10th November, 1998

"Get down!" Hank yelled. Bullets popped and ploughed through the gyprock boards. Dust showered down as the tiny bits of lead escaped further into the building.

Hank cocked his gun, ready for retaliation. Excluding us, there were five assailants in the Southern styled house.

"I see three!" Alvin confirmed over the gunfire. He was crouched down opposite to Hank, his. 40 Smith & Wesson loaded.

"I can spot another two." I called out. I was assigned to a position further back still. Hank didn't want me in the middle of the fight just yet.

Blue and red hues painted the house's interior as back up arrived, the accompanying sirens echoing off the walls.

"Reinforcements." Alvin called to Hank. He nodded before returning fire from his vantage point- an overturned oak table.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

Two of the bullets penetrated the walls, allowing the noon sun to beam in. The last round hit the small box tv on the kitchen bench, sending sparks in all directions. Two gangsters who were hidden below it startled, scurrying across the floor.

"Now!" Hank called out. Alvin moved out from behind the wall, firing upon one of the gangsters. Blood spurted onto the kitchen wall as the bullet hit its mark. The gangster slumped to the ground without even a grunt. I had to re-evaluate my breathing as I watched the blood drip morbidly down the calico curtains like rain, the crimson drops victim to gravity's whim.
From what I could tell without getting hit myself, it had been a chest shot. His friend stared in horror before changing his gaze to us. I was glad I wasn't the one shooting. I was out of practice and quite honestly, I wasn't sure if I could do it or not.

The fear contorted the man's face, the whites of his eyes noticeable even from our distance. He flinched towards the door and I cringed as another shot rang out. I closed my eyes, red rivers invading my mind, my composure, my senses.

"Dexter!?" I forced my eyes open once more. Hank was staring at me. He asked gruffly, "You good?" to which I said yes. In my moment of anxiety, everything had gone quiet. The gunfire had stopped. The house had become uncannily quiet, my heart feeling like a drum against my kevlar vest.

"They've run out?" I suggested, knowing that that wasn't a high possibility. Hank motioned to me, flicking his hand for me to come. From me to him was in the line of fire though. I managed a strained swallowing of bile then prayed to St. Michael-who-protects-cops that Hank Voight wouldn't get me shot. I scuttled to his position, training my gun on the kitchen area as I did so.

"Rear door open." I said as it came into my view, not stopping until i was next to Hank.

"Suspects have breached the perimeter," Eddie called in through his handset.
The remaining fugitives had fled through the rear kitchen door, and were making a break for it.
Hank peered around from his spot, "All clear. Suspects on foot."


Pop!  Pop!

I flinched not expecting the sudden gunfire.
I jumped the oak table falling into a shoulder roll, positioning myself against the rear door, adrenaline kicking in once more. Al and Hank followed, keeping below the window's view.

"Jimmy?" Hank said softly.

Jimmy was positioned outside the house in the neighbouring yard. His vantage point had him scoping the back of the house, exactly where the assailants had gone.

"One dead. Another injured."

I looked around. One. Two. Plus two outside... four. We missed one.
Hank was on a similar wave length, "Did one escape?"

"Nope. Only two suspects left." Jimmy responded.

"Another escape route perhaps?"

"I doubt it. All sides were covered." A cold chill went down my spine. When they left, the last thug didn't.

We had just moved into the line of a murderer.

I swivelled my body to the living room, gun poised. Hank held his hand up towards Eddie. He mouthed stay where you are.

"He's gotta be over there." I whispered to Hank. With blood pumping in my ears, it felt like I had yelled it.

All of our guns were now trained on the living room. My hands started to shake as the tension grew. It was eerily quiet. I was sure I had stopped breathing altogether. Anticipation toyed with my mind. Could this guy see us? Was his gun trained on one of us right now? Hank made a movement towards the matching leather sofa's.

Something black and metallic slid awkwardly across the floor, right to our position.

"FLASH BANG!" Alvin yelled.

My brain registered his words too late and a blast of light lit the room, blinding me. Stars danced in front of me as the ground seemed to tilt away. I could feel warmth on my cheeks as tears welled... at least, I hoped they were tears. Smoke and dust clogged up my air ways, making me choke. With my ears also ringing, everything had become a jumbled haze. Quick Dexter, move.

I had mere seconds to retrieve my eyesight. Soon it would be too late. I blinked furiously, trying to quicken the process. I needed to see. I was going to die.

Shapes started to return. I could make out items but that was mostly by memory. Something moved ahead of me. I turned to look at it, but the world tilted to the left once more. Did I burst my inner ear? The object moved again. This time I was certain,

"Movement!" I groaned over the burning sensation in my throat. Whether Al and Hank had heard me, I couldn't tell.

A gruff moan came from my left: Alvin, and as soon as he had, a huskier one responded. At this moment, all I could presume was that we were all suffering from the same shit.

I turned trying to hear over the dial tone in my brain. It was no use. My ears were stuffed. I squinted to where I had seen movement, trying to make out anything that could help me. Then I felt it; vibrations through the floorboards as heavy footsteps got closer. Where was he?

There!

The last suspect came out of hiding. With the light of the window behind him, he was a mere silhouette. Silhouette's could still train their guns though and that was exactly what he was doing- dead straight at Hank. He was keeled over, not yet aware of the bullet intended for him.
I heard a click as the pistol was loaded.

"Weapon!" I yelled out hoping someone would hear me. I glimpsed Alvin as he pushed himself up, reaching for his own weapon.

Pop!

Time stood still. I watched Hank in horror. Did it get him? Could he be saved? The window then shattered forcing me down. I tore my gaze from Hank to notice the fuzzy silhouette fall to the floor with a thud.

"Suspect immobilised," Alvin called out.

The relief hit me, calming the adrenaline before it gave me a heart attack. Emotionally exhausted, I myself slumped to the floor, running my hands over my face.

"That was a tough one." Hank groaned. I noticed him shake his head. If he thought that was going to clear his vision, I could speak on the method's behalf. It wasn't going to work. Hank leant his back against the kitchen cabinets, holding a hand to his temple. I would have done that too if not for the dead dude next to me. Don't know how I forgot he was there. He was like a spy, just lying there looking up at me. He was going to haunt my dreams.

"Sharp shooting Thomas." Hank said over his hand set followed by a thumbs up towards the shattered window.

"Nah, piece of cake." I heard Thomas reply. I gazed over to see him peering through the window now, no doubt acknowledging his shot. He ran a hand over his Chicago Bulls cap before unloading the rifle he had been assigned.

"I could have saved a bullet if they had just cooperated." He said to no one in particular.
Hank chuckled before coughing again, the air pollutants making his voice more gravelly than usual. 

I willed myself to get up off the ground. Spending too much longer next to the dead guy was going to give me nightmares. Grabbing the kitchen bench, whilst avoiding the pools of blood, I pulled myself up, my limbs trembling furiously. The adrenaline's afterburn was taken its toll.

I hobbled to the suspect's position.

He was dead. That part was unrefuted. Thomas had gotten him right between the eyes. His blood ran down the side of his face making a crimson stain in the carpet. The wound between his brown eyes was an exit wound. The bullet would have had to have gone right past all three of us.

I looked back towards the kitchen. I wonder where it went?

"Dex, with me." Hank broke me from my thoughts as I broke my gaze from the man on the floor. The expression his face still held seemed almost demonic; as if he were cursing me with every remanence of his being left in this world.

I raised my gun back into position and followed Hank. He had only walked a few meters and now stood before a yellow ochre door. The door had seen better days. Today wasn't one of them.
"We breaking it down?" I asked knowing that it was most likely locked. Hank tried the door handle and after being satisfied that it definitely was locked, he waved his hand.

I exhaled, hoping my legs were up for the challenge. Hank moved back a step. Using the base of my boot, I targeted near the door handle. Kicking back, the flimsy wood split at the top hinge before creaking to a halt.

"Good job." Hank commended me as he turned his flashlight on.

The yellow beam of light scanned the room. At first i saw nothing, faint blotches still bothering my eyes in the darkness. Once I could see the torch's beam, I walked forward and down the steps. Voight's panned the light as i walked.
 
"To my left, Voight." I called back to him. The light jerked in that direction. Nothing of notable danger was there luckily. Knowing the beam had my back in view, i flicked my arm to the right, the light following it.

I had to hide my surprise as the light caught a large mass. The right side of the room was a jackpot. The beam revealed several dozen packets of powder. Next to the drugs was also an impressive pile of cash.

"Well, the tip off wasn't bogus." I said to Hank.

"Jesus." Al remarked, peering around the door frame, "That's a pay load right there."

", and it is just what we needed too. Bring in Forensics."

A/N: Okay, so that was my first chapter. What do you think? If you liked it please vote, and don't be afraid to comment feedback. I would gladly appreciate it.