Who: Rick Martinez What: The Unhappy Ending When: Tuesday, December 28, around 10 PM. Where: A dark warehouse in LA Warnings: Bleakness, violence, and character death.
Rick either has the worst luck in the world, to have been in the situations he has, or the best, to have come through it all intact.
He grew up in a rough neighborhood. He grew up tough and he grew up clever, but somehow, at some point, he made one good choice and followed through. He's not a criminal. He's a cop.
He screwed over and arrested the woman he fell in love with. She married him anyway. Their reincarnates were best friends, but that worked out too.
Two days before his wedding, some punk pulled a gun on him. It wasn't the first time, it wouldn't be the last. He was fine. He was lucky.
It's just after Christmas, and his squad is busy. Weapons smugglers don't take off for holidays, especially if they're supplying a bunch of crazy reincarnates. But this time they've got them. Two guys go in the front. Rick goes around the back. This is when his luck runs out.
It's not just weapons going through here. These are explosives. There's a workbench, the light still on overhead, one bright pool of fluorescent light in the dark space. There's C4. Wires. Tools. Looks like they were just in time. What were these people planning?
He doesn't see anything more than a dark figure moving at the edge of his vision, but he hears the shots, and he feels them. He's on the ground. It hurts to breath. He should have been more careful. Dallas is going to be pissed. He always promises he'll be careful. He doesn't want her to worry.
Time passes. There's someone else in the room. Frantic, still professional. They call for backup. Officer down. Hang on, Martinez.
He hears the siren faintly. The cherry lights of a police car, or is it an ambulance, flash through a high window, illuminating the dark room with their strange pattern. Red, then blue, then dark. Red, blue, then dark. He closes his eyes. Just dark.