“Mexican Standoff”

The police patrol car screamed around the sharp corner, the wheels struggling greatly to obey the laws of gravity. The driver slammed his foot down on the accelerator and began speeding down the long, narrow road just as two pursuing sedans came round the corner after him.

The driver of the patrol car took one look in the mirror before forcing his head down. Seconds before, a masked man had leant out of the back passenger window of one of the Ford Five Hundreds’ and opened fire with an Uzi. The bullets tore through the rear window of the police vehicle, already on its last legs. The window completely shattered, falling to pieces over the back seats and trunk.

The driver snapped his head back up, seeing traffic up ahead. He gripped the steering wheel, and took a deep breath. Seeing a passenger bus, he forced his vehicle to the left, screaming past the behemoth with bare centimetres to spare. Stunned tourists looked out of their windows, seeing the patrol vehicle speed past, accompanied by two black sedans. Their jaws dropped in the split second they were able to see the gunfire.

The patrol car pulled right, swerving in front of the bus. The driver saw a narrow gap in between two taxicabs stopping at the traffic lights up ahead. He put his foot down, revving the engine and roaring towards the gap. He only had a narrow window. He was going to dive through that window.

He roared through the opening, barely big enough for the patrol car, clocking in at fifty miles per hour. As the rear of the squad car passed the fronts of the taxis, the lights went green. Barely speeding halfway through the intersection, he gripped the handbrake and forced it up, forcing the wheel to the right. The car only just made the turn, close to going up on two wheels and missing the forthcoming traffic by inches.

The driver glimpsed in his rear-view mirror again, seeing the two sedans making the turn like it was nothing. He lightly pressed down on the brake pedal, turning into an alleyway that caught his eye. His pursuers wasted no time in adjusting their course, speeding into the alleyway after him. The pursuing wheelmen sped up, hoping to catch their target.

The gunners once again leant out of their windows, opening fire on the squad car, hoping to hit anything that could or would slow it down. The alleyway was wide enough to shoot in, so they took as many chances as possible in what little time they had.

The patrol car neared the end of the alleyway, the driver seeing another just ahead after the large strip of road separating the two. His keen eyesight also spotted a very slight upwards curvature at the end of the alleyway. The driver gave a smirk akin to that of a vampire. Pressing his foot down harder onto the accelerator, he prepared himself. Even if he managed to jump, was he going to make it to the other side?

The pursuing gunmen slipped back into their vehicles, the alleyway getting narrower as the exit beckoned. The driver of the second car was mere feet away from the first, and just as confident that he could chase the cop to the ends of the earth.

The squad car launched from the alleyway, the wheels leaving the ground. The car defied gravity for perhaps no more than a second before the wheels came crashing back down, the front set flying into the gaping jaws of the second alley. The pursuing cars came straight after him, the lead vehicle in the mini motorcade landing in the alley and speeding ahead. The second car was not so lucky. Milliseconds after it had left the ground, a mammoth eighteen-wheeler truck smashed into it, the force of the impact instantly killing all inside, nearly ripping the vehicle in two.

When he had witnessed the impact in his rear-view mirror, the cop smirked to himself. That was one down; now he just had to rid himself of the other nuisance. This alleyway wasn’t as long, and he’d have less time to wait to get out onto the road and hopefully use the Miami traffic to his advantage.

Tearing out onto the road, screaming between two terrified taxi drivers, an idea struck him. He didn’t need the traffic to help him. There was one place that the remaining idiot couldn’t drive and a place where he could finish this. Gripping the steering wheel, he starting making his way to his destination, the remaining black four-door hot in pursuit.

Taking a corner at inhuman speeds and barely missing a horrified family, he put his foot down, sure to give a sly smile and a wink to the teenage girls in the rear passenger seats. It meant nothing to them; they were more concerned why he was driving at such brutal speeds, apparently abusing his power by driving in a police vehicle. Their question was answered when they saw the pursuing car. One could swear that she saw one of the passengers holding a gun.

The battered and bruised patrol car, riddled with bullets and weary from trading paint, rounded another corner to find itself on a straight road, mostly free of traffic. As if the driver wasn’t pushing the car enough, the road seemed to add to his want to push the engine to its limits. Speeding down that road seemed more tantalising to him right now than a tender, juicy steak spliced with brown sauce served with a complimentary salad. He suddenly found himself salivating. He immediately stopped thinking of food and sucked in the wet.

If throttling a car gear stick was a crime, he was sure he’d be charged with murder of the first degree. The engine screamed in unison with the agonising cry of the wheels as the driver veered left, taking the squad car straight into a multi-storey car park.

He’d barely made it five of the seven total storeys when smoke started to rise from the engine, seeping through the engine cover and hissing. His engine went dead. Hearing the screeching wheels of his pursuers, he knew he didn’t have time to attempt restarting the vehicle. Instead, he tore open the glove department and pulled out a loaded Taurus Raging Bull revolver. Ripping open the door, he leapt out of the car clad in a white muscle shirt, long brown leather jacket, denim jeans and trainers. He sprinted across the car park in a mad dash. An idea suddenly struck him.

The pursuing driver glimpsed the abandoned smoking squad car, tearing left and heading straight for the end of the end of the level, and speeding up the ramp onto the sixth level. From halfway across the car park, a pair of piercing steel-blue eyes rose up from behind a hatchback and watched the car disappear onto the upper level.

Caressing his chin stubble in thought, the noticeably dressed-down officer smirked. He had the perfect plan. Then again, he always had the perfect plan for any situation. Or so he liked to boast. Gripping the revolver, he used the cover of the endless rows of cars as to avoid being seen, carefully making his way to the ramp leading to the sixth storey.

On the upper floor, the driver of the four-door had turned off the engine, stepping out of the car. There was no way that smart-ass could’ve vanished into thin air. He ripped off his ski mask to reveal an unhealthily gaunt face and emerald-green eyes before slowly removing a Walther P99 handgun from his waistband. As two of the gunmen stepped out of the car, he spun around, and lashed out at them.

“FIND THE BASTARD!” he seethed, “HE COULDN’T POSSIBLY HAVE GOTTEN FAR! I WANT HIM DEAD!”

The two lackeys nodded nervously, checking their ammo clips in the Uzi submachine guns, and went their separate ways searching for the person who had so stealthily eluded them. The first went down a level, the second going up and out into the blazing sun.

Seeing the gunman coming down, the cop slid into the uncomfortably narrow gap between the ramp’s outer wall and a behemoth SUV. Not being the sharpest tool in the shed, the simple-minded henchman merely looked straight ahead of him for whomever it was he was supposed to find, not paying attention to anything other than what was in his field of vision.

The cop rolled his eyes. God, what an idiot…he thought.

As soon as the lackey was a good distance away from him, he tucked his revolver into his waistband before quickly and quietly tiptoeing up to him, tripping him and clamping a gloved hand over his mouth before knocking him out with one swift blow to the head. As the henchman went limp, the officer pulled the unconscious body between two cars, out of sight. Taking his revolver back out, he crept to the upper level and, seeing nobody, was able to get straight across to the other side without much trouble before ascending to the final storey.

Out in the hot afternoon sun, he looked around. In a surprise turn of the tables, they seemed to be the ones who had vanished into thin air. He walked around the storey, the temperature of the heated concrete burning through his trainers, his feet feeling only a slight warm sensation. He kept his eye out at all times. In his business, it paid to be cautious. Especially in the light of a recent string of murders that left a bloody trail of dead police officers littering the streets of Miami.

He was on his toes, pointing the revolver in every direction, looking over his shoulder constantly, and reacting to the slightest noise. He sighed, resorting to his all-time favourite tactic: taunting.

“Come on out, you shit-faced little faggot.” he paused briefly, keeping alert, “If you don’t come out this instant, I’ll be sure to tell the boys back at the station that you swallowed the drugs in order to escape the law…fancy a little old-fashioned colon irrigation? Except without the water…we’ll use some Vaseline instead…”

The officer allowed himself to laugh at this. He could just picture the horrified look on the man’s face as he got rear-ended by a lubricated glove. He sighed again. He decided to stop the taunting; he’d rather get this crook into the loving embrace of the long arms of the law.

“All right…where the hell are…WHOA, SHIT!”

The officer barely missed half a dozen Uzi bullets as they went flying past him, missing by inches. From behind a parked car, a masked man raised the weapon again, ready to fire. The cop dived to the ground, a flurry of non-stop bullets whizzing past his head. His trusty revolver was immediately drawn, and the officer leapt up, firing off a shot, the high-velocity bullet missing its intended target and denting the hood of the car the gunman was hiding behind.

The officer saw the gunman grinning, but had no idea why. Before he knew it, two muscular arms swept under his armpits, the grip constricting his shoulders and causing him to drop the gun. He gritted his teeth, the initial grip painful. He cursed multiple times, the person holding him merely laughing under his breath.

As the gunman lined up his shot, the hulk of a man took to taunting the officer.

“Any last words, JJ?” he grinned, speaking into his ear, “These are the last few seconds of your life, you might as well say something. You’ve been playing around with the boys and me too long. And whilst you were playing your little sabotage game over the last few months, I’ll admit you were pretty good at it. You took out some of my boys in that chase back there. You’re good behind the wheel; I’ll give you that too. But it’s about high time you died, and kept your pig nose out of our business!”

“I’ll compliment you as well, since these are meant to be the last few seconds of my life…” Joshua Jones smirked, “I mean…peddling ice cream to little kids? Ha! That was a good front you had there! Of course, if you’d happened to be peddling real ice cream to kids, and not coke, I might’ve been a little more lenient with you guys. Come on, they’ve got sugar to get high, for Christ’s sake! They don’t need drugs! What the hell were you thinking?!”

“Remember your last words, Josh…” the grappler grinned, eyeing towards his fellow gunman and giving him the cue to fire.

Seeing the gunman prepare to pull the trigger, Joshua struggled to find the strength to detach himself from this behemoth of a man. As the trigger was pulled back slightly, Joshua grunted, forcing himself forward. The man holding him back was mildly surprised by this. As if that wasn’t enough, Joshua suddenly screamed, forcing himself sideways. The grip on his shoulders loosened, allowing him to break free and spin around, just in time to see the horde of bullets plough through the chest of the gang’s leader. Wasting no time, he ripped the Walther from the dead man’s waistband, and dived to the ground to retrieve his revolver. Getting up, he firmly aimed both weapons at the Uzi-wielding gunman before firing twice in succession, simultaneously. The bullets tore straight through each of the gunman’s eyes, lodging in his brain. He was killed instantly.

Dropping the weapons and sighing heavily, his aching shoulders screaming in pain, he decided to rest. That was all of them, wasn’t it? Joshua raised an eyebrow. Wait a minute…

“DIE!”

He barely had time to spin around before an arm wrapped around his neck, some unknown third henchman attempting to strangle him. He choked, the maniacal senseless jabbering of the man making him seem all the more deranged. From what Joshua got of it, he was rambling on about drugs…or money…or about dancing on his defaced grave when he broke his neck. Whatever it was, he was having none of it.

He swung his heel backwards, the blow connecting with the strangler’s knee. The blow temporarily loosened the grip, allowing him to slip out and send a knee flying into the man’s gut. Joshua turned the tables, gripping the shorter man’s neck and hoisting him into the air.

“You know…” he said, “They say men will never experience the agonising pain of childbirth…and there’s something that women will never experience. It’s quite a unique experience called…”

Joshua immediately dropped the shorter man to his feet, and sent his trainer straight into the man’s groin.

“A KICK IN THE BALLS!” Joshua finished, seeing the agonising pain of the impact clearly visible on the man’s face

As the man gripped his delicates in unbearable pain, Joshua merely took to beating him around the storey, moving closer and closer to the edge, and a fifty-foot drop. Josh tore the man’s ski mask off, revealing a boy in his late teens, no older than nineteen. At the edge of the car park, Joshua lowered his brow, anger showing in his eyes.

“Did you never listen to what they told you at school?” he grunted in frustration, raising his voice, “DON’T. DO. DRUGS.”

With that, Joshua callously sent a foot into the boy’s chest, sending him up and over the edge. With a scream, he landed in the sea of traffic that had formed below. He was killed instantly when his back snapped on an elevated engine ventilation unit on the hood of a muscle car.

Looking over the edge, Joshua sighed heavily. Pangs of remorse were creeping up on him. He ignored them, and walked back across the concrete, picking up his revolver and descending two levels back to his battered squad car. Ducking inside, he sat in the driver’s seat and reached for the police radio. Pressing down the button at the side, he spoke into it.

“This is Joshua Jones.” He said to the operator on the receiving end, “Get me the Chief.”

In under a minute, he heard the familiar, booming voice of the chief of police.

“What do you want, Jones?” he barked

“You know that warehouse you asked me to bust this morning?” Josh said calmly

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Well, the owners were pretty angry…they flocked to their cars, and there was a lengthy pursuit.” Joshua suddenly became almost hyperactive in his speech patterns, “And…and there was this mondo-cool part of the chase, where this one car just got smashed by an eighteen-wheeler, you shoulda seen it, I mean…”

“GET TO THE POINT!” the chief roared

“All right, all right…” Joshua sighed, “I led them into the multi-storey car park…y’know, the one at…yeah, yeah, you know. Yes, that one. So, there was eventually a shootout, and in the end…um…did you want me to bring those guys in for questioning?”

“You know I did Jones! Those men have vital information that may be the final piece of evidence we need to crack this case!”

Joshua gulped nervously.

“Are you…sure? Because I…umm…” he now began tugging at his shirt, “They’re…um…I…er…they’re kinda…um…”

“WHAT, JONES? THEY’RE WHAT?” the chief asked, frustrated

“Um…kind of…broken…” Joshua laughed nervously

The chief’s almighty bellow could be heard throughout most of Miami…