No Shots Fired
994 Words
Second floor, the booby-trapped room.
Julian shook off the blast daze, climbing to his feet as Group Two’s voice crackled in his earpiece. “Two suspects fleeing from the slum shacks—heading Hawthorne Boulevard. We’re too far—can’t pursue effectively.”
“You sure only two?” Julian asked, eyes red.
“Confirmed. Just two.”
“All units—converge Hawthorne Boulevard,” Julian growled through gritted teeth. “We have casualties. Pin the principals—or this was for nothing.”
“Copy!”
“Copy!”
“…”
Radios buzzed urgent acknowledgments. Julian drew his sidearm. “Uninjured—with me downstairs. Now!”
…
Less than a minute, ground level.
Julian sprinted at the front. “Group Two—visual? Positions!”
“They hit Hawthorne Boulevard—still running. Approaching Third Ring intersection,” Group Two lead reported low. “We’re on them, but distance closing slow.”
Julian froze a beat—remembering Sebastian positioned that way. He keyed fast. “Vehicle Two—Vehicle Two, respond.”
“Vehicle Two copy,” Sebastian’s voice, tense.
“Suspects heading your way. Two men. Safety first—delay if you can. We have dead. Buy us ten seconds—we’re incoming.”
Sebastian silent.
“You copy?” Julian pressed.
“C-copy…” Sebastian stammered.
“Stay on comms. We’re close.” Julian leaped into an arriving patrol car with Victor.
Meanwhile, Zabby and two from Victor’s team piled into another, racing the five hundred meters to Third Ring intersection.
Inside the car, Victor keyed. “Sebastian—visual on runners?”
…
Third Ring fork.
Sebastian had left his vehicle, shaking so hard he forgot the car radio. Gun drawn, trembling arms, he crouched behind the hood, staring down Hawthorne Boulevard.
He never imagined the desperate runners would come his way. Terror flooded—flashback to the upstairs blast, colleagues dead without warning. Fear consumed him. No heroic sacrifice thoughts—just raw cowardice.
Cold wind whipped. Silas Hart and his partner charged toward him, big-bore shotgun and pistol gleaming.
Car radio blared Victor’s voice. “Sebastian—hear me? Runners past you? Talk—talk!”
Sebastian sweated, eyes locked on Silas, hesitated long—then gritted teeth, raised gun, voice shaking for a challenge.
Dim light.
Silas turned to his partner. “Vincent Hale—what’s the word?”
“Coming,” partner panted, pointing ahead. “Through the shacks ahead.”
“Don’t move—patrol car,” Silas spotted Sebastian’s Vehicle Two.
Bang-bang-bang!
Partner—wired—saw the car, opened fire instantly. “You go first!”
Sparks flew off the vehicle. Sebastian hunched lower behind the hood, head never showing.
Radio—Victor yelling. “Sebastian—gunfire your side! Contact?”
Sebastian heard faintly, crawled to passenger side, reached for door.
Street side, Silas used cover fire to sprint. Diagonal from intersection, aiming for shacks—thirty meters from Sebastian.
Sebastian grabbed handle, yanked—glanced up, saw Silas diving for alley. Forced, he raised gun, mouth opening to shout.
Intersection—Silas running, watching the car. Turned—face-to-face with Sebastian.
Both froze.
Silas—no thought—raised shotgun, blasted the hood.
Crash!
Engine cover crumpled. Sebastian froze—didn’t return fire.
Vroom!
Zabby’s car screamed in. He keyed. “Sebastian—fire one shot. Delay—he can’t escape.”
Sebastian huddled behind car, motionless, face ashen, eyes terrified.
“f**k!” Zabby saw no response. “Rush—they’re only two.”
Car flew past Sebastian.
Bang-bang!
Zabby leaned out, two shots into Silas’s reloading partner. Blood burst—he dropped.
“f**k—you chase?” Silas red-eyed, charged, shotgun up.
Bang-bang!
Big bore roared. Electric tires burst. Car swerved, slammed wall beside store—front end crushed, smoke rising.
Zabby shook head, pushed door. “One left—pin him.”
Team dismounted, guns toward Silas.
Screech.
Snowy street—brakes. Four heavies piled from a vehicle, two with autos, swept fire at Zabby.
Third Ring—Julian arriving, saw reinforcements join Silas. Keyed. “Zabby—withdraw. They have backup.”
Too late—Zabby out, advancing. Bullets forced him to storefront recess.
Silas—partner dead—raged, shotgun forward. “f**k—you still chase?!”
Bang!
Zabby pinned to glass door, no peek. Blind shot.
Silas bold—wall hug, shotgun to Zabby’s head.
Brief silence.
“Don’t move!”
Two behind Zabby raised guns to cover.
Rat-tat-tat!
Vincent Hale with auto suppressed them.
Zabby sweated, thick lips moving. “…Don’t… don’t kill me… I…”
“Free kill my men? Huh?” Silas roared.
Bang!
Zabby down.
“Chase again—I send a grenade to your department daily.” Silas emptied three into the body, Vincent pulled him back, tossed two grenades for delay, vanished into night.
Behind patrol car at intersection, Sebastian watched Zabby die, grenades crater the road—statue-still.
Julian’s car screeched. He rushed down, eyes wide, grabbed Zabby. “Brother—hold on…”
“Dead… dead’s fine…” Zabby clutched Julian’s wrist, hoarse. “No family… lonely life… I supported two kids back home in New District… send my death benefit to them.”
Julian gripped hard, nodded firm. “I will.”
Street.
Victor eyes blazing, leaped from car, stormed to Sebastian, snatched gun. “Give me the gun.”
Sebastian empty gaze, looked up.
“I said give it!” Victor roared, yanked Sebastian’s pistol, ejected magazine—froze.
“S-sorry…” Sebastian stammered.
Victor arms shaking, pointed at full magazine. “You… didn’t fire once? Not one f*****g shot? One shot—Zabby lives? Runners caught? f**k—you waste!”
Three dead upstairs—all Victor’s team. Not close friends, but daily brothers.
He snapped—kicked Sebastian’s head. “Why no shot? Scared? Scared—why take the seat? f**k—I’ll kill you, waste…”
- Writer
