2 views
Call Me Mine - 3
“It happened so quickly I never got to take it in.”
~
Mace's voice came over the comm, cracking in the background. "Two meters north, three east. He has a rifle, doesn't seem to be registered. I think they know we're here."
Virgil Colman cursed. The plan to infiltrate the traffickers' base, an old rundown warehouse in the middle of the woods, had begun going south already.
He'd made it inside and was squatting behind an enormous perforated wooden box which he could only assume didn't have a human inside it. So far things weren't going too great and that really pissed him off. What was more. . .
He glanced to his side where that stubborn mutt lay on his belly, the K-9 unit vest hugging his fur. The dog's being there made him unable to think straight. But their chief had insisted on it.
He heard some voices in another language, the people talking to each other. Then, nothing. The dog got unto it's feet beside him, he'd probably caught a scent he wanted to follow. But gave him a hard lower and put his index finger over his lips. "Shh,"
The warehouse got quiet, not a pin drop audible. Then after leaning to peek around the box, Virgil ordered, "Okay, go scout."
The dog ran off, rounding some crates and disappearing. Virgil stood and scanned the berelict area, the only sounds came from his boots. After a third glance at the huge crate, he rapped his knuckles on it and the sounds of movement and quiet howls assured him of his speculations.
He hosted his gun and roamed the surface of the box, his hands finding a latch at a side. But it was padlocked. "Shit." He glanced around for something he could use to break it.
Two gunshots out of the blue alerted him from just outside the warehouse, in the direction Scout had gone. He cursed again, taking off so quickly he almost faceplanted. He found Scout lying on his side on the ground, blood matting the fur on his belly.
Virgil didn't know whether to go to him or go after the masked unsub. Torn between his work and his heart. "Fuck!" He ran to the dog, tearing a piece of the shirt he wore under his bulletproof vest. He folded the silk to the wound, pressing it firmly in hopes to keep too much blood from spilling out.
He raised his other hand, the gun in a steel grip, toward the running figure. He didn't know if he could get a hit from the distance but he was sure as hell going to shoot until he did. Hatred and spite was on his mind and it bred vengeance in him.
Mace's yelling over the comm was reduced to a muddled cloud in Virgil's head. He didn't have to try to ignore it. Steadying his shaky hand he fired the weapon.
On the third shot, the figure slumped unto its knees. Virgil steadier his aim again and fired two more for good measure.
Then informing Mace of the probably dead suspect, he lifted Scout into his arms and carried him to the car.
Forcing himself not to even consider the possibility that the wound was fatal.
© 2024 by ravenizcul
~
Mace's voice came over the comm, cracking in the background. "Two meters north, three east. He has a rifle, doesn't seem to be registered. I think they know we're here."
Virgil Colman cursed. The plan to infiltrate the traffickers' base, an old rundown warehouse in the middle of the woods, had begun going south already.
He'd made it inside and was squatting behind an enormous perforated wooden box which he could only assume didn't have a human inside it. So far things weren't going too great and that really pissed him off. What was more. . .
He glanced to his side where that stubborn mutt lay on his belly, the K-9 unit vest hugging his fur. The dog's being there made him unable to think straight. But their chief had insisted on it.
He heard some voices in another language, the people talking to each other. Then, nothing. The dog got unto it's feet beside him, he'd probably caught a scent he wanted to follow. But gave him a hard lower and put his index finger over his lips. "Shh,"
The warehouse got quiet, not a pin drop audible. Then after leaning to peek around the box, Virgil ordered, "Okay, go scout."
The dog ran off, rounding some crates and disappearing. Virgil stood and scanned the berelict area, the only sounds came from his boots. After a third glance at the huge crate, he rapped his knuckles on it and the sounds of movement and quiet howls assured him of his speculations.
He hosted his gun and roamed the surface of the box, his hands finding a latch at a side. But it was padlocked. "Shit." He glanced around for something he could use to break it.
Two gunshots out of the blue alerted him from just outside the warehouse, in the direction Scout had gone. He cursed again, taking off so quickly he almost faceplanted. He found Scout lying on his side on the ground, blood matting the fur on his belly.
Virgil didn't know whether to go to him or go after the masked unsub. Torn between his work and his heart. "Fuck!" He ran to the dog, tearing a piece of the shirt he wore under his bulletproof vest. He folded the silk to the wound, pressing it firmly in hopes to keep too much blood from spilling out.
He raised his other hand, the gun in a steel grip, toward the running figure. He didn't know if he could get a hit from the distance but he was sure as hell going to shoot until he did. Hatred and spite was on his mind and it bred vengeance in him.
Mace's yelling over the comm was reduced to a muddled cloud in Virgil's head. He didn't have to try to ignore it. Steadying his shaky hand he fired the weapon.
On the third shot, the figure slumped unto its knees. Virgil steadier his aim again and fired two more for good measure.
Then informing Mace of the probably dead suspect, he lifted Scout into his arms and carried him to the car.
Forcing himself not to even consider the possibility that the wound was fatal.
© 2024 by ravenizcul
