Approaching Sunset in An Already Dark City

[jla_villains]

Getting the warrant wasn't the issue. Finding the house wasn't the issue. Getting through Gotham traffic at rush hour because Thorne chose to die a a bad time? A bit of an issue for two cops who are at present worse for wear

Comments

[detective_allen]

Rush hour in Gotham City is bad enough. Rush hour in Gotham City when Detective Renee Montoya is driving, however, is something else altogether. He hates letting Renee drive; it's just one of those unspoken things between the two veteran cops - whenever possible, let Cris drive.

All of this back-up would've been helpful a couple of hours ago...Allen thinks, scowling. The detective opens the door of the unmarked car, shooting a glance at Montoya. Neither of them is in the best shape - Allen with a badly sprained ankle, Renee with a bullet through the arm - but Allen's injury meant Montoya'd had to drive. She's trying to kill me. I know she is.

Moving out of the car, Cris breathes a sigh and adjusts his glasses, leaning up against the vehicle, looking over the top of it at his partner as she gets out. "Dogs...fence...terrific. This place is a fortress. How d'you want this to go down?" he asks, the scowl remaining firmly on his face.

[det_montoya]

She slams the door behind her. The crown vic can take it. Better the car than a person. She glances back at the other units, watches uniforms and windbreakers alike climb from the confines. The her eyes are on Allen. "We use the front door."

There's an intercom next to the gates. She punches the activation button. "GCPD! We have a warrant to search the premises!"

Now? They wait.

[jla_villains]

Door opens without comment.

[detective_allen]

The gates swing back toward the house, leaving the driveway open - which means that the rather large-sounding dogs behind the iron fence probably have a clear run at the assembled officers and detectives.

"This day's just getting better and better," Cris murmurs, reaching his hand inside his jacket, drawing out his sidearm. The detective looks over at his partner, lifting an eyebrow.

"After you?" he asks, a heavy dose of sarcasm evident in his tone.

[jla_extras]

The door is shot out and swings open and the air is a godsend.

"Montoya! Allen!" Esperanza shouts out. Her voice is followed by a sudden whooshing ans sucking sound and then...

WFOOBOOM!

[detective_allen]

He'd heard Esperanza's voice, felt the cool burst of air hit his face as he'd stepped outside, seen the riot of color that was the shimmering of the lights on the police cruisers. Looking over his shoulder at his partner, Allen sweeps his arm forward. "Come on!" he calls out.

It all happens in the blink of an eye, a hidden detonator somewhere in the house triggering a series of explosions that sends the entire building up into a gigantic fireball, the force of the blast slinging the veteran detective throw the air, casting him on the grassy lawn like a child's plaything, his bald pate hitting the ground hard, glasses spinning off into the darkness.

It takes a moment, the ringing in his ears nearly deafening, his breathing shallow. "R-Renee?" he asks, the question coming out as a choked murmur.

[det_montoya]

He'll get no response. Renee Montoya is several feet away, sprawled at an odd angle, and out like a light. The good news? The old man is lying beside her. Both are alive and fairly well barbecued.

[jla_extras]

And detectives are moving in. The old man is, despite his injuries, frantically signing he wants a piece of paper. His eye thank Renee in a way words completely fail.