I’m looking at my team. Sloppy, just sloppy. We are trained to be alert, ever watchful, but most of them are chatting, and even worse, chatting with the pesky media guys. Those guys, I simply do not trust. No respect for barricades or instructions, always trying to force their way in, and if you snap at them even a little, just as a deterrent, they start accusing us of excessive police brutality.
Got to watch out for them, but inconspicuously.
Then this crowd. Some dudes have really questionable personal hygiene, and very objectionable eating habits. Messes with my focus. But…
East. 50 yards. Young male. Grease… meat… oil… and… Bingo. Gotcha.
I signal John. He’s skeptical. I persist. We move.
Quietly. Almost there. O no, he’s going to run. I leap… people scream… chaos… but I latch on.
John cuffs him… searches… Two guns! Told ya.
Never doubt the K-9 unit.
This is my second submission in response to the 100 Word Wednesday: Week 36 challenge.
The style was in response to The Scrivener’s Forge 9 – Reveals exercise, where one of the suggestions was to end the story on a completely different terrain, e.g. the protagonist is not a person at all.
Apologies for exceeding the word limit.
The K-9 are police dogs specifically trained to assist police and other law-enforcement personnel search for drugs, explosives, etc.