Azrael (azraa_eel) wrote in nevermore_logs, @ 2012-10-23 19:41:00 |
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Current mood: | full |
Entry tags: | azrael |
Who: Azrael & Open
What: The day job, and the aftermath
When: Tuesday afternoon
Where: His sniper's nest, then the city streets
Warnings: Talk of shooting and death
Azrael was beyond relieved that all of his brothers and the assorted Saints had come back alive and in one piece, with Michael in tow. He had meant it when he said he did not want to go and collect one of them. But it seems his worries had been for nothing. As he'd told Metatron, it was a strange dichotomy.
But life still had to go on, and he had a day job to be at. He'd no sooner than clocked in when his C.O. came out in a whirlwind of black tactical gear. "Good, Azra, thank god you're here," he said, throwing a helmet and vest at Azrael. "Hostage situation at Bank of America downtown. We're mobile in 15 minutes, so hurry the fuck up." Azrael nodded, threw his coat in his locker, and headed to get his rifle. He was fully suited up and armed and heading outside in 10 minutes.
One of the Narcotics officers stopped him on his way outside. "Hey, you're Firestone, right?" Azrael nodded, it was his alias surname, at any rate. "My partner...he and his wife are in that bank. They were applying for a home loan today. They say you're the best, just...bring them home, OK?"
Azrael set his hand on the man's shoulder and looked him in the eye. "Do not fear," he simply said. "All will be well."
The detective shook his head. "You can't possibly know that for sure."
The corner of Azrael's mouth turned up ever so slightly. "I have faith," he replied. "All will be well."
The detective's laugh was hollow. "I wish I could be as sure as you." He walked away, shaking his head again, and Azrael watched him go. Then he headed outside and climbed into the van. There was work to be done.
The team arrived downtown in a black, blue, and red flash, sirens wailing and lights flashing. Azrael got out and surveyed the immediate area. There were several tall buildings that could offer a good vantage point, but only one that offered a direct line of sight. He informed his C.O. of his choice and headed to the roof. Once in place, he started assembling his rife, clicking the scope into place last. He glanced through it to make sure it was working properly, then radioed the unit on the ground. "I'm in position."
"Good. Stand by."
That wasn't a problem for Azrael. He was used to waiting, after all, he'd been doing it for centuries. So he simply watched the windows of the bank through his scope, while the hostage negotiators and crisis units did their work down below. But eventually his earpiece crackled again.
"Firestone."
"Sir?"
"If you have a shot, you have the green light to take it."
"Understood."
The radio fell silent and Azrael's focus doubled. The perpetrator was coming toward one of the full-length windows. If he would just take a few more steps...just a few more.
Crack.
The bullet split the air, and Azrael watched through his scope as the dead man fell crumpled to the floor. "Go, go, go!" he heard, and the bank was suddenly swarming with officers. Azrael sat back and let a breath out between his teeth. And now he had a soul to collect, although this one was bound for Hell.
"Come on down, Firestone," the radio said. "Great job, like always. I'll never understand how you always manage to get such a clean shot. But better not to look a gift horse in the mouth, I suppose."
"Thank you, sir," Azrael said. "I'll be down shortly." He started disassembling his rifle and packing it away. He headed down the stairs, lost in his own thoughts.
Typical work day, really.