It is midnight, and all is not good. [closed, finished]

[siesinddasessen]

Who: Blaine Frost and Angela Roth
Where: A very shady part of the city with mostly commercial buildings and storages, near the harbour.
When: Tuesday the 19th, 5 am.
What: The police busts some drug trade, a gunfight ensues and a certain police officer gets shot.
Warning: Death through guns, gun violence, mentions of drug trade and death



It's a cool night. Not really chilly yet, definitely nowhere near freezing, but one of those nights where a good jacket is something one should bring.

I this case, a few more things would be in order as well. Like generally dark and inconspicuous clothing, money, the goods, and guns. It's not an incredibly odd time, because delivery and shipping and all those things that have to happen before the day really starts are morning activities, and this is the right area for that. And the sight of one woman doing paperwork and a group of men {and all but one of them look like men, the other female in the group having opted to disguise herself as a male - which with her height and generally compact and relatively flat build wasn't too hard} being busy loading boxes from A to B or waiting for the rest to be done with the loading is not particularly rare down here. Shiploads coming in and being repacked into smaller loads for further delivery. What is out of the ordinary are all things that cannot be seen. Like the guns hidden under the clothes of almost everyone involved, like the fact that half the boxes which announce to hold electric parts only actually hold what they promise to a small degree.

There's something much different under them, little and larger bags that sum up to much more value than any type of electronics ever could. They've all been in the trade for a good long while, some more involved, some less involved; some happier and some unhappier about their involvement. But the point of no return comes fairly soon with those things, and as long as nobody tips off any government institutions about their little activities, it is a good and easy income even for those who only function as guards.

Which is what Blaine is doing here, currently leaning against one of the cars, seemingly idly looking out at the street leading down to the docks, for all the world looking like a auburn haired twenty-something truck driver with a bit of a pretentious beard waiting for the loading to be done so he can start with his job. Two guns, both of which she was given for the duration of this job and which she will happily return to their owner after {she would never want to have something so obviously illegal on her for longer than absolutely necessary, considering how they have been tinkered with to hit through bullet proof vests at the second or third bullet at latest...}, are hidden under a fake leather jacket that screams "wannabe gangsta". Carefully crafted looks, just in case someone sees her. Luckily her name, because sadly she goes by her real name here, is gender ambiguous enough to keep with the male attire.

Only another hour and she can go home and sneak back into bed for a few hours...

Comments

[von_uberwolf]

In the distance, a helicopter could be heard flying over the city. Probably the news chopper, or maybe even that weird black helicopter people had been seeing. Nothing to worry about. Nor was the sound of cars driving outside. They were by the harbor after all, there was going to be traffic at odd hours.

The totally-not-guards first got suspicious when they heard a door open somewhere. Someone was coming. SEVERAL someones...

[siesinddasessen]

Upon being alerted, there are some quick and small shifts. Men putting down boxes for a short cigarette break, others stepping around the cars to lean against different places. Squatting down to tie their shoelaces. Getting their hands free, and two of them heading away from the group, presumably to follow a natural urge.

Sure.

Blaine climbs onto the driver's seat and fires up the engine. And then turns on the car lights to let them shine into the direction from which the visitors come when she assumes that they are close enough to be seen with them. No reason to not give them a sunny welcome, right? And if they should be wrong, it could always be explained with her actually being done and about to pull out.

[von_uberwolf]

Blaine could unfortunately see a large van pulling in front of her only escape route by truck. She might be able to ram the truck out of the way. Or she might break something important and strand her vehicle full of evidence in the middle of a police raid. Which is exactly what this was. These visitors weren't being subtle about it. A dozen armed officers burst onto the scene.

Angela hefted the shotgun she had been issued for this raid and watched the suspects carefully from her position covering the fire escape. She had been suspicious of this tip off, but this close to the crates they were moving, she had lost all doubts that they had the right people. She could smell the drugs in the air, along with what everyone in the area had had for dinner last night, and what they had stepped in getting down here. The sensory overload was making her a bit dizzy, and she was glad she wasn't the one in charge today. A sergeant in the back had a bullhorn, which he now used. "THIS IS THE LCPD. THE BUILDING IS SURROUNDED. PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR AND SURRENDER AND NO ONE HAS TO GET HURT."

[siesinddasessen]

A short command is shouted, two words of code that were agreed one prior to the meet-up... and then hell breaks loose.

The criminals and their guards have a lot of firepower with them, and the determination to shoot themselves free if necessary. Masks are pulled up, making faces half invisible. There have been warnings for months, about the police planning something, too vague to rearrange things based on the warnings but strong enough for safety measures.

Blaine is almost glad that, as someone known for "his" agility, speed and sneakiness - most of the men in the cartel are under the assumption that she is a guy, and she won't correct them if it makes it easier for her to cover her tracks if worst comes to worst - she has a different task. Shooting is something that she has learned over the years, and is sufficiently good at, but shooting someone is a thing that she will avoid if she can. Because should it be tracked back to her, that will mean more trouble than it could be worth.

...she might have to reconsider that statement, with how she has heard that some other numbers people have been treated, but right now the opinion stands. So what she will do is grab the paperwork - which while not as compromising as a list of names or anything still includes information that the police should definitely not receive - and duck behind the car, waiting for a moment to run towards the only other exit, which is one of those "safety requirements require two exits, but really that is just taking our money so let's make one that really is too narrow" ones.

She's in the shadow enough for someone to basically need a night vision apparatus to see her, and with the car in the way she hopes that in the chaos nobody will have the calm to do so much as notice her. Next to her, a man is hit and doubles over, but the policemen seem to be in serious trouble as well... just a few more moments.

[von_uberwolf]

"Oh fuck me they're gonna try to shoot their way out." flashed through Angela's mind before all hell broke loose. Police officers would go on about never using guns except as an absolute last resort, but really when your life was on the line there wasn't a lot you wouldn't do. Angela aimed at one of the goons who was trying to duck behind a stack of boxes while pulling up a mask with one hand and an uzi with the other and squeezed the trigger. He fell over, but in the confusion Angela never even figured out if he died. Before she could take a second shot, someone tall and skinny zipped past her towards the fire exit. DAMN he was fast.

No...SHE was fast. Fake beard or not, Angela could smell the difference. She smelled young, too. Too young to be involved in this kind of business. Angela stepped into the girl's way, shotgun at the ready, but hesitated for a split second before pulling the trigger. She was just a kid!

[siesinddasessen]

A split second could mean life or death, and she will use exactly that second to in one motion grab the wall with one hand, flinging herself around the corner so she is out of the line of the police's as well as the other side's bullets, and use the momentum from that motion to bring her other hand around herself, aiming at the police officer and firing a handful of shots, using the wall to steady herself against the recoil.

It takes her a moment before she can break into a run again, and she can only hope that the hood that she pulled over her head, coupled with the gratuitous bangs from the (expensive and thus convincing) wig and the general poorly lit state of the fire exit will hide her face from the person barring her way, should she not have killed them.

Because that was what she was aiming for, and she is quite sure that she landed at least two or three hits, wherever. Because that was what she was aiming for. This is the only exit, and she cannot risk being arrested. Especially not in an incriminating situation like this, with too much evidence on her. Especially not when she has nobody who will care about doing so much as bailing her out. Especially not when she has started to show first obvious signs of being affiliated with the network. Though if those are the main reason for her action, or if it is the rush of adrenaline and the odd sensation of an echo when she aims her gun at the police officer egging her on - this feels somehow familiar, something in it does -, she does not know. She can think about all of this later.

Right now, it is all instinct, the whole motions, which can impossibly have lasted longer than half a minute, probably shorter.

[von_uberwolf]

The first shot was stopped by her vest, but still felt like someone hitting her in the chest with a hammer. The second through sixth shots managed to puncture the bullet proof vest she had on, turning her torso into a dark crimson mess.

Through a miracle of biology, Angela kept standing for another second or two. She looked angry, then confused. Her hands, which suddenly felt so far away, dropped limply to her sides, the shotgun clattering onto the floor. Then she crumpled to the ground in a limp pile. She couldn't move. There was a roaring sound in her ears as her vision started to go dark. It wasn't supposed to go like this. She was the good guy. She always had been.

Then even thoughts as confused as these dissolved in the coming tide of oblivion, and Angela didn't think anything at all.

[siesinddasessen]

Blaine will think about what just happened later, but right now, with the sound of guns and the screams of the injured behind her and the adrenaline pounding through her veins, all that her brain can bring her to do is go forward, pushing herself away from the wall and walk the steps that bring her to Angela's body, and past her.

The reality of what she has done has no time to set in until she is a good way away and even then her brain still refuses to fully allow what happened as she leans against a wall and just curses for a good couple of minutes.

She doesn't regret having shot that person of whom she didn't really see anything, too focused on the uniform, it was the right decision, the only way to get out and if she was as dead as she looked, there should be nobody but members of the group that would be able to describe her, and most of them have never met her as someone else than a auburn haired male. But... there is still a huge difference between seeing a corpse, between waking up near a dead body because someone overdosed while she was asleep. A difference even between seeing someone die in a violent way, and between killing someone herself. She breathes in shakily, and closes her eyes for a moment, pushing herself off the wall to find the place where she can drop off the papers and the guns, and then change and get home and... And then she will see.