Back to top

Chapter 1

The glass was beginning to crack and chip. Soon veins of glass would start shoot out in every direction. Craig "Holster" McHolister already knew this was inevitable as the eventual shattering of the window.

Sitting as he was, behind a large support column, he started to think how he had come to this point. The last 24 hours had been the most harrowing of his entire life. Never had he thought such a thing could happen at all, never mind happen to him.

The glass started to chip and crack a little further. Holster tightened an already white-knuckled grip on his gun.

He sat behind the support column, hot in his Kevlar armor and other equipment, thinking about his decisions and trying to figure out which ones he should have made differently. He always came back to the same conclusion: nothing he could have done differently would have lead to a better situation then the one he was in now. No, this was where he was supposed to be right now. This situation was his fate and this was it.

The glass continued to split crack. The source of the pressure on the glass was obviously coming from the other side. Holster could feel his heart pound though it seemed to be rather slow. In fact he was pretty sure that was first beat in he didn't know how long.

He turned his back to his right to see that his partner was there beside him, as always. He, also, was looking rather intense and gripping his weapon.

Holster started to think about how he first met his partner. It was ten years ago; almost to the day now that he thought about it; he had walked in the front door of work to find this stranger sitting at his desk with his feet up.

Holster had tried to kick him out, without much hesitation. The nerve of some kid to come in and take over his office. And now, ten years and a lifetime later, he wouldn't trade his partner Ken "Kipper" Kissenger for anyone. Nor is there anyone he would be sitting beside in this current situation.

The current situation: how could it have come to this? Holster had been so confident of the precations he had taken.

From the other side of the column there was suddenly a load crash followed by several more loud bangs. The window had finally shattered.

Holster took a peak around the column to see the glass crumbling down. Was his adrenilen really so high all these thoughts had taken place is the time it took a single bullet to penetrate a window? He didn't have time think about this right now.

More by habit than anything else he check the ammo of his weapon: it was the same as the last time he had checked which was full and ready to fire as always. He turned to kipper.

"Kipper! How's the Ammo?" Kipper looked in his direction.

The expression on Kipper's face was all the answer Holster needed. He was locked and loaded as always.

In the next instant several more guns were heard from inside the building. Instinctually, both of them ducked a little lower.

Holster looked around again, finding the rest of his time still all sides of him.

"Get ready, everyone! They will be through soon..." He tried to say. More gunfire.

All sides of him were the hired hands brought in the previous night to help him and Kipper out. They all looked at him in confirmation.

Suddenly a figure appeared at the window, the another and another. None of the figures seemed to be armed but that could be decieving.

"Don't fire until you're sure! You know the drill!" Holster yelled.

These figures were joined by several more, moving slowly toward the opening provided by the large shattered window. As the first figure came into the light outside the building it was obvious what they were looking at: hostages, bound and gagged. Holster and his team were smart enough not to go forward at this sight however. This they had learned many times over the hard way.

"Ok! Now!" Kipper ordered.

At this a rope flew over his head and lassoed the first figure. The loop dropped to the figure's feet and was pulled tight. The figure fell to the ground unceremoniously and was then dragged back behind the barricade.

In the next several more figures came running out of the opening at full speed. But these figure weren't tied-up, they had ski masks on and what looked like dirty t-shirts. They were carrying large assualt weapons and shouting something. Suddenly the figure who was first to run out was falling the ground. It appeared as he had been taken out by a sniper.

Realizing what had to be done holster suddenly leapt into action, spring from his position behind the column he fired several shots from his trusted hand gun, instantly taking out two more running figures. He know he would hear a lot of guff for that but the threat as he saw it had been taken care of. He landed hard and scrambled to find another position behind another support column. He was bleeding now but didn't notice. His heart was racing.

More hostages were struggling out now, retrieved one by one with a lassoe or other method. Holster knew this was going to take a long time. He had to end the situation now.

***

It had all started 36 hours ago. He had received an urgent call to his private line. Only three personal friends had that number and that could only mean it was worth taking. The voice on the other end refused to give his name. The voice, a male in his 30s by the sound of it, had explained there was a a pending action that Holster may have been interested in. Normally he would simply have hung up at such a line but on this occasion for some reason kept listening. There was going to be a robbery downtown and, the caller contended, only Holster and Kipper could with their unique way could deal with it.

After taking a few notes Holster and Kipper were out the door and on their way to a local bar to see if any of their sources could be leaned on for information. The first one they tried was a slippery fellow but usually lead to solid leads. The bar was a few blocks from the office and definitely not the kind of place either of them would want to come into on their off time. As with most bars there was a mirror behind the bar and a bartender that seemed to glare at everyone who came in.

It always seemed to cliché the way all the bars seemed to have the same maladjusted regulars who always seemed to be sitting in a booth in the back and only partiallly sober at any one as well as having that same length of facial hair every time they were seen. How is that even possible, Holster would sometimes wonder in days.

The informant was one of these regulars. He performed his normal dance of holding out for more cash but ultimately delivered very little.

The next stop was a small, out of the way café in a more up scale neighborhood. At least it looked upscale: in Holster’s experience the nicer it looks the seamier the the seamy underbelly ended up being. This exchange was much more surprisingly straight forward: cash paid upfront, reliable information if any was to be had from the café employee. The only information to be had was about a new character buying bizaare parts in another part of town. That wasn’t very much to go on.

Holster and Kipper came out of the café and heiled a taxi. The day was already starting to get late and both of them were hungry. Holster ordered the taxi to local deli the both of them enjoyed.

The trip only lasted a few minutes but it already seemed like too long to Holster.

“So are you going to tell me what this is all about?” Kipper asked.

“You know what I know, Kipper.” Holster said.

Kipper continued to stare at him, as if trying to will more information out of him. Finally he want back to looking out the window.

When they finally arrived at the deli there seemed to be a commotion out in front. There was yellow police tape. As they approached a police officer stepped forward.

“Hey, you two! What are you doing here? You know we don’t your help.” The officer said, annoyingly.

“We’re not here to help, we just wanted to eat at the diner…hey what is going on here?” Holster replied, curiousity suddenly piqued.

“That’s not for you to know, Holster,” there was tint of sarcasm they he said Holster’s name.

“Oh come…Larry…you know I’m going to find out anyway.” Holster was getting his own kind of annoyed now. Kipper only put a hand on Holster’s shoulder, as if to tell him it was time let it go.

The officer, Larry, looked like he was about to reply but instead turned around and went back toward another group of officers. From what Holster could see from the police tape something had fallen from a sky scraper and possibly hit a passer by. At least that was what the it looked like. Something didn’t seem quite right and Holster couldn’t put his finger on what it may have been. There was just something about that crime scene that seemed off.

He was about to ask Kipper when another office started waving the gather crowd toward the deli. Holster could think about it then.

As Holster and Kipper sat at the table eating their sandwiches neither one of them knew they were thinking exactly what the other was thinking: what was wrong with that damned crime scene. There was smashed cement all over the street. What looked like fresh paint. And a giant yellow tarp covering up what either of them could only assume was a smashed up car. But why bother cover a car up?

Suddenly, they both turned at looked at each at once, a look of instant understanding and big eyes on both their faces.

  ¶ 11:17 AM