Characters: Dee, Ryo, OCs.
Setting: After Vol. 7.
Summary: The aftermath of a gunfight in a warehouse is a strange kind of sensory deprivation.
Word Count: 863
Written For: My own prompt ‘Any, any, Deafening silence,’ at fic_promptly.
Disclaimer: I don’t own FAKE, or the characters. They belong to the wonderful Sanami Matoh.
The sharp cracks of gunshots, the whine of bullets ricocheting off walls and crates in the warehouse, abruptly ceases and the complete lack of sound that replaces it seems deafening. Dee’s ears actually hurt more from the sudden silence than from the noise that came before, and he strains for any sound of movement. Are the shooters gone, having escaped out the rear of the building? Are they down, either injured or dead? Or are they merely laying low and reloading? Right now it’s impossible to tell, but finding out means risking being shot at again.
He glances across to where Ryo is crouched behind a car belonging to the drug dealer; it won’t be going anywhere soon, it’s full of bullet holes, and two of its tyres are flat.
Ryo gestures to himself and then around the far end of the car. Dee nods, indicating that he’ll go the other way, before turning his back on his partner. Keeping low, he creeps around the end of the stack of packing crates he’d taken cover behind when all hell had broken loose.
He moves as quietly as he can, knowing Ryo is doing the same. The silence is tense and almost eerie, making the hairs on the back of Dee’s neck stand on end. It’s the early hours of the morning, pitch dark outside, and the interior of the warehouse isn’t well lit, so there are plenty of shadows to hide in. That’s a mixed blessing because while it means Dee and Ryo have a better chance of keeping out of sight, so do the people who were shooting at them.
There’s an open area among the crates where the deal had been going down, the Palermo Cartel’s man selling his wares to one of the city’s major drug dealers. The briefcase full of product is still sitting open on a crate in the middle of the otherwise empty space. Well, not quite empty; looks like there’s a body on the ground behind the crate. Dee can only see the legs so he can’t tell who it is.
A tiny movement among the crates at the far side of the cleared space captures Dee’s attention, and he turns his gun towards it, ready to fire if necessary, but it’s just his partner. Ryo points to his eyes and then gestures to Dee’s right; holds up one finger. Dee nods; Ryo’s spotted something Dee can’t see from his current position, and he creeps even more cautiously in the direction his partner indicated.
It’s a man, one of the dealer’s two guards, but he’s not going to be a problem; he’s dead, shot through the chest. Dee indicates as much to Ryo, who nods that he understands. That’s two of the four accounted for. Where are the other two?
A faint scuff of shoe-leather alerts Dee, but it’s too late; even as he turns, raising his gun, he finds himself looking down the barrel of a Glock 19. The gunshot that follows isn’t from the pistol aimed at his head but rather from across the warehouse; the Cartel’s representative spins away and falls, gun slipping from his fingers and skidding across the rough concrete to disappear into the shadows. Dee checks him quickly, not surprised to find him dead. When your partner’s life is in imminent danger, you don’t aim to incapacitate, you go for the kill shot.
A trail of blood leads off into the shadows, and joining forces, Dee and Ryo follow it, finding the dealer’s second bodyguard slumped behind another pile of crates, bleeding out from a bullet wound in his leg; he’s unconscious. Ryo uses the guy’s tie as a makeshift tourniquet, but it’s impossible to know whether or not he’ll make it. He’s lost a lot of blood. Dee cuffs his hands behind his back and checks him for weapons anyway, while his partner secures the drugs. At least this consignment can be kept off the streets.
Radioing for a bus and the coroner, the sound of other human voices comes as a shock to Dee. It’s not until that moment that he realises he and Ryo haven’t exchanged a single word since they left their car a block from the warehouse. Speaking out loud and hearing other people’s voices after nothing but gunfire and silence for the past thirty minutes or so seems strangely unreal.
Ryo reappears, and Dee flashes a grin at his partner. “Hey, thanks for the save. I called it in, backup’s on the way.” The warehouse will soon be swarming with people.
Sinking down on a fallen crate, Ryo bows his head and rubs the back of his neck with one hand, trying to massage away knots of tension. “Anytime. We got a bit more than we bargained for.”
“Understatement of the year. You okay?”
Dee straightens up, stretching, easing the kinks out of his neck, He could use a smoke, but he’s supposed to be quitting. “Tell me about it.” He sits beside Ryo on the crate, their hips and shoulders touching.
Faintly he can hear sirens in the distance, gradually getting closer. All that’s left for them to do now is wait.