Werewolves of Manchester
"It's alll right, Guv!" Damn it, he was losing a lot of blood and he ambulance had yet arrived. The place was crawling with coppers of all sorts, Ray Carling leading the charge to kick in the head of whoever unleashed the dogs on their commander and chief. Sam stayed behind, hands pressing into the wounds on Gene Hunt's chest and upper arm, pressure meant to keep the blood in his veins and not joining the rest of it on the floor.
Eventually, the paramedics did come. Eventually, Gene was carted away. And Sam, defacto man in charge, was left covered in his blood and shaking.
They couldn't find the dogs. They did find three bullet casings from Gene's gun. The bullets were no where to be found, and blood trailed away from the scene. Sam only hoped that the bastard hadn't died in an alley somewhere. He wanted to kick the shit out of him.
A day later and Sam joined the men from the CID with grapes and booze. Sam mostly hung back until the others left. He wasn't there for pleasantries, but for a status report.
Eventually, the paramedics did come. Eventually, Gene was carted away. And Sam, defacto man in charge, was left covered in his blood and shaking.
They couldn't find the dogs. They did find three bullet casings from Gene's gun. The bullets were no where to be found, and blood trailed away from the scene. Sam only hoped that the bastard hadn't died in an alley somewhere. He wanted to kick the shit out of him.
A day later and Sam joined the men from the CID with grapes and booze. Sam mostly hung back until the others left. He wasn't there for pleasantries, but for a status report.