ravens
18:56 09/06/2023
22 (me!!!): anyone found anything else?
23 (isabella): all we found out is that they’re coming back in full
force
apparently
28 (big man ethan): Stopsley had some guys
We chatted a bit
I think im onto something
25 (robin): Same here
22: okok keep us posted
24 (hiroshi): Nothing here
27 (emma): not here either
22: just keep at it
Yeah, we have a groupchat using our call signs. On telegram instead of whatsapp, though. Feels illegal using it.
“When do I get to go home?” Jay groans at me, as if he isn’t the one laying on MY bed eating MY food, flicking through youtube on MY tv.
“When we say so.” I reply. We spoke to mission control, and they said to keep him around. Don’t know what they told his parents, don’t know how long, don’t really care.
Oh, and we got a request for more guns approved. Yay! Some rifles called the “SIG516”, apparently in use by the armed feds around here. Also apparently modified with a folding stock, so we can carry it in our bags. I don’t know if I’d trust myself to not leave my bag around with it in it, though…
“Oi, Isabella.” I say.
“Hm?” She replies, rising from her place on the floor, for some reason.
“Go get the weapons from the police station.”
“Why me?”
“You’re the closest one here.”
“Fuck you.”
“You wish.”
I feel like we’re gonna be using them sooner or later, even though I’d really prefer not to.
We interrogated Jay a bit more about what the “return” meant, too.
So, reportedly, there’s a couple trap houses active within Luton, a warehouse (more fucking warehouses?!?) storing weapons and drugs and shit, and then they’re planning to use Luton as a supply route into London. All of this was “overheard” by Jay listening into roadmens conversations.
If you ask me, he’s either a county lines victim himself, or his parents visit the trap houses for drugs and he tails along. Not my concern, but we are obligated to keep him safe now.
I glance over at Jay again, sitting there in his uniform (we should get him other clothes), fairly worriless. I wonder what it’d be like to be him, if he’s a normal kid. Wake up, eat a breakfast made by your mum or something, go to school, come home to your parents. Come home to a real home. And we had to take it away from him, and have him sit in my apartment, eating MRE biscuits. He almost looks kinda cute doing it.
What am I thinking? Cute? Fix up, Amaya.
“Hey,” I say, sitting myself on the foot of the bed. “Do you know where the warehouse you were talking about is?”
“Yeah… I think so,” he replies.” You know where the pizza hut near Chaul End is? Opposite that, there's a warehouse.”
“You been inside?”
“Nah, just seen people go in and out.” So he’s probably not a county lines victim.
The room falls silent once again, the only sound being Jay eating one of those biscuits. Making me hungry, damn.
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“Do you want to play a game or something?” He asks. A game? I don’t have a games console, or anything.
“Like what?” I ask back.
“Truth or dare?”
“Are we in a shitty teenage romcom?” Fucking hell, “Truth or dare”? I haven’t played that since me and Aleezeh had a game of it online once.
“Might as well be in a movie, with everything that’s happened.”
“Fair enough.”
“So… Which one?” This is almost embarrassing, but I might as well. Maybe I’ll learn something about him.
“Truth.” I tell him.
“What’s your biggest fear?” My biggest fear? No clue, really. All the training forced me to get over most of my fears.
“Torture.”
“Oh. Okay…” He replies. Not what you were expecting? “Dare.”
Dare already? Fine.
“Give me the rest of the biscuits.” Can’t keep them away forever.
He reluctantly hands them to me (not before taking 3 and shoving them in his mouth. fatass). “Truth, too.”
“Have you ever killed anyone?” Why is he pulling out the one question everyone asks every soldier they meet?
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yeah, obviously.”
“Yes. You probably saw the news of the attempted bombing over in Bury Park, we’re the ones who shot him. Me and Isabella.”
“Damn, really?” I literally just told you, dumbass. “Truth.”
“How's your home life?” I feel like that’s a good question to get a sense of him.
“Well, it’s ok. I think. Obviously, my parents argue here and there, but that’s just how it is for everyone.” He takes a deep breath. Why does everyone take a deep breath before saying things? “My brother’s kinda a dickhead though. He’s always teasing me about how I’m weak, and how I’d be better off in the all girls school. How my parents raised one son and one daughter instead of two sons. He’s actually the one I overhear talking about the syndicate. I should’ve told you…” He burrows his head into my pillow (please dont get tears on that i still want to sleep on it)
“Don’t worry about it.” I tell him, patting his head. I kinda feel bad about the astroturf incident now.
“Thank you.” He looks me in my eyes, almost endearing. Why does my chest feel tight? “Anyways, pick one.”
“Oh. Sure. Dare.” This is getting boring. Don’t know how appropriate it is for me to be asking for a dare, but I’ll beat his ass if he asks for anything weird.
“I don’t know any dares…” Boring. “What are you?”
“Is this part of the game?” Why does everyone ask me what I am?
“Just in general. I’ve never heard of a bunch of kids being police officers or soldiers or whatever you guys are.”
“We’re us. That’s all you need to know.”
“Fuck you. I’m back.” Isabella yells, kicking down the apartment door with a duffel bag in her hands. “You don’t know how long it was to get these. First it was that receptionist lady not letting me into the armoury, then it was the armourer not letting me take them out.” She drops the bag onto the floor with a loud crash.
“Careful with those!” I yell back. Those weapons are expensive, something like 1.2k each.
“It’ll be fine.” She unzips the bag, and tosses me one of the rifles. They’re surprisingly clean, considering they’re in use by the police. Weighty, but also lightweight enough to manoeuvre around. Perfect.
“They also gave me a bunch of attachments, so that’s fun.” She says.
“Alright, get ready. I want to go scout out the warehouse.”
“Already? It’s literally our first day in operation.”
“Yes. You too, Jay.”
He looks at me (stop looking at me please!!) again, before reluctantly rising. Do we even have a vest for him..?
###
“Do I have to wear this thing?” Jay asks, tugging on the shoulder straps of the vest I gave him. It’s my unmarked vest, and it looks absolutely fucking ridiculous on him. It’s like he’s wearing a cardboard box.
“If we get shot at, do you want massive steel plates protecting your organs or not?” I reply. Not exactly expecting to be shot at, but prepare for the worst and hope for the best.
Despite it barely turning half past seven, the roads are empty and the winds cold. Good for me, I can drive more recklessly. This steering wheel feels good to hold…
I should say, these Skodas are really nice, too. Bunch of random screens up front, leather seats and good soundproofing. Literally everything I’d ever want in a car. Albeit, not as comfortable as it should be, with my rifle sitting on me, uncomfortably.
“So, no actual breaching?” Isabella inquires from the front passenger seat.
“No. Not unless there’s something immediately dangerous.” I say back.
“Right, right.” She glances back at Jay. “Why’d we need to bring the kid along?”
“He knows the warehouse, he might notice something we don’t.”
“We're not that inattentive.”
“Would you rather we leave him in my apartment with all my gear and stuff?”
“Well…”
“Exactly.”
The warehouse itself is pretty normal, apart from the fact it has a chimney pouring out smoke. Should’ve been a big sign to the local police that they're cooking something slightly nefarious, but I can't blame them, with all the staffing issues and everything.
“Control, this is Raven-22, over.”
“Raven-22, this is LIMA, TANGO Hood, over.”
“Can I request access to floorplans and drainage systems to all buildings within 50m of our current location? Over.” Did I say these cars have laptops connected to the police national criminal database and council records? Though, we need authorisation for floor plans and stuff.
“State reason, over.”
“Potential criminal operations area, over.”
“Authorised on PNC, out.”
Lo and behold, we have the original floor plans documents for everything here. Useful.
“Received, out.”
While Isabella looks through those documents, I take a look back at Jay. He looks as small as ever, playing with the strap of the plate carrier. Still can't help but feel bad for him.
“Floorplan is basic, single story with a second ‘floor’ made of steel. 2% carbon. Otherwise, 5 entry points from ground, 2 from the roof. No other details.” Isabella reads out to me. That sounds like a stereotypical warehouse, the type we had for practice in Bassingbourn.
“Alright, I’m not asked for this right now. We'll head back and I’ll draw up an assault plan.” I reply. I’m tired enough because of Jay, and breaching a warehouse on the first day is a bit fast.
“Works for me.” Isabella says back.
“Jay, you're ordered to sleep in my apartment tonight. Fucking control said earlier.”
He just kinda looks at his feet, pitifully.
Am I that boring?