Characters: Ryo, Dee, Chief Smith, OCs.
Setting: After Vol. 7.
Summary: Ryo and Dee are pinned down by a gunman on a busy street.
Word Count: 981
Written Using: The dw100 prompt ‘David Bowie Song Titles’, using ‘Ricochet’.
Disclaimer: I don’t own FAKE, or the characters. They belong to the wonderful Sanami Matoh.
A bullet glanced off the wall somewhere above Ryo’s head, whizzing away at a tangent and peppering him with sharp fragments of brick in the process. He ducked down lower, hoping the ricochet hadn’t hit anyone. He hadn’t heard anything beyond the original gunshot and a whine like an angry mosquito as the slug was deflected, but that didn’t mean anything. A stray bullet could kill a bystander so fast they wouldn’t have time to register the pain, let alone scream.
“Wish you had your sniper rifle with ya,” Dee muttered, hunkering down beside his partner.
“Wouldn’t help; there’s no way I could get a clear shot from here anyway. I’d need to be up higher and right now that’s not an option. He’s got us pretty well pinned down.”
As if to prove his point, another bullet struck near their position, encouraging the two detectives to keep their heads down. Ryo wished they had better cover, but they hadn’t had many viable options.
“So where does that leave us? We gotta just sit here until he runs outta ammo?”
Ryo shook his head. “Just until reinforcements arrive. With any luck the Chief will send JJ, have him set up on the roof above us.”
Dee grunted. “Just what I need; JJ to the rescue ‘cause we got ourselves pinned down by some moron thinks he’s Butch and Sundance rolled into one. We’d never hear the end of it. Hell with that; cover me.”
“What? No, Dee, that’s crazy! You can’t go out there; you could get hit!” They weren’t even wearing their vests.
“Relax, babe; I’m not gonna do anything dumb.” Dee grabbed the metal lid off a nearby trashcan. “I just need to get over behind that truck.” He flicked his eyes towards a vehicle maybe twenty feet away. “If I can draw his fire I might get him to show enough of himself for you to take a shot.”
It was risky, but Ryo knew it was also their best chance. There were a number of terrified people trying to keep out of sight behind parked cars, knowing they’d likely be shot at if they showed themselves; the shooter needed to be put out of action as soon as possible, preferably before anyone got hurt. He gritted his teeth, every instinct urging him to beg Dee to stay put, but he couldn’t let his feelings for his lover get in the way of them doing their job. He nodded sharply, giving his approval of his partner’s plan.
“Okay; just please be careful.”
“Always am, babe.” Readying himself, Dee glanced back at his lover. “On three. One… two… three!” He darted out from under the stoop, keeping low behind his makeshift shield as Ryo fired off half a clip. A couple of shots came from the other side of the road, but they were badly aimed and Dee reached the truck unharmed, then returned fire over the hood of the vehicle.
While the shooter was distracted, Ryo slipped out of cover, ducking down behind a parked car. That wasn’t part of Dee’s plan, but he couldn’t see well enough from where he was and sometimes you just had to take whatever opportunity presented. Grabbing an empty soda can someone had dropped, Ryo lobbed it in the direction of the shooter’s hiding place. The sound it made as it hit the ground caused the man to jerk around in alarm and that was all Ryo needed; he took the shot, his nine mil round hitting the gunman high in the chest and slamming him backwards against the wall, his gun flying from his fingers. He was dead before he hit the ground.
It was a good shooting, Ryo knew that, there’d really been no choice; if he’d only succeeded in wounding the man it might not have been enough to stop him and there was no way of knowing how much ammunition he might still have. Nevertheless, taking a life was not something he enjoyed doing, even when it was necessary.
Letting his breath out in a long sigh, Ryo straightened up and started across the street, gun still aimed, just in case. Dee was right behind, flanking him, and they approached with caution, Dee securing the shooter’s weapons, a .45 and a two nine mil automatics, while Ryo checked for a pulse, not surprised when he didn’t find one; he hadn’t expected to.
“Kid can’t be much older than Biks,” Dee said soberly.
“I was just thinking the same thing.” Ryo stood, holstering his weapon and reaching for his radio to call dispatch and request the meat wagon.
Dee moved away to check for injuries among the civilians caught up in the gunfight; miraculously none of them had been hit, although several were sporting cuts, courtesy of the sharp shards of brickwork scattered by ricochets. One woman had a badly sprained ankle from trying to run for cover in high heels; her shoe was still in the middle off the street where she’d left it when the strap snapped, but it hardly mattered; she’d be in no shape to wear heels for a while anyway.
“Good work, Randy,” the Chief said later, when the two detectives arrived back at the precinct.
“Thank you, Sir, but I couldn’t have done it if Dee hadn’t drawn the gunman’s fire and given me the opportunity to get into a better position.”
Chief Smith nodded, acknowledging Dee’s part in proceedings. “You both did well. An angry man armed to the teeth and no casualties except the shooter himself; that’s a far better outcome than I was expecting.”
They all knew the way these situations usually ended, with one or more innocent bystanders seriously injured or even killed, but this time they’d gotten lucky. Despite not being able to take the gunman alive, they could mark this one up as a success.