Week Three: Monday When: Before Dawn Where: Outskirts of Seattle Who: Silva and DEA - Narrative
"You ready?" the mans voice was too excited, a rookie on his first raid, Silva was nearly certain the guy was going to fuck up and make this more difficult then it needed to be. The new ones always got ahead of themselves; they rushed in guns blazing thinking it all a damned game still. Didn't matter how long they'd been street cops, they seemed to forget it all once they got into this. Silva knew first hand it wasn't a game, she had the fucking scars to prove it. The ones they went after weren't looking for jail time again. They'd kill every cop there if they could to get away. The only way to survive was to never give them that chance. Most cops didn’t like anyone saying shoot first and ask questions later…didn’t seem very kind, didn’t make it seem like they were giving them chance. Why give them chance? Why give them shit?
Silva didn’t care how “bad” it sounded. When it came down to it she pulled the trigger and she had no regrets. She was alive, they were dead, it worked for her.
“Hey, Silva, you ready!” the kid had a crush, he was warned a hundred times over by all the others to keep the hell away from her. But apparently that cold bitch thing just turned him odd. Gave him that urge to crack her, make her open up. He didn’t get it. Boy didn’t have a clue. Wasn’t her type and wasn’t ever going to happen. She didn’t even know the rookies name. Likely he wasn’t really that much younger then her but he acted like it, an excited little fucking puppy that looked like he was about ready to pee his pants the second you give him any attention at all.
She looked at him, and his eyes little up. How sad.
A look, nothing more, no answer, no reply. A look and then she looked forward again, watching the road as the car continued on. She could feel him staring, boring holes into the back of her head. She could even imagine him biting his lip, debating how to get her to look back again. To talk. Silva wasn’t much for small talk. It was just filler to the silence and she didn’t mind silence. Silence gave her time to prepare, to get ready. Back at the station they’d gone over the plan over and over again. Repeated till they could recite it like a song. She knew how it was supposed to go down, but rarely did things go as planned. She’d seen that enough in her life. Best plans often ended up the most fucked. Good intentions making that path right on into hell.
“Let it go man…” the voice was nothing more then a whisper, did they think she was deaf? The rookie glared at the other, stupid kid just wasn’t listening. He’d get the hint eventually, they all did. Hundreds of turned down dates later, too many attempts at conversations down the line. He wasn’t the first to try to make a move. He wouldn’t be the last. Silva didn’t get it, not in the least. She wasn’t exactly looking to either. If they wanted to keep wasting their time she’d let them.
“Almost there, everyone remember the plan?” Silva suppressed a sigh. Thankfully no one asked for a refresher…unfortunately that didn’t matter, they got it anyways. One more time run through, one more time in that same droning voice. She was tired of it, she needed something new. She just wasn’t sure what yet. Best to pick something that Daren wouldn’t be able to use his advantage. Fuck maybe a meter maid…if you didn’t take into account that she’d deck people that gave her attitude, it might have been a real idea.
For now this was where she was…staying with the DEA, ignoring Mike’s wants for her to move to sex crimes. She wasn’t going back on the streets handling fucking speeders and pick pocketing reports again.
“Almost there…” the lead for the raids voice broke through her thoughts, making Silva glance up and over at the man. He was older; he’d seen his fair share in this field. He was knowledgeable enough, a good cop, but he still wanted things to go right by the book, never wanting to plan enough for those what ifs. Silva always kept those possibilities in mind. Second you didn’t was the second you were caught off guard. It was in that second that you were fucked.
A bit away the car was stopped and the group filed out. Guns were checked, vests in place. Another group was coming in from the north, one a rush in and the other catching the back of the building where any inside were going to rush out. Everything went silent as they neared the old warehouse barely considered in Seattle’s jurisdiction.
Closer…closer…the silence continued until suddenly everything exploded in sound and action. Shouting rang out, doors were broken down and shouts of clear began to echo in the metal hallways. Silva and another split off, scanning one room and another before the warning of suspects began to become clear. One…two….suddenly there were far more numbers then originally reported. That was always when the gunfire started and commands to take cover.
They needed some of the men alive…needed answers.
Silva dived to the side, bullets impaling the wall to the right of her. Cops to the east charged in, the man ran, not seeing Silva tucked around the corner. He charged, and she met him. Slamming a boot into the knee of his moving form, sending him crumbling. The gun in his hand was smacked away with the hilt of her own, a fist came down hard. She wanted to put a bullet through his skull, stop his struggles, stop the bullshit of thinking these fucks were going to talk.
Escalated…everything had escalated. Silva had the cuffs out, had one hand of the perps controlled and secured when fire rang out, loud and booming, nearly deafening the senses. A group ran through. Silva was on her feet but not fast enough. She felt the weight of the body crashing into her, her back hit the wall, ribs strained, instinct kicked in. A crush of the boot down upon the foot, a sharp upward hit of the palm to the nose, breaking it. She wanted to keep going, to let that adrenaline take over.
Now everyone was moving in, the chaos was slipping back, the cuffs were going on. One room…two..three…the numbers rang off, all secure. Now.
She could hear the rookie shouting questions of where they had all come from. Silva’s guess was underground. Surprising they hadn’t had tunnels. Wasn’t so exciting for him once he was in the fray…but it was for Silva.
“Get them up, get this place cleared.” Everything moved in programmed motion then. Rights were read, the perps were dragged out to the waiting van. Silva didn’t bother to count up how many, most were alive, only a few injured. The rookie was quick to rush over, asking if she was alright. A bit of blood on her gloves, smears of dust and dirt against her cheek. Besides her aching shoulder from the hit to the wall, she was fine. No bullet wounds…was a good day. She didn’t even bother to reply to the inquiry, she just turned and got herself back in the car. That was it, that momentary rush and then it was back to the station, back to the paperwork, the research, the planning.