Can you lay your life down, so a stranger can live?
It was his job. And as much as he might hate it sometimes, he had a duty. Danny handed over his gun. The men in front of him, masked and seriously ripped, shoved the detective to the floor.
"Eighty." Danny muttered. "It stops here,"
"What was that?" The man drawled, his Jersey accent clear.
"Eighty homicide cases under the belt, moron," Danny snapped. "Just commenting on my –oof!" The fist collided with his face.
"Shut it, man, unless you want to die faster."
"Let them go, that's all I wanted." Danny calmed his tone. "You get me, they get free, okay?" The kidnapper smiled.
"And our agreement stands, Detective Williams." He nodded, and the hostages ran out of the bank, the little girl's big brown eyes connecting with Danny's. So much like his daughters eyes, and too young to be burdened with the troubles she now had. Her mother, beaten down trying to protect her, her father shot trying to reach his daughter. All outside now.
Danny looked back to the masked men.
"Thank you. If you turn yourself in now, the judge won't hesitate. They'll lessen your sentence."
"I'm already in for life, man." The man snarled, gesturing to the two bodies lying on the floor, blood pooled around them. Danny stayed silent. It was true.
"Might as well kill you," The masked man sneered. Danny closed his eyes. He was ready.
Suddenly, the doors crash, windows exploded, and gunfire sounded all around the detective as he fell to the ground, a bullet lodging within his flesh. His mind flashed to the conversation he had with the Chief of Police, outside, before he walked in, sacrificing himself.
"Are you sure, Williams?"
"Yes. Very. When the hostages are out, neutralize the threat. They've gone too far. They killed a little boy in there, and my life isn't worth risking any more casualties." Danny's blue eyes were firm. "Take them out when I've cleared the room."
"It's not clear, you'll still be in it," The chief argued.
"I'll do what's necessary." Danny said softly. "Serve and protect, sir. I've made my choice."
Shouts from the New Jersey Police Department filled the air, guns still being discharged. Danny knew that no kidnappers would escape, not now. They would not harm another child. Not while Danny was living.
H
5
0
Steve's eyes strained against the desert sun. This mission had been FUBAR from the beginning. And now they would pay for it. Steve breathed softly, motioning for his team to stay back.
"No matter what happens, stay here," He whispered.
"Dog, leave no man behind," Taylor whispered.
"You have to this time," Steve ground out. "We have hostages back there that need someone to help them. I'll take care of the village. I'll provide a distraction, that's the best I can do. But the people can free themselves with a distraction, and save themselves. You will save yourself and those people back there. That's an order." His men reluctantly nodded.
Steve squared his shoulders.
This is what he did. As a SEAL, he was willing to die for his country. Steve's duty demanded it. Here he was, willing to sacrifice himself, not for his country, but for this village of people from a different country.
Isn't it the same? His mind whispered.
They had children, they had families. Lives that would never be completed, a purpose to serve that would never come to be if Steve allowed this to happen. Children wailed.
Children that would be dead soon.
Women wept, reaching for their husbands, their children, anyone as long as they were friendly. Their response was the butt of a gun, beating them into submission.
It was the same.
Men, their voices hoarse from tortured screams.
Copper. The scent of blood, filling the air.
It was the same, because Steve would die for them. He would die for the children whose tear streaked faces turned away from the executions that would soon happen. He would die for the women, who huddled together, facing the inevitability of death and pain. He would die for the men, for the lives viciously destroyed. He would die for this village, who without him, would not be able to survive this day.
He would die for the lives obliterated, for the futures lost. For upholding justice.
He would die to protect his team who watched his steps toward the village.
He would die for them. For their freedom, and for their lives.
He would die, but the village would be safe.
H
5
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Kono was in high school. She was respectful, fun, and a cheerful person. Her friends went through stages of stress when homework got to heavy, or when a boyfriend or girlfriend dumped them. Kono went through her stage of reclusiveness after an incident she would never forget.
Fire lapped the walls of the house, slowly devouring it. She saw it one weekend, walking back to her house.
She joined the crowd of neighbours, all holding each other looking on in fear.
"My son! Meiko!" A hysterical woman was being held back from leaping into the fire. Frantic eyes turned to Kono.
"Please, my son is in there! He's only five, please," she screamed. Kono's heart went out to the women.
"I'll find him," she whispered, and dropped her backpack. Before anyone was aware of the small girl, she had slipped forward, moving into the burning house.
She stayed low.
Her shirt was raised over her mouth, but smoke was filling her lungs.
She heard a cry from the back of the house, and she struggled through the blinding heat.
Her skin blistered in the intensity, and as she shoved a piece of wood out of the way, her arm burned, skin popping as she was scarred.
She pulled open the door, and drew the crying child into her arms.
She didn't feel the flames catch on her clothing.
She wasn't aware of the heat emanating from the board that fell from the ceiling, blocking their way out.
She didn't recognize the damage she inflicted on her hands when she picked it up and moved it.
She didn't remember her hair burning.
She does remember the firefighters carrying her from the building, into desperately needed air.
She remembers the plastic surgery to repair the burns that snaked around her hands and arms.
She remembers the months it took to recover.
She also remembers the gratitude of the family.
She remembers the smile of the little boy she saved.
She remembers his name.
Then she remembers why she became a police officer.
And she smiles.
H
5
0
He didn't even know their names. He thought that he should have, seeing they went through hell together. He wanted to know their names. He wanted to know their names. But he couldn't remember. The names were important. And he didn't know them. He wanted to. Know them, that is.
He wants to know the names of the people who swarmed around him, shaking his hand. Thanking him for saving their lives.
He thinks it's odd, how he remembers other things.
Chin remembers the strange shade of grey her eyes were, and the small scar that pulled on his lip.
He remembers how he thought she should be a dancer, and how he must like biology. He remembers the calculus book that had fallen from her arms, and the sketching pad that was crushed in his bag.
He remembers how he stepped forward, his arms raised.
He remembers the expressions the small group of people all had, looking at the police officer, the one who should save them.
He remembers offering himself. He remembers his willingness to die.
He remembers not risking the life of anyone in that room with him.
He remembers the soft hands that caressed his face as he lay, fevered, injured and dying.
He remembers the sirens, wailing up to the front of the warehouse, the voices and the steps of those tearing the building apart.
He remembers their salvation, and he remembers the warmth of the hugs and handshakes he received afterwords. He remembers the mutter from his mentor, John about how he was a self sacrificing idiot.
He remembers the lives saved, and the smiles pulled. He thinks to the futures they have, and the families they can return to.
And he didn't care about their names.