Start Fiction:
Roger stepped back as the hooded man approaching him pulled a long dagger from his sleeve. The alley was lit from both ends, poorly; the gentle rain was creating a cinematic glare that only Roger would stop to appreciate.
"I got no beef with you," the man said as he approached Roger's position. His voice was raspy, his face obscured by the shadow from his hoody. He walked past without losing his pace. Roger held a defensive posture, just in case. He didn't want to get involved, those days were over.
He watched the man with the dagger as he walked down the alley and kicked in a door and was met with flickering lights. He moved into the doorway and the door shut. Roger decided to move on and get away from what ever was going to happen.
Reaching the edge of the alley, he heard the screams begin to fill the alley. He looked back and saw people scurrying out of the doorway, panicked and running into each other, knocking others down.
"Holy shit," Roger said. He fought the urge to run back down the alley and help. He took a step down the alley, but quickly changed his mind when he heard a series of pops and bodies began falling. He jumped around the corner, facing the street. Screaming people began to make their way out of the alley, frantic and running out in to the street, jumping behind cars and falling to the ground crying. It was chaos.
As the herd began to thin, Roger saw the Dagger run in a steady pace out of the alley and head south on the sidewalk. He began to move in the Dagger's direction when he saw flashing lights already coming on scene.
Roger changed his mind and approached a cop car, pointing down the street yelling "white male, five foot eleven, black jeans, black South Pole sweat shirt, shaved head!"
The officer in the car told him to get in; only in a smaller town. Roger jumped in the passenger's seat and the officer slammed the accelerator.
"This guy pulled a dagger out on me before he entered the building and then all hell broke lose," Roger said as his adrenaline kicked in to over time, "he may have a gun, I heard shots."
"Roger that," the officer said. He grabbed his CB and informed dispatch of his pursuit.
He was a younger officer, Roger assumed no more than five years on the force. He was focused, calm and in control. He looked familiar, but couldn't place him. Maybe it was the uniform.
"There!" Roger shouted. The Dagger was now walking down the street, just three blocks from the chaos. The officer radioed dispatch and pointed his light on the man.
"Please remain where you are," the officer said over the cruiser's P.A. system. The Dagger turned, raised his arms and smiled.
"Is this windshield bullet proof?" Roger asked.
"No," the officer said as he opened his door, drawing his weapon.
This is not good, Roger thought. He sunk down in his seat, but not far enough where he couldn't see what was going to happen.
As soon as the officer as standing outside the cruiser The Dagger dropped his arms and pulled out his weapon, an Uzi, opening fire, tearing in to the cruiser and the officer.
Roger dove on the floor, grabbed the CB mic and called for help.
"Officer down!" he screamed into the mic.
As he laid there, he saw a rifle under the seat. He grabbed it and waited for the shots to stop. He heard The Dagger laugh and let out a scream.
Roger crawled across the seat and got out of the driver's door. The officer was down, but alive. Roger pulled him to better cover behind the car and set up his position. He surveyed the sidewalk and quickly located The Dagger half a block away, walking, swaggering, weapon still drawn.
Roger set up, took aim. It had been a long time he had shot a naked gun, but it was like riding a bike. He waited until the sidewalk was almost completely still and shouted at The Dagger. He turn with gun in hand and Roger squeezed the trigger. The Dagger dropped to the ground.
Screams rang out, sirens closed in on the area. Roger turned his attention to the officer. He was breathing on his own. It looked like he had taken a few rounds, one in the right shoulder and two in the left arm. The officer was bleeding pretty good, a slight pool was developing under him.
"Medics are on their way, sir," Roger said as he slid his belt of and began fastening a tourniquet around his arm. "Just hang in there."
"Who are you?" the officer said. "Where'd you learn to shoot like that?" Roger worked on the tourniquet, not looking the officer in the eyes.
"I am no one who learn to shoot somewhere I would like to forget," he said. "Trust me, you're better off not knowing."
Roger stood up and put the rifle back under the seat of the cruiser. He looked over the crowd, people were wide eyed and frightened.
I guess those days are not over for me, Roger thought.
End Fiction.
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