A/N: You can read ahead at my patreon up to Episode 33 Fallout and my other works, like a transmigration story in the Sky High film universe. Enjoy reading!
Episode 31 Wrath
Zoe Andersen Routh
"What do you think of this?"
She stared at the fake plastic pumpkins in Liz's arms.
"What about something bigger?" She suggested. "If you're planning to put candy in there for the kids, that wouldn't last even an hour."
"You're right. I forgot parents get candies too." The actress replied. "They have no shame."
"Some don't grow up at all and still act like kids, like Jack." She shared a photo of Jack wearing his armor with his helmet tucked under his arm. There were two little girls by his side, each hugging an armored leg, with the younger one looking up at her husband's face. They looked excited and thrilled, with bright, happy smiles on their young faces. They looked adorable.
She was surprised to see he had brought out the armor from their shared office without her even noticing it. The series of orgasms he gave her that morning really took her out.
Liz laughed when she saw the photo. "Where are they going?"
"Lancaster." She replied. "Jack's friends invited him to join them at a convention."
"Cute. I'm glad he still has time for that."
They quickly paid for their purchases. With Halloween around the corner, and this was their first in their new home, she wanted decorations that would set the standard for the future, and it looked like her friend had the same idea.
An hour later, they were enjoying smoothies at a place Liz recommended. The location was discreet, and the environment offered a perfect place for those who just wanted to relax. They took a booth at the corner that faced the bar and started brainstorming Halloween design ideas for their respective houses.
Liz was on the fence with regards to a spooky theme, while she had a firm idea of a more relaxed autumn theme.
"I don't what I bought is enough." Liz browsed through pictures on her phone. "They don't have good selections over there."
"We can check out other stores if you're up for it." She suggested.
They were interrupted by the audio of the TV playing at the bar. It looked like one of the customers had requested the volume to be turned up.
"….And here to report on the breaking story, Jenny Hale is live on the scene."
A red-headed woman in a skin-tight costume with colorful red print appeared to be listening to her earpiece with the way her head was slightly tilted while she carried a microphone in one hand. She appeared to be in front of a gas station diner in the middle of the desert.
"Thanks, Tricia. On our way to cover the convention in Lancaster, we received a warning of a sudden dust storm developing thanks to the high winds blowing over the Mojave Desert. While taking shelter in a local diner, we happened upon a very dangerous situation. Two young girls, aged twelve and eight, were lost in the dust storm."
The news anchor's face in the studio grew worried. "Are they okay?"
"They're fine. The paramedics gave them a clean bill of health, thanks to the quick and decisive actions of one off-duty police officer who stepped in and bravely rescued them after hearing a plea from the mother. Playing now is exclusive KCLA footage of the incident."
The customers in the restaurant grew silent as the footage played. She watched with concern as images of the mother, crying, pleading for help, while outside the diner she could see the dust storm growing stronger.
"I'm a police officer."
"That's Jack!" Liz whispered.
She nodded and just watched as her husband, wearing his expensive cosplay armor, came in and knelt to one knee to talk to the hysterical mother. He quickly put on his helmet and stepped out, and soon disappeared, swallowed by the powerful dust storm.
"As you can see, the officer, identified as Jack Routh bravely went out in search of the two missing girls, and five harrowing minutes later came back with them in a dramatic fashion."
The footage played once more, showing Jack in his armor and helmet emerging from the storm, carrying the two girls in each arm. He gently lowered them to the ground and started checking them for injuries.
"But that's not all." Jenny Hale's face was flushed with excitement. "Jack Routh is a decorated officer of the LAPD, known for rescuing Taylor Swift from a kidnapping and being part of Bear Gryll's survival show. He's also a well-known singer/songwriter using the alias Sugar and collaborates with Taylor Swift. He even performed live in one of her concerts."
"We're you able to get an interview, Jenny?" The news anchor looked excited. "Sugar has never given a live interview before."
"Unfortunately, the hero cop left the scene quickly with his companions. Hopefully, we might get another chance at the event in Lancaster where he's also attaneding. He's… much more handsome in person."
The news anchor laughed as the feed cut. "Thank you, Jenny. That's Jenny Hale, who looks like she has a new crush… and in other news…
She looked back at the photos and now understood the happy expressions on the two girls' faces. The man they were hugging just saved their lives. Feeling proud of her husband, she decided to give him a nice reward when he came home. She still had the more... risque bikinis in the closet that Jack had not yet seen her wearing them. Maybe he'd like the edible ones too as an appetizer, since he always enjoyed eating her out.
The next morning, she was back at her office, still sore, but in a good way. Jack really went all out, and all she could do was hold on to consciousness as he took her in every way possible. She still leaked in both holes from the amount he pumped in her. Her man was insatiable when it came to her body. The Halloween-themed edible bikini outfit was a success, and she filed that one for special occasions.
She had just received a phone call from one of Coleman's aides, and they were asking about her husband and were in the process of writing a formal statement because of the numerous news organizations regarding the dramatic rescue in the desert.
She was smiling during the phone call, since she could tell from his voice that the aide was clearly uncomfortable while they gave her instructions regarding new policies on official statements. Unfortunately for them, they were too late.
"You did what… Captain?"
"It's within my authority." She replied with confidence. "I told a reporter who ambushed me on my way to work that Officer Jack Routh I placed on administrative leave due to the department's concerns regarding animal cruelty and the actions he took to survive on the TV Show."
She was sure that the news would be running around the networks by now. It was now the new chief's problem to answer why they placed one of their most decorated officers on administrative leave without looking petty and incompetent.
"I see." She could hear the slow exhale of breath from the aide she was speaking with. "Thank you, Captain. We will get back to you later. Please remember our new policy from now on."
The call cut quickly, and she had to release the giggle she had been holding back for the past few minutes. Serves them right.
One of Mayor Steven's staff members messaged her with an invitation for lunch, but she quickly replied that she was too busy with her schedule. She knew what the man was really after, publicity. Jack's actions were being discussed in her station, judging by the radio chatter that she sometimes listened in on, and it was a popular topic in the bullpen. The high-tech armor was also a hot topic, though Grey looked like he swallowed something sour for some reason.
Hours later, she was about to leave her office when a package arrived for her, brought in by Grey, a sealed brown envelope, delivered by the front desk.
"Still sour because of Jack's armor costume?" She asked. Grey had gone into a rant after finding out it was her husband who made him busy one Sunday afternoon.
"No, but tell Routh I want the number of whoever made that for him. It's a good Halloween costume." Wade Grey replied. "This came from you. I'm clocking out, Captain. Good night. See you up and early."
External financial auditors were coming in tomorrow morning, and they both needed to be early to receive them. She had Commander West's full backing, as they were eager to purge any influence the Derian family had on her officers. Serj Derian was still missing, and he wasn't spotted in his usual haunts. It was like someone from the inside was feeding them intel.
She opened the letter, and her eyes widened in shock, and she fell back into her chair as she felt an icy sensation flood her veins. Inside the envelope was a letter containing small pictures of her during her honeymoon with Gerard. And there was a note written at the bottom, and she felt like she might pass out.
[IF YOU DON'T WANT THIS TO GET OUT, COME TO THIS LOCATION, ALONE. DON'T TELL ANYONE. WE ARE WATCHING.]
She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. Her life, her marriage, and her career were all on the line. She didn't know her ex-husband still had these. She watched him as he deleted them from his camera, a dark episode that was permanently deleted from her life. It was now back, and it was being used against her.
Even the location provided by the note was not good, a seedy hotel near 5th and Main Street, and that meant Skid Row. A notoriously seedy neighborhood in Los Angeles, she knew the division that handled that area was having difficulty. All manner of crime happened there daily, and it was a popular spot for the homeless and the addicts.
She had visited the area a few times, and the whole area stank like piss. She didn't know what to do, and she only had a few hours to decide.
Jack Routh
He was being followed.
He noticed it when he stopped at a red light. The black car had followed his route ever since he left Rampart to collect some paperwork. He quickly sped up, not waiting for the green light, and immediately accelerated, but not enough that the car would lose sight of him.
As predicted, the car did not wait for the red light, nearly colliding with another car in the process. He looked at his options and quickly headed to a parking building, entering the ramp with speed and banking at the curve to maintain his balance.
He quickly parked his bike and shut off the engine, and hid behind a pillar, just in time to see the car arrive. Three men stepped out of the car, all with weapons in their hands.
"Come out. We just want to talk." The lead man in the bonnet spoke out. They looked professional, with the way he gave hand signals to the other two, and they all spread out. He slid back into the pillar and slowly moved, making sure not to make any sound as he pulled his spare piece from its holster.
"Look, man, we just want to talk." The leader once again spoke out loud.
He spotted a broken sparkplug stuck in a crack between the asphalt and the concrete pillar and picked it up. With a calculated throw, he aimed at the windshield of a parked car at the opposite side of his bike, near the elevators.
Sparkplugs were coated with ceramics because they were good insulators. The ceramic part was also very hard, and it was a trick Reacher picked up during his travels. Even a tiny piece of it could shatter tempered glass, and the sparkplug he threw immediately shattered the windshield of the car, causing its alarm to go off.
The three immediately turned towards the noise and moved.
"Fuck! I think he ran to the maintenance room! Door's open!"
"Then follow him!" The leader shouted.
He could have easily escaped, but he wanted to know why they were targeting him specifically. He moved and took off his helmet the moment the two other men entered the maintenance door.
The leader didn't stand a chance as he bashed his helmet into the man's head. He quickly collapsed, and he kicked away the man's gun. With the man unconscious on the floor, he followed the two other men and entered the metal door.
They must have heard the door swing open, and he spotted the two with their weapons facing the corridor.
"He must have hidden here somewhere." The man with the bonnet spoke out.
"Slippery bastard. Boss wants him alive." The other replied.
That was all the information he needed. With a powerful kick to the back, the man with the bonnet slammed towards the generator. He could see the man's nose was broken, while blood smeared the metal surface. His gun aimed at his remaining attacker.
"Don't move. One twitch and I'll blow your brains out." He spoke calmly. "Drop the gun."
He could see the man was tempted to move, so he dug the barrel of his backup piece deeper into the back of the man's head.
"Try it. I can always wake the other two." He warned him.
"Shit!" The man cursed and dropped his weapon.
He kicked it to the side, and the gun slid under the generator, and he did the same with the other man's dropped weapon.
"Now." He backed away and slowly lowered his aim so he was marking him at center mass. "Why were you following me?"
"Orders." The man said defiantly. "It's about your wife..."
"Don't…talk." Bonnet wearing guy groaned on the floor.
"Really?" He lifted his leg and slammed his foot on the man's fingers, causing him to scream in pain. He felt some crunches beneath his heel and must have shattered the bones.
"My hand! My hand!" The man wailed.
"What about my wife? And who ordered you?" He asked.
They remained silent, and getting impatient, he kicked the man's ankle, instantly breaking it. He could see how it bent, with bone poking the skin as the man howled and crumpled to the ground.
"I'm running out of patience, and I can break more bones." He added. Zoe was in danger. "Feeling brave?"
He stepped on bonnet guy's leg, shattering his knee.
"I'll talk! I'll talk!" The man cried out. "Fuck! Just stop!"
He leaned forward, senses sharp. "Then talk."
Zoe Andersen Routh
She took a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel hard until her knuckles turned white. She was about a block from the address she was given. She was in a daze, and she wasn't answering any calls. Her life was over, the career she had built up for so long, gone.
She ran numerous theories in her head, the timing of the package, those pictures… someone knew. What did they want from her? She vowed she wouldn't be blackmailed or bought, but she had to at least try and protect her dignity. And if that meant going in alone in an unfamiliar place, then so be it.
She felt numb.
A light from her rearview mirror caught her attention, and she watched as an unfamiliar car parked right behind hers. She watched as a large figure stepped out from the driver's side and approached her car. It was night out, and she wondered if this man was part of the organization that was monitoring her.
The figure knocked on her driver's side window, and a familiar face peered at her. It was Jack. How did he know she was here?
"Mind letting me in?" Her husband asked. She nodded and unlocked the door. As soon as Jack got in the passenger seat, she lunged at him, hugging him for all she was worth as the tears she refused to fall broke open.
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" She cried, clutching his shirt hard.
"What are you sorry for?" Her husband asked. "I heard you've run into some trouble."
"How did you know?" She asked. She tilted her head as Jack cupped her face and felt his thumb wipe away the tear tracks running down her cheek.
"I got followed. They were meant to take me out and bring me to Ruben Derian." Jack replied. She saw the sharp look in his eyes when he pronounced the name of the gang leader. "They talked, and I learned you were their primary target."
"I should have known." She replied.
"Why didn't you call me?" Jack asked. She lowered her eyes, unable to meet her husband's disapproving gaze.
"I didn't want you to see those pictures of me in that state." She answered. She felt Jack's hand under her chin, forcing her to look back at him. Her eyes started to water once more. "I told you about them, back in Hawaii, but I didn't want you to see them, to change how you see me."
"Silly wife." Her husband replied. "That's the past now. And you're stronger because of it."
"Stronger?" She let out a hollow laugh.
"You're strong enough to face them alone by going here." Jack replied in a firm tone. "Now what do you want to do about it?"
"We can face them together, and keep this under wraps." Jack replied. "Or we can call for backup, I'm fine rather way."
She took a moment to think clearly, calming down just with her man's presence. She felt foolish, she should have just called Jack the moment she received the letter. With her husband's presence, she felt safe, secure and very vengeful.
"They stepped out of line and targeted me." She turned back to the seedy hotel. "The timing is also suspicious, with Erin Cole's death. They have some cops working for them or under their influence. If we wait, those corrupt officers might have enough time to hide back in the shadows."
"I agree." Jack replied. "That's why I brought some things from our house."
He stepped out of the car and moved to the unfamiliar vehicle that he used, and she followed suit.
"Where did you get that car?" She asked.
"The leader of the group that was following me was very generous." Jack replied and opened the trunk. "I thought we could use these as insurance when I go talk to them."
Her eyes widened when she saw some of the weapons they had bought and painstakingly modified with expensive attachments since they discovered their bunker arrayed before her.
"Do you think you can cover my back when I visit Ruben?" Her husband asked.
"Fuck yes." She looked around and spotted several elevated ideal locations for a sniper nest. "She took out her Remington and, for the first time since she received the package, smiled. "Let's get those sons of bitches."
The good cop gloves were off tonight.
Nicholas Armstrong
"Just where the fuck are they? She's going to be here soon!"
Unable to tolerate Ruben's tantrum, he headed to the rooftop to smoke. He suggested this location to Ruben when he was first recruited by the group. As a veteran detective who spent a good part of his career in the 77th, he knew cops' habits inside and out and how they think and operate. A run-down hotel right in Skid row, surrounded by homeless people and addicts, was the perfect place. Even veteran cops, desensitized to the smell of the area, always hesitated when they received reports in the area.
They were always afraid to head inside, wary of accidentally getting pricked by the many used needles that littered the surrounding area. It was safe, but the drawback was the lingering scent of piss always stuck to his clothes. The crack addicts always shit everywhere like wild animals, and he had already thrown three good pairs of shoes by accidentally stepping on them. That was one of the reasons he wanted to move the location, he wanted cleaner, calmer surroundings, and Mid-Wilshire fit the bill. Luckily, the brothers agreed with his suggestion.
He lit his cigarette and took a puff, relishing the warmth it provided. He knew why those guys were late. Ruben ordered that Routh be brought alive, but he knew how dangerous the man could be.
He gave them strict orders, shoot to kill without any hesitation as soon as they got an opportunity. They were probably disposing his body by now, leaving his wife alone, confused, and vulnerable.
His mind was filled with possibilities for the future. They never had a captain under their influence and control before, and he was eager to exploit that newfound power. Technically, Andersen was his superior, but he was the one who called the shots in the Mid-Wilshire division. Patrol routes, assigned cases, the potential was enormous. He could, in the very near future, replace Ruben if he wanted to, once he gained control of Andersen. She was the key.
He looked out at the city and enjoyed the view. At night, the shadows hid the filth and rot, and ignoring the smell, the view was relaxing to look at.
He suddenly felt a hand hold the back of his neck in a powerful grip, and he struggled to breathe as he was lifted off the ground and placed right on the ledge. His legs slipped on the narrow six-inch concrete slab.
The hand holding his neck was large enough to partially squeeze his throat, making him unable to make a noise or even breathe.
"It's a beautiful view, isn't it, Detective Armstrong?"
He tensed up as he recognized the voice. The powerful grip on his neck eased just enough that he could breathe and speak. He looked down at the ground, and he realized how dangerous his situation had become.
"Fancy meeting you here, detective." He wanted to move, but he was totally powerless and at Routh's mercy. Shit. fuck. Shit. He slowly put his hand inside his pocket, but Routh had seen him move.
His gun was on the trigger, ready to shoot, just enough to alert the others, but Routh had taken hold of the barrel with his free hand.
SNAP
With a mere twist, his fingers were painfully twisted, probably broken by the unexpected and brutal move. He moaned, an agonizing sound escaping his lips, but Routh had again tightened his grip on his neck. He was starting to lose consciousness until the grip eased once more.
"I give. I give." He breathed out.
"Better." Routh replied. He couldn't see the large man behind him, but his tone of voice was so different than what he was used to. He was always calm, measured, and professional. Right now, there was a certain tightness in Routh's voice that told him he was angry, very angry. "Try that one more time, and then you'll be a puddle of blood and flesh on the sidewalk. I'm sure you've seen enough jumpers by now."
He did, many times, and he nodded in agreement.
"You know you don't have any way out of this." Routh added. "I can easily drop you from the ledge or snap your neck. But Zoe, the woman you wanted to take advantage of, wants me to let you live."
"You have two choices here detective" Routh stated. "Either you die now, or you start talking. And don't lie, I'll know."
He was crying. He realized he didn't want to die, and he knew for certain that Routh would kill him without any hesitation. This... this was the monster Rosalind talked about, but of a different kind. Jack Routh hunted people like him. Now he was caught, helpless, and about to die. He felt a warm sensation trickling down his leg, and realized he had pissed himself.
"Derian… wanted to control Andersen with the photos." He sobbed.
"Names." Routh demanded. "I want names of every crooked cop under your organization."
Without any other choice, he started naming names, even a sergeant from a different division and even one in Mid-Wilshire. He spoke about their operation, the moves he made while the majority of the division was in Hawaii, and warned their men ahead of time when raids were planned.
"Why did they kill Cole?"
"She wanted out." He replied. "And she rejected Serj when he asked her out. She was still in love with Rios."
"And what do they plan to do with my wife?"
He had completely surrendered at this point, but he still hesitated to answer the question. He was afraid of what might happen next if he told the truth. The tightening grip on his neck told him to answer quickly.
"Ruben wants to enslave your wife! Treat her like a toy, like in those pictures!" He replied.
"You're a parasite to this city, Detective Armstrong."
He could breathe freely again as the powerful grip on his neck vanished. He turned his head and watched as Jack Routh stared at him dead in the eye. The single light bulb on the roof cast a dangerous shadow over the large man's face. His posture was tense, as if ready to explode with overwhelming violence at any moment, and he could see how Routh's muscles bulged as he clenched his massive fists at his side.
Under the singular focus of such a figure, he unconsciously stepped back, and slipped. The puddle of piss made the ledge slippery, and his eyes widened in horror. He slowly fell, but his eyes remained fixed on Routh, who stared at him without flinching.
He looked around, both hands trying to grasp anything to save him from falling, but it was futile. His right hand brushed something, an antenna, but his fingers had no strength to grip. Routh violently twisted the gun out of his hand that his fingers were dislocated or broken, he wasn't sure. Fuck. This was not how it was supposed to end!
The last thing he saw was the silhouette of the towering figure looking over the ledge of the six-story roof as he fell hard on the narrow alley beside the hotel.
Ruben Derian
WHUMPH!
He looked up from his desk at the sound he heard outside. Those damn addicts were creating a ruckus again. At this rate, some of those real-life zombies might die outside his property, and he didn't want the police sniffing around as they investigated a body.
"Tell those addicts to get out of the alley." He tossed a few bills of twenties. He learned the hard way that it was the quickest way to get rid of those types of people. They didn't fear death or beatings. Their minds, long ruined by the products he distributed, only cared for the next high and nothing else. "Then get me some food."
"Get me a burger." Serj called out.
"Got it."
His aide left, leaving him alone with his younger brother at his old office. He hated going back here. There were no good restaurants around, the traffic getting here was making him crazy and the constant smell of piss made him want to gag at times. The smell was horrible, and no matter how many times Armstrong assured him that this area was safe, he still wanted to relocate.
He returned to his work, analyzing the take for the week.
The door opened and he did a double take when their secondary target, the husband of the woman he was eagerly waiting walked in without a care in the world. Jack Routh was bigger in person than he expected, and he found himself straightening up in his chair to project his own power.
Weren't his boys supposed to rough him up? The man looked unbothered and calm. He was about to speak when he noticed the gaze, and he automatically reached for his weapon.
"Don't bother." Routh immediately sat in the chair in front of his desk without any invitation. He made eye contact with Serj, and his younger brother quickly moved into position to the side with his gun in his hand.
Armstrong always warned him about dealing with the captain's husband, and now he understood why the detective was so cautious. Jack Routh was dangerous, and if looks could kill, he would have been dead ten times over.
He felt like prey under the larger man's gaze. Only the familiar feeling of his gun stopped him from panicking.
"You've got some balls to come in here." It was clear his men had failed. "What happened to my men?"
"We've come to an arrangement." Routh replied looking around the room.
"An arrangement?" His men weren't weak, and they were loyal. What the hell was Routh talking about?
"If I rearranged their bones, and they would tell me your plan for me and my wife." Routh answered and leaned forward. "You crossed the line in targeting Zoe."
He smiled. "You won't be able to do anything. Better give up now and walk away. Be smart about this."
He gave a quick glance at the safe where the folder was stored and laughed. He finally understood what Routh's goal was, to protect his wife's dignity. His confidence soared. Routh wasn't a cop right now, Armstrong informed him that he was also serving some sort of punishment by their new chief of police.
"I've decided that she's important to my future business." He leaned forward, matching the larger man's posture and staring back up at Routh in defiance. He wasn't a big man, and all of his family and relatives inherited their grandfather's slim build. Despite that, size didn't mean shit here. The poor cop had no power right now, no badge, no authority, and later, no wife, nothing. He held all the cards and controlled all the variables.
Serj was ready too, at a proper distance in case Routh decided to take matters into his own hands.
"That slutty wife of yours will soon serve, with legs spread open." He goaded him further and smiled in satisfaction when he saw it was working. "You haven't seen the pictures, haven't you? If you walk away, I might even send you some copies. Tell that bitch to hurry and come up here or else…"
The slap came out of nowhere. He heard his brother shout something and glass breaking. He was dizzy and realized he had fallen on the floor. His jaw ached, and he felt a metallic taste in his mouth.
"Fuck him up Serj!" He spat. His tongue touched an unfamiliar sensation in his mouth. Some of his teeth were missing! Where was his gun? Did he just get slapped?
His vision slowly cleared, and when his eyes focused, he realized Serj was staring at him, but he quickly noticed that something was wrong with his brother. His eyes were unfocused, and his favorite shirt had a red stain in front of it.
"You think I won't come here without backup?" Routh asked.
He yelped as Routh suddenly grabbed him by his ankle and started dragging him out from under his desk. His head bumped on the wood, and he frantically held onto the edges of the leg of his wooden desk with the tips of his fingers, but it was useless. Routh was just too strong.
He remembered the knife tucked at his waist and fished it out. Before he could use it, he screamed as he felt himself being thrown across the room. He saw stars as the side of his face collided with the vault. Did Routh just throw him like a doll across the room by the leg?
"Open it." Routh demanded. "Or I start breaking fingers."
He stared dumbly at the large man in front of him, unable to comprehend what had happened in mere moments.
Routh casually grabbed his left hand and, with a deft twist, broke his pinky. Hot white pain burned in his head, and he gasped in shock.
"That's one." Routh informed him. "Unless you open that vault in ten seconds, I'll break another."
"Wait! I'll do it!" He scrambled over to the vault, but his hands were still shaking hard from what had happened to him. What was the combination again? He was halfway to the combination when Routh broke another finger.
"I'm doing it!" He cried out in pain.
"That's ten seconds. You have ten seconds more." Routh simply replied. "Eight fingers left, after that you'll have to open the vault with what's left of your teeth."
Despite the throbbing pain from his broken fingers, he was finally able to open the vault. It only contained one thing, the brown folder that had the glossy photographs printed on photo paper.
Once the vault swung open, he collapsed back on the floor, trying to get a sense of the situation. Everything was happening too fast. He looked to the side and watched as Routh poured his expensive whiskey into the vault and threw a match inside. The flames immediately grew, allowing smoke to fill the room as the photos burned.
He wondered what Routh was about to do next. The large man was just standing in front of the vault, watching everything inside the vault turn to ash. He should have made copies, but he was too selfish and paranoid. Now his only leverage against the captain was vanishing right before his eyes.
He heard footsteps outside and looked at the door. Was that Armstrong? He felt himself being lifted in the air. Routh had grabbed the back of his expensive shirt behind his neck and the other by the belt of his pants. He felt like a cat dangling in the air, powerless before the man he had just provoked earlier. He really regretted that decision now. He should have stayed away from Mid-Wilshire.
The door swung open, and he saw it was his aide, the one he told to get food earlier. The man quickly pulled out his weapon, his eyes wide with shock.
"Boss!" He could see his aide scrambling to aim his gun.
"Wait! Don't!" He screamed. He wanted to tell his man not to give Routh any reason to use deadly force, but it was too late for that now. Leroy was loyal, and simple, he was a good errand boy with simple ambitions. But he was not that smart enough to be let out with the rest of his crew in the first place, doing distribution and collection.
His aide aimed his gun, and Routh responded quickly. He heard a loud gunshot, and he felt himself flying through the air across the room towards Leroy. The impact was hard, he was dazed as he collided with his aide, and they both fell on the carpet in a heap of tangled limbs. Damn it, Leroy!
He groaned, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.
"Shit, I'm sorry boss." His aide looked scared, and he realized he had been shot by his own man.
"God damn stupid fuck!" He wanted to scream, but he couldn't. Was this the end for him? He could hear sirens getting louder in the distance.
Jack Routh
He stood still as unfamiliar cops barged into the room, and he slowly calmed his breathing. He raised his hands as they swarmed, checking for any threats. The red haze in his vision vanished, his anger now spent.
"Don't move! Don't move!" A cop screamed.
"I'm not moving." He replied. He suddenly felt tired. "I'm a cop, P2 from Metro. Badge is inside my back pocket."
The cops immediately lowered their aim, but they didn't holster their firearms. Another cop pulled out his wallet, and he saw from his peripheral that the man was checking his badge.
"It's true, Higgs. He's from Metro."
"You can lower your arms." The lead officer, a P3 by the marks on his sleeves, nodded at him.
"Call Captain Cortez from Rampart and Commander Percy West from Internal Affairs." He told the man. "They're going to want to hear what I have to say."
He mostly stayed on the scene, as curious civilians looked on from a distance behind the yellow tape. He knew it was going to be a long night with how the events quickly unfolded. Detectives asked him questions, but he refrained from giving out an actual statement, preferring to address West directly since what he had just learned was a sensitive issue.
Internal Affairs finally arrived, with Commander West leading them in. The old man looked grumpy, and he understood the reason, anyone being woken up in the middle of the night had that right.
"Officer Routh." West came to a stop in front of him. His mere presence scattered the detectives hovering around him for over an hour. "Care to fill me in on what happened here?"
"My wife and I were targeted by the Derian crime family." He replied immediately. "Their men attacked me when I left Rampart this afternoon, and when I subdued them, I learned that they were targeting my wife and were luring her to this location. I gave the location of those men to the detectives earlier, and they're going to need ambulances. It's because of the audit we were planning for Mid-Wilshire tomorrow, and I'm sure you know the details about that."
"I do." West nodded. "Continue."
"Fearing that my wife was in danger, I headed here and sneaked in through the roof." He motioned to the nearby shelter across the narrow alley. "I just jumped from the roof of the shelter to the hotel, and there I saw Detective Armstrong smoking a cigarette."
He pulled out a voice recorder and handed it to the Internal Affairs Commander. "When confronted, he confessed that several cops are under their influence. That's why I waited for you to arrive, because of the sensitivity of the information, and that's why I didn't call for help. I didn't want to tip off any dirty cops or anyone working with them."
"You really don't want me to get any sleep tonight, do you, Officer Routh?" West accepted the recording device and pocketed it. "What happened to Nick?"
"He tried to run. I warned him, but he slipped and fell off the ledge." He added. "I then headed down and confronted Ruben Derian and his brother Serj about my wife."
"The cop killer." He saw the look of anger in the older man's features.
"He was about to shoot me, when my wife, who was providing over watch, shot him first." He replied.
"Andersen's here?" Percy looked surprised.
"That's her now." He pointed in the direction of a figure climbing down a set of fire escape stairs, a rifle slung on her back. "She was Marine sniper before she joined the force."
Minutes later, he was sitting beside Zoe, her rifle confiscated for evidence. She had her head on his shoulder, and they both sipped from a paper cup filled with coffee.
"You were brilliant." Zoe spoke out.
"You were too." He put an arm around her.
"I still can't believe how quickly you formulated a plan." His wife noted. "Even I couldn't think that fast."
"It just happened." He looked back at the run down hotel and replayed the events that happened earlier. Zoe wanted to join him, but he stressed her importance in the plan. Ruben's window had blinds, but they were partially open and but he could still see through them. His wife's support would be crucial, but he trusted her to cover his back.
One look and he knew the optimal route to get in, and a mere glance between the two building and he instantly knew he could make that jump across the alley. He knew to roll after landing the jump, as well as choosing the best hiding spots to not get seen. This was not just Reacher's memories, this was something else.
Commander West came back with news. Ruben Derian didn't make it on the operating table, he had lost too much blood. They quickly headed to Central where they underwent another round of questioning until morning. Chief Coleman didn't even make an appearance and it was her station.
By late afternoon, they were finally allowed to leave, with Zoe also being put on leave due to her shooting of Serj. It was a clear-cut case of self-defense, but protocols had to be followed. As soon as they entered their house, they headed to the shower. His wife barely left his side the entire time, and even just hugged him for a long time under the hot shower.
They stayed there together for how long, he couldn't tell the time. Zoe led him out of the shower, and he wondered why she didn't bother to towel up. She just pushed him back to the bed, and quickly sucked his dick hard.
It didn't take long to get rock hard and Zoe quickly climbed up and straddled his waist, her sex resting with the tip of his penis waiting to get in.
"He wanted me." Zoe slowly rotated her hips and he watched as the head of his penis penetrated her. He briefly closed his eyes at the warm, tight and slick sensation.
"But I belong to you." His wife moaned as she impaled herself fully on him.
"You do." He replied and placed his hands on her hips. He didn't need to look at those pictures, that didn't matter for their future. They barely spoke, and he mostly watched his wife's face, her expressions as they slowly reached their peak. She was breathing faster, and a flush started to form on her cheeks all the way down to her chest.
He felt her get slicker and knew she was about to reach her climax. He grabbed her ass and helped her along, his fingers teasing her puckered hole as she pulled her down on him, hard. He felt her clench, and she finally screamed. He joined her, and he raised his hips, pumping his cum inside her and marking her once more.
She collapsed on top of him, breathing heavily. He noticed his wife was tired and slowly stroked her back, trying to make her relax. He listened quietly as her breathing became deeper, while her body became limp. Zoe had fallen asleep.
He followed suit and woke up to a tickling sensation on his nose and a wet sensation on his chest. Zoe had moved during their nap, her hair everywhere, and a strand ended on his face. His wife was drooling, and a puddle of her saliva had formed on his chest.
Their peaceful morning was interrupted by the sound of Zoe's phone ringing. Zoe opened her eye and groaned. He reached over and grabbed her phone from the table beside their bed and handed it to her.
"Grey." His wife yawned and sat up.
"Don't worry about I.A." He barely listened to the one-sided conversation, his attention mostly focused on his semi-erect dick that was still buried in his wife.
"Something happened, and West will arrive later to brief you." Zoe glanced at him. She clearly felt him stirring deep inside her. As a test, he thrust up, causing Zoe to give him that look.
"No, I can't give out all the details, but our suspicions about Armstrong were right all along." He had to admire his wife's ability to focus. He pinched her erect nipples, causing Zoe to tense up.
"He's dead. How? He fell off a roof." He started pumping faster, his hands on her hip.
Zoe merely closed her eyes and bit her lip as she started moving her hips in sync with his thrusts.
"I've been put on leave for killing Serj. Yeah it sucks, but it's procedure. Tell…" Zoe gasped. He had just inserted a finger in her ass, and she was staring at him with surprise written all over her pretty face. "Sorry, stubbed my toe. Tell Caradine to… follow up… on the case we're falling behind on. Yeah… I'm fine…"
"I'll call again." Zoe quickly ended the call and tossed her phone on the bed, and grabbed his face with both hands.
"You like playing games, you brute?" He was about to reply when Zoe kissed him hard, with her tongue probing his mouth.
Norman Jangus
"I told you he wouldn't need help." He told his second in command.
His outfit had just returned stateside, after months of dirty work. It was perfect timing, too, and he arrived just as Routh stormed in and confronted the corrupt detective and the two brothers, a small-time gang that was tolerated by their bigger rivals because of their connection to crooked cops.
With the leadership out of the picture, he quickly used the opportunity and took over their half a dozen safe houses, eliminating the remaining threats and acquiring a good amount of real dollars in return. Their cell now had new backup sites stateside and the means to fund them for a few years.
"The wife is a crack shot." His second observation. "At least she did our work for us."
An alert spread through their organization. Someone was accessing highly classified intel, and they were able to track down the culprit. Serj Derian was smart enough to eliminate his accomplice, but he forgot about his phone and that it constantly gave an accurate GPS location of a few feet.
No one could know about Jack Routh's past or his real name. If his former family found out, it could spell disaster for the whole intelligence community. They had already destroyed two black projects in retaliation, and he would not want to be in their crosshairs.
"The problem is she called her father." He replied. He watched as Routh continued to debrief the I.A. chief about the situation, no doubt telling it in a way that protected his wife.
"So what do we do about it?"
"They're smart enough to keep things quiet." He replied. He owed the two that much. "But let's keep watching them from a distance. Right now, I'm intrigued about that armor he wore in the desert."
"It's just all fancy cosplay shit, isn't it?" His second asked. "Just a bunch of 3D printed plastic parts and some computer fans."
"Check out the materials his friend used to fabricate it." He handed his tablet to the driver.
"How the hell did he get this?"
"Apparently, they send some samples to noteworthy scientists to test for other applications." He answered. "Only Wolowitz took it seriously, and he used the scraps and used NASA experimental tech and combined it to build Routh a state of the art armor that makes a SEAL team's gear look like airsoft cosplay."
Howard Wolowitz was very proud of his creation and documented the process and uploaded it online. While he didn't mention the brands of special filament he used or the lining, he recognized the material instantly.
"Think we can get him to build a few suits? The cooling system alone would make him every operator's favorite person."
"He ran out of materials, and he's busy fabricating sets for Hondo's squad during his free time. He's also working with the Air Force on that new guidance system."
He was on the fence about contacting the engineer directly. Perhaps he could use Routh as the middleman, and in turn, he could offer Routh some fancy gear to help them on their goal to turn their home into a fortress. The married couple had turned into full-blown preppers with the way they purchased equipment in the event of an apocalypse.
The last he heard, they had also installed solar panels, a rainwater collection and purification system, and even a large LPG tank to power the generator he brought to them. They were making their own safe houses look poor and outdated in comparison, and the only thing they had over the couple's home was their armored bunker.
Susan Coleman
Her position was secure, but perhaps she moved too rashly against her perceived rivals. She felt humiliated as Stevens called her reckless in front of her aides. The man had not pulled any punches in her meeting with him at his office.
The groups that supported her were unable to say anything as word spread of Jack Routh's amazing rescue of the two girls lost in a dust storm. What was worse, the mother made a circuit to various talk shows about the incident, spreading Routh's heroics out to the public.
The clamor about Captain Andersen's young husband being cruel to animals died down, but she had already handed the order and signed the one-month leave herself. She knew she made an enemy of the mayor by refusing to back down, and she worked too hard to reach this position.
Now she learned that Andersen, the Barbie pretending to be a cop, had uncovered a corruption scandal. She also played a key role in stopping the Derian crime family, thwarting their attempts to corrupt the force through blackmail, bribery, and corruption. Many officers raised a toast to her courage and willingness to face off against a formidable enemy, even those captains whom she favored. It was infuriating.
Commander Percy West walked in, and she schooled a pleasant expression on her face as she greeted the head of Internal Affairs. He arrived with a bunch of auditors as they finished their thorough examination and were now ready to present their report.
His face remained stern, and she wondered if the man had recovered from the disgrace nearly a year ago when his son crashed out of the field training program.
The meeting started with West immediately getting to the point. She didn't like his approach at all, preferring a round of idle chit chat first and pleasantries to get everyone comfortable and on the same page.
She held her tongue in the end since it was West's meeting to preside over. She was just there to supervise.
She watched the other commander's faces frown as they read the reports. Several officers were now under investigation, and even a sergeant working at Central was flagged for suspicion. West was proposing lifestyle checks, and she turned the page over. This was her expertise, numbers and hard data.
She tuned out West's suggestions and focused on the end of the second page, where it listed the results from the financial auditors.
"Is this data accurate?" She interrupted West without any care. "This can't be right."
"What's the problem, Chief?" West asked.
"This part." She pointed her finger at the graph of her own copy of the report.
"We haven't gotten to that part yet." West replied.
"This is crucial. Why has the support for the foundation dropped by forty percent?" The foundation was her baby, and it was the primary reason that allowed her to rise to her current station. The fundraising campaigns, the scholarship, and livelihood programs ran through her department before she became the chief of police.
The auditors looked uncomfortable, and she narrowed her eyes at their reluctance to speak.
"Well?" She asked impatiently. "What's the cause of such a drastic reduction?"
"One of the biggest contributors to the foundation withdrew their support." One of the younger auditors answered.
"What was the reason?" She asked. She made sure to meet regularly with groups that supported her career. Did she offend one of them by accident? She needed to soothe some ruffled feathers, fast.
"Officer Jack Routh donates all of his shares of his earnings with Taylor Swift's label to the foundation." The auditor reported and licked his lips before he continued speaking. "He recently withdrew all support and started his own charity. I was informed by his lawyer, who represented him and managed his foundation, the other day."
There was total silence in the room. She swore she could hear her own heartbeat and breathing, and she suddenly felt lightheaded. Good god. The lavish parties at hotels, the exotic vacation destinations, the scholarship funds. They were now gone, and she apparently punished the biggest contributor to the charity foundation to teach the bitch a lesson.
"Chief?" West asked. She could feel the stares behind her back, and among her circle, she saw the shock and dawning realization on their faces. It felt like a cold bucket of water had been dumped on her head. She rubbed her arms as an uncontrollable shiver ran through her body. She was fucked.
"Continue without me." She quickly left the conference room and headed to her office. She needed space to think.
Tamara Collins
It was strange to be called a rich kid on campus when just months before, she was living in the streets inside a smelly camping tent. Her clothes were all brand new, so was her phone, her laptop, and her smart watch.
The pretty lawyer had even asked if she wanted a car, but she was fine with using Uber for the moment. The foundation that paid for her education was very generous, and despite saving most of her allowance, she found out she now had disposable money to spend, a concept she couldn't fathom before.
Jack Routh. That man literally saved her life and gave her a future with his generosity, and she only met the man once. There were others like her, scholars who had applied for the program. Everyone except her had relatives who served in the force, and she was incredibly grateful to Lucy for vouching for her.
She owed her a lot, and she was thinking of doing something nice for her. Lucy regularly visited, and she had come to enjoy their weekly bonding, but she could tell the older woman was lonely. Lucy lived alone in a two-bedroom apartment, and she thought about moving in with her.
Life in the dorm building was a bit suffocating anyway with the strict curfews, and she wanted some freedom.
"Waiting long?" Lucy arrived in her orange Datsun.
"Not long." She hopped in, used by now to pulling at the old handle with some force to open the car door. They quickly shared how their week was, and as they arrived at her favorite restaurant, she brought up the topic that was on the back of her mind.
"So…" She played around with the appetizers with her fork.
"Just spit it out, Tamara." Lucy smiled at her. "I can tell something is distracting you."
"Are you still looking for a roommate?" She asked. "Because I spoke with Camille, and the foundation would cover my part of the rent."
"You mean you want to…" She nodded, and just as she expected, Lucy's smile grew wider. "Of course, yes! But what put this on?"
"The strict curfew was suffocating." She explained. "And I want to find part-time work."
"But the foundation…"
"I know, but I want to gain work experience." She explained. "So, when do I move in?"
"Tonight, if you want to." Lucy replied instantly. She could tell the older woman was brimming with excitement. The sight alone made her decision worth it. "We have to go shopping!"
Lara McLaughlin
Ever since the incident with the armed men storming a plane, drastic reforms have taken place in the airport. The LAX airport police suffered from heavy criticism from the media and elected officials, and the pressure that built up was so enormous that the chief of the department had to resign.
His replacements took drastic reforms, including increased patrol frequency and security checks. The changes resulted in longer lines and grumpy passengers.
She was a border agent, and even they got affected because the gunmen were undocumented aliens that were part of a cartel. It didn't matter that those men crossed the border through Mexico, the politicians, eager for public approval to make it look like they were doing something, made sure they were also blamed for the incident. It was beyond frustrating, but she had to follow the new procedures.
Step one, take thirty seconds to look at the man's face and compare it to the passport they provided. Step two, run a biometric scan of their fingerprints thanks to the biometric scanner that was just installed. Step three, check the scan with the database and see if they were wanted by Interpol.
It was tedious, but it had to be done.
"Next." She called out.
A handsome Latino stepped forward, sharply dressed and wearing a smile fit for a magazine. She took the passport and compared it to his face.
"Sir, stop smiling." She instructed. She examined the visa. 5 years, multiple entry, and he had visited the States a couple of times in three years. "Why are you visiting the United States?"
"For pleasure." The man named Enrique Dominguez replied.
"How long will you be staying?" She asked. The records were clean on the passport.
"Two weeks." The man seemed very confident and picked up the briefcase he had put on the ground beside him.
His itinerary was good, with proof of hotel bookings at a five-star resort.
"Wait, sir." She called out as the man started to move. She frowned, she didn't like his presumption that her questions were over. "Please place your right hand on the biometric scanner."
"What?" Enrique looked confused.
"It's a new policy, sir." She replied in a cold tone.
The man placed his hand on the scanner, and after a brief moment, his prints started running through the database. Red light flashed on her screen. It was a red notice, a man with French nationality called Alexander Montel, also known as the Red Wolf. Wanted for multiple murders, extortion, racketeering… good lord, his rap sheet was as long as her arm. He was also identified by Interpol as the son of the boss of a large international crime syndicate. He shared the same face as Enrique Dominguez from Argentina.
"Hold! Do not move!" She called out, attracting the attention of LAX cops in the vicinity. The man, now known as Montel, looked bewildered as he was quickly apprehended. She picked up her phone to call her supervisor. This was way beyond her pay grade.
She closed her booth as part of the procedure, and her replacement took her place. Three men led Montel to a holding room. Ten minutes later, her supervisor's boss arrived, looking worried.
"This guy is on the most wanted list." Her boss noted. LAX police were in a frenzy as word spread of the capture of an international fugitive. "FBI, DHS, CIA, they're all calling me, telling me to double and triple the guard."
The LAXPD chief arrived thirty minutes later, and she watched as he conducted a hastily assembled press briefing as the information on Montel's arrest quickly spread to the networks.
She watched from the side as the new Chief spoke to the press from behind the podium.
"The new security measures that we at the LAXPD implemented are working." The chief bragged to the mass of reporters and news crews that filled the room. She scoffed and shared a look with her boss. Those measures came from her department, not LAXPD. They were prioritized with the allocation because of the recent incident.
"The arrest of Alex Montel, also known as the Red Wolf, proves that." The chief continued speaking. "We are in contact with the federal agencies as we speak."
The man she had just talked to from her booth a few hours ago just smirked, like he didn't care that he was just arrested and detained. Meanwhile, the LAXPD chief was clearly enjoying the new spotlight on him, as if he were the one to arrest the international fugitive, wanted in eight countries.
One bold reporter focused on Montel, his cameraman following his lead.
"Alex Montel, any statement?" The reporter asked.
"One hundred million dollars." The man replied in a French accent. "For anyone who can free me. This is not a joke."
The chief quickly gave a signal, and Montel, in cuffs, was quickly dragged away, but the notorious criminal wasn't done yet. He shouted louder this time. "ONE HUNDRED MILLION DOLLARS!"
Susan Coleman
She had been given a number to call, but the woman who answered wasn't Routh at all. She couldn't directly call him, since his official phone was surrendered when he was put on administrative leave, and she didn't know his personal number.
A few of her allies were already asking questions about her recent moves, and she didn't have any answers that would satisfy them. It had been an impulsive move on her part, and she was partially influenced by her friends who hated Routh's brutal killing of some wild boars.
Who knew the rookie cop had that much influence and connections? She knew she acted recklessly in a fit of arrogance and jealousy, and now she was now paying the price. She just wanted to put the two Barbies in place, and now her job was at risk.
She was worried that she would be known as the police chief who served the shortest time in the entire department's history. She didn't want to end her legacy that way, and she needed something bold, decisive that would distract her critics.
"Chief! New development!" One of her aides arrived at her office and quickly turned on the TV. She watched the coverage, as the LAXPD had in their custody Alex Montel, son of Kristoff Montel, head of an international criminal organization.
Her eyes widened at the implication. There were rumors that Alex was being groomed to replace her father, and the intel he knew could be a boon to law enforcement around the world. Whoever made him crack first would no doubt be a legend.
"Call Hansen." She told her aide to contact her counterpart at LAXPD. She needed to have Montel transferred to central. They had better facilities and resources to handle a man like Montel and the threat he posed. D-platoon was currently under investigation along with Cortez, but she was confident that the Beta and Charlie platoons were up to the simple task of guarding the prisoner.
Thankfully, Chief Hansen agreed, but not before presenting Montel to the public. Then the unthinkable happened, and she realized her day had turned from horrible to terrible.
"ONE HUNDRED MILLION DOLLARS!"
Montel shouted live at the cameras filming him, and the news anchors repeated his promise. 100 million dollars to whoever would be able to set him free. She had just accepted a ticking time bomb right into her station. No doubt Hansen would be eager to shove the responsibility and the problems that came with it onto her.
She was fucked.