The city of Grimford was calm but still filled with the daily noise of a city. Its citizens had gone to sleep, with the few awake being it's monsters—thieves, robbers, drug dealers, and all manner of criminals thriving in their natural environment, stealing, selling, and peddling wares they didn't own.
This was the routine of the city, but tonight something was different—the silence was shattered by sirens. For the criminal underbelly, this was a rare event, rare enough to make them scatter into the dark like roaches.
A full squad of police cars raced down Grimford's streets in haste, not even stopping to deal with the criminals element sighted along the way. Confusion set in, as the police in this city rarely left their station in such a hurry. There was something big going down, and everyone wanted to know what.
The squad cars continued to zip past startled residents, breaking all traffic rules. They exceeded speed limits, ran stop signs, and drove recklessly. They were after something or someone and were desperate to get it.
The leading car was driven by a blonde young woman who was constantly speaking into her radio to the officers behind her. The circles under her sea-blue eyes told stories of the sleepless nights she had. Her hair, roughly packed into a bun, was done out of necessity, not beauty.
Holding the steering wheel with her left hand, her right hand was wrapped tightly around the radio, her eyes darting between it and the road. "Please still be there," she repeated under her breath, like a mantra of desperation tinged with hope.
"We're gonna get there this time, Angel," the black man riding shotgun said to her. He looked at her with a hint of sadness in his eyes. Rubbing his hand over his bearded chin and tracing the dark circles under his eyes, he was just as tired as she was.
"You said that the last time, David. We didn't make it." Angel glanced briefly at her partner. "You said it even before that. We can't be late again, not today."
David sighed. "Look, we've got our guys outside that warehouse. We've got a whole three-block perimeter, and they don't even know it."
"Come on, David, you know how corrupt the fucking department is. All the times we had them, it took us so much tape to go through to get a warrant. I wouldn't be surprised if they know we're coming."
He didn't reply as he gazed at the road ahead.
He knew how hard they had both drained themselves on this case. Angel took it personally. She always chased down leads, asked questions, went toe-to-toe with the chief when needed. She closed up around midnight daily, working the case.
It wasn't different with him—pulling strings, making phone calls, surveillance. His family life was taking a nosedive because of it, but it had to. There was no other option if they wanted to succeed.
They both kept quiet for the rest of the journey. Angel kept staring ahead, her eyes determined. The silence was suddenly broken by the radio:
"Unit 7, this is Dispatch. 10-39, suspects are still inside the warehouse. Be advised, Code 30, suspects are heavily armed. SWAT is en route. Proceed with extreme caution. Over."
Angel quickly pressed the receiver and replied, "Copy that, Dispatch. 10-4 on Code 30. We're en route, two minutes out. Tell those SWAT boys to move their ass. Over."
"Yes, ma'am, I'll have them know that," the dispatch replied, with a hint of amusement.
"Why would they still be there? It makes no sense. They should've known we were coming already."
"I don't know. They could have too much in there, or we caught 'em with their pants down. Either way, it works for us."
"We're still two minutes out."
"We're about to make it one." Angel raised her radio. "Listen up, team. We're gonna shorten this to one minute, we're speeding up."
Angel stepped hard on the gas and floored the cruiser while David prepared his weapon.
A Desert Eagle sat in his lap, having pulled it from his holster earlier. He meticulously checked it, turned off the safety, and cocked the hammer.
"You brought along that Star Wars gun?"
David glanced at Angel with the corner of his eyes but said nothing.
"Does Sarah know you're having an affair with that thing?"
David looked at Angel with a mock glare. "I told you her name is Heaven, and no, Sarah doesn't, and I'd like you to keep it that way."
Without missing a beat, Angel shot back, "And if I don't?"
"Then you'll know why she's called Heaven," David said with a smirk.
"Calm down Mr. Trigger Finger, I was just kidding"
Angel never understood why David carried that sci-fi weapon. The gun looked nothing like the original at all. It was a far cry from the standard issue, that much was clear.
It had a custom marksman barrel, a silencer attached, a scope up top, a laser/flashlight combo underneath, a customized grip, and an oversized mag with a matte-black finish and gold accents. The bullets were armor-piercing, and crazy enough, it was licensed.
Lethality was its purpose, and she felt safe having it covering her back tonight. Even while in the police force, David was still a nerd at heart. She wondered how Sarah let him keep it around. David only brought it on serious occasions, this was very much one of them.
The banter between them eased the tension Angel had been feeling. David always knew when she needed it, and she definitely owed him a beer after this.
Angel taking her feet off the pedal and laying on he brakes, brought the car to a stop. She steeled herself—they had arrived at the warehouse.