Drew nodded and started to smile.
Before she could question it, Keith hammered a chair onto her back. He obviously hadn’t held back at all because it splintered into pieces on her athletic frame.
The force of the blow made her stumble but she caught herself using Drew’s body instead of the ground, which earned another grunt from the man.
Kristen snagged one of the chair legs and spun to whip it into her attacker’s body. Or, at least, that was what she’d planned but instead, she caught him in the face.
“Ah!” he cried at the moment of impact and staggered back, tripped on the broken door, and crashed into the bed.
“Oh, my God—Keith, I’m so sorry!” she spluttered, finally unsure of what to do. She didn’t want to abandon the drill but she could see him holding his nose while blood streamed. Quite obviously, she’d hit him way harder than she’d intended to.
“Ith fine, ith fine,” he said, speaking through his mouth as he pinched his nose and attempted to stop the flow of blood. “Thith ith what I get for improvithing.”
She braced herself for another strike from Drew, but none was forthcoming.
The team leader merely pushed himself up from the ground—groaning as he did so, which made her feel way more proud than anyone should for punching their boss in the ribs—and told them to call off the practice session.
“Holy fucking shit, Red. That was goddamn incredible.” Jonesy nodded as he surveyed the wreckage she had left behind her. It was fairly impressive—three broken doors, a splintered chair, and two injured officers.
“Try not to break anyone’s nose next time,” Hernandez said, and Kristen frowned. Even after all these months training together, the woman still hadn’t shown her any kindness besides that one time in the locker room. “Unless it’s Jonesy’s. Someone’s gotta snap that thing back to normal.”
She grinned and relaxed. From Hernandez, that was basically a hug and a pat on the back.
“Thorry about the chair,” Keith mumbled, still pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Don’t apologize,” Drew said and rubbed his rib where Kristen had punched him. “Hostiles often improvise, and it’s not like you hurt her. Right, Kristen?”
“I was lucky.” She shrugged. “That chair must’ve been fairly old.”
The other team members shared a look that said the chair was definitely not old.
“Luck doesn’t have anything to do with it. You’ve trained damn hard, and it shows. You’re faster and stronger than any woman I’ve ever met,” Drew said.
“Any woman?” Hernandez interjected. “I’ve never seen anyone—dick or no dick—fell our fearless leader with a rib punch.”
He tried not to smile at that but failed miserably. “Yeah, well, I guess Hernandez is right about that. I’ve never seen anyone outside a wrestling ring stay standing after having a chair smashed on their back.”
Kristen tried to look modest. “I told you guys I used to play sports.”
“Bullshit.” Jonesy shook his head. “You’ve put in extra hours with me every damn night—we can stop that and switch to simply getting beers by the way—and you’ve studied too. You’re better with the fucking hand signals than I am.”
Hernandez snorted. “Everyone’s better with the hand signals than you are.”
“Yeah? How’s this for a hand signal?” He extended his middle finger and stuck it in the woman’s face.
“One of my favorites. Do you want me to snap it off? You could tape it to your crotch and watch your dick double in size.”
“Enough, you two.” Drew motioned at them to cut it out. “The fact is, you’ve improved. I’ll start having you take point instead of Jonesy,” he said.
“Oh, come on. Really?” the sergeant protested.
“I’m surprised you’re complaining, to be honest. But you’re right, fair’s fair. Keith, grab that chair and smash it over Jonesy’s back. If you can stay standing, we’ll all know Kristen still has much to learn.”
“As as long as we know she’s on point because she likes getting shot and having chairs broken over her. I have no fucking problems with being partnered with a meat shield.”
“Thanks, Jonesy,” she said. Like Hernandez, his compliments didn’t tend to sound like compliments but after a few months, she had learned to recognize them.
Butters’ voice spoke over the radio. “I hate to break up the lovefest, but we’re wanted back at the office. It looks like our little star has a visitor.”
“Roger. We’re heading down. Get the car running and the AC blasting,” Drew ordered.
As Kristen descended the steps of the apartment block, she beamed. She’d overcome the first challenge—proving herself to her team. Now, it was time for the altogether more difficult task of stopping criminals who wanted to shoot her instead of slow her down with chairs.
Chapter Thirteen
When Kristen returned to the office, she immediately headed to the showers. She knew she’d done well in that last session, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard work that made her sweat enough to soak her clothes. But before she could make it to the locker room, Captain Hansen’s voice echoed through the station from her office. “Hall, get in here.”
With a grimace—but determined to continue her so far almost perfect day—she obeyed the order.
She entered the captain’s office and immediately paused to take in the two strangers. Their presence alone was unusual, but even odder was the fact that one of them sat in Captain Hansen’s chair while the other—even more baffling—was smoking.
“Hall, meet our guests, Mr Lyra and Mrs Damos,” Hansen said. Despite having someone else in her seat, she seemed like her usual herself.
“A pleasure to meet you, Kristen Hall,” Mr Lyra drawled from the captain’s chair. He wore a black suit with a silver tie, and—the weirdest thing of all—a silk shirt with elaborate cuffs and frills on the chest that ruffled from beneath his jacket. She thought he looked like a business pirate, for want of a better expression.
Mrs Damos nodded in acknowledgment, “We’ve heard so much about you.” She wore a garish purple skirt suit with a red scarf. Either color was far too bright for the SWAT offices but together, they almost made her eyes hurt. “Captain, an ashtray?”
“Yeah, I have your damn ashtray right here,” Captain Hansen said, brought the wastepaper basket over, and held it while the woman knocked the ash from her cigarette.
Kristen had no doubt that the two guests were dragons. No one else dressed this way, for one thing. Plus, their slow and almost lethargic movements belied a hidden power. Then there was the fact that her boss allowed one of them to sit in her chair. Dragons had an aura that made most people obey their desires. Even those with strong will like Captain Hansen obeyed, albeit with an attitude and her share of grumbling. That was simply her normal demeanor.
None of this impressed her, though. “What the hell can I do for you?”
The visitors shared a look and a smile that thoroughly pissed her off.
“We simply came for an update on your progress,” Mr Lyra said and put his feet lazily on the desk.
The captain glared balefully at him, but she said nothing.
“Do you mean you came to tell me what the hell is going on?” She leveled a glare at him.
“Whatever do you mean?” Mrs Damos asked and moved closer. Her high heels—that matched her scarf—clacked irritatingly.
“You’re dragons, obviously. No one else wears frills and whatever the hell it is that you’re wearing.” She gestured to the woman’s bright colors. “So, are you here to tell me why you put me on SWAT?”
“But Kristen…” When the visitor smiled, it became apparent that her teeth were weird too. Not unattractive or anything but more like flawless and sharp. “We didn’t have a thing to do with your placement here. It was your hard work at the academy and the tests you passed that earned your place on the force. We’re simply here to inquire as to how you’re doing. The tests aren’t al
ways accurate, unfortunately.”
“She’s doing well,” Captain Hansen volunteered, unable to resist the dragon’s request for information. “Better than expected, in fact. Hall’s performance in training is almost up to the minimum standards. And quite frankly, I don’t expect that from recruits who are dumped on my team without my permission.” She paused for a moment to glare at the dragons. It was odd to see her still trying to express herself despite the power the creatures had over her. She ostensibly treated them like the intrusive, unwelcome guests they were, and yet she didn’t protest Mr Lyra’s feet on her desk nor Mrs Damos smoking in her office.
“Well, I suppose that answers all our questions, then. Mr Lyra, shall we?”
“Indeed, Mrs Damos, we shall.”
With that, he removed his feet from the desk, stood, and smoothed his suit. Mrs Damos extinguished her cigarette on the bottom of one of her high heels—and demonstrated an incredible sense of balance—placed the butt in the wastepaper basket, and preceded him out.
“Hall, the door,” Captain Hansen ordered as she reclaimed her chair.
“Yes, sir.” Kristen closed the door to the captain’s office.
“I fucking hate those things. Being around them is like being in a damn fog. You seemed all right, though.”
“Sir?”
“Cut the shit, Hall. Who the hell are you really and what the hell did you do to attract this kind of attention? I’ve never had a dragon in my office before and now, I’ve had two. Spill it.”
“I honestly don’t know.” She tried not to shrug but failed at that endeavor. “I’ve told you everything I know. I met one at a concert, he sent me to their testing facility, then the academy, and then here.”
“So it’s a mystery?”
“Yes, sir, I suppose so.”
“I fucking hate mysteries.” The captain took a deep breath and exhaled through her nose. “And I don’t like dragons or anyone else meddling with my people.”
“Sir, does that…am I one of your people?”
“Oh, come on, Hall, you’ve been with us for months now. You’ve taken a bullet for Jonesy and somehow turned Hernandez to your side. Of course you’re one of my people.”
Kristen grinned. She honestly couldn’t help herself. “Hernandez said she likes me?”
Captain Hansen snorted. “Of course not. With Hernandez, it's more what she doesn’t say.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Your record speaks for itself. You’ve done well here, but with these dragons… I don’t want the rug pulled out from under me.”
“Me neither, sir.”
“Well, I guess we don’t have any choice but to press on, for now. You’re dismissed, Hall.”
“Yes, sir!” She turned to go but stopped when the captain cleared her throat.
“Oh, and Kristen? Take a shower. You stink.”
“Our presence didn’t affect her at all,” Mrs Damos said once they made their way out of the station.
“Indeed not,” Mr Lyra replied.
“That’s an indication that she is one of us.”
“Which is what I have said since she took our tests.”
“The results of those were inconclusive.”
“An inconclusive result means she’s not obviously human, which indicates that she must be a dragon.”
“Pah!” His companion snorted. “There have been false positives before. An inconclusive result means only that. Even if she is one of us, where did she come from? How did she come to be?”
“You ask the questions I have been asking. Do not expect me to have the answers now.” He growled his annoyance. It was a low sound more fitting to a tiger or a bear than the shape of a man, but the sound had not been made by a man at all.
“Questions swirl around her like smoke in the wind,” Mrs Damos muttered.
“Which is why the police academy was the proper choice for her. We were able to monitor her easily, and she has excelled there as few humans do.”
“And you stand by your decision to put her into SWAT?”
“Of course, I do!” He did not like being questioned. “Already, she can resist our aura. The more dangers she survives, the more her powers will manifest. If she is a dragon, her abilities will not let her die, bleeding into the gutter like a common animal.”
“And if you’re wrong? If the tests were inconclusive simply because she’s more gifted than most of her kin?”
“No one will grieve over the loss of one more human.”
Mrs Damos nodded. Trial by fire was effective at cooking meat if nothing else.
Together, the two dragons shed their human glamor and took to the sky in their true forms—a purple dragon with claws of red and a great black dragon with silver ridges that caught the wind and propelled him high above the city. The pair had ruled from the shadows since it had been founded by their kind centuries before.
Chapter Fourteen
When Kristen left the captain’s office, Jonesy was waiting for her. “What the fuck was that about, Red?”
She pushed past him. “If I knew, I’d tell you.”
He fell into step behind her. “Ah, come on, Red. Were those two motherfucking dandies friends of yours?”
“No.”
“Family, then? Perhaps a former boss?”
She reached the break room where most of the team had gathered. “I’m telling you, I don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?” Butters asked.
“Who those two puffs were who just left,” Jonesy explained.
“You must have some idea,” the sniper said. “Even their outfits demand a story.”
“Dragons?” Beanpole ventured.
“Yeah, probably.” She forced herself to take a deep breath.
“Dragons, huh? And what the fuck did they want with you? Fashion advice?” Hernandez grinned.
“I was telling Jonesy I don’t know what it was all about, okay? I tried to ask them why they put me on SWAT when I’m not qualified but they didn’t tell me.”
“You weren’t qualified, but you are now.” Butters winked at her.
“Thanks, Butters. I appreciate it.”
“Maybe this is why you’re on SWAT and not working for the regular police. Your detective skills are shit.” Jonesy smirked. “You really have no guess why dragons are checking in on you, Red?”
“No, Jonesy, I really don’t.”
“Maybe she talked to them about helping her out the next time we go for a round of airsoft.”
“I don’t need help in airsoft. I whooped all of you, remember?”
Just then, Drew stepped into the room with Keith on his heels and surveyed the room. “Whatever this is about, drop it.”
“We have more important stuff to worry about,” Keith added.
“Shut the fuck up, rookie.” Despite the harsh words, Jonesy was smiling.
“You shut up, Jonesy,” the other man retorted.
“Children, enough.” The team leader’s glare finally silenced the room. “A call came in. There’s a bank robbery in progress and the hostiles are heavily armed. We’re talking serious firepower, top-notch body armor, and a bomb threat. This is as big as it gets, so gear up and meet the van.”
“Yes, sir!” The response was unanimous and the team left to retrieve their gear.
Jonesy marched beside Drew. “Do you think it’s the Breaks?”
“Given the increase we’ve seen in activity from them lately and the weapons we saw at that pawnshop, yeah. I think so, which means no time to dawdle. No getaway car has been identified yet, but them making a break for it is the expectation.”
“Ah, fuck yeah. I have a bone to pick with those hotrod fuckers.”
“Not today, you don’t. There are hostages.”
Kristen’s heart dropped. Despite her months on the force, she hadn’t been in an actual hostage situation yet. She’d practiced forced entry into buildings with civilians but that was very different than people actually taking hostages in reality. I
f they messed up today, people would die—innocent people.
They scrambled into the van and drove to the bank. It was one of the nicer ones—a downtown branch on Griswold street. The lobby was on the ground floor with offices stretching into the motor city’s skyline. Classic American architecture defined the entranceway with its glass doors set behind a brick arch that was framed by unnecessary pillars that hugged the brick walls.
The bullet-shattered glass windows and two police cars that were absolutely destroyed by gunfire on either side of the stone archway added a decidedly post-apocalyptic look to the building. This kind of activity wasn’t supposed to happen in Detroit—not anymore and not since its rebirth.
“All right, listen up and look alive. We’re team A for this one. Butters and Beanpole, that means you’ll be across the street, two or three stories up. Keith, Jonesy, and Hernandez are with me. We’ll go loud and rush the front door—at least, that’s what we want it to look like. While team A holds their attention, Team B will sneak in through the back.”
“And the bomb, sir?” Hernandez asked.
“These assholes said there’s a bomb in the building, but we have no idea where. It could be in the offices above or the bank itself, or could simply be a bluff. For now, Hernandez, you’re with us. As soon as we have any intel on it, that’s where you’ll go.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What about me?” Kristen asked. “Am I on team B?”
“Absolutely not. I want you in the van. You’ll bring it closer when we go in to give us a fall-back point as well as provide better cover than these police cars they have shredded.”
“But Drew, I’ve been practicing! I can go in.”
“Not today you can’t.”
“But—”
“That’s an order.”
She cursed under her breath but nodded.
“Right. Let’s go.”
Within three minutes, Butters and Beanpole confirmed they were in position for the team to move forward. Team A ran in a crouch to the police cars—everyone except for her—and drew more gunfire from inside the bank.
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