Shit.

Fuck.

Godsdammit.

Everything's falling apart again. I slump back against the wall, looking up to the smashed skylight. I could've been faster about getting back here. If only I saw it coming. Though. Why’d they take my team if they wanted me? They could've waited for me to come back and gun me down. It could've been over in a blink of the eye. I walk in, suspecting nothing, and get ripped apart in a hail of bullets. Droplets of rain in a storm of lead. Fade to black, unceremonious credit roll. As easy as that.

Wait. A smattering of the remnants skylight falls to the ground and shatters, scattering about in the air like stardust. The sound snaps me back to attention, at least somewhat.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Fuck. I forgot McNamara is a prick. This is all some sort of sick game to him. He's hoping that I puff my chest out and walk straight into the barrel of a dozen waiting guns in front of the entire precinct. I go down like a cheap date, and he comes out looking like the star quarterback. Maybe less of a game, and more of a show. A canned hunt.

I whump my head against the wall. The fuck am I going to do now—

The hell am I doing feeling cornered right now? I'm far from defanged. This isn't like when I got forced out here. Nobody's got me in cuffs. The worst I'm going to do is bloody that son of a bitch's nose. I'm going to be leaving with my team this time. The bell ain't rung yet.

I push myself up and make for the door. It's time to call in some favors.