Drew rolled her car along the street, engine nearly silent, lights off. The anonymous tip they'd gotten about suspicious activity at the strip mall hadn't specified how many. With no backup, she intended to keep the element of surprise for as long as possible. More than once a group of perps had given up not because she could take them down, but because she'd ridden the surprise until all of them wore cuffs.

A block away from the place she put the car in neutral, shut off the engine, and let it coast to a stop, swerving to avoid the pools of light from streetlamps. Right before she came into view of the line of stores, she popped open the driver's side door and planted a foot on the curb. The weight of the car slid her along for another few feet before it stopped completely. The quiet crunch of the tires on the pavement announced her presence, but nothing more.

Before she got out of the car she gathered up her new equipment. An earpiece with built in mic and camera went in her left ear. A heavy, steel-barreled six-cell flashlight slipped through the specially reinforced epaulet on her right shoulder. She'd argued for the left, but Charlie had overruled her. A taser, something she hadn't carried since her days in uniform, settled in a holster next to her revolver. Charlie thought tasing criminals would be better for public image than beating them down to put the cuffs on, but no one had ever tased Charlie. Drew rated it as less painful than being hit with cattle prod, but way worse than getting the shit kicked out of her.

She stared at the final bit of equipment for a while before putting it on. Her new badge followed the model of law enforcement badges everywhere; a basic kite shield, this one in blued silver. Two stylized Bs formed the shield, with her name written across the top in navy blue enamel. Charlie kept hounding her to pick a codename, but nothing seemed right. With a muffled sigh, she clipped the badge onto the lapel of her jacket instead of slipping it into a pocket. She didn't expect any other police out here tonight, but if some conscientious armed citizen tried to help, she didn't want to get shot.

"Testing, testing, is this thing on?" Silence greeted her question.

"Angie? Are you listening?"

A moment later Angela whispered in Drew's ear, "I'm monitoring, but I'm juggling a few things at the moment. Do you need backup?"

Drew swore silently. Going into a potential armed robbery without backup on hand, and her dispatch had 'other things to juggle'. "Just testing this thing out. Any more information on the situation here?"

"Nothing so far. I'll be monitoring video and audio, but be aware, the video is a little dark on this end."

Drew heaved another longsuffering sigh before sliding out the door. She closed the door, careful to mute the sound by pushing it rather than slamming it. Upon hearing it latch, she slipped into the night, drifting silently toward the strip mall. Without thinking about it, she brushed her hands across the holsters of her revolver and her taser, quietly unsnapping the covers.

The strip mall held only half a dozen storefronts. One end had a supermarket, the other a department store. Sandwiched in between, two hairdressing salons, one church, and the entrance to a warren of 'professional offices' each no bigger than a cubicle tried to outdo the others. All of them wound up looking tacky next to the bright colors of the Dollar Grocer and the relatively subdued mass of the Bargain Mart. The semi trailer parked in front of the Mart immediately drew Drew's eye.

"Angie, I've got a few suspects going carrying stuff out of the B Mart and loading it in a semi. Somehow I don't think they're after hours shelf stockers," she whispered.

Angela whispered her reply. "Understood. Picture is grainy, but we've got enough definition to use in court. Do you require backup?"

"Why are you whispering?"

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"I could speak in a normal tone and risk them hearing the ear bud."

"Right. Whispering is good. What's the backup situation like?"

Angela paused a moment. "I could have Flex there in ten minutes, but she'll be breaking some traffic laws. Jack is presently overseeing Watkins and Wells; Wells insisted."

"Huh?" Half her attention on Angela's quiet recitation, Drew slid through the shadows along the edge of the parking lot.

"They're 'in custody' until they get some kind of legal closure on the events in New York. Charlie spoke with Agent Johnson earlier. He's getting in touch with a Federal judge, we should have something in progress by tomorrow AM. Until then, they insist we put them in a cell capable of holding them, which we don't have, or guard them."

"Huh. Damn." Drew muttered her reply, focused on the store and the truck. The perps had taken out one of the huge panes of glass from the Mart's front windows. A line of men handed items through the window and into the truck. She ghosted forward, keeping track of the burglars through reflections and shadows. The unknown criminals moved with smooth efficiency.

"So. Flex in ten, Jackhammer in twenty, or Steve in thirty."

Drew thought, briefly, about who she'd want backing her if things got nasty. "Send me the Hammer. Tell him if I need him, I'll need him sooner than possible."

"Will do."

Drew leaned back into the pitiful cover of the office suite's entryway. "And tell Steve to change his name. It's just not intimidating. 'Oh, here comes Steve!', 'Halt evildoers, or face the wrath of Steve!'"

"I don't know, his body odor can be pretty powerful."

Drew covered her mouth with both hands, trusting to her ear mic to pick up her muffled words. "Not as bad as that body spray he uses to cover it up. Okay, if you don't stop making me laugh, they're gonna hear me. Jackhammer on the way?"

"Coming to you now."

Drew popped out of cover just long enough to see the burglars, and swore. One of the bunch had climbed up onto the running board of the truck, and another now sat behind the driver's seat.

"They're about to get away. Going in."

"Drew, wait!"

Drew ignored the whispering in her ear and stepped around the corner, one hand going to her light as she did. She crossed the remaining distance quickly, and between her dark outfit and their conversation, the two thugs in the truck didn't notice her approach. When she stood no more than ten feet away from the front of the truck she flicked on her flashlight and shouted.

"Hold it right there!" She shone her light straight into the eyes of the driver, blinding him momentarily. "Everyone stop right where you are. I need to see some identification."

The guy leaning on the running board reached inside his jacket, and she swung the flashlight over to cover him. She lay her left hand on her hip, right next to the holsters for her pistol and taser. "Keep your hands where I can see them." She flicked the light back to the driver. "You too, sir."

The driver's hands crept up from beneath the dash, both empty. He kept raising them until his palms pressed against the roof. The thug on the running board leaned toward her, one hand holding him to the truck, one hand in the air, and called out. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but we need to ask you the same thing. Can we see your identification, please?"

Drew rolled her eyes, then lifted her badge up to one side of her light. At that angle, the guys in the truck should be able to see she had a badge, but not much else. She'd already had someone call her badge fake, and Charlie didn't want another incident.

"Can you see it?"

A radio squawked inside the truck. "Don't answer that, gentlemen. Not until I've seen some identification."

"It's my boss, ma'am, I've got to."

"He can wait. You've seen my badge. You in the truck, pull your driver's license out and hold it out the window."

As the driver moved to comply, she edged around so she would be able to see his license. "Dispatch, can you contact the store's manager for me? I'll need him to confirm this guy works for them."

"On it," said Angela.

The guy had his license out, but the angle kept her from reading it. She inched forward to get a better look.

"She's one of them aliens with the powers! Don't show her nothing, Carl! Alien woman, we are sovereign citizens, and you have no authority over us!"

"What the fuck?" Drew muttered.

At the shout from atop the truck, the driver, presumably Carl, yanked his license back inside the window and started fumbling with the ignition. Drew swung her light to spot the guy atop the truck, but halfway there muzzle flashes ruined her night vision. She feinted left, dove right, and threw her flashlight at the shooter. She hit the ground rolling toward the trailer, and didn't stop until she came out the other side.

As Drew sprang to her feet, the sound of groaning and cursing brought a brief smile to her lips. It died when the guy on the roof shouted out 'kill the alien bitch!', and the guys in the loading line started tearing at the packages they'd been loading.

Long, thin packages from the sporting goods section. Rifles.

"Angela?"

"Yes, Drew?"

"I'm calling out sick tomorrow, on account of I'm about to be shot."