So. I can’t be asked to go to school today. Neither is Jay. He is, yet again, lounging on my bed, watching youtube on my tv. Also in my clothes (which are heavily oversized), since control never really sent anyone to fetch his.
For a while, I’ve just been preparing for tonight. The original briefing document stated the men inside the warehouses are armed with “heavy weaponry”, probably rifles. That puts us at a mild chance of dying, so I’ve got some form of plan.
There are 2 skylights where we can rappel down. That’s our entry point. But, since I highly doubt there are civvies in there, rules of engagement are left to our discretion. Fun! Basically, we’re fucking gassing the place up. We can guess they’re cooking up class As in there, so it can’t be anything too reactive. I'm thinking of just tossing about 12 cans of CS gas through the skylights and chimney, then flashing the shit out of the place and breaching with gas masks, SAS Iranian embassy siege style. We'll have it publicised (prob getting bodycam footage, posting it on reddit and sending it to the bbc) so the syndicate potentially get shook, and their men start folding under pressure. We look indistinguishable from regular counter terrorism officers when kitted out, so they'll think they got the elite feds after them. Unfortunately for them, it's just a bunch of spastics in uniform.
“Oi. Jay.” I say to him.
“Hm?” He replies, not taking his eyes off the tv.
“We're going out, get up.”
“Now? Where?”
“To eat.”
He reluctantly rises as I grab my car keys and start walking out. I’ll leave my rifle in here, since I only need to carry the PDW. I’ll bring my bag with me though. In case.
“Where are we going to eat? I don't have money…” He moans at me. Be happy you're going outside, bozo.
“Forget money, I’ll pay for whatever. Also, I saw this really nice cafe, so we're going there.”
Upon hearing that he will not in fact have to pay anything, he suddenly springs up, scurrying next to me.
I’d slap him if I didn’t like him.
###
“So, what is this?” He asks, taking a seat opposite me.
“Amici, this cafe, apparently has great cappuccinos, which is why I wanted an excuse to actually go there.” I reply.
“Aw, so it wasn’t a date?”
“What? N-no!” I shout back at him, maybe a tiny bit over defensive. I can feel my cheeks burning red… “Just, pick whatever you want. I get paid enough to cover anything.”
He pores over the fancy menu while I look around…
The cafe is, unsurprisingly, very cosy. The lighting is soft, abstract paintings decorate the walls, and nearly everything is made from this nice wood. The whole place smells like bread and coffee, too, which is also very stereotypical for a cafe.
Considering it’s about 11am on a weekday, the only other people here are people using their laptops, probably stealing the free wifi. I never understood that, just work at home? Or at work?!
“Can I get a milkshake?” He asks, peeking over the menu.
“Get food too. I don't really want to cook lunch.” I reply. Cooking is fun, but I hate washing up, and Isabella refuses to.
“Okay, I'll get a panini with that.”
I hand him my debit card. “Go and order it. Remember my cappuccino!”
I feel like a stressed mother right now, forcing her child to do light labour.
As he skips off to the counter, I pull out my phone.
ravens
11:26 10/06/2023
22 (me): @23 (isabella) go to the station later
23: y
22: we need some of those axon bodycams
28 (ethan): big men already doing shit damn
22: 💯💯💯🤑🤑🤑
Bodycams sorted, now just the CS and calling up the BBC later to get them to air our footage. I don’t know where we’ll get CS, probably will have to get it delivered by control. I think the riot police over in London keep stocks, so…
I don’t know. I’m tired. My head hurts, and for some reason I feel some form of tension within me. Never felt like this unless I was anticipating something, but what? Nothing is bound to happen. I don’t get it. Should I be concerned? Am I dying (too much redbull and monster)? Ah well, if I die I die.
“Basically, it cost like £12.” He informs me, sitting down again.
“Don’t care,” I reply. “Hell, I don’t even know what to do with the amount of money I get paid. No rent, no bills, just fuckery.”
“Lucky. I’d buy so many sweets…”
“Our medical officer would shove them up our asses if he found out we were spending thousands of pounds on sweets.”
On cue, Jay’s sickly sweet looking milkshake arrives, along with my cappuccino and his panini.
This cappuccino does look nice, with a little flower as the art on top. Maybe this was worth it.
“Alright, then,” I say while sipping the cappuccino (it is really good). “Tell me more of your brother.”
“What of him?”
“Sturgeon links, obviously. You said he was talking about the syndicate and you overheard him. Did he call it sturgeon?”
“He did call it sturgeon.” He sips through the comically large, twisting straw.
Interesting. I thought most people were working for the syndicate under puppet gangs?
“Have you heard anything else?” I ask. Holy shit this cappuccino is really nice…
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“Not really..? He talks about how much he gets paid, and how ‘all the gyal there’ love him more than everyone else.”
“Wait wait wait. ‘All the gyal there?’ All the girls where?” Fuck. This might be the human trafficking shit they were on about. Girls, sex trafficking? Bastards.
“I don’t know…” Fucking hell Jay, be useful for once.
Think, Aya. Think.
“What types of phones does he own?” I ask him. Bugging his phone could be an option, he might be too cocky to use a proper burner for his “activities”.
“He uses an iphone 13 normally, but I’ve seen him using a samsung to talk to the syndicate people, I think.” Perfect. What a fucking idiot.
“I’ll get him.”
Jay just looks down at his milkshake while drinking it. I feel like there’s more that he’s not telling me, but pressuring him again isn’t right. His wrists still have faint marks from the last time (he healed fast damn).
“Alright, I’m done listening to this shit. Chug it and get up.” I command him.
I also need to ask control about the CS. We’re close enough to the Dunstable police station that if police from London delivered it there, we could collect it immediately.
Leaving Jay to collect himself, I walk out the cafe (the wind is so nice today too) and whisper into my radio,
“Control, Raven-22. One, five units of CS required for critical operation at 23:00 hours. Dunstable station. Out.”
No need for a response, they’ll understand.
“What now?” Jay asks, half his panini shoved in his mouth.
“We walk. And wait.” I reply.
“Mmm.”
Today is literally the perfect day for walking, so I don’t know why Jay was so hesitant. Blue sky, fairly reasonable temperature (like 22c), and all the parks are absolutely empty.
I love middays on weekdays…
“Oi, is that my man?”
I turn around to see the voice came from a group of 3 random guys, in puffer coats and balaclavas. Stereotypical roadmen.
“No, it’s me.” I reply. Having a gun does make you more confident, it seems.
“Shut up, yeah? Not you.” The lead guy points at Jay. “This badman. Hiding with your girl now, yeah?”
I don’t know who this guy is. I really can’t care less. But threatening the one guy I’m forced to protect? Kinda my job to protect him.
“Yeah, and what bruv?” I say, while stepping between him and Jay. “Sorry, bossman, I didn’t know you were tracking down young boys, yeah?”
“Don’t act hard.” He flashes what seems to be a zombie knife from under his coat.
So, like, I have two options now:
Retreat (im not doing that :3).
Fight back.
Of course I choose to fight back. I obviously have my pistol, but shooting a guy for flashing a knife isn’t ideal.
It’s to my discretion, though.
This guy really doesn’t know I can kill him.
Knife. I have one in my bag.
I reach to my side and pull out the crimson fixed blade I kept in my bag. Feels reassuring.
“What now, bossman?” I taunt him.
“What?! Are you dumb?” He unsheaths his knife from his sheath. It’s about 12 inches, twice my own. I’m losing this knife fight.
His 2 friends have knives too.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
I don’t really have a choice.
I shove Jay backwards, sending him to the floor, and pull out my pistol. This feels even more reassuring.
“Don’t do it.” I warn them. I could kill them.
Should I?
They’re just standing there with their knives by their sides. Technically not placing lives at risk.
But rules of engagement are discretionary.
The hospital is right next to us. I can shoot them (hopefully in a non-fatal area?) and let the paramedics deal with it.
“You want me to believe some random gyal has a real skeng, yeah?” The lead guy takes a step forward.
There’s about 8 steps till he can stab me.
“You wanna act like a bigman and see?” I warn him again. He’s really playing with his life, isn’t he?
He takes another step.
There aren’t any civilians in my peripherals.
“Shoot me then, baddie. Shoot me.”
He walks, knife raising slowly.
I quickly hop back as he slashes forward.
Let’s see how tough he is with a bullet in his chest.
I squeeze the trigger, letting the deafening bang ring through my ears. Easy centre mass shot.
The guy just stands there, knife still halfway raised, probably in shock.
“The fuck did I say?” I shout at them. His 2 friends are already running, while he’s just stood there. Do something?
Should I shoot him again?
Maybe that’ll wipe away the last of his ego.
I look back to see Jay watching on from the floor, his eyes wide in shock.
I won’t shoot again. For Jay’s sake.
Kicking the guy’s left knee (somehow crumpling the weak bastard), I hit the panic button on my radio.
“Raven-Trojan-22, knife wielding suspect critically injured. Grove House Gardens.” I spit into the radio. The 15 seconds of solo radio time ticks down, before it explodes into chatter requesting more info.
Unfortunately for them, I can’t be asked!
They know it was an ARV (trojan), so they’ll probably respond for a gunshot wound.
“Get up.” I bark while raising a hand out for Jay. “I don’t want to deal with this now.”
He stares at me for a good second, before taking my hand and rising up.
“Y-you. You shot him.” He stammers.
“Yeah. I did.”
“That was my fucking brother!”
Shit. His brother?
That means he has his phone on him.
I quickly drop down and start searching his body. The guy’s eyes are rolling, he’s probably close to death.
Shouldn’t have fucked with me.
I pull out an old samsung, probably an S8, from his left coat pocket. It’s got a splash of blood on it.
I can’t break down again like the first shooting.
Up. Pocket the phone. There’s sirens quickly approaching.
I grab Jay’s arm and force him along with me. You can see tears falling down his face.
Run.
After almost dragging Jay about a hundred metres, we stop. We’re mostly out of sight, and the car is about here.
“Jay.” I try to talk to him. His face is sodden.
“You killed him…” Once again, he looks me in the eyes.
I can’t fucking stand seeing the grief in his eyes.
I pull him into a hug, it’s the least I can do.
Tears are already soaking into my shirt.
His body feels so frail. Little twitches from his sobbing shake me.
Think ahead.
Still holding him, I call Isabella on my phone. It’s about 12, so school hours, but she should still attend.
“Hm?” I hear her say, classroom chatter in the background.
“Get to Grove House Gardens. Now.” I command.
“Fuck… What happened?”
“Shooting.”
“Already? It’s the second fucking day, Aya!”
“It was shoot or die, alright?!”
“Fine,” I hear her jump up and run out the classroom while the teacher screams at her. “I’ll be there at your car’s location in 2 minutes. Blues and twos.”
The line goes dead.
Jay isn’t crying anymore, but he’s still gripping onto me, shoving his face into my chest. He’s still shaking.
“Are you hurt?” I ask, caressing his head. I’m not used to comforting people, I’m used to people’s frail attempts to comfort me.
“N-no.” He peels off me a bit. I can see that his arms are a bit grazed from when I shoved him, but that’s all.
“I’m sorry. It was me or him.” I try to reassure him more. End of the day, it was. As soon as he missed his first slash, it was really life or death.
“I-” He chokes out, before crying again. Why does he feel so bad for his brother? He was a piece of scum, and probable rapist. I’ll have to look through his phone…
“It’s alright.” I let him keep sobbing. I’ll get one of our paediatric therapists to speak with him later.
Still. That’s the second time I’ve shot someone.
Why was I so emotionless this time? Why did I want to keep shooting him?
No. Ignore that. It’ll keep me going.
Tonight’s still the warehouse raid. I still need to get the CS.
I fucking don’t want to, but I need to move past this, despite it happening minutes ago.
All to do is to drag Jay with me, and hope he can take it.