't liked the men who'd died but he did believe in the blue wall, in protecting their own, whatever crimes they may commit in the course of serving justice. And on that front he did agree with the bitch. He just didn't believe she should be a part of it, not when she refused to wear any kind of uniform; it didn't matter to him that she was some fancy ass operative, not when she used that to look down on them, to change the way they'd been doing things for decades. He'd been certain her and Voight would clash over that, had bet on it because the man might be a hard ass but he was old school, supposed to be on the side of keeping the status quo. The man used a fucking cage to interrogate his suspects for fucks sake. But no, throw a young piece of ass in front of him and he was suddenly all too eager to play nice, never mind their sworn oath to rid this city of the scumbags who made it their playground.
It wasn't lost on Enzo that he was working with some of those scum bags but honestly he was starting to question them too. Sure their money was good but what the fuck had they actually done?
Their big scary torture expert had been a fail. All Halstead had been given were some damn paper cuts and now they were all strutting around with their chests out, like they were fucking invincible but they weren't. He'd fucking offered to poison one of them in his last notebook, something he thought would hit especially hard because they hadn't ramped up their security at all even after thinking that was what had happened to her, hell he'd taken one of Ruzek's 'do not touch' yogurts just fucking yesterday. But no. It wasn't for him to come up with plans and instead they'd taken back a grand of his pay for the suggestion. Which was why he was hesitating on what he'd write in the next one. Every move they'd played against Danvers had failed and now he was left wondering if he'd bet on the wrong horse. It wasn't like he could switch teams now, not only would his current employers kill him but Voight was sure to dust off his cage if he found out there was a rat in his precinct. But then what did he do?
The only thing he could.
Keep going as he was. Everyone thought he was an idiot, someone to be brushed off and dismissed but he wasn't. He'd squirreled away most of the cash they'd given him, had even gotten himself a couple fake identities if he needed to get out of town. Maybe he should do that right now, just cut his losses and run but that didn't feel right. Didn't feel satisfying.
He wanted them to know they'd underestimated him.
He wanted them to suffer.
