Episode 9 - Teaser
This Friday, the Virtual Season will be back with an all new episode. Curious? Here's a brand new teaser together with another lovely banner by grumpybear1031.
A special thanks goes to sassycop. You know why ;).
The call came over the police scanner just when they were about to head back to the station.
"3200 block of Sacramento Street with California tag 3-6-2-Mary-Whiskey-Bravo on a blue Chevy truck possible 102."
Lindsay groaned at the description given by the officer. "Don't you just love those." A drunk driver. Nothing she really wanted to deal with at the end of a day like this. One murderer caught, the one who had inspired him, far more dangerous and unpredictable, still out there. Didn't she qualify just for a small break? High hopes, weren't they, because they were too damn close to the location of that vehicle.
"10-4, 141," the dispatcher acknowledged .
Just maybe, this was ending as a regular traffic stop. They should be so lucky.
"Headquarters, the vehicle is not stopping." Or not. "We're heading east bound on Sacramento Street."
"Unit close to back," came the dispatcher's voice.
"Unit 312 is enroute," Jacobi responded calmly. They were now on Washington Street, parallel to Sacramento. The next corner would be Leavenworth, the most likely way for the evasive driver to go. With a little luck, they could cut him off there.
Lindsay winced a bit as they sped around the corner. "Just whatever you do, remember this is my car."
"Always, partner."
"And try not to hit that--"
It was Jacobi's turn to wince.
"Trashcan."
"10-4, 312. Headquarters will have Code 5 on channel one," the dispatcher informed other units to stay out of the communication.
"Suspect vehicle now northbound on Leavenworth Street," the officer driving unit 141 updated.
"312, I'm southbound on Leavenworth Street," Jacobi returned.
Only moments later, they could see the vehicle in question, barely under the driver's control who was going way too fast, approaching head-on. Behind them, a police cruiser rounded the corner. 141. Nowhere left to go.
Could be said for either of us, Lindsay thought uneasily. She trusted Jacobi. He was a good driver. It was that person in the car coming towards them who was unpredictable.
"I like this car, Jacobi. I don't want to replace--"
At the very last moment, the other driver yanked the steering wheel to the side, slamming his car straight into the corner of a brick wall. Everything happened in the span of minutes; it was a near miracle no other cars were involved.
"Headquarters, we have a 518, 518 at Clay and Leavenworth, we need fire and medics..."
Jacobi hit the brakes, and they both stepped outside, their service weapons drawn. It didn't look like anyone would be able to run from a scene like this, but stranger things had happened.
The driver's side had been smashed together by the impact with the unforgiving brick wall; the driver lay slumped over in his seat, his face a bloody mess. Jacobi, who had reached inside to feel for a pulse, just shook his head.
In the passenger's seat sat a young woman. Her blonde hair was matted with blood, her eyes closed, but the small, pain-filled moan alerted them to the fact that she was still alive.
"Miss? Can you hear me?"
Lindsay leaned closer, almost gagging from the overpowering smell of blood, realizing the woman was not only injured, she was also heavily pregnant. Oh no. She yanked at the door handle, not very surprised when it didn't give right away. She tried harder, only vaguely aware of Jacobi running back to her car to update the dispatcher on the situation.
The smells of gasoline and smoke were a dead giveaway that they probably wouldn't have enough time to wait until the firemen arrived. Lindsay gave the door another, desperate pull, the sting of breaking fingernails barely registering, as the door finally opened.
It was tricky; she didn't know what injuries the woman had, and if she was making it any worse moving her. With the smells growing stronger though, it was clear that waiting would dissipate any chance she had.
Carefully, Lindsay removed the seatbelt, startled when she realized the woman's eyes were open, watching her intently.
"I think I can move," she said, tears running down her face from both pain and fear. She seemed to fully understand the seriousness of her situation. "Just whatever you do, please help my child. Please."
She was able to stand, even walk with support, but taking in her dress that was blood-soaked in the front down to her legs, it was sadly clear to Lindsay that this hope would be crushed soon. It took a lot less than a severe car accident to miscarry.
Just how did that happen?
One moment, she had half-joked about Jacobi nearly hitting the trashcan sitting haphazardly on the edge of the sidewalk, the next her hands were a deep, wet red from the blood of a woman who was begging her to save her child.
"It'll be okay," she said, almost choking on the lie, even as they stumbled for cover behind the sector car, a couple of seconds before the Chevy's tank blew up.
She shielded the woman with her own body best she could, feeling blood soak her own shirt. Drawing back, Lindsay could see the woman's eyes starting to glaze over, but her fingers gripped Lindsay's with surprising strength. "Promise me," she whispered.
"Come on, stay with me here!"
Her grip loosened.
"I promise!"
The woman was already unconscious, though, but now the paramedics took over. Lindsay closed her eyes for a second, then she pushed herself up from the ground just in time to see Jacobi come over.
"They got the guy out before it blew up, so -- Jesus!" he exclaimed.
She looked down at herself and winced. Not a pretty sight to behold. "It's not mine."
"You okay?"
"I said it's not--"
He gave her a 'humor me' look, and Lindsay shrugged, acknowledging he wasn't talking about any physical injuries any longer. "I will be once I am out of these clothes. Really," she added, slightly impatient.
She would be. This wasn't even their case. Tom wouldn't come knocking on her door tonight, and she wouldn't be crazy enough to -- the thought seemed so absurd these days that it made her smile, utterly inappropriate at the moment, but Jacobi had caught on anyway.
"Just make sure she doesn't see you like this," he said.
Lindsay clapped him on the shoulder, then winced again at the feel of the wet, sticky fabric moving against her bare skin. "Thanks for the advice, partner."
***
He smiled to himself as he listened to the latest codes crackling over the police scanner. One dead, the woman severely injured. They had both sinned alright, even though he couldn't care less if they'd repent or not. They weren't among the chosen ones, but a mere distraction.
It had worked better than he could have imagined.
It was a fine coincidence to have Inspector Lindsay Boxer on the scene, the one who shared a bed with the reporter. Surprising that she wasn't here, but she was bound to be busy with another case, another story of hers. The Hallelujah Man.
He was going to get to know them better, both of them, but there was time. He turned off the police scanner and left the room. There was a lot to prepare for Judgment Day.
***
A special thanks goes to sassycop. You know why ;).
The call came over the police scanner just when they were about to head back to the station.
"3200 block of Sacramento Street with California tag 3-6-2-Mary-Whiskey-Bravo on a blue Chevy truck possible 102."
Lindsay groaned at the description given by the officer. "Don't you just love those." A drunk driver. Nothing she really wanted to deal with at the end of a day like this. One murderer caught, the one who had inspired him, far more dangerous and unpredictable, still out there. Didn't she qualify just for a small break? High hopes, weren't they, because they were too damn close to the location of that vehicle.
"10-4, 141," the dispatcher acknowledged .
Just maybe, this was ending as a regular traffic stop. They should be so lucky.
"Headquarters, the vehicle is not stopping." Or not. "We're heading east bound on Sacramento Street."
"Unit close to back," came the dispatcher's voice.
"Unit 312 is enroute," Jacobi responded calmly. They were now on Washington Street, parallel to Sacramento. The next corner would be Leavenworth, the most likely way for the evasive driver to go. With a little luck, they could cut him off there.
Lindsay winced a bit as they sped around the corner. "Just whatever you do, remember this is my car."
"Always, partner."
"And try not to hit that--"
It was Jacobi's turn to wince.
"Trashcan."
"10-4, 312. Headquarters will have Code 5 on channel one," the dispatcher informed other units to stay out of the communication.
"Suspect vehicle now northbound on Leavenworth Street," the officer driving unit 141 updated.
"312, I'm southbound on Leavenworth Street," Jacobi returned.
Only moments later, they could see the vehicle in question, barely under the driver's control who was going way too fast, approaching head-on. Behind them, a police cruiser rounded the corner. 141. Nowhere left to go.
Could be said for either of us, Lindsay thought uneasily. She trusted Jacobi. He was a good driver. It was that person in the car coming towards them who was unpredictable.
"I like this car, Jacobi. I don't want to replace--"
At the very last moment, the other driver yanked the steering wheel to the side, slamming his car straight into the corner of a brick wall. Everything happened in the span of minutes; it was a near miracle no other cars were involved.
"Headquarters, we have a 518, 518 at Clay and Leavenworth, we need fire and medics..."
Jacobi hit the brakes, and they both stepped outside, their service weapons drawn. It didn't look like anyone would be able to run from a scene like this, but stranger things had happened.
The driver's side had been smashed together by the impact with the unforgiving brick wall; the driver lay slumped over in his seat, his face a bloody mess. Jacobi, who had reached inside to feel for a pulse, just shook his head.
In the passenger's seat sat a young woman. Her blonde hair was matted with blood, her eyes closed, but the small, pain-filled moan alerted them to the fact that she was still alive.
"Miss? Can you hear me?"
Lindsay leaned closer, almost gagging from the overpowering smell of blood, realizing the woman was not only injured, she was also heavily pregnant. Oh no. She yanked at the door handle, not very surprised when it didn't give right away. She tried harder, only vaguely aware of Jacobi running back to her car to update the dispatcher on the situation.
The smells of gasoline and smoke were a dead giveaway that they probably wouldn't have enough time to wait until the firemen arrived. Lindsay gave the door another, desperate pull, the sting of breaking fingernails barely registering, as the door finally opened.
It was tricky; she didn't know what injuries the woman had, and if she was making it any worse moving her. With the smells growing stronger though, it was clear that waiting would dissipate any chance she had.
Carefully, Lindsay removed the seatbelt, startled when she realized the woman's eyes were open, watching her intently.
"I think I can move," she said, tears running down her face from both pain and fear. She seemed to fully understand the seriousness of her situation. "Just whatever you do, please help my child. Please."
She was able to stand, even walk with support, but taking in her dress that was blood-soaked in the front down to her legs, it was sadly clear to Lindsay that this hope would be crushed soon. It took a lot less than a severe car accident to miscarry.
Just how did that happen?
One moment, she had half-joked about Jacobi nearly hitting the trashcan sitting haphazardly on the edge of the sidewalk, the next her hands were a deep, wet red from the blood of a woman who was begging her to save her child.
"It'll be okay," she said, almost choking on the lie, even as they stumbled for cover behind the sector car, a couple of seconds before the Chevy's tank blew up.
She shielded the woman with her own body best she could, feeling blood soak her own shirt. Drawing back, Lindsay could see the woman's eyes starting to glaze over, but her fingers gripped Lindsay's with surprising strength. "Promise me," she whispered.
"Come on, stay with me here!"
Her grip loosened.
"I promise!"
The woman was already unconscious, though, but now the paramedics took over. Lindsay closed her eyes for a second, then she pushed herself up from the ground just in time to see Jacobi come over.
"They got the guy out before it blew up, so -- Jesus!" he exclaimed.
She looked down at herself and winced. Not a pretty sight to behold. "It's not mine."
"You okay?"
"I said it's not--"
He gave her a 'humor me' look, and Lindsay shrugged, acknowledging he wasn't talking about any physical injuries any longer. "I will be once I am out of these clothes. Really," she added, slightly impatient.
She would be. This wasn't even their case. Tom wouldn't come knocking on her door tonight, and she wouldn't be crazy enough to -- the thought seemed so absurd these days that it made her smile, utterly inappropriate at the moment, but Jacobi had caught on anyway.
"Just make sure she doesn't see you like this," he said.
Lindsay clapped him on the shoulder, then winced again at the feel of the wet, sticky fabric moving against her bare skin. "Thanks for the advice, partner."
***
He smiled to himself as he listened to the latest codes crackling over the police scanner. One dead, the woman severely injured. They had both sinned alright, even though he couldn't care less if they'd repent or not. They weren't among the chosen ones, but a mere distraction.
It had worked better than he could have imagined.
It was a fine coincidence to have Inspector Lindsay Boxer on the scene, the one who shared a bed with the reporter. Surprising that she wasn't here, but she was bound to be busy with another case, another story of hers. The Hallelujah Man.
He was going to get to know them better, both of them, but there was time. He turned off the police scanner and left the room. There was a lot to prepare for Judgment Day.
***