(Untitled)

[detective_allen]

Finally, after having looked at this case from ever angle they could possibly think of, GCPD Detectives Allen and Montoya have caught a break in the Gotham Plastics Warehouse case. Thanks in large part to an alert postal worker, the two detectives have been questioning a Mr. Edward Thorne, grand-nephew of Rupert Thorne, for the better part of an

Comments

[det_montoya]

Montoya holds eye contact with her partner for a moment longer than necessary. It's an acknowledgment of sorts. When you've worked with someone as long as she's worked with Cris, you start to read each other. She steps out in front, opening interior doors, clearing a path, moving towards the front of the busy Post Office. With both hands, she sweeps open the double doors. Thorne and Allen are to her rear.

[jla_extras]

"What," Eddie quips. "No cigarette or blindfold offered?"

[detective_allen]

Allen puts his hand on Eddie's shoulder, not quite pushing him forward, but clearly wanting to get him the hell out of the post office. "This isn't an execution. Keep your smartass comments to yourself. You can jabber all you want when we get to the precinct house," Cris says, making sure that Thorne stays close behind Renee.

[det_montoya]

She continues to move wordlessly. She trusts her partner to keep a reign on their witness. Her eyes are on the street, the individuals around them, the building across the way. Anywhere and everywhere. What's she looking for? Any signs of trouble.

[jla_villains]

Ask and you shall receive...

Movies like to exaggerate the hail of bullets and the sounds of gunfire. For some reason, real life living and dying doesn't look or sound as cool. The "battle," at the OK Corral, for example took about 30 seconds. Try to find a Western that keeps to that. Therefore, dear reader, you will have to keep in mind that the next few entries happen over the course seconds and moments - not minutes or any amount of time that would allow for dramatic poses.

The first sign of trouble is the sound of a window rolling down and a car driving towards the post office. Could be someone going for the drop box, except they are going the opposite way from regular traffic.

[detective_allen]

Allen's head whips around at the sound of the car moving the wrong way through the lot. Whoever is driving guns the engine as the vehicle rounds the corner and heads toward the front of the post office. Standing on the steps of said building, Cris knowns that Renee, Thorne, and himself, are sitting ducks. "God dammit--Renee!" he calls out, reaching under the flap of his coat, pulling out his issue.

Cris grabs Thorne's shoulder, jerking him to the ground - which still puts them about six feet above street level. "Find some cover, Montoya!" Allen yells out, trying to keep Thorne down, looking over the man at the oncoming car. Where the hell did they come from?!

[det_montoya]

It's like they're on the same wavelength. Montoya spots the car racing just at the same moment her partner does. Her weapon is immediately out. She flings out an arm just as Allen begins to shout, hoping to halt their forward movement. They're both thinking about Thorne. About their only witness.

She dives.

But there's nowhere to go. The steps are a straight shot to the sidewalk.

[jla_extras]

And there is a hail of bullets which sound more like rapid fire fireworks snapping in rapid succession. People scream, but the sound is muted by the sheer lack of time to respond with anything but hitting the pavement.

Montoya gets a tire shot, but the driver keeps coming up and onto the sidewalk.

Eddie is murmuring..."As I walk in the valley of the shadow of death..." And with an odd sort of smile, he jumps.

[detective_allen]

"Thorne--!" Allen yells out, drawing his sidearm, leveling it at the car, pulling the trigger quickly - once, twice, three times. The bullets slam into the concrete of the walls and the steps and Allen is a sitting duck up there.

"Renee?!" Cris calls out, firing again, ducking instinctively as another shot cracks past him. Seeing little alternative, the veteran cop grabs the stone railing of the steps and vaults over it, hitting the ground hard.

"Dammit--!" Allen curses, staggering backward, back hitting the wall.

[jla_extras]

All his life, Eddie Thorne has done for himself. First it was taking the prettiest girl on campus, Second was knocking her up and convincing her to marry him soley to get his hands on some easy money. After that went awry, he spent nearly two decades keeping his head down, doing dirty work, being blackmailed, and, most importantly getting paid and staying alive.

That said, you'd think he'd jump away from the car trying to kill himn and try to keep trying to do this. He knew it was over though the moment the nice officers came to get him. Time to be the guy Antonia thought he was for the last ten seconds of his life...

He jumps on the hood and punches the windshield with everything he's got. It spider webs and it momentarily shocks the people inside.

[det_montoya]

Out of the corner of her vision, she sees a mass sail past her. It takes her a split second to recognize the moving individual as Thorne. Their witness. Moving towards the car. Not away.

"... the fuck!!!"

There's no way she can cover the distance to reach him. Not with a head start and a death wish to match. She turns, trying to get out of the car's path.

[jla_villains]

They shoot him - a lot - and he falls off the car like a sack of potatoes.

Eddie, however, didn't die like a punk for nothing. After 9/11, they put anti-car barriers around just about everything. Eddie blinded them enough that the car careens towards one of these concrete monstrosities.

The one Detective Allen is using to take cover.

[detective_allen]

Allen, back pressed up against the stairs, his ankle throbbing, hears his partner yell out - and has no idea what happened. Bullets still flying from the car keep him pinned to the relative safety of the stairs.

Leaning around, pulling the trigger of his issue twice more, spying Thorne on the front of the car. "Son of a bitch..." he mutters.

Then he hears the car's tires squeal as it moves eratically on the sidewalk. "Holy--!" is all he has time to yell out before leaping to his right, trying to get as far away from the oncoming vehicle as he can, pain running up and down his leg.

[det_montoya]

He'll hear his partner yelling his name at the top her lungs.

[detective_allen]

The veteran detective rolls forward, wincing noticably as he turns toward the car, watching as the out of control vehicle speeds toward the concrete pylon protecting the curb.

He hears her, but he can't respond - he doesn't have time. Leveling his sidearm at the car, Allen fires the few bullets that remain in the handgun's clip, aiming for the engine block in the blind hope that the damn thing will stop moving.

"Montoya?!" he calls out, hoping she got clear of the oncoming car.

[jla_villains]

The car moves up onto the sidewalk and as it speeds towards the barricade, Allen's bullets take out the other front tire and the radiator. Steam gushes from the car.

With a dramatic sound of metal impacting and twisting around concrete, the car is stopped.

The driver doesn't look good. The passanger in the front is groaning at least. Machine Gun Kellyn in the back imerges - still with his automatic.