Ready, Set, Go

The old man wasn't the only person in the van. In the driver's compartment, Trinity Keane switched between police stations. The content was almost entirely banal - robberies, traffic, drug possession, et cetera - but now and then, the interesting happened.

"Er, something weird's happening down at 2323 Hyacinth. Get as many cops as you can, get roadblocks up. Over."

She turned to the old man, who was staring intently at one of the screens, oblivious to the fact that his glasses had fallen off.

"Boss? The cops are on their way."

He froze, midway through bending down and looking for his glasses. "Well," he said from the floor of the van, "What're you waiting for?"

She had long since gotten out of the habit of rolling her eyes - it just looked odd when only one eye moved. It had been about a week since the old man had harangued her for "panicking and running at the first sign of trouble." Hypocrite.

She pulled into the street, drove at a sedate pace until the roadblocks were in her rear-view mirror, and then-