"Hey, Griffon," One of the officer's friends from his previous unit called out. "Radar wasn't too noisy on my shift last night. I'm getting ready to clock out, good luck. I hope your shift is quiet today too," Johnathan beamed, raising his coffee mug.
Vincent nodded back after a short pause, making sure that he understood what his friend was saying. "Oh, uh... Thank you, John," He said with a thumbs-up, getting his vest secured, placing his sunglasses over his eyes, and covering his head with a cap. He gave a whistle and Roman ran over from Johnathan's side. He'd been unsuccessfully begging for a snack, but was right back into work mode when he heard his call. Caporal Griffon took a knee and scratched the shepherd's head, "Good boy. Allons-y," He stated, the dog simply wagging his tail in response. He moved for the day and smacked his thigh to heel the loyal canine.
The pair spent their day very slowly; there wasn't always a dangerous or busy shift for them and even on the active days, it wasn't always so glorious as movies made it out to be. Of course, when things were bad - they were really bad. Today was going to be one of those days. Around noon, while Roman and Vincent were stopped at a local coffee shop, grabbing a bite to eat, he got the call. All available units respond: shots fired and an officer down no more than five minutes from his location. Vincent threw some money on the table and whistled, "Roman, à la voiture," He instructed, pointed as they headed for the door. He burst through the doors and pulled his car's keys from his pocket, his dog not hesitating to dive through the door as soon as it was open. The caporal climbed in right after, turning it on and flicking on the sirens. He tore through Toronto's crowded streets as other sirens converged on a warehouse downtown.
He arrived only slightly before the other two or three cars and stood behind his open door, lights still flashing as he pointed his gun to the building and pulled out his radio. "We need an update," He stated. There was no answer, the other officers all took up similar positions to him. "Hey!" He called out to another pair, "One of you come with me... Others make sure nobody leaves the place!" His instructions turned to a bark as Roman lept from the car and he shut the door. Vincent turned to the side, taking a slow approach to the warehouse at first, Roman walking directly at his side, low to the ground. He kicked up his pace to a jog, approaching the front door as a fellow Caporal joined him there. A gunshot rang out from inside followed by several others and the patient approach was quickly abandoned.
"Police!" He shouted, grabbing the door handle. It wouldn't open, "Merde..." He muttered under his breath, taking a step back, "Cover me," He stated to his comrade. His booted foot met the door beside the handle once... Twice... Thrice, BOOM! The door flew open as the exchange of fire intensified. The trio ran through the building, moving to the second floor and getting low as they found the location. He surveyed the exchange of fire from behind a crate - two officers were pinned to the left and there were a few firing back on them. He jerked his head to his partner, signaling to go check on the others. Vincent peeked out and returned to hiding, "Toronto Police! We have you surrounded!! Put your weapons down and come peacefully - nobody wants to get hurt!" The line was heavily rehearsed - his English wasn't so limited that he couldn't speak, but certain things had to be really nailed down clearly for work.
A shot rang out but didn't come near him, as he hadn't shown himself yet. Force was their choice, okay. Vince furrowed his brow and stood up from behind the crate and waited for one other to show himself for fire.
Pop! Pop! He fired off the 9mm S&W. One missed, but when the guy screamed out and landed on the ground, he knew that it had met a mark somewhere. He had been aiming for the shoulder, but at this point it didn't much matter.
He took up his radio, "Status?" He asked, referring to his comrades on the other side of the room.
"One of them took a shot to the thigh and his right hand - he can't shoot back, but he'll be fine. The other wasn't hit," The report came back.
"Roger." The room was silent and Roman was hiding dutifully behind the box Vince was using as cover. He peeked out around the side to see if anybody was approaching.
"Caporal, your rear!" Came a shout from the other side as multiple shots were fired. They didn't make their mark as the criminal made it around the crate, a knife in hand for the young officer. What he wasn't expecting was a thirty-five kilogram (75lbs) dog who instantly dove for the man, teeth barred. He barked before latching onto the attacker's knife arm. His jaw locked down tightly and pulled him to the ground. Vince didn't stop to let his surprise show as he turned around and directed his firearm at the man's chest from his kneeling position.
He sneered - no time to read right now. The officer pulled his cuffs from his belt with his free hand as he took over pinning the man to the ground. He grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the knife as soon as Roman released it. Blood poured from the punctured flesh and Vince grunted as he slammed the hand into the floor, the knife clattering away before he locked a metal ring around the man's wrist. He struggled and tried to flail free, but Vince manhandled him over onto his stomach and finally locked the second cuff.
Just in time, the thunderous sound of boots climbing the stairs as the reinforcements arrived. They filed in - a few riot shields and submachine guns, armor, and helmets. When all was said and done and everybody knew they could get a lawyer, there was a headcount of far more than Vincent thought. There were seven men escorted from the building. Now they had to conduct the search. Most of the boxes were full of copper wire or other miscellaneous goods, but Roman sniffed his way around and found a small shipment of narcotics and another of arms. Vincent gave a sigh - this was far less than he'd expected. It was hardly a headline-worthy bust if not for the firefight. In fact, it would likely be far from the front of the paper; it was just another day.
Paperwork covered his desk and a restless German Shepherd waited without complaint as his side until long after his time to punch out. Vincent took off his uniform before leaving the station and hung it in his locker. He was walking home - he rarely drove to work. They didn't have the parking lot space for it and he didn't live too far away. Plus, it would help get some exercise for Roman, who had been walking in circles or lying down for the last few hours. As soon as they made it back to his apartment, Roman was no longer in work mode. His professional demeanor shattered as Vincent dropped into the couch. Tomorrow was his off-day, thank god, and Roman did not hesitate to join him on the couch and lay a head in his lap, looking up as though to ask 'why haven't you begun giving me attention yet?'
He clicked on some mindless TV, kicked off his shoes, and leaned back, relaxing into the sofa as he stroked the shepherd's back.
