#3C 305 East 110th Street,
East Harlem
Upside inside out
She's livin' la vida loca
She'll push and pull you down
Livin' la vida loca
Sandoval pulled the iPhone close to his face as Ricky Martin's hit song blared. The seal of the US Department of Defense appeared with the familiar "accept" and "decline" buttons. If he pressed decline there'd probably be a tactical extraction team here in 10 minutes. Ten more minutes of sleep, he briefly pondered before pressing "accept".
"You gave me a Code Seventy Seven over nine hours ago, Sandoval. I have not yet received your report."
"Good morning Lieutenant Colonel Dixon, I'm fine, how are you?"
"Don't be flippant with me, Sandoval, I put up with your civilian shit because I have to not because I like it. I don't need to remind you that the American taxpayers money isn't being budgeted to take out the NYPD's trash it is for the defense of this nation. I expect to see you in my lobby in 30, am I clear?"
"As the piercing pain in my temples, Colonel. I'll be there as close to that as I can manage."
And the bastard hung up on me in the middle of my being a smart-ass, too.
Twenty eight minutes later the cab pulled up to the unassuming drug-store next to the Manhattan Bridge. Sandoval paid the cabby and waited until the cab was out of site before walking around the back to where the chin-link fence surrounded several large metal boxes. The boxes were designed to resemble transformers (and they did) but when you approached to within a few feet of them a voice challenged, "Halt. Present identification."
There were no threats of action, but Sandoval had been briefed that if he failed to comply that he might disappear and never be heard from again. He suspected that a few homeless people probably disappeared here each month. He held up his badge in one hand and his Driver's License in the other. There was a pause before the command, "Proceed."
Sandoval stepped between the boxes and a panel slid aside silently. He stepped into the silver compartment. An LCD Panel with a hand-print appeared. "Hand print and voice authorization is required."
Pablo placed his palm over the image on the screen, "Lieutenant Detective Commander Pablo Sandoval, NYPD" he stated clearly.
"Recognition complete," the neutral voice droned and the elevator descended.
When the door opened it was into a slick underground lair. There were lots of metallic panels and huge smoky glass windows with obscure flashing lights. Even with the elevator, he had to descend a stairway that left him exposed to crossfire from sentries positioned in unassailable firing points arranged along the walls.
On the ground floor he was met by a soldier who saluted before handing him a badge on a lanyard that he was expected to wear. "CIVILIAN," it pronounced in easy-to-read block letters.
"You are two minutes late." the tall uniformed man said before turning to face him. Rafael Dixon was an imposing figure whose mere presence made men want to pay attention to him. He had charisma and leadership in his very fibre.
"I'd have been here sooner if I didn't have to drop my trousers and wag my penis five times to get inside," Sandoval said with distaste for all the security inspection and secrecy.
"When you deal with an enemy that can invade any one of your command you deal with everyone with suspicion," he said, "A possessed or enchanted soldier is physically identical to a un-possessed or un-enchanted one. There is no middle ground for this command. Zero security tolerance. We are not making the same mistakes that have been made in the past."
What did that mean, Sandoval wondered even as he shrugged, "Whatever. I am here to take my lumps and sign your report."
"Sandoval, I know you don't like the way I do things here, but the least you can do is be respectful of my position."
Pablo looked up into Rafael Dixon's face. His stance had not changed nor had his expression, but the tone of his voice was somewhat softer than the crisp military tone that made Sandoval want to bristle at everything he said.
"I'm sorry, Lt. Colonel, I had a very late night last night. And you rang me very early this morning."
The Colonel waved a hand and a soldier bearing a cup of coffee in a Department of Defense mug appeared. "Black if I remember correctly?"
Sandoval sank slowly into a chair at the briefing table, "Okay, you win, Dixon. Peace. Debrief me."
"Last night you had three sub-terrestrials sent to us. These have been identified as the Kaoshian sub-species. These are rare and generally solitary creatures. How did you manage to encounter three of them at once?"
"They were attacking a lone defender near my office. It was really chance that I happened to see them at all."
"All three of these creatures were eliminated with 9mm weapons?"
"Yes, myself, Neumann and Morgan from my team all fired on them."
"This unknown 'defender'?"
"Human, as far as I could tell. He was strong, agile and fast. I'd say there's a chance that he had some sort of training, but I didn't get a good look at him and he left once the Kaoshians were dead. I had to do some cleanup so I couldn't go after him. I am going to do some looking around, but I don't think you need to get involved in this yet."
"We decide that, Sandoval."
Sandoval exchanged a look with Dixon but didn't say anything.
"We appreciate the bodies, but Kaoshians are rare and getting rarer every day. We would have preferred a live specimen over dead ones, although you and your team managed to drop one post-transformation which is helpful."
A clipboard slid across a table and was followed by a pen. Sandoval signed the report and looked back at Dixon. "Are we done?"
"For now, Sandoval. The New Initiative doesn't like cowboys and superheroes. You aren't either and so we let your little SCU operation continue, but don't cross us or we will shut you down."
Sandoval set down his mug a little harder than neccesary and stood face-to-face with the Lt. Colonel, "Dixon, inside the city the NYPD is the law. We follow the book, but it is our book not yours. I don't mind playing nice-nice with you Feds but I am the first line of defense. You and your toys are my backup and not in command of the show."
Dixon stared at Sandoval before dismissing him with a snort and a curt nod. God, that guy irritates the hell out of me. I doubt there's anyone in the world he'd ever be nice to, Sandoval thought as he left the base.
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Great Dixon!!
Great Dixon!!
Thanks!
Thanks!