Detective Deadlock – Chapter 2: Little Missed
The detective witnessed dozens upon dozens of surrounding gunmen all aimed toward killing the woman he had just met. She was unmoved by the numbers of guns pointed at her and showed no sign of backing down.
Detective Deadlock was crouched behind the rim of the fountain watching as the woman pulled the heavy chain gun to the top of the rim and revved it up.
“Light her up!” the man making the previous threats shouted.
Multiple bullets soared past both the detective and the woman. Completely abandoning his calm behavior, the detective ducked down, putting his hands over his fedora and covering his head. He managed to raise his head a little bit and saw the the woman hold down on a trigger handle and unleash a barrage of bullets against the attackers.
“This is the weirdest way to meet someone! Freaking shooting up bad guys with bullets flying over me!” the detective said aloud to himself.
He noticed the gunmen from the opposite side of the woman were closing in. If they were so adamant about killing the woman, what would stop them from killing him? Realizing this, he stood up, just barely dodging incoming bullets and shot at each of the incoming gunmen. The bullets from his magnum were more than enough to penetrate through their shoulders and legs to the point where the pain had caused a few of them into to go into shock. He looked back and noticed that the woman was killing each of the men one by one with the behemoth of a gun.
“Hey! Don’t kill any of them!” Deadlock grabbed her shoulder.
She turned and looked at him. His brown eyes locked onto hers. She abruptly pushed him aside and shot up some more gunmen that were sneaking up behind him. The woman made gestures to shoo away the detective. In his panicked state, he had no other option but to run and call for backup.
He ran out of Central Park as fast as he could, just barely slipping through the water soaked sidewalks. The detective spotted his car near the fast food place and rushed to open the door.
“I need multiple ambulances at Central Park! We have multiple shootings and dozens of casualties! Krishna! Send backup!” Deadlock shouted into his car’s radio.
“Deadlock, calm down, I’ve dispatched several units to Central Park. You have to get back here right away!” Officer Krishna exclaimed on the other end of the radio.
“I can’t right now when there’s someone shooting up Central! I’ll try to subdue the suspect,” Deadlock hung up the radio and rushed back to the park.
His jaw dropped as he saw all of the dead gunmen surrounding the park’s fountain. He looked around for the woman with the gun but found nothing. Multiple sirens were heard off in the distance. That brought relief to Deadlock, but it did not soothe the curiosity he had about the woman who went on with the massacre.
After the officers called for multiple ambulances, Deadlock headed back to the police station. His stomach turned and gave him a sort of sick feeling, not due to the fast food or the sight of multiple corpses, but because of something else. Deadlock was not one to ignore the obvious or give up on a case, he just had a major tendency to refuse to lose. After going through the entrance, he briefly headed through the squad room and into his office.
He sat at his desk and took off his soaking wet coat. After setting his fedora on top of the coat rack he rubbed his hands through his hair. He returned to his intellectual and calm state, piecing every bit of evidence he had together. His photographic memory spewed out information through sketches and exact descriptions of the woman he saw in the park. He posted all of his information on a mobile white board and included all the entry and exit points of Central Park.
“Age, roughly in her 20s, white of some Germanic descent,” he began reading his information aloud, “Braided mohawk, maybe something from a gang? No, no mohawks recorded… black roots, blue dyed tips, hair stylists in the area…” Deadlock accessed his computer and searched for each hair salon in the area. There was only several in the entire city.
Deadlock smiled as it narrowed down the search. The smile quickly went away as none of the customers matched the information he had gathered. He tried remembering the box she had with the chain gun inside. It was unmarked; even the gun had the company’s insignia and name shaven off. He thought very clearly, recreating the scene and moment; did he recognize her from somewhere else? No. Did she know or show any sign of recognition toward him? No.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his office door closing. He looked up and saw a young woman who was around her mid-twenties. The rookie.
She had dark-blonde hair and was very slender in appearance. She carried a dark grey coat in her arms and wore a white striped blouse with suit pants matching her coat.
“H-Hi, I’m Officer Annika Charles, I-I’m the new recruit for the ‘Deadlock’ Department,” she introduced herself.
“Hello there. I’m Detective J. Deadlock, I’m guessing Officer Winston sent you here?” Deadlock inquired.
“Y-Yes. Is it alright if I may take a seat?” She gestured to the two chairs in front of Deadlock’s desk.
“T-Thank you. Did I-I interrupt something?” she looked concerned as she stared at white board.
“Tell me, Charles, are you nervous?” The detective asked.
“Good, you have every right. Because in this department, we handle murders, killers, and how to stop them. We’re not some fairy tale from before the Pre-Apocalypse, we stop at nothing to get justice to this city and its people. Disregard your own line of work, because in a place like this, your life depends on everything that needs to be done. In this building are sixty officers willing to give up their lives for their work. The officer you replaced, Officer Sarah Parkers, she was only second behind me and the chief. She was close to becoming a professional detective such as myself. Her life was cut short because she let her guard down, not when she died, when she picked who assigned her, which was a poor mistake. If this is too overwhelming for you, if you are not cut out to keep your head on while also keeping track of what the hell is going on everyday in this office, then I suggest you join Highway Patrol or Wall Guard,” Deadlock held a very serious look on his rant.
“I-I am cut out, sir!” Annika stood from the chair and stood up straight in a militaristic style.
“Good. I guess I have to put this case on hold and show you around. Because every police officer is that ignorant and abusive to their job,” the detective said with a sarcastic smile.
Deadlock opened up his office’s door and revealed the squad room. Four separate desks aligned each other in the center while multiple occupied office rooms made up the ring around them.
“Chair number one,” Deadlock pointed to Officer Winston, “Our senior officer Tommy Winston. He has been here since back when the department was still called Anarchy Control. He was the star cop of the day, catching bad guys was his passion.” Annika was shown an old picture of Winston, bulked up in muscle, carrying tattoos on each of his arms and pecs. She looked up from the picture and saw Winston now, a fat police officer who was struggling to get his tie unstuck after stapling it to his desk.
“Um, what happened?” Annika asked trying not sound rude.
“He lost a case and now he’s a fat, miserable guy. But hey, he keeps up the department’s attitude, don’t think down upon him, he’s just an old dog who can still do new tricks,” Deadlock forced out another sarcastic smile.
“Chair number two, Officer Kevin Krishna. He’s back here helping us out whenever he’s not at his COMs desk telling all the dispatched officers where to go. Smart guy. Smarts, yes. Wits, no. He doesn’t usually do field work, but he can be a tad bit too descriptive instead of cutting to the point. He’s your eyes and ears to the city, listen to him, and listen to him carefully,” Deadlock pointed toward an Indian man with a headset on answering dispatch calls and giving directions to active officers.
“Chair number three, do you need me to slow down?” Deadlock looked back at Annika. She shook her head and continued observing.
“This is good ol’ Archie. Arch Tech as the department calls him. Real name’s Archibald Severin. He’s considered the x-ray of the department. He knows every building we go into like the back of his hand, he knows every escape route a criminal is willing to take and where he might end up. He’s, ahem, also my best friend,” Deadlock said his last comment quickly.
“How does he know about the building and such?” Annika asked.
“Retired architect or something. Decided to join the force when his own building was ransacked and robbed. Weird way he decides things.”
The detective and Annika looked toward Arch Tech who was a man in his late 20s with bright brown hair and dark brown eyes. He wore a vest shirt with black suit pants and had rounded dark sunglasses with a brown lower cap.
“Chair number four, she won’t be here for a while, so in the meantime, this is your desk,” Deadlock pulled out the office chair politely for Annika.
“T-Thank you, first day on the job and already a desk? I can’t wait to start!” she said happily.
“I hope you keep that motivation, you’re going to need it,” Deadlock smiled.
The detective stooped back into his own office. He continued with his investigation with the woman at the park. Something troubled him. Suddenly, his arm reached out swiftly through the air. He rubbed his shoulder and flinched as his arm straightened out. Deadlock sat behind his desk and opened up one of his cabinets.
“Damn mechanics, if their product is defective, what’s so good about having my arm back?”