Thin Rainbow Line (WIP)

>Winters are the worst
>This was the prevailing thought as you stepped from your vehicle into the early morning air
>Sure, Christmas and New Year's were fun, but...
>The wind picks up and kicks your face with an icy blast
>...you hate the cold
>Groaning, you settle further into your dark-blue patrolman's jacket and begin your trek across the parking lot
>A fresh blanket of snow had fallen over the night, covering lawns and sidewalks
>The city had done a decent job of salting the roads, at least
>You cross the street, unconcerned with traffic at such an early hour
>Pass an illuminated flag pole
>Walk through the front door of the Blaik County Police seventh district substation
>And into your new job
>Where you proptly realize how lost you are
"Shit."
>You don't actually remember where to go from here
>Looking around, you spot a bored-looking middle-aged woman sitting behind a panel of ballistic glass, and you make your way over to her
>You lean against the counter
"Excuse me."
>At a painfully slow pace, her eyes drift from her computer screen to you
"Uh, I'm new, I'm not really sure where I'm supposed to go."
>You were sure that at some point someone had told you, at it had just slipped your mind
>Not the best first impression, to be sure
>"Squad room."
>She jerked her head towards the front door
>"He'll show you."
>You direct your attention towards the door
>A tall, dark haired man who looked to be  in his mid twenties had just walked in
>A single thin, gold service bar was stiched into his jacket's lower left sleeve, marking three years of service
>"You the new guy?"
>He walks up to you, hand outstretched
>"George."
>You clasp his hand firmly, and shake
"Anon."
>"Good to have ya' with us, Anon. C'mon, squad room's this way."
>He swipes his card through a reader and leads you through a nondescript door into a long, narrow hallway
>"So, you lived here in Blaik County long?"
"About three days. Moved here once I got the job."
>He whistles
>"Three days and you're already getting started, huh?"
>You shrug
"Yeah, well, figured I might as well. I was kinda' excited to start working, honestly."
>"Well, keep up the enthusiasm, man. It'll take you far."
>He reaches the door and pauses.
>"Otherwise, you'll burn out on this and hate your life."
>He pushes through the door and you follow
>Trying to keep the conversation alive, you press
"So, what do you do?"
>"Patrol. But I'm one of two FTO's on shift, so you might be riding with me."
>He grimaces ever so slightly
>"Or that other guy."
"What? What other guy?"
>George waves his hand dismissivly
>"Nah, don't worry about it. Whoever they stick you with, they'll be great."
"Whoever being you or one other person."
>"Yeah."
>You reach another door, which George pushes open, revealing a rectangular desk with a dozen or so chairs spaced around it
>Immediately, you knew who that 'other guy' had to be
>He was sitting in the back corner of the room with his feet propped up against the desk, scowling at you as you entered
>He was lean and, like George, appeares to be in his mid to late twenties
>However, his most memorable feature is a close-crop of messy rainbow hair
>George nudges you
>"Dude, you're staring."
>You avert your eyes, but aside from the scowl he gave no indication of caring
>George takes a seat near the front of the room and you settle into the chair next to his, turning away from the black looming presence sitting at the far end of the table
"So..."
>You jerk your hear towards the rainbow-haired officer
>"Corporal Dash. He's been on a little longer than me. I think he laterally-hired in from some agency a little bit south of here."
"Is he like... gay?"
>George shurgs
>"We don't fuckin' know, man. Dash likes to keep to himself. I mean, he's not a bad cop, he's just distant. Ya' know?"
>You nod
>Other offices begin to shuffle into the room
>"He's also the other FTO."
"Yeah, I guessed that."
>The door is pushed open once more and a man whose uniform bears sergeant's stripes enteres, coffee mug in one hand and clipboared in the other.
>"Morning, everyone."
>He takes his place in the front of the room
>"Welcome to the zero-five-hundred to seventeen-hundred shift. As I'm sure you noticed, we had some heavy snowfall last night so expect lots of accident calls today, especially out on county roads that haven't been salted yet."
>He flips through his papers
>"EMA wants to be remind you that fire rescue is IC for any accidents invlolving injuries or fire, and you're going to be focusing on traffic enforcement today, because of aforementioned snow, so that's speeders, seatbelts, distracted driving. Clear?
>He pauses a moment for questions
>"So, putting that aside, we've got a new member of the team, Officer Mous -
>You raise your hand
>"- so everyone coach him, make yourselves available to answer any questions he has. Mous, welcome to your first day at the Blaik County Police Department. Corporal Dash, you'll take the lead as his FTO."
>The sergeant browses through papers
>"And, that concludes my brief to you. If you need me, you can contact me by radio or phone. Hit the streets."
>George stands from his chair
>"Sorry, man. Dash is good. You'll do okay."
>"Let's go, rook."
>It was a voice you don't recognize
>Not exactly low, but certainly not high pitched
>The best way you could describe it is coarse, and a little strained
>A little like an adolescent boy
>You turn towards the source
>It's Dash
>Certainly not how you though he'd sound, but then again, you weren't really sure what you'd expect
>Now that you could see him up close and standing, it was apparent that Dash was kind of short
>You're about average height, and the top of your his head was a little above your eye level
>"What?"
"Uh..."
>You're not exactly sure what to say.
>He points to a charging bank sitting on a table
>"Grab a radio and let's go, we've got a lot of work to do."
>You snatch a radio out of the charging bank and jam it into its holder on your duty belt
>You follow Dash out of the room through the same door that the other officers left by
>A brisk walk down a hallway leads you to another door, which Dash opens and leads you into a parking lot
>He points to a black-and-white Ford Explorer-based Police Interceptor Utility
>"There's our unit, Six-Delta-Twenty. That's our callsign for the radio."
>He unlocks the vehicle
>"I'll be handeling driving today, but I want you to functions check the lights and sirens before we get on the road."
>You hop into the driver's seat, crank the ignition, and locate the control box
>You hit the lights, and the lightbar blooms to life
>Covering one ear, you mash the siren control and cycle through wail, yelp, and the air horn before switching them off and stepping out
"Okay, everything's working."
>Dash jerks his head towards the passenger side, before taking the driver's seat and shutting the door
"Cunt"
>You murmur, as you make your way to the passenger side and step in
>"So. What'd you just do wrong?"
>What? Again, you we're unsure of how to proceed
"I, uh,"
>"You crossed in front of the car. That's super basic shit."
"But that's for like... traffic stops and stuff."
>He shakes his head
>"This needs to be second nature to you. If you can't remember to do it now, under no stress in a parking lot, then you'll for sure fuck it up when you're on the road, it's raining, you're cold, and it's your fifteenth traffic stop that day. You always cross behind your vehicle - it's a matter of repitition."
>Dash jabs a thumb at the two rifles stored between you
>"The combination's four-seven-nine-three. You need to have that memorized."
>He puts the car in reverse, and grabs the microphone
>"Six-Delta-Twenty, ten-eight from the station."
>Dash takes a right turn out of the stations lot
>You glance at the cruiser's clock
>Five in the morning, exactly
>Internally, you sigh
>You've got twelve more hours with this dude
>"We're going to be working plenty of accidents today, so pay attention because this'll be a huge part of your job. When you get on scene, there's a reflective vest for you in the trunk. You will wear that vest whenever you're working a traffic accident, for the entire time you're there. A lot of cops are killed working accidents because a motorist doesn't see them."
>You nod - this is basic information
>"Whenever you're on scene, you need to be looking *and* listening. If you hear tires squealing, someone's probably losing control of their car and you need to be ready to move."
"How many accidents do you think we'll see?"
>He shurgs
>"Tough to say. Could be a few dozen on a bad day. Sun won't be up for a couple more hours, and that's when we'll start getting calls. During morning rush hour."
>And like that, you were back to uncomfortable silence
>It looks like George is right
>Dash does prefer to keep to himself
>Which really begged the question, why did he become an FTO?
>Maybe it was a power thing
>A Napoleon complex on account of how short he was
>You really hope not, riding with someone like that would be absolutely aweful
>More so than it already was
>Minutes pass with no more words spoken
>Other than to instruct, Dash doesn't seem interested in initiating conversation
>You try to break the ice
"So, what do you do outside of work?"
>He cocks an eyebrow
>It's a transparent attempt, and he knows it
>But he seems willing to humor you
>"I exercise a lot on my off days."
"Cool. Like what? Running?"
>"Yeah, some. And I do a lot of weight training."
"...oh."
>You really hadn't meant it to come out thar way
>It was just, Dash doesn't look that built
>Granted, 'a lot of' weight training could mean anything
>And it's hard to tell exactly what he looks like under his winter uniform
>But as you noted back at the station, he seems to be a pretty skinny guy
>Either way, regardless of your intentions, his irritated scowl was back
"Sorry, I didn't mean -"
>His glare cuts you off
>Good job, Anon
>You're really nailing it on your first day
>The next two hours pass with little incident and few words spoken, other than bare essentials
>It's a relief when your dispatcher comes over the radio
>"Six-Delta-Twenty, respond to Highway Fifteen eastbound past mile-marker four, highway one-five eastbound past mile marker four, in reference to a ten-fifty with possible injuries."
>Dash grabs the microphone
>"Six-delta-twenty, we're en-route."
>He hits the lights and sirens, and stomps on the accelerator
>"When we get on scene, you stay with me and listen to exactly what I say. People like to go upwards of fifty, sixty miles per hour on this road. Don't expect them to move over just because you're running lights. For the love of God, pay attention to oncoming traffic and if you see something fucked up let me know."
"Right, yeah, got it."
>You can feel your hands shaking
>It's an odd combination of fear and excitement
>Here you are, after months of training, running your first call
>The engine is roaring, and you can feel the weight of your two and a half ton vehicle as Dash accelerates into a turn
>Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remember that at around sixty miles per hour a police car will begin to outrun its siren
>You're now pushing eighty
>It's thrilling
>And at the same time, there's someone who needs your help
>It's a sense of urgency you had never felt before
>A life hanging in balance, and a race to get there in time
>Dash turns down a new road and begins to break
>There's cars slowing to a halt a short distance in front of you
>He brings the cruiser onto the shoulder of the road and passes by the stopped traffic at a speed of thirty or forty miles per hour
>A quarter mile or so in front of you is the crash
>You can start making out details
>At least one vehicle, a green sedan, has flipped
>"Shit, this is going to be bad."
>As you draw closer, you can make out more details
>The frame of the sedan is crumpled, and the windows shattered
>One of its doors was torn off and flung off the side of the road
>A second car, a red coupe, has a deep gouge on the front passenger side, and has spun around to face oncoming traffic
>Black smoke is wafting out from under the hood
>Dash mashes the break, and the vehicle slides to a stop
>"Six-delta-twenty, we're on scene. We need you to start a ten-fifty-two our way, and keep fire rescue rolling."
>He leaps from the car, pulling his reflective vest over his torso
>"Grab the extinguisher from he back."
>Without waiting for a reply, he rushes over to the coupe
>As soon as your boots hit the ground, you scamble to the rear of the intercetor and pop open the tailgate
>You grab your vest, throw it on, and pull the fire extinguisher from the trunk before running over to Dash
>Dash reaches inside the car to pop the hood
>"Take care of that smoke, I'll check on the driver."
>You stuff the nozzle under the hood and sqeeze the lever, empying the contents of the fire extinguisher into the engine compartment
>"Hey man, can you hear me?"
>You hear a soft groan
>Dash has his nitile gloves on and is checking the driver
>"Just stay still, don't move your neck. We've got an ambulance coming."
>He keys his radio
>"Six-delta-twenty to Blaik County, we have one male, approximately thirty years of age, with unknown injuies."
"Is there anything I can do?"
>Dash looks over his shoulder at you
>"Yeah, go check on the other car. If you find someone, call it up to dispatch so they can update fire rescue. Don't move them unless you absolutely have to."
>You pull a pair of gloves from the holder on your belt and rush over to the flipped sedan
>Shattered auto glass crunches under your boots, and the sharp odor of gasoline stings your nose
>You kneel by the driver side window and peer inside
>Strangely, you find not a single passenger inside
"The fuck?"
>You look back towards Dash, a question forming on your lips, but he looks pretty preoccupied dealing with the driver of the coupe
>He'll probably bitch at you if you try to drag him away for something that wasn't urgent
>You scan left and right, searching for answers
>Surely there was no way whoever was in here got out and walked away
>You stand up and walk to the front of the car
>Still nothing
>"Hey, what's going on over there?"
>Great, now Dash is yelling at you
"I can't find..."
>You notice something laying in the snow
>Something very, very still
>You move towards it, stepping over the guardrails and into the snow
>"What? What do you see?!"
>You know what you're seeing
>You don't want it to be true
>And you really hope you're wrong
>But somehow, you know
>It's the dead body of sedan's driver
>Someone was yelling something, but you couldn't process their words
>All you could do was stare
>The body is a woman of about forty, lying face up
>It isn't hard to piece together what had happened
>She hadn't been wearing a seatbelt, and when her car flipped she had been ejected from the vehicle and flung into the air
>This is how she landed
>Her long, black hair is splayed out behind her head, with not a strand touching her face
>A pair of blue eyes stare dully up at the sky
>Her mouth is open just ajar
>And her head sits atop her shoulders at a horrible angle
>Looking back, this was probably the breaking point
>Your legs give out and you tumble forward, breaking your fall with your hands
>A sickening pressure grows in the back of your throat
>And you throw up
>You're not sure how long you stayed like that
>But eventually, you feel someone grip your left shoulder and pull you onto your knees
>"Anon."
>It's Dash
>"Aw, shit."
>You try to look back towards the body, but Dash gives you a shake
>"No, don't look at her, look at me. Can you walk?"
>You swallow and try to find your voice to answer
"Ugh... yeah."
>"Alright, c'mon. Let's get up."
>He helps pull you onto your feet
>Dash's grip hasn't left your shoulder
>"I gotcha' man. Let's get you back to the car."
>Gingerly, he leads you over to your cruiser, opens the passenger door and sets you inside
>"Fire departments on scene, you just sit this one out."
>He hands you a bottle of water
>"Sip on that, I want half of it gone by the time I get back."
>You nod, and Dash away
>And strangely, you find yourself missing his presence
>It wasn't so much *him*, it was just comforting to have someone around
>Though Dash had displayed a surprising amount of care
>You might've misjudged him
>You know, a little
>He was definitely a little abrasive
>And kind of a dick
>"Hey man, how ya' hanging?"
>It's George
>At some point, he must've arrived
"Alright, I guess. You heard what happened?"
>He sighs
>"Yeah, Dash filled me in. That's rough. But had to happen sometime, ya' know?"
"Yeah..."
>"Well, I thought I'd check on you. Can't really talk, they need me to help direct traffic around this clusterfuck."
>Honestly, that makes you feel worse
>Like everyone else on scene was doing something
>Except you, because you couldn't handle the sight of a body
>It wasn't like some shocking revelation that you would see death
>And then, when it really counted, you fucked it up

***

>The ambulance leaves the scene first
>Then the coroner
>Two wreckers
>And the fire department
>All that's left is you and Dash, and the two other Blaik County units who responded
>It didn't take you too long to recover
>But by that point, you figured if you tried jumping in you'd be more a hinderance than an asset
>Better to just ride it out
>There's always next time
>You hear the driver side door open, and Dash steps in
>His nose and cheeks are stung red by the cold
>"Oh, man."
>He strips his bright yellow traffic vest off and stuffs it inside his doors storage compartment, and lets out a sigh as he relaxes in his seat
>"Well, that wasn't too bad."
"Could've gone a lot better."
>He glances over at you
>"Look, here's the thing about bodies, man. Everyone reacts differently, and when you see your first one... well, it fucks with people."
"I guess. I just feel like I pussed out."
>The ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth
>"Yeah, a little. But you'll see more, and you'll toughen up. It's just a matter of getting used to it."
>He pauses
>"Don't let it get to you. As far as first calls go, that was a lot. As the way you reacted... you're human. You've got empathy. Try not to lose that."
>He reaches over to the computer, and begins scrolling through the dispatch log
>"Anyway, the calls have been stacking up, and we're not even close being done for today. So I definitely can't have you up your own ass with moping, because we have a noise complaint to check on."
"I'm good, let's go."
>You meant it
>Any chance to redeem yourself would be welcome
>Even if it was something as trivial as a noise complaint
>Dash puts the cruiser into drive, and pulls out onto the highway
>"Six-delta-twenty to Blaik County, show us ten-eight and responding to the noise complaint on five-sixteen Clearwater Road.'
>...
"So."
>"What's up?"
"How'd you react?"
>"To what? My first body?"
"Yeah. You said everyone reacts different."
>"Well, *I* didn't throw up. But like I said, it fucks with you. It wasn't easy."
"What was it?"
>You're not entirely sure it's an appropriate question, but your curiosity is getting the better of you
>"It was a drowning. A couple kids broke into a public pool at night, and turns out neither could swim."
>He shakes his head
>"The stupidity of some people, right?"
"This was back at your old agency?"
>His eyes snap onto you
>"How'd you know about that?"
>You raise your hands defensively
"George told me this morning."
>Dash squints, his eyes searching you for any signs of dishonesty
>Finding none, his expression softens
>"Yeah. Back when I worked for the Canterlot Police. Things were usually pretty quiet."
>His gaze drops for just a fraction of a second
>"Not like Blaik County though. You'll see and do plenty around here."
"Like... check on noise complaints."
>"Oh, absolutely."

***

"Ma'am, listen -"
>"No, you listen! You listen, because *that*..."
>The woman jabs the air with a finger
>"That, is what I hear every damn morning!"
>She was referring to generic sounding dubstep pumping from the inside of the house next door
>Honestly, you didn't think it was that loud
>You could barely hear it from the porch
"Ma'am, the current noise ordnance expires after eight in the morning."
>"They're changing that law! I looked it up, they're changing that law any day now!"
"Yes, ma'am, but until the new law takes effect, he's not in violation."
>She huffs and throws her hands in the air, in an exaggerated fashion
>"You don't live here, you don't know what it's like to wake up every day and hear that... that garbage!"
"Have you tried talking to him, and explaining yourself?"
>She glowers at you
"Would you like *me* to talk to him, and ask him to turn the music down?"
>"I'd like you to arrest him."
>You groan inwardly
"Well that isn't going to happen. So I can either leave, and you can call us back when he's actually in violation of the noise ordnance, or I can go talk to him."
>She sighs
>"Well, I guess you can *try*."
>You walk off her porch
>Accross her lawn
>Past your cruiser and Dash, who has an amused smirk on his face
>Across the street
>And up a short flight of poorly maintained wooden stairs, terminating at a small landing
>The music was a lot louder over here
>You reach out and rapidly strike the door with the back of your hand a full dozen times
>Several seconds later, an unshaven, unkempt man dressed in a dark red bathrobe answered the door
>You hope he's wearing underwear under there
>"Sup?"
>"Sir, I'm having trouble hearing you, can you turn down the music?"
>He produces a small remote and mashes a button, silencing his speakers
>Thank God
"Thank you. I'm Officer Mous with the Blaik Couny Police Department. We've recieved a call from one of your neighbors complaining about the volume of your music."
>"Oh yeah? Is that a crime?"
"Well no, sir, but your neighbor is very upset -"
>"Oh yeah... heh. Fuck that bitch, right?"
"Sir, I think she'd really appreciate it if you'd enjoy your music at a lower volume."
>He looks at you
>"Look dude... you just said it's not a crime. So why're you over here harassing me about this?"
"Sir, they are changing the noise ordance to expand the hours it's in effect."
>"Okay, well come back when I'm breaking the law. How about you go and write some speeding tickets until then."
>He shuts the door
>The music comes back on
>Defeated, you make your way back to your car
"Fuck both those guys."
>A raspy laugh escapes Dash's throat
>"Better get used to it. You'll deal with a lot of this. Anyway, that wasn't awful."
>He swivels the computer to face you
>"Start writing up the report."
>You glance at the clock
>It's not even lunchtime yet
>"Blaik County to all district seven unit, respond one-twenty-eight Bluehill Street, one-two-eight Bluehill Street, in reference to a ten-ten."
>"Hey, we got a fight!"
>Dash keys up the radio
>"Six-delta-twenty, en route."
>He hits the lights, siren, and accelerates
>"We're close, we'll probably be the first ones on scene."
>A fight
>*Real* police work
>"Hey, Anon."
"Yeah?"
>"This fights in a residential area. It could be related to a domestic incident, even though they didn't page it out as one."
"Okay."
>"So if we get on scene, and we've got a victim that looks beat all to hell, you keep a close eye on him anyway, because he won't be on our side once we arrest his dad, brother, friend, whoever."
"Got it."
>You had to admit, Dash's ability to multitask was pretty impressive
>Here he was, passing cars and clearing intersections running code three to a fight, all the while talking to you about what you might see when you got on scene
>It doesn't even look taxing for him
>You turn right, down a road lined on both sides with barren trees and modern, suburban homes
>It doesn't take you long to spot the fight
>Thought to call it a fight may be a bit of an exaggeration
>There were two men
>Words had definitely been exchanged, along with some shoves
>But as far as fights go...
>Yeah, this was pretty mild
>A third person was also present
>A woman, who was jumping and swatting at herself
"What the hell?"
>Your cruiser slides to a stop, and Dash kills the siren as he hops out
>You're right behind him
>Dash's autolock baton cracks as he flicks it out to it's full length
>"Police! Break it up!"
>You and Dash, batons in hand, wedge yourselves in between the men and force them apart
>They continue to stare hatefully, though make no movements towards eachother
>The woman, on the other hand, can't stop moving
>"Oh God, get it off me, I can feel it on me!"
Dash yells over his shoulder
>"Ma'am, take it easy!"
>He turns his attention back to the two men who had been fighting
>"Does someone want to explain to me what's going on here?"
>The first man, wearing a heavy work jacket and jeans, volunteers his story.
>"Easy! So I'm here doing some electrical work -"
>He points at a 'Lightning Wiring' van in the driveway of a nearby house
>"- all of a sudden, I see this mother fucker tryin' to attack that woman!"
>The second man, dressed in a suit and overcoat, protests
>"That is a lie!"
>Dash looks at the woman, who is still squirming unconfortably, albiet less violently
>"Ma'am, was this man attacking you?"
>"I don't know what he was doing, he kept trying to stick his fingers in my mouth!"
>You're... not really sure what to make of that
"Fingers in your mouth?"
>The accused man quickly interjects
>"To keep her from choking on her tongue! I was walking to my car when I saw her freaking out, and then she fell over. I assumed she was having a seizure."
>Dash raises his eyebrows
>"Were you having a siezure, ma'am?"
>"Of course not, I want to get that *thing* off me! It's still there, I can still feel it!"
"What thing?"
>"My son's pet! Look, I had it in here -"
>She reaches down and picks a box off the ground, and opens the lid
>"- and it... oh."
>Her face flushes red
>You and Dash peer inside
>It's a short, brown Salamder
>... God dammit.
>Dash lets out a short bark of laughter, and reaches for his radio
>"Six-delta-twenty to Blaik County, we're code four, no further assistance needed."
...
"That was really not what I was expecting."
>"Yeah, no shit, dude."
>You and Dash were back in the interceptor
>Dash, in his infinite kindness, was letting you handle the paperwork
>"But there's actually a good take away from this."
"Yeah? What's that?"
>"You can't always trust what comes over the radio. It's not the dispatchers fault, usually, they're working with that they got. But you'll be surprised how often you respond to a call, and find something you totally aren't expecting."
"Like a salamander."
>"Not just that. Like, this one time we got a call for a domestic. And obviously, you're expecting to find at least two people. But when we get on scene, it's just this one dude standing on a car, ripping his shirt off. Nobody else around that we could find."
"Shit. How'd that end?"
>"Eh, we managed to get him under control. He was on something, obviously."
"Was this in Blaik County?"
>"Nah, Canterlot."
"You know, you made it out to be quiet town, but it sure sounds like some shit went down there."
>Dash is quiet for a moment
>"Yeah."
>Something about his answer seems off
>Something you can't place
>It was the same tone of voice, just missing something
>Missing some energy
>You stop writing your report
"Uh... you okay?"
>"Huh? What?"
"You just seemed kind of... I dunno."
>"Never been better, dude."
>He pauses, and then taps the side of the computer
>"Hey, you done with that shit yet? I'm hungry, I want something to eat."
>"So I'm thinking we hit up that sandwich shop over on Daisy Street."
>You shrug
"Yeah, alright."
>"You ever been there?"
"I've been here like, three days. I've had canned soup, and those cheap subs from Walmart."
>"Oh my God, dude, it's so good. They've got like... everything."
>Sandwhiches
>Sure, why not
>You hadn't had anything to eat since early this morning
>Like, four in the morning early
>And then you'd lost most of your meager breakfast on the side of the highway
"Honestly, I'd eat just about anything right now."
...
>"So what'd I tell ya'? Pretty good, right?"
>You take another bite of your reuben
>It was good, but the way Dash had built things up...
>You're beginning to suspect your FTO may have a tendency to exaggerate things a bit
"It's alright."
>"Alright? Pff. Man, you wouldn't know quality food if it jumped up and bit you in the ass."
>Dash crumples up the paper used to wrap his sandwhich and stuffs it into the bag it came with, and checks his watch
>"Hurry up, dude."
>You swallow
"Hurry up? We've been here fifteen minutes."
>"You are eating like... super slow. I'm don't want to sit here all day waiting."
>You know, Dash isn't aweful
>He's really not
>But he is started to grate on your nerves just a bit
>He's like that one friend you like just fine, but you can only take so much of
>Only you two aren't friends
>And you're pushing eight hours with him
>'Only four more to go', you tell yourself
>Begrudgingly, you finish off your sandwhich in three large bites
>"Well, it's about time."
>The two of you stand up from the booth you were sharing and toss away your trash before making your way to your cruiser outside
>After barely twenty minutes of break, you're back on the road again
>Dash takes you on a quick route out of the city, and onto one of the state's four-highways running through the county
>Traffic was fairly heavy,
>"This highway connects to the interstate about twenty-five miles that way. The posted limits fifty-five, but people come off the interstate doing seventy-five, eighty miles an hour, and never slow down. There's a bunch of back roads that connect, and most of them don't have stoplights, so we'll see some pretty bad t-bone crashes out here."
"So, are we doing traffic enforcement?"
>Dash nods
>"We're not too busy right now, and the sergeant is expecting everyone to run at least some traffic enforcement today. I'd rather not have him on my ass about it."
>You look out your right window as you slowly pass a car
>The driver is an old, steely haired woman, who appears to be giving considerable concentration to the act of driving
>You doubt she even realizes you're there, the way she's rigidly staring down the road
>A flash of silver above her shoulder catches your eye
>It's the metal tongue of her seat belt
"Hey, Dash?"
>"Sup?"
>You point
"That lady isn't wearing her seatbelt."
>You almost feel like a child, telling on the kid in class who's chewing gum
>But Dash just nods
>"Good eye."
>He gently applies pressure to the break
>Her car steadily creeps ahead of you
>Once it's clear, Dash brings the cruiser into the right lane
>"You think she'll survive if we pit her?"
>A look of horror flashes across your face, eliciting a short laugh from Dash
>"Kidding, dude. Lighten up."
>...
>Dammit, Dash
>He hits the lights
>You see the break lights of the car in front of you illuminate in response
>She's probably just now noticing you
>Your cars slow together and pull onto the right shoulder
>"Six-delta-twenty to Blaik County, show us stopped with a light-gray Lincoln Town Car, license plate number charlie-echo-whiskey-seven-six-two."
>"Ten-four."
>"Alright..."
>Dash gestures to the car
>"This is your show."
"Right."
>You step out, intending to execute the classic driver-side approach
>You walk around the rear of your vehicle
>Dash is out now, resting casually against his door, observing you
>"Hey, looks like I taught you something."
>You ignore him and continue your approach
>Stopping just behind the woman's shoulder, you assume an interview stance, with your left side bladed towards her, hands crossed in front of your abdomen, right elbow resting on the handle of your gun
>Her window rolls down, and she stares at you through a pair of very thick glasses
>"What seems to be the problem, Officer?"
"Good afternoon ma'am, I'm Officer Mous with the Blaik County Police. The reason I've stopped you is because I noticed you don't have your seatbelt on."
>Her eyes go wide
>It's almost comical, watching how big they become behind her powerful glasses
>She pulls the belt across her chest and connects it
>"Oh... I'm sorry, Officer, I hope I haven't caused anyone any trouble."
>You smile politely
"No trouble, ma'am, we just want to make sure you're safe, especially with all the snow. Can I see your drivers license and registration, please?"
>"Oh yes... yes, I have them somewhere in here."
>Slowly, she fishes around looking for the requested documents
>So far, so good, Anon
>"I have them right here."
>She holds them up, and you reach in to grab them
>And you clamp down with a death grip as a roar erupts behind you, and a blast of wind tears at your hair and jacket
>Your head snaps around
>Some douchebag in a diseled up truck had passed within feet of you, probably travelling well above the limit
"Piece of shit..."
>Your eyes go wide and your lips press tight
>You look at the old woman who you just swore in front of
>She smiles back at you, giving no indication she'd even heard
>You let out a heavy breath and quickly recompose yourself
"Thank you ma'am. I'll run these and get them right back to you."
>Fuck getting hit by traffic, you turn around and keep an eye on the oncoming vehicles as you make your way back to your car
>Dash, meanwhile, is giving you a disapproving look
>Yeah, whatever man
>Totally my fault I almost got whacked by that truck
>Once back in your cruiser, you run her information
>It's all valid, no wants, no warrants
>You get back out, make your way around your vehicle, and back to the one you have stopped
"Okay, ma'am, your information came back good, and I'm just writing you a warning for the seatbelt."
>You hand her license and registration back
>"Oh, thank you, Officer."
"Have a safe day."
>She pulls away and you return to your vehicle
>Time to see what crawled up Dash's butt
>"Okay, so..."
>He pulls the door shut behind him
>"Where'd you fuck up?"
>What, is he pissed you didn't write her a ticket?
"I dunno."
>"You turned your back on the suspect vehicle."
>...
>Oh
"Well, yeah. But I was trying to watch the oncoming traffic, because it seemed like a bigger threat than some old woman."
>He nods
>"Yeah, I saw you had a close call. Thought about pulling out and chasing that guy down, actually. But you remember what I said this morning about repitition?"
"Yeah."
>"It's these small, basic officer safety things that get people killed. You knew traffic was bad, you should have done a passenger side approach. And just because someone's old doesn't mean they're not a threat. Shitty people grow up too. Don't trust anyone, Anon, not even me."
>He puts the cruiser in drive and pulls out onto the highway
>"So, let's find someone else and run that again."
>He smirks
>"You might even manage to pull it off right, this time."
>"I think you're actually getting the hang of this."
>You shut the car door behind you, completing yet another traffic stop
>Dash pulls off the shoulder and smirks confidently
>"Who's the best FTO ever?"
>You don't dignify that with a response
>Just a couple hours left on your shift
>You're really ready for this day to be over
>After wiping your runny nose on a napkin left over from lunch, you start writing your report
>"Don't start slacking on those just because you've written a thousand of the damn things. Any one of these could end up in court, and if you've written a shitty narrative you'll look like a jackass and it'll destroy your credibility with the jury."
>He probably speaks from experience
>You sigh, trying to bring yourself under control
>The last thing you need is to build up animosity with the guy who's supervising your field training
>It's just...
>Dash doesn't make himself easy to like
>Which wasn't to say you felt like he was working against you, or not on your side
>You had no doubt that if you needed help, he'd be there to back you up
>But he'd also lord it over you and point out how badly you fucked up
>Which, granted, was kind of his job
>But he seemed to get a lot of amsusement out of it
>You finish writing your report, and save it
>It was a short one
>Just a pretty straightforward speeding ticket
"Done."
>"Man, what that makes what? Seven, eight?"
"Yeah, sounds about right."
>"You know, I usually don't care this much about speeders. But you need the experience, so..."
>He shrugs
>"Sucks for them, right?"
"Are we gonna' try for some more?"
>"Nah, I'm about sick of chasing down speeders on this one stretch of highway. Besides, we'll get plenty of time to practice traffic enforcement later."
>He turns off the highway onto a narrow, two lane road
"Where're we going?"
>"We're gonna' change things up a bit and check the backroads."
>Backroads was right
>A dense wall of evergreens grew on either side of the road, in some places their branches stretching out above you
>The yellow paint of the center line was faded and barely visible
>The pavement wasn't especially well done either, and you could feel wheels of your cruiser rolling over imperfections in the blacktop
>It was the very epitome of the road less traveled by
>And yet, it was strangely soothing
>Captivating, in a way
>The snow in the trees
>The dark-gray clouds above you
>"Sometimes I'll come out and just drive these roads."
>You look over at Dash
>His eyes widen just a bit
>You get the feeling that was *a lot* more detail than he'd planned on sharing
>Quickly, he continues
>"Because you never know what you're going to run into out here. Motorists who need help, people moving drugs around, all sorts of stuff."
"Does anyone live out this way?"
>"Yeah, there's a few bubba-redneck types in trailer homes. A couple small neighborhoods. It's pretty undeveloped for the most part, though."
>You cruise along a few miles without ecountering a single other vehicle
>Shit, this place was the middle of fucking nowhere
>You begin to approach a y in the road, where a second small street running at a forty-five degree angle merges with yours
>All of a sudden, an old, white Explorer comes tearing down that road and pulls out in front of you, where he promptly slows way down, presumably after seeing your police car
>You guess he had been going about ten over the limit
>Nothing especially serious
>You're ready to dismiss it, but Dash gently elbows you
>"Hey, what's wrong with this picture?"
>You look the car over
>Like you noted before, it's an older model Explorer, probably from the mid or late nineties
>The rear bumper is crumpled in a few places
>There's a crack in the rear windshield
>The left tail light has a split in the plastic, though both are in working order
>Rust is evident in quite a few places
>And the car is in desperate need of a new paint job
>Nothing you can see that's illegal, though
"Uh... he's got a shitty car?"
>Dash shakes his head
>"Look at that brand-new, overbuilt suspension."
>You look again
>It's suble, but sure enough, Dash is right
>"That doesn't match the rest of that car."
"Okay.'
>You're waiting to see where he goes with this
>"So, what do you think? Guns, drugs, or money?"
"Sorry?"
>"You think he's transporting guns, drugs, or money?"
>You shake your head
"I dunno."
>Dash reaches up and hits the lights
>The car in front of you takes off
>"Six-delta-twenty to Blaik County, ten-eighty in progress, Northbound on Pinegrove Road."
>The radio beeps three times
>"Ten-four. All unit, clear the air, six-delta-twenty is in pursuit."
>"Suspect vehicle is a white Ford Explorer, license romeo-delta-papa-six-one-six."
>Dash tosses you the radio's microphone
>"Here, you keep 'em updated. Look for street signs, turns, all that."
>You nod
>This had taken an unexpected turn
>Not for the first time today, your mind was left playing catch-up
>The road ahead was coming to a T
>The car you're chasing makes a sharp left
>Dash brings your vehicle to a stop, clears both directions, and chases after it
"Left on Green Settlement Road."
>The engine roars as you race to cover lost ground
>This is really not the place you'd pick for a pursuit
>The road is narrow and winding, and you're approaching sixty miles an hour
>Still though, you have to give Dash credit where it's due
>He really knows his way around a car
>Or he seems to, at least
>You hope
>Your quarry attempts another turn, this time to the right
>His rear wheels loose traction, the car spins, hits the shoulder, flips once completly and comes to rest right-side-up, with the passenger door pinned against a thick pine tree
>Dash brings your vehicle to a complete stop and snatches the radio back
>"Suspect vehicle is ten-fifty at the intersection of Green Settlement and Thompson, possible injures."
>He bails out of the cruiser, drawing his gun and charging towards the crashed Explorer
>You're right behind him
>Dash brings his pistol to bear on the driver
>"Hands on the dash! Get your hands on the dash!"
>Man, that's a great quote to take without context
>The driver complies, spreading his hands on the dashboard
>"Don't you fuckin' reach down!"
>For your part, you're content to let Dash give the orders
>"Anon, I'm gonna' have him step out. When he does, I want you to cuff him. I've got you covered. Ready?"
>You nod
"Good to go."
>He reaches for the handle and pulls the door open
>"Get out! Get on the ground!"
>Slowly, the dazed man steps out and collapses into the snow
>"Hands on top of your head."
>You holster your Glock 31 and grab your first set of cuffs off your belt
>Kneeling, you fasten one cuff to one wrist, and then bring both behind his back to secure the other
>"Six-delta-twenty, one in custody, roll us a 10-52 and a wrecker."
>Dash sticks his gun back in his own holster, and lets out a sigh'
>He slaps you on the shoulder
>"Not bad."

***

>"Yo, Anon, check it out!"
>Dash was waving you over to the rear of the vehicle
>Two backup units and a fire engine had arrived on scene, the driver was sitting in the ambulance, and the wrecker you had called for was still en route
>Hopefully, whatever Dash has to show you is worth all the trouble
>You walk over to him
>...
>Oh, shit
>Yeah, that's probably what you'd call 'worth it'
>The trunk of the car is laden down is packaged white powder, and an assortment of weapons of varying type and configuration
>Dash reaches in with a gloved hand and pulls out a Hi-Point C9
>"Look at this fine, American firearm."
>He sets it back down
"Damn. It looks like you were right."
>"Pff. Of course I'm right."
"So, who do you think this guy's with?"
>Dash shrugs
>"Ehh, that's question for the narcotics guys. I'm just happy we got 'em."
>You hear boots crunching snow as George walks up
>"So, the EMTs are sayin' this guy needs a stay in the hospital."
>Dash groans
>"Oh, that's good. I'll arrange for the guys coming on shift to provide security."
>He begins walking badk towards your cruiser
>You move to follow, but George reaches out and touches your shoulder
>"Hey, Anon."
"Yeah, what's up?"
>"Me and some of the guys are heading out to the bar once we clear off shift. You're welcome to join us."
"Oh, really? Cool, man, thanks."
>"So, I can expect to see you there?"
>You think it over
>You're kind of tired, and you've got work in the morning
>But it seems like a pretty good way to meet some of your colleagues
>And you can't imagine turning down the offer would make a great impression
"Yeah, I'll be there."
>"Cool. We'll meet up in the station break room."
>A thought occurs to you
"Is Dash going to be there?"
>"You can invite him if you want, but I wouldn't expect him to show. Like I said, he's kind of a loner outside of work."
>The wrecker pulls up on scene, and George starts back towards his car
>"I'll see you around five-thirty, five-forty-five
-
>After twelve long hours, your first shift was winding down
>You and Dash were smoothly cruising along
>The clouds had thinned and the setting sun was poking through, casting a gentle orange glow
>With a sigh, you relax in your seat
>You'd written some tickets, ran a few calls, and caught a drug trafficker
>Overall, not too bad as far as first days go
>You'd certainly had worse
>As you draw nearer to the station, something Dash said earlier tugs at your mind
"Hey, Dash?"
>"Yeah?"
"What did you mean when you said I shouldn't trust you?"
>"Oh, that?"
>He chuckles
>"That's something my old FTO said to me. Listen, in this job you're going to have *a lot* of people lying to you. Shit, I've had some guy try and tell me his coke belonged to his mother. But it's not just stuff like that, ya' know? Like, if I tell you I think a gun is clear when I hand it to you, and it turns out it's not..."
>He shrugs
>"I guess the lesson is, you don't just take someone's word for it. You look at the facts, what you know, you check it out, and you make your own decision."
>A few minutes pass by in silence
"So, George invited me out for some drinks after work."
>Dash leans in closer to you, grinning
>"Ooh, you two lovebirds hit it off?"
>You huff and ignore that comment
"He said you're welcome to come, if I wanted to invite you."
>Dash's sarcastic smirk fades
>"Oh."
>You see something behind his eyes, though you're not sure what
>You wait for a reply, but Dash isn't talking
"So, what? Are you coming?"
>Dash's mouth opens and he breathes in to answer, but then stops and his jaw snaps together again
>For the first time since you've met him, he really looks unsure of himself
>He smiles awkwardly and scratches behind his ear
>"No, man, I've got stuff to do tonight. I'll be busy."
"Okay."
>You doubt his story, but you're not going to press the issue
>If this is how Dash acts every time someone invites him somewhere, you understand his reputation for keeping to himself

***

>At five-thirty you step into the station's break room, after grabbing a change of cloths from your car
>George is there, along with three other men you don't know
>Not that that meant much - you only know him and Dash
>But they do look vaguely familiar
>You probably saw them all in the squad room this morning
>George greets you
>"Hey, Anon, good to see you show up."
>You flash a mock smug-grin
"Hey, it's *always* good to see me show up."
>This prompts a rough cackle from one of the officers
>"Aw, shit. Dash is already rubbin' off on him."
>George glances around
>"Oh, speaking of, I don't see him. Did you invite him?"
"Yeah, but he said he was busy. And he was kind of weird about it, too."
>He nods
>"Yep, sounds like Dash. You ask him somewhere, and he clams up like a mother fucker."
>Another officer holds up his index finger
>"One time. We got him to show up exactly once, when we played baseball against the fire department. He's weird, but lemme tell ya' - that dude can *run*."
>He sniggers
>"Damn hose-draggers couldn't catch him once."
"Oh, yeah, I think he said something about exercising on his down time."
>George glances at his watch
>"Well, hey, we should get going. Anon, We'll get you acquainted on the way."
>The five of you shuffle out of the break room and make your way towards the front entrance
>"Oh, by the way, I don't know if I mentioned it..."
"Yeah?"
>He clasps your shoulder
>"New guy DDs."
>...
>"You bastard."
>The group breaks into frenzied guffaw

***

>The bar is about a five minute drive from the station
>It's dimly illuminated
>Noisy
>The wooden floor is scuffed and gouged from years of wear
>And the whole place smells like fried food
>George walks up to you, holding a glass containing a dark amber liquid and grinning like a madman
>"Hey, Anon. You, uh, you havin' fun?"
>Your deadpan expression sends him into a fit of giggles, and he taps a finger against your bottle
>"You celebrating today's victory with a nice root beer?"
>You lift your bottle to your lips and take a sip of the sweet, bubbly liquid
>He has a seat at your table, with the three others following close behind
>"So, man..."
>You try to remember the name of the one speaking
>Duke, you think
>Duke, something
>Mustang?
>It was something horsey
>"Tell us about riding with Dash."
>You set down your soda
"Well, he's not terrible..."
>"Yeah, but he's not great either, right?"
>You think back to this morning
>Back to when you found that dead body
>And how Dash pulled you off the side of that highway
>You start to feel some discomfort worm its way into your chest
>I mean, you're not in love with the guy
>But it still doesn't feel quite right to shit talk him behind his back like this
"Nah, Dash is... Dash is good."
>One of the other officers, you don't really remember his name, lets out a huff
>"Yeah, well don't let him hear that. That shit'll go right to his head."
>Duke groans
>"Oh my God, you're right."
>He turns to you
>"The man's in love with himself."
>"What, no way -"
>It's a different officer
>Kevin, you think
>You didn't catch his last name
>"- you see how he sits around all mopey and shit, right? The guy's whacked."
>He looks left and right, as if checking to make sure Dash isn't around, and leans in
>"Look, I got a friend who says he saw 'em with a tampon one day."
>"What? You're bullshitting, how would he even see that?"
>Kevin waves his hands as he trys to explain
>"It fell out of his pocket!"
>You try and come up with an explanation
"Well, you can use tampons to plug bullet wounds. Maybe that's it?"
>"No, no, listen, because when my buddy asked about it he got all weird."
>"Weird?"
>George takes a sip of his drink
>"What's weird?"
>"I dunno, man... *weird*! Like, he tried to play it off cool, but something was up. My buddy swears it's true."
>"Ahh, your buddies full of shit."
>"No, man!"
>Kevin looks directly at you
>"You need to keep an eye out, if you're gonna' be spending all that time with him."
>George steps in
>"Okay, enough talk about work. Duke, I heard you rebuilt the engine on that old seventy-one Camero."
>"Oh, yeah man..."
>The rest of the night passes as a loud blur
>That was certainly some unexpected information you'd recieved about Dash
>Though to be fair, a 'my buddy swears' story told by a police officer who'd had a few shots...
>Not exactly the most reliable source of information
>One by one, you drop off your coworkers at their homes until only George remains, occupying the front passenger seat
>You pull up to his apartment complex
"Alright, this is your stop."
>He pats your shoulder
>"Thanks, man."
>He reaches for the door, and hesitates
>"Hey, listen. Don't let anything the guys said give you a bad impression of Dash. I know him a little better than most of the guys on shift, and yeah he's weird, but he's still a good guy."
"Yeah, I'll be sure not to do that. Have a good night."
>"See ya' around."
>He exits your car and makes his way inside the building
>You begin the drive back to your own apartment, when you notice something's off
>It takes you a second to realize
>It's quiet
>You're alone
>All day, you'd been riding with or talking to someone
>And now, it's just you
>You relax in the silence as you pull up to your building and park your car
>Finally, you'll get a little bit of time for yourself
-
>Your alarm tears you out of your sleep
>Groaning, you sit up in your bed and mash your clocks button
"Ugh..."
>Four o'clock came a lot faster than you'd hoped for
>Taking a moment to mentally prepare yourself, you slide out of bed and head for your bathroom
>Shit
>Shower
>Shave
>There's your three morning essentials taken care of
>You pull on one of your uniforms and strap on your duty belt
>After fiddling with the belt keepers a bit, you've got everything attached nice and comfortable
>A quick inspection of your cupboard reveals your rather limited options
"Soup it is..."
>Sighing, you select a plastic tub of chicken-noodle and set it in the microwave
>You really need to go shopping
>At least you've got plenty of coffee
>Grabbing the pot that had been on auto-brew, you fill up your thermos
>The microwave beeps, and you grab the travel-cup of soup
>A meal fit for a king
>Thermos in one hand, your meager breakfast in the other, you make out to the elevator
>The man working the lobby of your building barely looks up as you pass him
>The cold bites at your face as you step outside and head for your car
>Day two
>Here we go

***

>You find the squad room with no trouble this time
>Dash is sitting in the back of the room
>He looks irritated again, though it doesn't seem to be directed towards anything or anyone
>Maybe he just looks like that in the morning
>You yawn, still feeling the weight of sleep tugging at your eyes
>Frankly, you can't say you blame him
>"Hey, look who came back for round two."
>You take the seat next to George
"Yeah, I've got like twenty more years of this before I can retire."
>"You could be like that one dude who quit after his first day."
"What?"
>"Oh yeah. Got through his first shift just fine, and he never shows up again. We're all standin' around like 'where's the new guy' - found out a few weeks later he just quit."
"Oh, damn."
>"Yep. Had to pay back the cost of his training to the department."
"That can't be cheap."
>The sergeant enters the room, clutching a stack of manilla folders, and checks everyones name off his roster
>"Okay, good morning everyone. Welcome back, once again, to the zero-five-hundred to seventeen-hundred shift. Today, police presence in the downtown areas is going to be a big thing, in addition to running our normal patrols. So at any given time we'll have a few units semi-stationary, focusing on one area. So -"
>He slaps the folders down on the table
>"- every unit needs to grab one of these and read over what's inside, because there's info about locations, timelines, basically everything you need to make this go smooth and painless. So, as always, if you need to contact me, you can do so by radio or phone."
>You stand up along with everyone else and grab a radio from the charging bank
>Dash picks up a file folder, and you meet by the door leading to the car park
>He pushes through the door and you follow
>"Alright..."
>He gestures towards your Interceptor Utility
>"You know the drill. Same as yesterday."
>Yeah, nice to see you too, Dash
>You slide into the driver's seat, check the lights and sirens, and walk around the back to the car to the passenger side
>You and Dash take your seats, and he opens the folder to check the instructions
>"Oh fuck yeah, we've got that 'downtown presence' thing from nine to one, and it's right in the middle of all these shops and restaurants. Dude, we can do whatever we want for lunch."
>Well, at least there was something that could cheer him up
>You make note of that
>If Dash is every pissy, maybe you can feed him something to get him off your ass
>"Six-delta-twenty to Blaik County, we're ten-eight from the station."
...
"So, Dash, how was your stuff?"
>He cocks an eyebrow
>"What?"
>You repeat yourself
"Your stuff, how was it?"
>Dash squints at you
>"Dude, I've got no clue what the hell you're talking about."
"You know, the stuff you had to do last night? The stuff that you were gonna' be busy with?"
>His eyes widen
>"Oh, that stuff. Uh... yeah, it was good."
>You smirk, just a bit
>His lie is really transparent
"Yeah? It was good stuff?"
>"Look, man, is there something you're trying to say?"
"You know, if you don't want to go somewhere with someone you can just say you're not interested, right? If you come up with a story about how you're busy, it's kinda' off-putting."
>You meant that with the best of intentions
>The rest of the squad didn't seem to have an especially high opinion of Dash, but you figured maybe that could be overcome if he'd just act a little more... normal
>Dash, however, does not appreciate your efforts
>"Oh wow, maybe."
>His voice drips with venom
>"Or maybe you shut the fuck up and mind your own business!"
>Yeah, that went well
>Not really sure what to say, you shut the fuck up and mind your own business, staring out the windsheild
>An incredibly tense minute passes
>Then you hear Dash sigh heavily
>"Okay, look dude... I'm sorry. I shouldn't've snapped at you like that."
>He pauses
>"And I guess you're right, it'd be better to just be honest. It's just... I really don't want to talk about it."
"Oh, no, it's okay. You clearly didn't want to talk about it, I shouldn't have pressed you. So, uh... I'm sorry."
>Dash is looking a little better
>"Yeah, well... you should be. Buy me lunch though and we'll call it good."
>You frown
>Dash was pushing his luck a little
>But in the interest of maintaining peace, you decide you can afford to make a concession
"I'll buy you coffee. A *medium* coffee."
>The trace of a smile plays on his lips
>"Good enough."
>Other than that, the morning passes with relative ease and it isn't long before the two of you find yourselves sitting in a parking lot, observing a long strip of small shops that lined the streets
>Decorative lights hang from the light-posts, and candy-cane banners are strung along the tops of the stores
>Crowds of people move up and down the sidewalk, in and out of stores
>Even for a cold day, it doesn't look so bad
>You watch a small family of three walk hand-in-hand past your patrol car
"Hey Dash?"
>He looks at you
"Do you want to have kids?"
>He stares at you
>"What?"
>You jerk your thumb towards the family
"You think you'd ever want kids?"
>He seems to relax a bit
>"Oh. I dunno. I'm not really the lovey, nurturing kinda' person, ya' know?"
>You could certainly agree with that
>"And I gotta' think about the job, and how all that time off would set me back..."
"Oh, so you're the kinda' guy that would take off from work to help with the kid, huh?"
>That was actually a surprising bit of news
>Dash, however, seemed more confused than anything
>"What? Of course I'd... oh. I mean... yeah! Of course I'd take off to help raise the kid."
>You're not sure what about that could have been unclear to him, but hey...
"Good for you, man. I'm sure some lucky lady'll be really happy to hear that. Or... you know, some lucky guy."
>He glowers at you
>You shrug
"Hey, I'm not judgey."
>"Anon?"
"Yeah?"
>"Stop talking."

***

>And that was how most days went with Dash
>For each day you were on shift
>For the next three weeks
>And that wasn't to say there wasn't any instruction going on
>Dash certainly did his job as an FTO
>But in the time you spend together, the two of you got to know eachother
>Or at the very least, understand eachother
>Dash's smug, brash attitude...
>That' just him
>It' part of the way he socializes
>While it certainly had the propensity to be annoying, he didn't *really* mean anything by it
>It wasn't a close friendship
>Not exactly
>It was more of awkward companionship
>One forged through your equally awkward conversations
>Never outside of work though, that doesn't change
>Eventually, you just accept it
>Things are going steady
>So steady, in fact, that it's getting boringly routine
>And as you sit in the squad room on Christmas day, day one of the night shift, your first thought is that you've done this a few times
>"Good evening, everyone."
>The sergeant enters the room, wearing a Santa hat
>Totally deadpan in the face of the sniggers he received
>"Happy holidays, merry Christmas, whatever you prefer. It's that time again - we've swapped times with the other shift. So, welcome to the seventeen-hundred to zero-five-hundred shift. Special concerns for tonight: obviously it's Christmas, so drinking, domestic issues, unlawfully discharging firearms within the city limits, noise complaints, parties. And we've got a lot of people out of town tonight, so break-ins, if you see someone that looks out of place don't be afraid to challenge that person and ask what they're doing."
>He sets down his clipboard
>"So, guys, since nobody on the street is going to say it to you, I really appreciate you comin' out and working tonight, even though you don't really have a choice. I understand a lot of you have family and friends you'd rather be seeing, but nights like tonight are when someone's gotta' be there to maintain order. So, with that, have a good night."

***

>"Six-delta-twenty to Blaik County, we're ten-eight from the station."
"Oh my God, it's gotten cold."
>You direct the heat from the air vents onto yourself
>"Uh, yeah. It's winter, dude."
"I'm from the southern part of the state, it doesn't get this cold there. It's like ten, fifteen degrees colder up here than what I'm used to."
>You raise your thermos of coffee to your lips, eager for a drink of the hot beverage
>The vehicle lurches, slowing just enough throw the liquid in the thermos forward, away from your waiting lips
>You try it again, and are met with the same result
>Dammit, Dash, what're you breaking for, there's nothing out here
>Once more you go in for a sip, and you suck in nothing but air
>You look at Dash
"Stop."
>He returns your gaze with a blank expression
>"What?"
"You keep breaking."
>"Yeah I'm breaking, I'm driving a car."
>His expression remains unchanged
>You're not buying it
"Every time I try to take a sip, you slow the car so down my coffee..."
>Unsure of how to vocalize it, you repeatedly stab forward with your finger to indicate the movement of your drink
>Dash nods his head slowly
>"I'm uh... making your coffee do *that*, huh?"
"It's inertia, you dip!"
>"Right. Well, I'm sorry."
>He goes back to staring out the windshield
>You squint at Dash for a few moments
>He might be telling the truth
>Cautiously, you raise your thermos up to your mouth
>He breaks
"You bitch!"
>Dash's composure shatters, and he howles rough laughter
>"Oh my God, Anon!"
>Tears of laughter roll from his eyes
>He does a poor imitation of your voice
>"Oh no, I can't drink my coffee."
>He mimes you, jabbing his index finger forward
>"Oh no, what's happening?"
>Dash goes back to choking on laughter
"Are you done?"
>Wheezing, he brings himself under control
>He takes a deep breath, and looks at you
>And the laughter starts right up again
>"It was just so perfect!"
>You feel your mouth tighten into a grin
>Then you chuckle
>Then you join right in with Dash's cackle
>He's got a surprisingly girly laugh
>It's rough, and grainy
>But it still has a distinct, feminine squeal
>The laughter winds down
>"Oh my God, that was good."
"Okay, it was a litle funny."
>"A little? That's the best joke you'll see all night. Brought to you by yours truly."
>He glances at the cruisers clock
>"Oh, speaking of night, let's go grab some dinner."
"Now?"
>"Yeah, now."
>He points to the radio
>"Things are quiet now, they won't stay that way for long."
"We'll just get hungry later on and have to eat again."
>"I'm okay with that."
"How do you eat so much and not get fat?"
>He shrugs and turns down a road leading into the city

***

>You sigh when you see Dash's choice
"Oh good, sandwhiches."
>"Don't be such a bitch. You can pick where we eat later."
"Which is the meal I *don't* want to have."
>Dash is already out of the cruiser, and not listening
>With a groan, you unbuckle and follow him inside
>The two of you are standing in line, when you hear a female voice sound off behind you
>"Well, well, well. Rainbow Dash."
>The two of you turn and come face-to-face with an orange-haired woman who looked to be about Dash's age
>Dash's eyes open wide, and she sucks in a sharp breath
>"Spitfire."
>The woman, Spitfire, shoots an arm around Dash's shoulder and squeezes him into a side-hug
>You had never seen Dash look so uncertain before
>So out of his element
>His eyes keet shifting between you and Spitfire
>"How long's it been, girl? Five, six years?"
>Wait, what?
>Had you heard that right?
>"Uhm... yeah."
>Dash is looking at you now, rising panic evident on his face
>"So, you're still doing the cop thing, huh? The new, *responsible* Dash?"
>Spitfire turns her attention to you
>"Don't let her fool ya', she and I used to raise all kinds of hell."
>She looks back at Dash
>"Anyway, great seeing ya'. Hit me up if you're ever in Canterlot."
>She releases Dash from her grasp and goes back to her table
>Dash locks eyes with you for a moment, and heads for the door
>"Let's go."
"But we haven't ordered yet!"
>"I'm not hungry."
>Without checking to see if you're following, Dash plows through the doors and heads back to the cruiser
>You glance around the room and spot Spitfire
"Hey, you!"
>She freezes
>That had come out with a little more force than you intended
"You called Dash a she."
>Spitfire cocks an eyebrow
>"Uh... yeah. You know, she? As in, a girl?"
>She pauses, and narrows her eyes at you
>"You do know what a girl is, right?"
"What? Yes, I know what a girl is."
>"Okay... so can I leave?"
>Without a word you wave her on
>This is a lot to take in
>Slowly, you make your way out to the patrol car
>The tinted glass makes it hard to see, but you think you can make out a silhouette of someone slumped forward
>You open the passenger door, and slide inside
>Dash is there, with... *her* head resting against the steering wheel
"Dash..."
>She rotates her head just enough to look at you
>There's tears welling up in her eyes
>She looks away again
"Dash, it's okay."
>She rounds on you suddenly
>"No it's not!"
>Tears are flowing freely now, and her voice is a couple octaves higher than normal
>"It's not okay! It's... I can't..."
>She burries her face in her hands and turns away from you
>You can hear her sobbing softly, but you don't know what to do
>So you just stay quiet
>Eventually her sobs fade, but she remains faced away
>"Anon?"
"Yes?"
>"Whatever you do, you can't tell anyone. You have to promise you won't tell anyone."
"I won't. Your secret's safe."
>"... thanks."
...
>"Blaik County to six-delta-twenty."
>The chirp of your radio interrupts the silence
"Uh, Dash?"
>She doesn't move
>"Blaik County to six-delta-twenty."
>You grab the microphone
"Go for six-delta-twenty."
>"Respond non-emergency to sixteen-twenty-five Black Sand Road, one-six-two-five Black Sand Road, in reference to a suspicions vehicle, no availible description."
>On your computer, the call information drops into your dispatch log
"Okay, ten-four, thank you."
>"Okay, ten-four, *thank you*?"
>You hear a weak chuckle
>"You're so lame."
"Do I need to drive?"
>"No..."
>She rights herself in her seat, and wipes her eyes
>"I've got it."
"Would you tell me if you don't 'got it'?"
>"I've always got it."
>Well, that *sounds* like Dash at least
>She takes the mic from you
>"Six-delta-twenty to Blaik County."
>"Go for Blaik County."
>"Do you have any other information regarding that ten-thirty-eight?"
>There is a short pause before your dispatcher comes back over the air
>"Negative. Caller is advising he saw the vehicle pull into an empty lot."
>"Ten-four."
>Dash puts the cruiser in drive and pulls out of the restaurants parking lot
"So, what do you think's going on?"
>You're trying to make conversation, more for her benefit than your own
>Dash shrugs
>"It could be any one of a hundred different things. But my guess? A couple teenagers lookin' for a place to fuck."
"Really? What makes you say that?"
>"Well, you kinda' gotta' know your area, but you can make an educated guess. This address we're heading to is near a park with a bunch of walking trails. The parking lot is sorta' hard to see from the road, so people think they can hide. It's Christmas, so a couple kids tell their parents they're heaving to a friends party, and... well, you know how it goes."
>She smirks
>"You *do* know how it goes, right, Anon?"
>You huff
"Yes, I know how it goes! So if this parking lot is so well hidden, who called us about it?"
>"Oh, that's actually a good question. There's a side road that runs next to the park where you can see the lot plain as day. A buncha' old prudes live off that road, and we'll get calls like this every so often. But if this place was super out of the way, like bumfuck nowhere, you might just want to question who's really calling you out there. Pay attention to detail so you can catch sketchy shit like that."
>You nod
>Dash continues
>"And even on a call like this, don't let your guard down. I know it sounds like we're making assumptions, but there's no telling what's going to happen when we get there. So, here's a question for ya'."
"Okay."
>"We get this same call, but it's in an industrial area during a workers strike. What could it be?"
>You think about it
"Well, I guess it could be someone breaking in, or trying to damage the company's equipment."
>"Okay, sure. What else?"
>Uhh... maybe the car belongs to a guard?"
>"Yeah, what else?"
"I dunno."
>"It could be someone waiting to gun you down as you walk up."
>You squint and mull that over
"Wait... the fuck? How do you get that from a strike and an industrial area?"
>"I don't. Because, like I said, anything could happen on that call."
"Oh. Then what's the point of even guessing?"
>"It's just one tool you've got. Sometimes it's appropriate, and sometimes it isn't. Just like all your other tools, you've gotta' know when to use it."
>You rub your head
"Oh my God."
>Dash is throwing a lot of information your way
>"It isn't an easy job, man. You can't get complacent, because that's what gets you killed."
>She begins to break
>"Here's our turn."
>You look out the window on Dash's side
>She was right, the parking lot was definitely hard to see
>A think grove of evergreens grow between it and the road
>You can just barely catch a light shining through the trees
>Certainly nothing that would attract much attention
>And as Dash makes the turn onto the smaller side-road, you find she's right again
>The dense spread of trees turned into a thin, sporadic screen with the parking lot perfectly visible, flooded with the orange light of sodium bulbs
>You can make out a mid-sized truck parked in the rear corner of the lot, but the off color of the pole lamps makes it hard to get a good description
>"We'll deal with this first, then make contact with the caller."
>Dash turns onto the paved, single-lane road leading to the lot
>"Six-delta-twenty to Blaik County, show us on scene."
>"Ten-four."
>Dash turns to you
>"Keep an eye out for clues."
"Like what?"
>She hits the spotlight and shines it onto the vehicle
>"Well, those steamy windows are a pretty good one."
>Dash brings your cruiser to a stop behind the truck, blocking it in, and grabs the radio
>"Six-delta-twenty to Blaik County, show us out with a late two-thousands Toyota Tacoma, white in color, license plate foxtrot-india-bravo-zero-one-nine."
>She slaps you on the shoulder
>"Go get 'em, tiger."
>With your non-dominant hand, you pull your flashlight off your belt as you exit your vehicle
>Opting for a driver side approach, you make your way around the rear of your vehicle
>Dash is out, hand on her gun, observing you
"You're going to make me do this myself?"
>"Yep. Get the fuck up there."
>With a sigh, you flip on your light and shine it on the driver's side window
>The window rolls down as you draw near
>You step up behind the B-post, and peer inside
>There's two very uncomfortable looking occupants, one girl and one boy, both look to be in their late teens
>The male driver attempts to flash a confident smile, but it comes across more as a pained grimace
>"Uh, what's the problem, Officer?"
>God, this really isn't the kind of shit you want to be dealing with
"You can't be here, you need to leave."
>"Well, we're not doing anything..."
>Yeah, sure kid
>You reassert your command
"You can't be here, you need to leave. The park is closed."
>"Uh, okay. We'll do that. Thank you, Officer."
"Have a safe night. Wait for me to get back in my car before you try to leave."
>You walk back around your car, and get in
>"Oooh, my name is Anon."
>Dash mocks you with the same bad impression she used earlier as she backs the cruiser up, giving them space to pull out
>"I am very uncomfortable with sex. Please leave."
"Fuck yourself."
>It's not until after you utter those words that you realize you just told your FTO to fuck herself
>Another brilliant career move
>Dash doesn't seem to notice, though
>Or if she did, she's not saying anything
>The trucks headlights come on, it backs up and crosses the parking lot
>"Six-delta-twenty to Blaik County."
>"Go for Blaik County."
>"Show us clear of that stop with the suspicious vehicle. We'll still be ten-six contacting the complainants at the origional address."
>"Ten-four."
>Dash zips across the empty lot, up the winding access road, and exits onto Black Sand Road
>"What were those numericals?"
>You check the computer
"Sixteen-twenty-five."
>"Okay..."
>Dash squints at the number-signs planted next to the driveways
>"That should be over to the left."
>She pulls out and takes a left
>The complainant's address is a few houses down
>Dash slows and pulls into a gravel driveway
>It's a wide, two-story house with the front steps leading up to an enclosed front-porch
>A single Christmas tree sits behind the glass panels, softly illuminated by green-and-red lights
>The only other illumination is from your headlights
>You and Dash step out
>A neatly shoveled, brick path cuts through the snow in the front yard, and leads to the steps
>The two of you step out
"Looks fancy."
>"Yeah, the people who live on this road are loaded."
"So loaded they can't afford to pave their driveway?"
>"Who knows, man?"
>As you move along the brick pathway, you sense a presence in the dark
>A light in the porch comes on, and an aging man dressed in a long, thick coat opens the door to the porch
>"Ah, good evening, officers. What a lovely night."
>Mother fucker, it's a cold night
"Yes, sir."
>He goes on
>"I saw you take care of those delinquents. Thank you, we try to keep our neighborhood free of that sort of unpleasantness."
>You aren't really sure if a few houses spread along a remote road really counted as a neighborhood, but it wasn't something you were interested in arguing
>Dash speaks up
>"Was there anything else, sir?"
>"Oh, no. But I'll certainly call you if I see anything."
>Please don't
>"Yes, sir."
>The door creaks as it closes and the porch light extinguished
>You and Dash make your way back to your car
"Well, I'm glad we spend time doing that."
>You shut the door behind you and relax in the heat
>"Yeah..."
>She sounds a little off
"Something up?"
>"Listen, just because you know I'm... well..."
"A girl?"
>"Yeah. Just becasue you know, it doesn't change anything. Okay?"
>You nod
"Yeah, okay."
>Dash seems to relax a bit
>"Cool... just, you know, pretend you never found out."
"Dash, I got it. It's good."
>She nods
>"Okay."
>She reaches for the radio
>"Six-delta-twenty to Blaik County, show us ten-eight."
>Your dispatcher came back
>"Ten-four. Respond non-emergency to five-sixteen Clearwater Road, five-one-six Clearwater Road, in reference to a noise complaint."
>"Ten-four."
"Five-sixteen Clearwater. That sounds familiar. I think we've been there for something before."

***

>Oh yeah
>You'd been to five-sixteen Clearwater Road before
>In fact, you'd been there for the exact same call before
>You feel a sinking feeling in your gut as you pull up and recognize the houses
"Oh, no..."
>"Oh yeah. You remember this place, right?"
"No, no, no, I hate these people."
>Dash cackles
>"We'll, they're all yours."
>You step out, and immediately your ears are assaulted by the same music as last time
>Or maybe it was different
>It was honestly hard to tell
>You make your way onto the porchand the woman from last time is already there, waiting for you
>"He is doing it again!"
"Yes, ma'am. I can hear him."
>"Well, I know he's breaking the law this time, so I want you to go deal with it!"
"Yes, ma'am. I'll talk to him."
>She stares at you expectantly
>Same routine as last time, you figure
>You cross the street, taking note of the additional cars parked in his driveway, and knock on the man's door
>After a few moments, the door opens and there stands the same man as last time
>His wardrobe does not appear to have changed much, though you note the addition of some stains on his bathrobe
>"Heeeeeey -"
>He takes note of you
>"- oh."
>He reeks of alcohol
"Yeah. I think you know why I'm here, sir, your music is too loud, so I'm going to have to ask you to turn it down to a level where it can't be heard by your neighbors."
>"Dude, we're having a Christmas party."
"Be that as it may, sir, you are in violation of the county noise ordnance. So, like I said, you need to bring your music down to a reasonable level, or I'm going to cite you."
>He throws his hands up in exasperation and, using the same remote as last time, silences the music
>Moans of protest ring out after the abrupt silence
>"Yeah, sorry everyone. The Blaik County gestapo say no more music."
>He faces you again
>"Merry fucking Christmas, asshole."
>The door slams shut
>You return to your car
"Nice to see you in here taking it easy, Dash. Wouldn't want you to work too hard."
>She grins
>"Hey, Anon. Watch this. Six-delta-twenty to Blaik County, show us ten-eight."
>The radio chirps
>"Ten-four. Respond three-twenty-one Silver Lace Street, three-two-one Silver Lace Street, in reference to a noise complaint."
>You bash the back of your head against the headrest
"Fuck."

***

>"So, what'cha got?"
>Your millionth noise complaint of the night, that's what you 'got'
>You'd ran so many that Dash actually took pity on you and started helping
>You direct her attention to a house that had a decorative candy cane sticking out an open window, and ropes of lights spread across the yard
"So we've got these assholes who're all drunk off their ass, they say they told their neighbors to turn down the music, so in response, and I quote, 'those faggots' came over, tore down their lights, broke their window, and shoved a quote, 'huge fucking', candy-cane through it."
>Dash glances at the house
>"But that window -"
"Isn't broken, I know. I explained that, but they're adamant."
>"Why is it open in the winter?"
"I think they opened it to yell at the neighbors."
>"Right. Well, over here -"
>Dash points at a house where a four-foot Santa and three Christmas tree lawn decorations are sloppily pushed to one side of the front door
>"- we have these cunts, and they're saying their neighbors are the ones that're too loud, and they stacked that Santa and those three trees in front of their door to trap them inside."
>You cock an eyebrow
"Why didn't they just pick the stuff up and move it?"
>"Dude, they're drunk. Everyone's fucking drunk tonight."
>You press your palms to your head
"Oh my God, this is so fucked. So I guess we tell the assholes *and* the cunts..."
>You pause and glance at the camera in your cruiser
"I'm so fucking glad that thing isn't recording us right now. Anyway, we tell both of them the party is over, and call it good. We're busy enough as is without trying to figure out who moved what around."
>"Works for me."
>Before either of you can move, the radio crackels to life
>"Blaik County to all district seven units, respond fourteen-hundred Black Sand Road, one-four-zero-zero Black Sand Road, in reference to an active nine-one-one call, unknown situation."
>You cock your head the side
"Black Sand Road? Weren't we up there earlier?"
>Dash nods
>"That's the parks address."
>She snatches the microphone off her jacket
>"Six-delta-twenty, we're ten-seventy-six."
>The two of you mount up in the cruiser
"Aren't we dealing with this?"
>"We're preempting this bullshit for an emergency call."
>Dash hits the lights and sirens and takes off down the road
"So, what? You think that old fucking dude called again?"
>Dash shakes her head
>She has an air of grave severity about her
>"Anon, that guy was like sixty years old. He's asleep by now. This is an active call from inside the park, but whoever made it isn't communicating with the nine-one-one center. You remember earlier when I said pay attention to sketchy shit?"
>You nod
>"This is it, dude."
"Oh... shit."
>"Yeah. Oh shit. So we've been jokin' n' taking care of B.S. all night, but I totally need you to be de-fucked on this call."
"So, are we gonna' stage and wait for cover?"
>Dash shakes her head
>"I don't think we're gonna have time. We've been running calls in this area, so we're probably the closest unit. We'll get an updated ten-twenty before we go on scene, but if they're more than a couple minutes out then it's you, me, and whatever's going down in that park."
>As you draw closer to the park, you feel the tension in the car rising
>Like watching thunderclouds roll in
>And knowing a storm was soon to follow
>"Do you remember the combination to the gun case?"
"Yeah, four-seven-nine-three."
>Dash nods
>"Good. If I tell you to do something, don't ask, don't think about it, just fucking do it."
"Yeah, I got it, Dash."
>You'd run emergency calls with her before
>But something about this one has her spooked
>Dash kills the siren, and pulls off the main road into a small church parking lot
>She pulls up a map of Blaik County on the computer, along with an overlay of the GPS location of each unit
>One glance told her everything she needs
>"They're too far out. We'll be on our own for a few minutes."
"How long is a few minutes?"
>"Three or four."
>May as well be an eternity
>The church lot you're in is almost directly across from the turn onto Black Sand Road
>Peering into the trees, you can just make out the same distant, twinkling lights as before
>"Six-delta-twenty to Blaik County."
>"Go for Blaik County."
>"Clear the air, emergency traffic."
>The radio beeps three times
>"All units, clear the air, emergency traffic only."
>*BEEP*
>Your radio sounds off
>*BEEP*
>Again, every ten seconds
>Signaling the airwaves are reserved for emergency traffic
>That's when it hits you
>You might die
>You feel a strong hand clasp your shoulder
>"Anon, get it together. We're rolling."
>She puts the cruiser in drive, crosses the main road, and turns down Black Sand
>The street seemes darker than before
>As if the night were more pervasive
>Hungrier
>Your blue lights cast flickering shadows against rows of trees
>The engine screams as you race down the road
>Slowly, the trees begin to thin until the parking lot comes into view
>You see a truck spun around at an odd angle so that the driver side faces the woods
>Its headlights are off
>You aren't sure, but you're willing to bet it's the same one from earlier
>But you don't see anyone around
>The patrol car slows, and you turn onto the narrow access road
>"Six-delta-twenty, on scene."
>You peer into the eerie, amber glow
"Do you see anything?"
>"No."
>Dash's mouth forms a tight, thin line
>She accelerates across the parking lot, stops in front of the truck, and brings the spotlight to bear on the cabin
>The driver side door is wide open, and the interior is totally abandoned
>"Six-delta-twenty, we have a single white Toyota Tacoma on scene, no occupants."
>She looks at you
>"Eyes and ears open, Anon."
>Dash opens the car door and steps out, drawing her gun
>You follow
>The trucks engine softly hums, and the door alarm rings out rhythmically
>"Blaik County Police!"
>The lot is dead quiet
>Not even an echo
>You flip on your weapon light and move around the rear of the truck, checking the bed
>Nothing
>Glancing left, then right, you move forward and join Dash at the open driver side door
"Anything?"
>She points at a cell phone sitting on the floor
>"That's it."
>She reaches in and picks it up
>"Blaik County Police."
>She briefly exchanges words with the dispatcher and sets the phone back down
"So, what? No other cars, nobodys around, some fucked up nine-one-one call..."
>The chill that runs through you has nothing to do with the cold
"I don't like this."
>"Yeah. Hey, Anon, is this the same truck we saw earlier?"
>You wrestle down your rising fear to think over the details
"I mean, it looks like it. I don't remember the plate number, but it's the same color, make, model, and in the same place."
>She shines her light
>"Was that there before?"
>You turn and look
>The rear fender is buckled and dented
"I don't think so. Fuck, man, what did that?"
>"Could be from an impact a low speed. That's not our problem right now, though."
>You nod and push the question to the back of your head
"Right, the nine-one-one call."
>You hesitate a second
"Where are we on that?"
>Dash shines her light across the blacktop, vainly searching for footprints, tire marks, anything
>"Shit. This's been plowed, I can't see jack."
>She shines her light into the trees
>"We're going to need to search the woods."
"Alone?"
>"Yeah, alone. We don't have time to wait."
>She starts off in the direction of the woodline
"I thought you couldn't find any tracks."
>"I couldn't. But if they ran into the woods, we'll find some tracks there."
>She stops before a small trailhead, and you draw next to her
>"Look, what'd I tell ya'?"
>In the beam of her flashlight, you can see snow that's been violently tossed up
>You shine your own light down the trail, following the tracks until they disappear around a bend
>"Six-delta-twenty, update, we're going to be checking the woods. Advise us when cover gets on scene."
>"Ten-four.'
>Dash looks over at you
>"Stay close, Anon."
>She steps into the trailhead, with you right behind her
>Stay close
>It wasn't like you had much of a choice
>The trail is barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side
>And it twists and curves like a mother fucker
>Even if there was somewhere for you to go, you wouldn't want to
>You feel way safer with Dash around
>And you find yourself drifting nearer to her
>Almost as if the forest is compressing the two of you together
>Closer and closer
>Until...
>"Oof!"
>She stops abruptly and you run into her
>"Dude, watch where you're going!"
"Uh... yeah, sorry."
>You apalogize meekly and take a few steps back
>Dash squints at you before turnining back around and kneeling down to examine something
"What is it?"
>"The tracks go off into the woods here. Like, actually *into* the woods."
>You peer around her
>Sure enough, the wide, long thrashes through the snow you'd been following leave the trail and and head up a small hill
>"Blaik County Police!"
>Dash bellows
>"Does anyone need help?"
>Nothing but Dash's voice reverberating through the trees
>She stands back up
>"Okay, man, head on a swivel. Pay attention."
>The two of you move off the trail, following the prints
>Oh man...
>You thought the trail was creepy
>But this is something else
>You have no idea where you are
>With the trail, you at least had a vauge sense of direction
>Now you're just following disturbed snow
>And while the path was well maintained, every step you take out here lands you on a small branch or twig, which cracks under your weight
>And if that wasn't enough, the beeping from your radio announces your presence even if you stand still
>By now, you're convinced you've lost any element of surprise you may have had otherwise
>"Hey, be careful on this downhill."
"Yeah, will do-"
>Your foot catches something and you fall forward, tumbling through the snow
>"Shit, Anon!"
>You feel your back collide with a tree and you let out a groan
>You hear someone stomp through the snow, and a light blinds you
>"Fuck. You alright?"
>It's Dash's voice
"Yeah..."
>You move your arms and legs
>Everything still works
"I think my vest helped a little."
>No reply
>With a grunt, you sit up, and squint against Dash's light
"Hey, that's pretty bright."
>Still, she says nothing
>That's a little unlike her
"What, did I get fucked up?"
>You sweep your hand over your forehead, and check your palm for blood
>It's clean
"Dash, what're you -"
>You turn
"... oh."
That familiar, sick pressure is pressing against the back of your throat
>You set your jaw, clamp down, and force it back
>They are two bodies
>Side by side
>Surrounded by dark-red snow
>You look away
>"Six-delta-twenty, ten-seventy-nine on two bodies, roll fire rescue our way."
>"Ten-four."
>Dash grabs your jacket at the shoulder
>"Anon, c'mon."
>You don't respond
>It doesn't quite seem real
>Dash gives your jacket a violent tug and shakes you
>"Whoever did this could still be out here, I need you to fuckin' pull it together!"
>She doesn't give you much time to mull that over
>With a quick, powerful jerk, she pulls you onto your feet
>You can stand, or fall
>Choosing the former, you lock out your legs
>Dash gives you another shake
>"Do helicopters eat their young?"
>Wait, what?
>What the hell is she talking about?
>The sheer absurdity of the question breaks you from your daze
"I... huh?"
>She releases her grip
>"There we go."
>You hear the wail of a siren pierce the trees
>"Six-delta-nine, on scene."
>Your backup had arrived

***

>The parking lot was full of activity
>There was an ambulance, two fire engines, and cruisers from all across the county
>Nearby, a group of officers outfitted with helmets, plate-carriers, and rifles were receiving a breifing from a lieutenant
>K-9 units were running their dogs around the truck
>And a black coroner's office van was pulling in
>You and Dash are isolated from the action, sitting out the back of your cruiser's cargo compartment
>Your sergeant had come by and said the homicide detectives would want to talk to you
>So here you are, waiting
>You attempt conversation
"So... why do we need the fire trucks?"
>"We still have to search the woods for any other victims. FD's gonna' help with that."
"Oh."
>Dash lets out an irritated huff
>"God, I hate this shit."
"What?"
>"Sitting around! Like, look around, there's stuff we should be doing, but we've got to wait on these damn detectives!"
>She sighs again
>"I just... I hate feeling like I'm useless."
>A few minutes pass by in silence before a dark-colored Charger turns off the road
>"It's about time."
>Dash mumbles as she pushes herself forward, out the cargo compartment
>The charger pulls up next to you, and two men in casual business attire step out
>The driver, who's the taller of the two, is the first to speak
>"Alright, you're the two patrolmen who found the bodies?"
>Dash steps forward
>"Yeah, that's us."
>The driver turns to his partner
>"Alright, Colton. You're the people person, so how about you talk to them and I'll check out the crime scene."
>The passenger, Colton, nods
>"Will do."
>The driver starts off towards the woods
>Alright, so..."
>Colton points at you
>"Corporal, I'm going going to talk to your friend here first, and then we'll get to you."
>Dash nods and makes her way to the front of the car, leaving the two of you alone.
>"Okay. Tell me everything."
...
"And that's pretty much what happened."
>You finish recounting yout story
>Detective Colton nods
>"Okay. Now, you say that's *pretty much* everything. What're you leaving out?"
>Dash is a girl
"Nothing. That's all that happened."
>Colton briefly narrows his eyes at you, searching for deceit
>Fnding nothing, his gaze softens and again he nods
>"Sounds good then."
"What do you think happened?"
>Colton purses his lips
>"Well, it's honestly too early to say. I mean, hell, I haven't even seen the body."
"Oh. Yeah, I guess so."
>He continues
>"But, if, and I do mean if, what your FTO said about that 'low speed impact' is true, that could suggest a second vehicle was involved somehow. I don't want to speculate though."
>You guess that makes sense
>"Just clarify one thing, this *is* the same vehicle you made contact with earlier, right?"
"Yeah, Dash checked the plate. She said it's the same one we ran into before."
>Colton frowns
>"I'm sorry, who?"
"Dash."
>"You said 'she'."
>Shit
>You mentally kick yourself
>Repeatedly
"Yeah, I meant 'he', obviously."
>You do your best to play it off
>Colton cocks an eyebrow
>"Uh-huh... well, long night I guess."
>That was close
>You need to be more careful with Dash's secret
>For God's sake, you'd explicitly promised to keep quiet about it
>"Okay, send your partner over and let me talk to him."
>You walk to the front of the cruiser
"You're up."
>Dash leaves without a word
>You stick your hands into your coat's pocket and lean against the car's brush-guard
>Colton's answer to your question left a lot to be desired
>Sure, he gave an idea of what happened
>But not why
>The victims can't be more than twenty
>What could possibly have been the motivation
>It just seems to pointless
>You hear footsteps next to you
>You turn
>Dash is back, resting with her elbows on the top of the brush-guard
>For a minute, neither of you speak
>"Not bad, Anon."
>Not bad?
>Two people are dead, and that counts as 'not bad'?
"Doesn't feel that way."
>You mumble
>You don't really have the energy for anything more
>Dash nods
>"Yeah, I know. But you held it together alright. We had a job and we did it."
"Did we though? I mean, fuck, Dash, those two kids..."
>You can't quite bring yourself to say it
>"There's going to be some times where you'll give it your all - where you give more than anyone could expect, and things still won't turn out how you want them to."
"What do you do on days like that?"
>"You cry. Hug your kids, call your mom, do whatever you have to. 'Cause the next day, you're at it again. The calls, victims, criminals... none of it stops just because you're having a hard time."
>You look at her
"But is there anything you just can't get over?"
>Dash doesn't answer
>She's staring straight ahead
>Through the snow, trees, and crime scene tape
>At something thousands of miles away
>She blinks, and focuses on the ground
>"Yeah. Sometimes."
>She pushes herself off the car
>"Well, there's our breather for the night."
>She turns around and opens the driver side door
>"C'mon, we've still got a lot of work to do."

***

>When Dash said a lot of work, you assumed they needed help searching the woods, or working a roadblock or something
>Nope
>She meant paperwork
>So instead of working the scene or the streets, you're back at the district substation
>Sitting in the squad room
>With two laptops open in front of you
>Dash is probably *loving* this
>The detectives want you to write down everything you had told them
>In addition to your incident report
>By the time you finish, your story has been told three times
>You check your watch
>It's fast approaching four in the morning
>You save the completed report on the computer, lean back in your chair, and run your fingers through your hair
>"Make sure all your shits consistent."
>You flash Dash a thumbs up
"It's all good."
>"I'm serious, if this goes to trial you'll get your ass reamed if details don't line up."
"I know. I coped and pasted most of this stuff."
>Your stomach rumbles loudly
"We never ate anything."
>"Yeah."
>Dash stands up
>"I'll be back in a minute."
>She leaves the room
>True to her word, she returns a short time later, carrying a wide, cardboard box
>You recognize the logo as belonging to a local donut shop
>"Breakfast of champions."
>She drops the box on the table and sits back down
"Where'd you get this?"
>"Break room."
>You open the box
>It's almost completly full
"Are you allowed to just go in and take all these?"
>She shrugs
>"They can bite me."
>Can't argue with that logic, you guess
>You reach in, grab one, and devour it in three bites
>Without thinking, you grab another
>Two more follow
>You find yourself reaching for your fifth, and stop
"You know, it's not that I don't appreciate all the empty calories, but I'm not sure this makes up a meal."
>"Yeah, I hear ya'."
>She gestures towards the computer
>"You're done, right?"
"With my report? Yeah."
>Dash jumps from her seat and pulls on her jacket
>"We've got an hour to kill. We'll go patrol a McDonald's parking lot, or something."
>Probably not the most professional thing to say, but you're not about to complain
>You follow Dash out the station, and hop into your parked interceptor

***

"Worst Christmas ever."
>You and Dash are parked in a lot
>A bag containing your respective meals is siting between your legs
>"Ha. It's not even Christmas anymore, dude. That was last night."
>She pauses to take a bite of her hamburger
>"But yeah. Those were pretty much my exact thoughts on the first Christmas I worked."
"What was that like?"
>"It was a buncha' dumb stuff. Pretty much what we delt with tonight. Uh... you know... minus the murder."
"How do you think that's gonna' turn out?"
>She sighs lightly
>"I dunno, man. I mean, we've got good detectives, you know? I'm sure they'll work it all out."
"Yeah, I guess."
>Sensing the conversation wasn't heading in a great direction, Dash does her best to change the topic
>"So, hey. You like any sports?"
>You shrug
"I guess. I heard you did pretty good when the department played against the fire rescue guys."
>"Pff. *Pretty good*. Man, I kicked ass!"
"Oh, yeah?"
>"Yeah! I mean, we still lost... but that wasn't my fault! I was carrying that team."
>You grin
"Good thing you guys lost. If you hadn't, I'd probably never hear the end of it."
>"Aww, you're just jealous."
>She finishes her burger and stuffs the wrapper into the bag
>"Mmm... okay. Pretty close to quittin' time, let's start heading back towards the station."
"Oh, thank God. I'm going to go home and sleep."
>"Yeah, don't sleep too long. Round two of the night shift starts in twelve hours."

***

"So, Dash. How're things coming on that murder investigation?"
>You keep your tone as neutral as possible
>Just a simple, passing question
>However, Dash sighs and looks sideways at you
>"Man, are you still busted up over that call?"
>You throw your hands in the air
"Are you not? What, two kids get murdered and that's just business as usual?"
>Dash doesn't answer
>For several seconds
>The silence drags on
>Before she finally speaks up
>"Anon, if you stick with this you're going to see a lot of shitty calls. And I mean, like, just some *shitty* calls. You've got to be able to distance yourself. You can't focus on just this one thing."
"Yeah, I know, I just want whoever did it to get what's coming to 'em."
>"Yeah, well, don't hold your breath, I guess."
"Why's that?"
>"Trail's gone cold, dude. No witnesses, no real investigative leads. They figured that truck got hit by another vehicle, they pulled a couple nine-millimeter slugs from each body, but other than that..."
"So they're just giving up?"
>"Hey, nobody wants to call it quits. But it's been a week and there's no suspects, we don't know the motive, it's just not a lot to go on."
>Dash pauses
>"You know, you remind me a lot of myself back when I first came on."
"Yeah?"
>She nods
>"Oh yeah. Never wanted to call it quits, wanted to be in the action, high-speed, teflon coated, Delta Force shit."
>You raise your eyebrows
"Wow. Old Dash actually sounds like fun."
>"Ah, fuck you. Speaking of fun, you stoked for the weekend?"
>It's not the weekend, exactly
>It's actually a Tuesday, Wednesday, and a Thursday
>The way your schedule worked you were on for two days and off three, then on for three days and off two
>But three days off was still three days off, no matter how you looked at it
>Of course that meant...
"Aw, shit, we're working Friday, Saturday, and Sunday."
>"Yeah, we're gonna be busy when we come back on. So you'd better enjoy these next few days."
"What're you gonna' be doing?"
>"Probably going to hit up the gym."
>And that's when you get your bright idea
>After your first attempt, you'd given up on trying to socialize with her
>But you feel like you've come a little ways since then
>And maybe she'd be up for it if it was a little more in her comfort zone
"Can I come?"
>Dash's brow lowers
>"Uhh... what?"
>Well, shit
>That doesn't sound promising
>Still though, you're this far already
"I've been meaning to start working out, but I don't have anyone to go with. And it sounds like you're at the gym a lot."
>Dash grimaces
>"Yeah, I am, but can't you go with George, or... alone?"
"George never goes. You're like the only person I know who goes to the gym on the regular."
>"Do you even have a gym membership?"
"I... I'm sure I can pick one up. I'm just thinking, maybe I could tag along wherever you go and you show me the ropes."
>C'mon, Anon
>You've been selling this, find some way to drive it home
"Well, you know. Unless you can't handle it."
>Dash's grimace steels into a fiery look of defiance
>Attacking her ego
>That did it
>"*I* can't handle it? Okay, Anon. Meet me tommorow morning at five in Spring Street Park. Get ready to run."
>Running
>Not exactly what you had in mind
>Still though, it's a start
>"We'll see who 'can't handle it'."
>Oh
>That doesn't sound good
"Cool, sounds good."
>What are you getting yourself into

***

>On your off days, you usually preferred to sleep in
>After all, the shifts you worked were fairly demanding
>So sleeping for ten hours didn't seem unreasonable
>Unfortunately, you don't have that luxery today
>After an unfulfilling five hours, you roll out of your bed
>You groan, and rub the sleep from your eyes
"Ugh... damn you, Dash."
>Seriously, who willingly wakes up before the very ass-crack of dawn just to get a run in
>You pull on a pair of running shorts, layer some sweatpants over top, grab a cheap t-shirt, a hoodie, and step into your running shoes
>Casting a longing glance at your coffee pot, you fill a bottle with water from the tap, stuff an energy bar in your pocket, and step out the door
>Spring Street Park is about a fifteen minute drive from your apartment
>It's a large, open field located in the outer city limits, with a small grove of oaks clustered together in the center
>You slow, and turn left into the parking lot, your headlights briefly illuminating a figure resting against the only other car in the lot
>You pull up next to it, kill the engine, and step out
>It's a cold morning, maybe thirty degrees by your estimate, but the winds are calm
>The weather has been consistently sunny, and patches of snow have been melting through, revealing the surface underneath
>Not that there's much to look at
>It's all just brown, dead grass
>Sticking your keys in the pocket of your sweat pants, you make your way over to the person you saw when you pulled in
>"Well, look who made it."
>It's Dash, as you suspected
>She's wearing a sky-blue hoodie, light-gray sweatpants, and dark-blue running shoes
>Her hair is slighly more mussed and untidy than what you normally see on duty
>You yawn, heavily
"You couldn't have picked a better time?"
>She shrugs
>"Hey, *you* wanted to work out with me, remember? To find out who could handle it?"
>God, is she really still pissy over that?
"That's not at all what I said."
>"Same difference."
>Now that you think about it, maybe attacking her ego wasn't the best plan
>Sure, it worked, but you get the feeling it's going to cost you
>"So here's the deal. One lap around the park works out to be about a mile, give or take. We'll take a few laps, then move into some speed work. Then we'll see if you're still feeling it."
>The two of you take a couple minutes to warm up on your own
>"I'd definitely take some of those layers off so you don't die of heat stroke."
>You knew it would have to happen
>But you still weren't looking forward to it
>Mentally bracing yourself for the cold, you slide your sweat pants off, fold them, and drop them into the passenger seat of you car
>Turning around, you see that Dash has done the same
>She's still wearing the hoodie, but now the only thing covering her lower half is a pair of soccer shorts
>And, for the first time, you see that Dash has incredible thighs
>You would reason that it makes sense
>If she exercises as much as she implies, she'd have to work out her legs at some point
>But franlky, any such reasoning is lost on you, because all you can do is stare
>"Hey!"
>She barks, breaking you from your trance
>"What're you staring at?"
>You swallow
"N-nothing, I just zoned out."
>Dash's squint turns into a harsh scowl
>You stand your ground, putting up your best innocent face
>Which there's no way she's buying
>After letting you sit in the hot seat for a minute, her expression slowly turns neutral
>"Right. Well, if you can't keep up, you know where you're parked."
>With nothing more than that as a warning, Dash takes off at a respectable pace
>Sprinting a short distance to catch up, you fall in line behind her
>Which grants you an unobstructed view of her butt
>Yeah
>You're not going to have trouble keeping up
...
>You're having trouble keeping up
>Forget checking out Dash's ass
>Now you're just trying to keep from falling too far behind
>You wouldn't consider yourself out of shape
>In fact, you're probably in better condition than the average person
>And physical training was a regular occurance when you went through the academy, so you're used to running long distances
>But as you pass your starting point once more, you can't help but feel like this is getting a little excessive
>It isn't the distance that's killing you, it's the speed
>You've never seen anyone maintain this kind of pace for so long
>Does she always train like this?
>Or is it just 'cause you're here?
>Either way, Dash is showing no signs of stopping, or even slowing down
>You, on the other hand, are winded, your legs are burning, and you're battling a painful side sitch
>Of course, you could always quit
>Would it really be so bad?
>Just stop running, go back to your car, and enjoy your time off
>It's not like Dash actually wants you here anyway, right?
>She's probably just doing this to get rid of you
>And that's how you find yourself getting a little pissed off
>Because she'd rather put you through this idiotic gauntlet than be up front with you
>Fuck that
>You bite down, and push forward
>Through the pain, and the cold air
>Through lap after lap
>Until Dash finally slows, and comes to a stop back where you started
"Oh, shit..."
>You lean against your car as you try to catch your breath
>It feels like your legs are on fire, and you're sucking in as much as you physically can
>If nothing else, you've found out how powerful a motivator spite can be
>"Damn, Anon. You actually kept up."
>You look up
>Dash is standing in front of you, water bottle in hand
>She's sweating and breathing a little heavier, but compared to you it's like she hardly exerted herself at all
>"Hell, I'm actually kinda' impressed."
>You bring you breathing under control well enough to answer
"Really?"
>"Oh, yeah."
>She holds her water bottle out to you, and you snatch it up eagerly
>Your own bottle is sitting on the ground, fifteen feet away
>An eternity too far to walk
>Dash goes on
>"I mean, it's not easy keeping up with me. I wasn't sure you had it in you. Guess looks can be deceiving, though, am I right?"
>You're not sure if you should feel flattered or insulted, so you just don't say anything
>You hand her now-empty water bottle back
>She cocks an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything about it
>"Anyway, I think that just about wraps this up. I don't want you killing yourself, after all."
>Thank God
>"So, same time tomorrow morning, only this time we'll meet in the gym."
>She begins moving away
"Wait, what gym?"
>"I'll text you the address."
>She opens her door, and steps into her car
>"Catch ya' later!"

***

"Ughhh..."
>You Groan
>It's Friday evening, and the beginning of your shift
>Your weekend, if it could be called that, is over
>You're sitting in the passenger seat of your Police Interceptor Utility
>And everything hurts
>You've got to admit, Dash's workout routine is effective
>Effective, at least in the sense that it hits all your muscles
>Though as far as motivating you to return...
>Wincing, you shift in your seat
>Damn, you haven't been this sore since you spend a week getting your ass beat in defensive tactics
>As for Dash...
>You glance at your partner
>She's totally unphased
>With a sigh, you lay your head against the headrest and relax your body as much as you can
>"You sore there, Anon?"
>Dash has you fixed with an amused smirk
"I hate you. I can barely move my arms."
>She raises her eyebrows
>"Damn. I didn't think you'd get *that* fucked up. Just, you know, a little fucked up."
"Yeah, well, you know me. Always defying expectations."
>"So, you coming back for round two?"
>You roll your stiff shoulders, and grimace
>Fuck, man, your body is shot
"Yeah, much as it pains me, I think I'm gonna' have to... you know... *not*."
>"Pff."
>She rolls her eyes
>"Pussy. You know, I told you ya' wouldn't be able to keep me."
>You feel a little bit of heat rising in your chest
>Normally Dash's banter doesn't bother you
>Hell, you'll even play along
>But today, for whatever reason...
"Oh yeah, Dash. You sure showed me."
>You just weren't having it
>"Hey, it's cool, dude. Nobody can hang with me."
"Yep, you sure do make sure of that."
>"Wait, huh?"
>She casts you a sideways glance
>"Are you trying to get at something?"
"Well... shit, Dash. We've been riding together for what? It's gotta' be at least a month, now. Why are you so locked up?"
>"Oh..."
>She cringes
>"Anon, please tell me you weren't trying to hang out when you said you wanted someone to go to the gym with."
>You throw your hands up
"It was the only thing I could think of! Think about it - I know everyone in the squad, at least a little. I've been to the bar with them, or whatever. But you? We're together for hours at a time, we're supposed to have each others back, but how well do I actually know you?"
>You wait for an answer
>None comes
>Dash has, all of a sudden, taken a very keen interest in watching the road
>So, you press further
>Perhaps a little further than what good sense might dictate
"Like, I know you used to work in Canterlot, and I know you go around letting everyone think you're a guy. And I didn't even ask what *that's* about. But c'mon, man, give me something! Work with me!"
>Dash's eyes narrow
>"If it's that big a deal for you, Anon, maybe we should find other people to ride with."
"You know what, maybe we should."
>Her eyes widen, her mouth hands open and, for a moment, she seems to be at a loss for words
>And then her jaw snaps shut, and she glowers angrily at you
>"Fine!"
>You echo back
"Fine!"
>"Fuck you!"
>Before either of you could continue, you were interrupted by a chilling, somber tone over the radio
>An alternating high-low beep lasting for several seconds
>A man-down signal
>"Blaik County to all units, respond six-eighty-six Northlake Road, six-eight-six Northlake Road, distress button activation on six-delta-nine. All units, clear the air, emergency traffic only."
>"Shit."
>You feel the cruiser lurch forward as Dash steps on the accelerator
>Without really thinking, you slap the controls for your light bar
>You glance at Dash
>Her face is totally devoid of color
>Wide eyed
>Totally focused on what's ahead of her
>Honestly, you don't imagine you'd be looking much better
>You can feel your heart sinking through your stomach as you race towards the scene
>Who was down?
>You couldn't slow your mind enough to remember every one's unit numbers
>What had happened to them?
>Were they attacked?
>Was the attacker still on scene?
>Could it be a trap?
>All questions that couldn't be answered until you arrived on scene
...
>Even from a half mile away, you could see the scene was huge
>Emergency lights cast blue light wide across yards, and high into trees
>As you rolled up, you saw units from all accross the county, and even a couple state police cars
>A bright red ambulance was at the center of it all
>Dash brought your cruiser to a stop next to a man bearing sergeants stripes, and rolled down the window
>"What happened?
>"We've got an officer shot. He's alive, but we don't know if he's gonna' pull through. I want you guys to take your unit down to the intersection of Cherry and East Ruby Road and set up a roadblock. We'll roll you some additional units once we get some bodies freed up."
>Dash nods
>"Anything we should be looking for?"
>"We haven't processed the dash cam yet, but it looks like our guy got off a few rounds. Look for bullet holes."
"Who was it?"
>Your question draws looks from Dash and the sergeant
>He answers after a moment
>"Mustang. Duke Mustang."
>You're allowed a second or so to process this
>"Now, get moving. We've got too many people here as is."
>Dash cranks the wheel hard left and gently applies pressure to the accelerator, executing a U-turn, facing you away from the scene
>She straightens the steering wheel, and the engine hums as Dash presses the gas pedal further
>Trees, mailboxes, driveways, all fly by as the two of you race to your destination
>You steal a quick glance at Dash
>Of all the times to get into it with her, it just had to be *now*
>When you've got a gunman on the loose
>A gunman who's already shot one cop
>Internally, you feel a slight pang of guilt
>Duke had been shot, and your big concern was your argument with Dash
>But you two are partners, so if you're having trouble working together, surely that's important
>...right?
>Are you even having trouble working together?
>Once again, you glance at Dash
>On any normal day, you two get along fine together
>Hell, you'd go so far as to say you've come to enjoy riding with Dash
>More than that
>You enjoy her company
>And that's friendship, right?
>It's at least close enough to a working definition
>But friends usually spend time together outside of work
>Friends usually express some measure of trust in eachother
>And Dash... well...
>She's clearly not being up front with you about something
>More than just her gender
>And while it's a compelling argument that Dash has her right to priacy
>You're just not sure you can accept being left in the dark
>The intersection is now in sight
>Dash brakes, and brings the car to a smooth stop right in the middle of the four-way
>"Grab a rifle. I'm contact, you're cover."
>You draw in a breath to awknowledge, but Dash cuts you off
>"So unless you've got something damn important to say, keep your mouth shut."

***

>What an absolute clusterfuck
>Two officers
>With a single patrol car
>Trying to conduct a roadblock on a four way intersection
>One at a time, Dash waves a up a car and contacts the driver
>It's a little like directing traffic
>Only a lot slower
>With one car at a time
>And with the potential to run into a dangerous suspect
>Who nobody has any clue where to look for
>Not for a lack of trying, of course
>A huge manhunt was underway
>Helicopters are airborne
>SWAT had been called out
>State police, and officers from the surrounding municipalities are all participating in the search
>But for all that manpower, it's just you and Dash manning this checkpoint
>Dash motions another car forward before signalling for it to stop
>Silently, you observe the driver
>It's a middle-aged woman, maybe in her late forties, with streaks of gray running showing through her dulling brown hair
>"Good evening ma'am, I'm Officer Dash with Blaik County, can I ask where you're coming from tonight?"
>"I'm just coming back from work."
>"And where do you work, ma'am?"
>"The bank off of Moore Street."
>Dash nods
>"Okay, ma'am. Stay put, I'm going to take a look at the outside of your vehicle now."
>Dash conducts a quick scan of the car's exterior
>You stay put, watching the driver
>Dash comes back around and approaches the driver side window
>"Okay ma'am, you're free to go. Have a safe night."
>The vehicle moves on
>Rinse and repeat
>After two hours of this, the sun is beginning to set, and you're left with the distinct impression that whoever's running this operation completly forgot about you
>The suspect is sure to have moved on by now
>Keeping you at this checkpoint is just a waste
>"Six-delta-one to six-delta-twenty."
>Dash answers
>"Go for six-delta-twenty."
>"Continue to maintain your position until instructed otherwise, over."
>You hear a faint sigh of exasperation escape her lips
>Apparently you aren't the only one sick of running a roadblock
>"Six-delta-twenty, ten-four."
>Dash waves in the next vehicle
>This one's a gray, late-model Ford Ranger
>The driver is male, somewhere in his thirties, wearing an aged baseball cap embroidered with some logo you don't recognize
>Dash approaches, and he rolls down the window
>"Good evening, sir."
>She points at the cap
>"Is that a Canterlot Wondercolts hat?"
>The man nods
>"Sure is. I'm an old graduate."
>Dash crosses her arms
>"No shit? Didn't think I'd run into one this much north."
>He shrugs
>"I'm just up here for work."
>"Oh, yeah? What do you do?"
>"Contractor."
>Dash purses her lips
>"Alright. Well, just stay put for me, I'm going to check around your vehicle and then we'll get ya' out of here."
>"Yes, sir."
>The corners of your lips pull into the ghost of a smile
>*Sir*
>Even now, that still gets you
>That guy has no idea
>His eyes snap onto yours
>Faster than it came, your smile is gone
>That's pretty creepy
>It's not like there's any way he could know, right?
>You blink
>And as your eyelids open, you're greeted with the sight of a three-thousand pound truck accelerating towards you
"Holy shit!"
>You throw yourself out of the way
>As you land face-down on the ground, you hear a solid crunch as the truck strikes your cruiser
>Fuck
>Fuck
>Fuck
>Fuck
>You push off with your toes and elebows, scambling forward, trying to clear the danger
>Your rifle, secured by a sling, drags across the pavement below you
>You roll onto your side, push off with your left hand and grab the rifle's grip with your right
>Now standing, you mount the rifle to your body and bring it to bear on the driver should be
>Which is also where he isn't
>You swing your rifle left and right, searching for your assailant as you gulp down air
>He's nowhere to be found
>Slowly, you creep up to the door facing you - the passenger side - and peer inside
>Nothing
>The sound of something smacking asphalt draws your attention
>It's coming from the other side of your police car
>Abandoning any form of cautious movement, you race around the rear of the vehicle and bring your rifle up
>The first thing you see is Dash lying on her back
>The second thing is your attacker, standing a good few feet away
>The third is the pistol he's clenching in his right hand, pointed down towards the ground
>You lay the red bead of your rifle's holographic sight over your target
"Drop the fucking gun!"
>He looks at you, and does not drop the fucking gun
>You suck air in, and force it through your throat with all the power you can muster
"Drop the gun!"
>His weapon remains firmly in his hand, and his eyes are glued to you
>If you didn't have the drop on him, there's no doubt in your mind he'd shoot you both
"Drop the gun or I'll fucking kill you, mother fucker!"
>He looks at Dash, and back at you
>He isn't going to do it
>This piece of shit is going to make you shoot him
>You chance a quick look at Dash
>She isn't moving
>And there's a dark-red liquid wetting down her hair
>Your eyes dart back to the man
>You touch your index finger to the trigger
>The muscles in your finger tighten
>You begin to press
>And that's when the man releases his grip on the pistol
>You let out the breath you were holding and take your finger off the trigger
>"Uhh... oh, God..."
>You hear Dash groan
"Dash!"
>She pushes herself up
>"Hands up! Get your damn hands up!"
>The man complies, staring death at you all the while
>Dash kicks away the pistol
>"Hands behind your back."
>She pulls her first pair of cuffs off her belt and secures the mans hands
>Dash turns out the contents of his pockets: a wallet, cellphone, pocketknife and extra magazine
>Each item is dropped on he ground as she completes her search for additional weapons
>She opens the rear-passenger door on your battered police cruiser and gives the man a shove
>"Get in there."
>He climbs in, and Dash slams the door shut
>Finally, you relax
"Oh my God..."
>You lean your back against your car
>"Six-delta-twenty to Blaik County, we've got a shooting suspect in custody. Our car is ten-fifty, request additional units."
>A few seconds of delay precedes the dispatchers reply
>"Six-delta-twenty, verify that you've got the officer involved shooting suspect in custody?"
>"That's correct."
>"Ten-four."
>You look Dash over
>There's a nasty gash on the top of her forehead
>She notices you staring, touches two fingers to the spot, and winces
>"Ow."
>Gingerly, she runs a finger across the wound
>You gulp
"Are you okay?"
>Something about those words feels inadequate
>But you're not really sure what else to say
>"Me? I'm fine, dude. Head wounds bleed, ya know? It's not as bad as it looks."
>You nod
"What happened?"
>"I think he hit me with an elbow or something. No big deal, like I said."
"Oh."
>"Yeah. Uh, what about you? You good?"
>You release your hold on the rifle, and it drops freely before being caught by the sling
"Holy shit..."
>You bring your hands up to your forehead
>"Anon?"
"Holy shit, Dash. I almost fucking shot him."
>She lays a hand on your arm
>"It's okay, man. He tried to run you over - it's good."
>You clench your jaw and nod, but you feel heat bubbling behind your eyes
"I... I thought you were fucking dead, Dash."
>"What?"
>You wipe your eyes, trying desperately to keep any tears from showing on your face
"You were lying there, and you weren't moving, and there was so much blood..."
>She gives your shoulder a shake
>"Hey, c'mon, this isn't *so much* blood."
>Dash looks up at you
>"Anon, are you crying?"
>You clench your eyelids down
"No."
>You feel the arm on your shoulder reach around your back, and she pulls you into an awkward half-hug
>"You're uh... okay, Anon."
>You crack a smile
"You're so bad at this, Dash."
>"Yeah, so you should totally stop crying before someone sees us."

***

"Oh my God."
>What a fucking day
>You push through the doors at the front of your station and walk outside
>It's well after your shift should have ended
>So much time spend with investigators and supervisors
>The latter of whom were especially interested in the damage sustained to your vehicle
>They seemed to understand, for the most part, but that didn't keep them from grilling you over it
>Dash had been transported to the hospital to get checked out, so she'd been exactly zero help
>You rub your temples
>Right now, nothing would be better than going home and getting to sleep
>"Hey."
>You stop
>Dash is leaning against the station's outside wall
>She's wearing tennis shoes, loose jeans, and a dark jacket
"Aren't you supposed to be at the hospital?"
>"They checked me out, I'm fine."
"They didn't want you to like, stay for observation or something?"
>She shrugs
>"Eh, fuck 'em."
"Well, I'm glad to see you're okay."
>"Yeah... so, listen. I know earlier we got at eachothers throats a bit. I guess I was just feeling a little betrayed, but you're right. This whole *thing* isn't normal, and you've been more understanding about it than I could've expected."
"Wait, are you thanking me or apologizing?"
>She shrugs
>"A little of both, I guess. I'm not great at either."
>You feign shock
"What?! No!"
>She smiles
>Just a bit
>And just as it comes, it disappears
>"So, look. If you feel like you need a different partner... well, I get it."
>You shake your head
"Dash, I don't want a different partner. I like riding with you. But are you ever gonna' tell me what's going on?"
>Her eyes meet yours
>And you hold that gaze for what feels like eternity
>Until Dash finally breaks away
>"Yeah. C'mon, Anon. I need a drink."

***

>"So, Dash. You catch last night's game?"
>You are Dash
>In Canterlot
>Seven years ago
"Huh? The what?"
>You cast a confused glance at your partner, Gordon
>A thirteen-year veteran of the Canterlot Police Department, Gordon's pretty much seen it all
>He's spent his entier career in patrol
>And, though you'd never say it to his face, the years are beginning to take their toll
>What was once blonde hair is fading and turning to gray
>He's wearing a knee brace under his uniform
>And... well, there's no nice way to say it
>Gordon's overweight
>Granted, he's still powerfully built, and could probably lift you with one arm
>But he could definitely afford to lose a few pounds
>"The game. The football game."
>He throws you a quick look before returing his attention to the road
>"Did you catch it?"
"Oh."
>You rub the back of your head
"I, uh... I didn't even think about it. I got back last night 'n just wanted to sleep."
>A few silent seconds pass
"Was it any good?"
>He waves a meaty hand dismissively
>"Eh. Something to watch, ya' know?"
>You nod, but truthfully, you didn't 'know'
>When you got off shift, you were exhausted
>The furthest thing from your mind was television
>In fact, you can't think of a single time in the past few months where you've sat down and just watched television
>You should really reconsider paying a monthly subscription for a service you barely use
>Crap, when's your electric bill due?
>A nudge into your elbow breaks your train of thought
>"Hey, Dash. Heads up."
>Gordon nods at the car in front of you
>It's a black Mercedes-Benz E-class sedan
>"I'm lightin' these guys up, they pulled right out in front of us."
"Pff. Man, what a dick."
>You squint at the Mercedes
"It's like they couldn't even have chosen a more generic douchebag car."
>Gordon takes the microphone in his hand
>"One-twenty-seven to Canterlot, traffic stop."
>The dispatcher awknowledges you
>"One-twenty-seven."
>"It's gonna be on a black Mercedes sedan, plate number golf-charlie-india-four-zero-nine. We're heading East on Peachtree Road."
>"Ten-four."
>Gordon flips a switch on the control box, activating the light bar
>Brakelights on the Mercedes flash for a split second as the vehicle slows ever so slightly
>But that's it
>They're not pulling over
>They're not reducing speed any further
>There's really nothing to indicate any intention of stopping
>You hear Gordon sigh heavily
>He seems irritated, rather than concerned
>Your partner reaches back to the control box and mashes the air horn
>A piercing, electric buzz sounds from the siren speaker
>That seemed to do the trick
>The car in front of you slows, and pulls to the side of the road
>Gordon gets back on the radio
>"One-twenty-seven to Canterlot, we've got 'em stopped just short of the turn onto Grady Street."
>"Ten-four. Uh..."
>You detech some unease in the dispatcher's voice
>"Are you clear for confidential?"
>Gordon looks over at you, with an eyebrow raised, and shrugs
>"Yeah, send it."
>"Okay, license plate G-C-I-four-zero-nine - I'm showing that as a black Mercedes E300, valid insurance, registered to a Jason Blair, and we've got him flagged as an associate of Kyle Mason."
>You hear Gordon groan
>"Great. You think you can send us some cover?"
>There's a short pause before the dispatcher answers
>"Everyone's ten-six at the moment, I'll roll you some additionals once as soon as someone's availible."
>"Ten-four."
"What's the big deal? I'm sure we can handle some rich pricks."
>Gordon raises both eyebrows
>"Really? Kyle Mason... you don't know?"
"Never heard of him."
>He raises both hands in a display of exasperation
>"He's Canterlot's local crime lord... well, allegedly."
"What're you talking about? Crime lord... let's haul 'em in!"
>You start to open your door, but Gordon grabs your arm
>"No, Dash, we don't have anything on him. We don't have anything on *any* of them."
"Well... what the hell do we do, then?"
>"I'm gonna take the lead. Speak up if you see anything, but otherwise just watch my back."
>Gordon opens his door, and steps out
>You follow his lead and exit the passenger door
>Gordon is approaching the driver side
>You cross between the vehicles and position yourself next to Gordon
>Two men are sitting in the front section of the car - one driver, one passenger
>"Hello, sir, I'm Officer Covey with the Canterlot Police, the reason I stopped you is merged into our lane really aggressively."
>The driver shrugs
>"So, maybe I did. Is that a crime?"
>"Yes, sir. Reckless driving."
>The driver slaps the steering wheel
>"Oh, for fucks sake..."
>"Can I see your license, please?"
>The driver shrugs
>"Yeah, I guess."
>He produces it from his wallet, and sticks his hand out the window
>Gordon reaches for it
>"Oops."
>The driver drops his license, and the traces of a smirk touch his face
>"Sorry about that."
>Gordon nods
>"It's okay, sir. I'll just need your full name and date of birth."
>"What? Fuck... why?! I just gave you my fucking license!"
>"Sir, I'm not picking that up."
>The driver throws his hands up
>"Are you fucking kidding me?"
>Gordon repeats his request
>"Name and date of birth, sir."
>"Hol-y shit. Jason Blair, September six, nineteen-seventy-eight."
>Gordon nods and starts back towards the car
>You stay to keep an eye on the occupants
>To call the situation uncomfortable would be an understatement
>The driver - Jason, and his passenger, whatever his name is, keep shooting you nasty, sideways glances
>And you're doing your best to match them
>But you can feel the tension rising, and stitching itself across your chest
>And you feel your confidence falter just a bit
>You set your jaw
>No
>You won't allow that
>Jason is still staring at you, and you meet his gaze
"What do you want?"
>He smirks, runs his gaze over your body, and settles further into his chair
>"Just admiring the view."
>Your cheeks flush with fire
"What?!"
>His grin grows
>"That's your car, right?"
>He thumbs towards your Crown Victoria
>"Climb in and I'll show you a real ride."
>He's grinning like a madman now
>"And I'm not just talking about the car."
>Your hands ball into fists, and you grind your teeth
>Some logical part of you knows exactly what he's doing
>He's trying to goad you into reacting
>If he ever went to court, police misconduct would only strengthen his defense
>So, summoning every ounce of willpower at your disposel, you swallow your retort
>"C'mon, girl. There's room for three in here."
>Your eye twitches
>"Hey, Jason, c'mon. Look at that rainbow hair."
>His passenger is chiming in now
>"I don't think you're her type, if you get my meaning."
>"Hey, you know what they say about lesbians, right?"
>He looks you in the eye
>"They're just women who haven't been fucked right by a man."
>Heat and rage bubbles inside you
>All your willpower was no longer enough
"I wouldn't let you fuck me if you were the last man on Earth!"
>He shrugs
>"If I'm the last man on Earth, who's gonna stop me?"
"I'll fuck you up!"
>"Dash, reel it in!"
>It's Gordon
>You look back at him
>He shakes his head, cautioning you against further outbursts
>"Better listen to him, Dash."
>The passenger unbuckles
>"You know, Jason, I think I've had quite enough of her rudeness."
>He opens the door and steps out
"Hey, where're you going?"
>You start moving towards him
>"I'm leaving."
>He starts forward, walking down the side of the street
"Get back here!"
>You're behind him now, speed walking to catch up
>"Dash!"
>Gordon is calling for you, but you're not listening
>"Not my car."
>He looks over his shoulder
>"I'm not the one being stopped."
>You're within arms length of him now
"We aren't done here."
>With your left hand, you reach out and grab his shirt
>And you never saw his first blow coming
>But you certainly felt it
>His fist connected with the left side of your mouth, sending you tumbling to the ground
>You land hard, knocking the wind out of you
>And before you have a chance to gasp in air, a forearm shoots across the front of your throat and your dragged onto your feet
>Thrashing, you reach for your gun
>As you start to pull, you feel a strong hand grab yours and push it - and your gun - down towards the holster
>You try to draw in a breath, and choke
>With your free hand, you blindly strike out
>Your fist connects with something fleshy a few times, but the arm around your throat only tightens
>"Hey, let her go!"
>You hear the crack of a gunshot
>"Holy shit!"
>Several more follow
>Someone screams
>The arm releases you, and you fall forward, gasping for air
>"He fucking shot me! Mother fucker!
>Get up
>Get into the action
>You pull your pistol from its holster and push yourself up
>Only to recieve another sharp pain in the back of your head
>Followed by a kick to your ribs that drives all the air from your lungs
>"Stupid bitch..."
>"We gotta go!"
>You roll onto your side and look up
>And you're just able to make out the blow that sends you into unconsciousness

***

"God damn, Dash."
>You are Anon
>It's present day
"That's... that's fucked up."
>Dash nods, and stares into her drink
>"Yeah."
"Your partner... did he -"
>"He lived. Took a few hits, but he pulled through alright."
>She smiles
>It's a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless
>"Gordon was a tough son of a bitch."
"What about those fuckers you stopped?"
>"CPD caught 'em later that day. They pled guilty... no trial, really not much publicity."
>She turns in her bar stool to face you, and pulls back her bangs
>"Healed up pretty good though, right?"
>On one side of her forehead is the injury from last night
>On the other are a few barely detectable marks
>She lets her hair drop back down
"Dash, look. That's horrible, but what's that have to do with..."
>She sighs
>"With me pretending to be a guy?"
"Well... yeah."
>"Anon, I let myself get overpowered. I wasn't... I wasn't strong enough to fight back. My partner got shot bacause he was pulling all the weight."
"You can't possibly think that's your fault."
>She snaps
>"It *is* my fault! *I* couldn't deal with some playground insults. *I* was a target because *I* was a girl. And when it came to it..."
>She turns away from you
>"I couldn't protect myself. And if I can't even do that, how am I going to protect anyone else?"
>You breath in to reply, but you don't have an answer
>"Yeah. That's what I thought."
>A minute or so of silence passes
"So, what happened then?"
>"I finished out the year at Canterlot. I thought maybe things would go back to normal, but they never really did. I heard Blaik County was hiring, and I wanted to get away from all *that*, so I sent in my application and just laterally hired in."
"Just like that, huh?"
>Dash shrugs
>"I don't think they wanted me at Canterlot. And we're about as far north as you can get. I just want to leave it all behind me."
"Really? Friends, everything?"
>Her eyes drop
>"Nobody needs me as a friend."
"Aw, don't say that."
>You give her an affectionate nudge with your elbow
"I'm your friend."
>Her head lifts, and she turns back towards you, wide-eyed
>She starts to say something, when your cellphone rings loudly
"Oh, hold on."
>You glance at the number, and frown
>It's a local area code, but you don't recognize the number
>After a second of thought, you accept the call and place the phone against your ear
"Hello?"
>"Officer Mous? This is Detective Colton."
"Oh. You're working that murder we found, right?"
>"Yeah. Hey, listen. Just a heads up, we're probably going to need to get with you and your partner again about that."
>You lean forward in your seat
"You've gotten a lead?"
>"A lead? Yeah, I'll say. That guy you two arrested? The one who shot one of our officers? We ran ballistics on his pistol, and just for shits 'n giggles compared them against all our recent homicides involving gunshot wounds. It's an exact match with the slugs recovered from our victims."
"Whoa, wait. You're saying..."
>"Oh, yeah. You caught the killer."
>"So, congratulations. That's kind of a big deal, even as felony arrests go."
"Yeah..."
>You absentmindedly reply, thinking back to your encounter with the man
>Your rifle was trained on him
>His pistol was by his side
>He really would have killed you if he'd gotten the chance
"So, uh, what now?"
>"Well, like I said, we're gonna have you come in and talk us through everything that happened. Just so we're thorough, ya' know? Then if we go to trial you'll probably be called in as witnesses."
>Dash nudges you with her foot
>"Hey, what's up?"
>You cover your phones mouthpiece
"That dude we arrested is the same guy who killed those kids in the park."
>Her eyebrows raise
>"Oh, shit."
>She punches your shoulder
>"Hell yeah, dude. We got that fucker off the street."
>The detective cuts back
>"Anyway, I know you're working the night shift, and I hate to ask, but I'm going to need you two to come by and talk to me pretty soon. Maybe after your shift, maybe on an off day, but I can't wait too long."
>You hesitate
>It's Saturday morning
>Your next off day is Tuesday
"We can come in tomorrow morning."
>Dash shoots you a look
>"Perfect. Come by my office around seven. See you then."
>He terminates the call
>"Did you just volunteer me for something?"
"Hm?"
>You look at Dash
>"You said 'we' can come in tomorrow morning."
"Oh. Yeah, Detective Colton said he wanted to talk to us."
>She groans
"What?"
>"It's gonna take forever."
"You know, you're bitching a lot more than I remember."
>Dash squints at you
>"You talk a lot more than I remember. You know you're still under probation, right? I can still fail you out."

***

>"Anon, Corporal Dash, thanks for coming by."
>It was just after seven in the morning
>You and Dash had been waiting in a small room outside the station's detectives office for nearly two hours
>In the academy, you'd heard the phrease "hurry up and wait", mostly as a disparaging comment from other police cadets
>You suppose this qualifies
>Dash hisses under her breath
>"Like we had a choice."
>If Detective Colton heard, he gave no indication of it
>With a wave of his hand, he beckons you to follow and leads you down a hallway lined with small offices on either side
>He turns into the last room on the left side, and you follow him in
>The room contains two desks on opposite sides, each with an office chair
>Colton takes the desk on the right
>Papers and file-folders are stacked around the perimiter of the desk, leaving a small clearing of a workspace in the center where a laptop computer sits
>"Pull up a seat."
>He motions to a couple fold-out chairs stacked against the wall
>You and Dash both grab a chair as Colton wheels his own from behind his desk, to the side
>You recognize what he's doing
>It's an interview technique where an interviewer removes physical barriers between himself and the person he's interviewing
>"Okay, Dash, Anon."
>Detective Colton sets a small black box on the top of his desk
>"I'm going to be recording this just for my own use. So, start at the park, and then tell me what happened at the roadblock. I'll have both of you talk all the way through, and then I might have some more questions. Dash, lets start with you.
>Once again, you and Dash recount the incident
>Starting with your very first call to the park
>Your breif contact with the future victims
>The return to the park
>Discovering the body
>And finally, your encouter with the murderer
>The *alleged* murderer
>Next comes Detective Colton's questions
>They're all simple
>Easy to answer
>A lot of clarification
>But through it all, you get the impression that he doesn't know *quite* what he's looking for
>Eventually, he sighs and turns the voice recorder off
>"Well, I think that about does it. Again, thanks for coming in."
"Does any of that help?"
>Colton holds up his hands
>"A little. See, the problem we're having is establishing motive for the murder. That guy you arrested, David Wright, he's got absolutely no connection to either victim - at least not one we've been able to find. He wasn't *anywhere* on our radar because he's got no motive."
>Dash leans forward in her seat
>"So? You don't need motive for a conviction."
>He nods
>"True, but right now our only evidence is that the ballistics on his gun match the bullets from the scene. It's good evidence, but it's still circumstantial. And if we can't establish a convincing motive... well, who's to say he didn't find that gun, or buy it from someone else? Is that reasonable doubt?"
>Before either of you can answer, the door swings open and in walks Detective Killian
>"I've got somthing!"
>He notices you and Dash, looks at Detective Colton, and jerks his head in your direction
>Colton shrugs dismissively in reply
>"Whatcha' got?"
>"The owner of that truck Wright was driving."
>He glances at you and Dash once more, clearly hesitant to share details of the case openly
>Colton, however, does not seem to share his misgivings, and presses for him to continue
>"Yeah? Who is it?"
>"It's the property of an LLC out of Canterlot - Central State Services."
>That's certainly a generic name, if you've ever heard one
>Colton furrows his brow and leans back in his chair
>"Okay. Well, what the hell do they do?"
>Killian shrugs
>"I dunno. I can barely find any information about them. But get this."
>"Yeah?"
>"One of the owning members is Kyle Mason."
>You feel the air shift next to you
>Dash has left her chair, and is now standing
>"Kyle Mason? *The* Kyle Mason from Canterlot?!"
>Killian's mouth tightens as he glowers at Dash
>"You know, Corporal, this really has nothing to do with you."
>"Answer me, asshole!"
>The detective's face flashes with rage
>"No. And you and your little friend here -"
>Killian points at you
>"- can get the fuck on out of my office."
>You need no further prompting
>Any more time spend here and you're sure there'll be a fight
"C'mon, Dash, let's go."
>You reach out and touch her shoulder
>She rips away and wheels around on you, fists balled, staring pure molten fury
>You grimace, half-expecting to take a blow
>However, after a few agonizing moments, her face softens
>She draws in a breath, pauses, and instead of speaking she storms out into the hall
>You follow behind her
"Dash."
>She keeps walking
"Dash, stop!"
>She stops and, still facing away from you, you hear her let out a massive sigh
>You catch up to her, and she turns and leans her back against the wall
>Her expression is totally blank
>Unreadable
>And you, well...
>You're not really sure what to say
>So you just say the first thing that comes to mind
"Are you alright?"
>"Fine, Anon."
>Her reply carries no energy
"You don't look it."
>"Yeah?"
>She shrugs and looks away
>"It's uh... it's been a long day. I'm just not in the mood to deal with all this shit, ya' know?"
>You nod
"Uh-huh."
>You doubt she's being truthful
>And at the same time, you doubt confronting her when she's like this would be much help to either of you
"You're sure you're good?"
>"Oh yeah."
>She pushes off the wall and faces the door
>"I'll see you at five, dude."