[mind_the_muse] - Vendetta
The Cortina screeched around the corner, fishtailing over the curb and slamming the rear right tire into an unsuspecting trash can. It skidded across the uneven brick and bounced off the graffitti’d side of one of the lower east-end brick monstrosities with a satisfying crunch, sending garbage spilling out everywhere and eliciting at least one sharp curse from the building’s tenants.
For the man who’d just sent said trash can barrelling into the side of a residential building, their words went unheeded.
“The hell do you mean you lost the bastards?” Gene Hunt raged into the police radio on his dash, one hand firmly on the wheel while the other held the receiver, releasing the transmitter to let Chris’ broken voice come through to his end. Gene rolled his eyes. “Oi, get out from under the bloody dash so I can hear you!”
There was the crackle of static before Skelton’s voice came back through, clearer this time, if no less meek. It was enough to make his DCI question what the hell the kid was doing on his team sometimes. “They went ‘round about the back, Guv. Car’s empty. We think they’re in the buildings but we don’t know where.”
Gene let out a short, hot breath, then drew a long one before responding. “Right. You lot stay where you are. If you so much as wander off to take a piss I’ll have you in skirts doing the WPCs jobs for a week. I’m not letting these bastards get away this time.”
He slammed the radio down against the dash and floored it, the Cortina flying through the streets of Manchester with the singular abandon of a man on a mission.
Chris and Ray were waiting beside Carlton’s car when Gene finally screeched in. The DCI stepped out of the Cortina, face livid, and slammed the door shut with his foot, all ready fishing through his pockets for a cig. He had it lit and was taking a second drag by the time he walked over to them.
“We think they’re in there,” Ray offered first while Chris spent his time intensely occupied with his shirt sleeve. “Called for backup right after talking to you. Should be here in about ten.” He paused. “What d’you wanna do?”
Gene took another drag on his cigarette before dropping it to the ground and crushing it underfoot. “What do you think?” he asked, unholstering his gun. He didn’t wait for an answer.
Their footsteps echoed unnervingly as the three made their way into the building. A bit of light filtered in through the broken windows, dirty and muted, but it was enough to see by. For a bit, anyway. Gene advanced slowly, back to the wall, checking each corner before waving his men forward, following a broken and scuffed set of footprints through the dust.
Not for the first time, he found himself wanting for a DI. Rathbone has said something about a replacement being sent in, some bloke from Hyde, but Gene hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the bastard yet and it wasn’t like scum waited for him to have a full team before pulling shit.
‘sides, this lot had all ready offed his last DI. No sense repeating themselves.
He heard the footsteps first and drew to a halt, motioning with his head for Ray to take his place while Gene advanced. He’d need cover and Chris was just about useless in close quarters. When they were ready, the Guv swung around the corner, revolver at the ready.
The bum looked up from where he was taking a leak, surprised, and pissed himself. Gene pulled his gun, cursing, and turned to his team, the words dying on his lips to see Ray and Chris both held at gunpoint from behind.
“Put it down nice and slow and we won’t blow these copper’s brains out,” said the skinny little shit holding Ray. Gene dropped his gun, defiance on his face. The punk grinned. “See? You’re not so stupid after all, are ya, Guv?”
Gene didn’t answer, eyes flicking to Ray. There were three cops and two scum; scum had the guns, but three-to-two were good odds in Gene’s book.
They struck together, Ray elbowing the skinny guy in the gut and ducking low, while Chris just ducked as Gene barrelled toward the other attacker, slamming him into the nearest wall hard enough to hear something snap. Ray scrambled for his DCI’s revolver while Chris skittered out of the way, fumbling with his own standard-issue. The skinny bastard dropped his own gun now that he had two pointed at him and no backup.
“Hey now,” he stuttered, hands raised defensively. “No hard feelings, yeah?”
Gene stopped about a foot in front of him, giving the bloke a long look, then brought his right hand in for a hook, flooring the guy instantly. Kneeling beside him, he pulled his cuffs, yanking the bloke’s hands none-too-gently behind him while he groaned in pain.
“You’re nicked.”
They dragged the two out of the building a few minutes later to the waiting wagons. Gene lit up again, leaning against the building’s exterior and staring after the retreating police vehicles. They’d been after three cars, one of which held the ring leader of the arms cartel working out of the abandoned factories on the east side. The two shits they’d just caught obviously weren’t weapon mongers, meaning he still had a long way to go in this game of cat and mouse.
Ray and Chris were standing by the Cortina when he came over, crushing out his cig before clapping them both on the shoulder.
“C’mon, lads,” he said. “I need a drink.”
Muse: Gene Hunt
Fandom: Life on Mars
Word Count: 948
For the man who’d just sent said trash can barrelling into the side of a residential building, their words went unheeded.
“The hell do you mean you lost the bastards?” Gene Hunt raged into the police radio on his dash, one hand firmly on the wheel while the other held the receiver, releasing the transmitter to let Chris’ broken voice come through to his end. Gene rolled his eyes. “Oi, get out from under the bloody dash so I can hear you!”
There was the crackle of static before Skelton’s voice came back through, clearer this time, if no less meek. It was enough to make his DCI question what the hell the kid was doing on his team sometimes. “They went ‘round about the back, Guv. Car’s empty. We think they’re in the buildings but we don’t know where.”
Gene let out a short, hot breath, then drew a long one before responding. “Right. You lot stay where you are. If you so much as wander off to take a piss I’ll have you in skirts doing the WPCs jobs for a week. I’m not letting these bastards get away this time.”
He slammed the radio down against the dash and floored it, the Cortina flying through the streets of Manchester with the singular abandon of a man on a mission.
Chris and Ray were waiting beside Carlton’s car when Gene finally screeched in. The DCI stepped out of the Cortina, face livid, and slammed the door shut with his foot, all ready fishing through his pockets for a cig. He had it lit and was taking a second drag by the time he walked over to them.
“We think they’re in there,” Ray offered first while Chris spent his time intensely occupied with his shirt sleeve. “Called for backup right after talking to you. Should be here in about ten.” He paused. “What d’you wanna do?”
Gene took another drag on his cigarette before dropping it to the ground and crushing it underfoot. “What do you think?” he asked, unholstering his gun. He didn’t wait for an answer.
Their footsteps echoed unnervingly as the three made their way into the building. A bit of light filtered in through the broken windows, dirty and muted, but it was enough to see by. For a bit, anyway. Gene advanced slowly, back to the wall, checking each corner before waving his men forward, following a broken and scuffed set of footprints through the dust.
Not for the first time, he found himself wanting for a DI. Rathbone has said something about a replacement being sent in, some bloke from Hyde, but Gene hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the bastard yet and it wasn’t like scum waited for him to have a full team before pulling shit.
‘sides, this lot had all ready offed his last DI. No sense repeating themselves.
He heard the footsteps first and drew to a halt, motioning with his head for Ray to take his place while Gene advanced. He’d need cover and Chris was just about useless in close quarters. When they were ready, the Guv swung around the corner, revolver at the ready.
The bum looked up from where he was taking a leak, surprised, and pissed himself. Gene pulled his gun, cursing, and turned to his team, the words dying on his lips to see Ray and Chris both held at gunpoint from behind.
“Put it down nice and slow and we won’t blow these copper’s brains out,” said the skinny little shit holding Ray. Gene dropped his gun, defiance on his face. The punk grinned. “See? You’re not so stupid after all, are ya, Guv?”
Gene didn’t answer, eyes flicking to Ray. There were three cops and two scum; scum had the guns, but three-to-two were good odds in Gene’s book.
They struck together, Ray elbowing the skinny guy in the gut and ducking low, while Chris just ducked as Gene barrelled toward the other attacker, slamming him into the nearest wall hard enough to hear something snap. Ray scrambled for his DCI’s revolver while Chris skittered out of the way, fumbling with his own standard-issue. The skinny bastard dropped his own gun now that he had two pointed at him and no backup.
“Hey now,” he stuttered, hands raised defensively. “No hard feelings, yeah?”
Gene stopped about a foot in front of him, giving the bloke a long look, then brought his right hand in for a hook, flooring the guy instantly. Kneeling beside him, he pulled his cuffs, yanking the bloke’s hands none-too-gently behind him while he groaned in pain.
“You’re nicked.”
They dragged the two out of the building a few minutes later to the waiting wagons. Gene lit up again, leaning against the building’s exterior and staring after the retreating police vehicles. They’d been after three cars, one of which held the ring leader of the arms cartel working out of the abandoned factories on the east side. The two shits they’d just caught obviously weren’t weapon mongers, meaning he still had a long way to go in this game of cat and mouse.
Ray and Chris were standing by the Cortina when he came over, crushing out his cig before clapping them both on the shoulder.
“C’mon, lads,” he said. “I need a drink.”
Muse: Gene Hunt
Fandom: Life on Mars
Word Count: 948