Episode 35 Royal Rumble (part 3/3) (Patreon)

Bailey Nune

Monstermash’s latest award-winning single blared out across the staging area, and it provided a boost of confidence in her squad of six. They had already defeated the representatives from the Sheriff’s County and the guys from Fire Station 41 from West Hollywood. It was a long, hard road to get them to their final opponent for the year, and a lot was riding on it.

Her station was champion for two years, and no one had ever gotten a three-peat before. If they won this, they would make history and earn bragging rights.

“We’re going to fuck 'em up.” Drake, his team captain and fellow firefighter at station 29, gathered them around to boost their confidence. News that Metro had joined the competition rattled them at first, but after consecutive wins, their confidence came back. Now, they were facing their most challenging opponents to date, Hondo and his squad.

She was excited. The guys had contributed to getting their new gear, customized for paintball. Drake proposed it, and they all immediately fell in love with the idea. Wearing customized clone armor for their last match of the year? It was a no-brainer.

Now, despite some discomfort digging into her chest and neck, she wore her clone armor with pride. She could see the other groups giving them admiring looks, and she could see the way her guys preened at the attention they were given.

“That’s so sick!” One of the guys from Station 67 approached them. “Where did you get them?”

“Drake met a guy at a cosplay convention.” She answered. “Do you think it’s intimidating?”

“Of course!” Her fellow firefighter replied. “I bet the instant those bozos see what you guys are wearing, they’ll lose their morale.”

“That’s what we’re hoping for.” Drake laughed.

They took off their helmets for the moment. Despite the vents designed in it, it allowed for little air circulation. At least the clear lens had an anti-fog coating, like the fabricator bragged. That was far better than the traditional goggle that fogged up whenever she breathed too hard.

The paintball marshals were huddled in a group, their high viz jackets making them stand out in the staging area. They were all waiting for the challengers to the defending champions of the Splatter Cup. This year was different, with the tournament organizers deciding to use the forest area usually reserved for airsoft competition.

It was larger than the usual paintball arena by a factor of two, and that meant more ground to cover. There were still inflatable barriers put in place, but this time, there were more places to take cover, bushes, trees, and large rocks. They had to be careful and needed more padding, and that was why they decided to splurge a little and acquire these modified clone armors. They had a thicker lining and protected every part of her body. She had no issue crawling on her belly with this gear protecting her from scratches.

The music in the speakers faded, and another song started playing. She didn’t know if it was done on purpose or not, but she had to admit it was very effective, and she got intimidated by what she saw.

As AC/DC’s Back in Black opening riff started playing, Metro appeared, and it was not what she expected.

“What the hell…” She heard Drake mutter.

A squad of six armored figures, their golden visors gleaming in the sun, appeared in the staging area and headed towards them. Their armor was very elaborate, and as they moved closer, her sharp eyes picked up more details in their armor. They were finely crafted, and each piece looked like it was custom-made for the person wearing it. She spotted one that was obviously a woman based on her shape, but the way the armor moved and shifted with her completely blew her away. She, in her heavily customized clone armor, suddenly felt inadequate.

“Spartans. We’re facing the Spartans. Fuck.” She heard one of her team members curse out loud.

At the back, an absolute unit of a man in armor completed the group. His outfit seemed to be the most detailed, and the paint job was immaculate. It looked like he had taken care to make it look like his armor had seen action in the desert, while the others still looked pristine. The weathering effect looked so good.

“Where are their guns?” Drake asked.

As if hearing his question, their opponents answered by reaching behind them, again showing how flexible their suits were compared to theirs, and pulled out the standard paintball guns. They looked tiny compared to the armor they were all wearing.

“Shit, they’re magnetized too? Where did they get that gear?” Drake complained.

Once their opponents were closer, she spotted the etched name on their breastplates. She zeroed in on the leader. Hondo-967.

She felt conflicted at that moment. On one hand, she felt apprehensive at facing the challengers with this kind of quality gear, and on the other hand, she wanted to fan girl and ask for selfies. Halo night was a popular pastime in the station, and it felt like she was meeting the characters on the screen in real life.

The tournament officials approached them, and she didn’t fail to notice how their eyes were locked into Hondo’s group and what they were wearing.

Hondo took off his helmet, revealing a smiling face. She was surprised he was not sweating, unlike her. She didn't understand how, since their costumes looked like they were thicker and covered more skin than theirs.

They all listened to the safety briefing and the rules laid out for the championship round. It was a best-of-three, with a team death match scenario. That meant they had to eliminate all the enemy players, with the last team standing winning. They quickly got into position, and Drake decided on three pairs on each lane to probe their enemy's strategies and to try and exploit any weakness.

At the start of the whistle, they all ran to their assigned areas. The battle had begun.

The first round was brutal. It lasted for more than five minutes, but she was able to hit one of the flankers. It was close, but they got swept away in the end by a surprise flanking maneuver from the big guy of the enemy group and his female partner, and they were completely pinned down. Their level of coordination was insane.

“We need to adjust our strategy.” She suggested during the break period. She was sweating like a pig, and those bits of plastic were getting annoying whenever she moved to a crouched position.

“Let’s attack from the right.” Drake suggested. “We’ll leave one man to pin them down on the left and the middle while four of us rush the right.”

“Let’s do that.” There was a reason Drake was their leader.

“Remember, conserve your ammo, but don’t be too shy about it.” Drake added.

The second round was frustrating. Their attack was halted immediately, as Hondo’s squad responded quickly to the rushing attack, and they were already pinned down by a crossfire from two positions.

Drake was eliminated when he tried to roll and dive to another cover but slipped on the loose soil and got exposed. She watched as his leader cursed and slowly walked out of the field with his hand and gun up in the air, indicating that he was eliminated. Their opponents were amazing marksmen and used fewer rounds compared to them.

They were slowly being picked apart, one by one. It hurt to see now, as she felt beads of sweat reach her eyes.

“Behind us!”

She felt and heard the impact of paintballs on her armor. It sounded like hail hitting her car’s windshield. Fuck. She watched as the rest of her team got caught in a crossfire. One by one, they all fell to the storm of paintballs. She heard a loud whistle, telling her that the round was over.

They lost, but at least she wouldn’t have bruises this time.

“Sorry, Bailey.” One of her teammates apologized. His camo armor was littered with orange paint splats, even his helmet. “I got overrun on the left by that big guy. He’s deceptively fast for his size.”

So that was how they lost. The big guy of Hondo’s group just barreled past their guard and flanked them from the rear. She removed her helmet and sighed in relief upon feeling fresh air hit her face. Her helmet was too stifling and hot for a full match, especially when she was running around the field, taking cover, and shooting back at her opponents.

“Good game.” Hondo removed his helmet as well, followed by the others. Annoyingly, they all looked fine, not even a bead of sweat on their faces.

“Thanks. Do you have air conditioning on those fancy suits?” She joked.

“Sort of.” Hondo laughed. Wait, she was just joking about that!

“Where did you get that fancy gear?” Drake asked.

“We had it custom-made by a brilliant engineer.” The metro sergeant replied. “Totally worth it, despite the price tag.”

She didn’t even want to ask how much those things cost. It must have been a thousand dollars at the very least.

The ceremony was simple as Hondo accepted the Splatter Cup Trophy. It was a damn shape, the design for this year was well made by a local artist who used brass as his material and shaped it like a figure running with its paintball gun aimed at an unseen enemy.

“We’re taking out your group for drinks later tonight.” Hondo added. “Gilligan’s bar at eight, if you’re interested.”

That was a generous offer, and she and her team didn’t see any reason to reject the sergeant’s offer.

“We’ll be there.” Drake nodded. “Thanks, Hondo.”

She was wiping her face with a towel, when she heard an argument from her teammates.

“That’s him, right?”

“Nah, couldn’t be! That guy was too big to be some sort of royal.”

“Have you met Routh in person?”

“You’re talking about that guy?” She knew about the famous LAPD cop. Everyone knew, but she had followed his career ever since he stopped that school shooter. Her interest in the cop only grew after she watched him on the Survival Show. Routh was very easy on the eyes, especially without a shirt, but she was more impressed with his bushcraft skills. She tried to recall his face and realized that it was indeed him!

“Yeah, the one that rushed me and got behind your position.” One of her teammates answered. “I’m pretty sure it was him, I even saw the name JACK etched on his armor.”

“I should have asked for a selfie!” Damn! Why didn’t she recognize him right away?

“We all know you’re obsessed with that survival show, Bailey.” Drake laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll get a chance later tonight when we meet up with them.”

“Don’t forget to ask for an autograph!” One of her teammates joked. “You listen to his music, right? Are you going to tear up again over that song? What is it called?”

“I think it’s called Payphone.” Drake answered.

“Fuck you guys.” She gave them a middle finger.

She loved that song since it helped her process through some difficult emotions, thanks to her past. She was eager to meet Jack Routh properly, and not in the midst of a paintball battle.

Hours later, at Gilligan’s bar and she was disappointed when she saw that he wasn’t present. Apparently, he had a date with his wife that night. Oh well, maybe she could get his autograph when they meet in the next paintball battle. She would need to get revenge for this morning’s match.

Defeat tastes more bitter than the beer she was currently drinking.

Jack Routh

They could tell him all about the statistics on the dangers of driving a bike. The feeling of the engine purring, the rush of air, the view, and his wife hugging him as she sat behind him, he believed there was no better mode of transportation on the road that could be better than this.

They had been going out more for dinner lately, and Zoe started developing strange urges. Tonight, she wanted smoked salmon and cream cheese and a picnic by the beach, but once they got there, she didn’t like the smell of the ocean and they had to find a new spot.

He finally found a suitable spot by the Griffith Observatory, and he was relieved when Zoe liked the location.

A picnic blanket, a couple of bottles of water, and a pair of sandwiches with smoked salmon with cream cheese, and their picnic date was finally ready.

“How did you find this place?” Zoe asked while she started eating her sandwich.

“I met the observatory guard during an operation with Metro.” He replied. “He told me he wouldn’t mind if I came here with a date. He said that he’d prefer that to chasing a bunch of teenagers doing crazy shit in the dark.”

“That’s nice of him. He even turned on the lights for us.” Zoe grinned. “So, ready for the meeting with the ambassador?”

The new ambassador of the Netherlands to the country was recently appointed, and ever since his uncle announced their connection, he had been expecting some form of communication. The new representative of his family’s country recently called the department and wanted to set up a meeting.

 Luckily, he had a lot of free time with his Light duties, and lunch was planned for one of the more fancy restaurants.

“There’s nothing to prepare for that meeting.” He replied. “It’s not an official meeting between representatives of two countries. I’m sure he will just relay some messages from my uncle and maybe establish a line of communication with them.”

“What if they invite you to visit their country?” Zoe asked.

“That depends on you.” He answered. “I wouldn’t go if you’re not coming.”

“Hmmmm.” Zoe looked thoughtful for a moment. “We could visit some notable cities while we’re there.”

“Whatever you want.” He replied. “We could do a quick visit, or even tour the country. We need to brush up at least on your language lessons.”

Zoe was a good and diligent student, and she picked up the basics pretty quickly in his opinion. What she now needed was practice, lots and lots of practice. Only then would she develop the confidence to speak the language fluently. She had even involved her friends with it, and he would sometimes find her speaking broken French with Reese or Pam, or even Jessica and Mary Elizabeth whenever they visited. They would laugh at their own mistakes and pronunciation, but would still continue trying to speak French with each other.

It was a sight to see a group of grown women, some drunk, trying to speak French with each other while watching French art films, while trying to guess the plot. He had to admit, it was an effective approach to learning another language.

“What about you?” He asked his wife. “Who do you think will replace Coleman?”

“Commander West is still everyone’s favorite.” She shared. “Other candidates simply do not have the support he has. His no-nonsense approach is very popular, especially after what happened with the current chief, who introduced a lot of controversial policies, and I’m not just talking about her targeted harassment of me and Jessica.”

“What else did she do?”

“She brought in self-appointed experts from those special interest groups to teach K-9 handlers how to train their partners.” Zoe scoffed at the idea. “As if they knew more about raising and training a police K-9, just because they have a little Chihuahua in their home that knows how to sit and play dead.”

“She also tried to change the menu in the Central cafeteria and tried to remove meat options.” Zoe added. “That received a lot of push back, and she had to drop that after her own pet officers stopped eating with her during lunch.”

“So, she’s just waiting to retire at this point?” He asked.

“Making sure she would be able to collect the maximum benefits of her pension as a former Chief of Police.” His wife answered. “She’s just decoration at this point. The senior brass now holds meetings without her and sets policy for the entire department. We’re all just waiting for her to leave.”

“What a pitiful end to a pitiful woman.” He noted. The woman’s term was now remembered for a series of controversies and failures. She was constantly criticized by the media, and even Stevens described to reporters in an interview that the fiasco with Alex Montel was a failure in leadership in the department. He didn’t outright call for her resignation since the woman still had some supporters in the special interest groups and non-profit advocacy groups.

“And we’ll prepare for the new batch of rookies this January.” Zoe added. “Be sure to treat them well.”

“Anyone that stands out?” He asked.

“I’m having Tim look over one recruit, Katie Barnes. A special case, and he said he would need your assistance.”  

“Military background?” There was only one reason his wife would specifically assign a rookie to Tim Bradford.

He knew that the veteran T.O. was undergoing training and qualifications in Metro and would eventually join up with him to be Mid-Wilshire’s rapid response tactical unit, along with two others.

If Tim was assigned and even wanted him to help look out for the incoming rookie, then that meant she came from the same background as Bradford. Looking at his wife, he knew she had a soft spot for ex-military who joined the force.

“I’ll keep an eye on her.” He promised.

“You’ll do more than that.” His wife replied. “On the one or two days of the week that Tim’s not available because of his Metro duties, rather than passing her around to other training officers, I’ll have her assigned to patrol with you.”

“I’m not a training officer.” He pointed out.

“No, but you already have a wealth of experience under your belt. You’re a P2 six months longer than Nolan or Chen.” Zoe explained. “One more year and you can get that P3 patch on your shoulder.”

“Think of it as training if you ever want to be a training officer.” His wife must have sensed his reluctance.

“Alright.” He finally agreed after a moment. It was just one day a week anyway, and the bulk of the training was still on Tim’s shoulders.