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"Look what we have here," the thug says, which is kinda uncharacteristic of them, actually. Most of them aren't so mouthy, even when there are three of them and only one of her. "The dumb bitch out on a walk without her handler."
"Someone's feeling brave today," Vi says, twiddling her very large thumbs together. The machinery hums as it always does, a low blue glow splashing against the damp walls of the alleyway.
"Could say that about you," he says, muzzle of a sawn-off shotgun floating about as he gesticulates. "Coming all the way down here without backup."
Such poor muzzle discipline, she can almost hear the sniff in Caitlyn's voice in her head. She smiles, can't help it. "What can I say," Vi grins, baring her canines. "Sometimes we don't need the scary one. 'Sides, sometimes the dog needs her walkies." The grin widens. "And if she picked up a funny scent and found a bone on a stroll, well what do I know?"
A not-so-distant boom shakes the ground, dust dislodged from the old wood and the older stone. It trickles like a waterfall onto the thug's head, poofing into a cloud. Vi definitely does not giggle. She does snicker.
"Hey" —she gestures with a thumb— "looks like your friends found the little present I left."
The muzzle of the shotgun floats wildly again. Any wilder and he's going to shoot the friend he has on his right. Wouldn't that be a sight? Not for him, dude with dust in his eyes right now. She hadn't even done anything about that. Certainly didn't make him stand where he's standing. How's she to know that no one's dusted the sign in decades?
She waits for him to gather his thoughts and resists the urge to bring her hands to her chin as she waits.
"You think you're so smart," he says.
Vi shrugs. "Well."
"Well what?"
"I mean," Vi says, chewing the very old gum she should have spit out earlier, "one of us knows what went boom. And the other one doesn't. So, y'know. Which one of us is the smart one? You can figure that out, can't you?" A smirk. "If you're supposed to be so smart?"
"I'm going to shoot you," he says.
"Figured the gun wasn't just a prop," Vi drawls.
"I'm going to… to… to shoot you full of holes and leave you here to bleed to death!"
"I think that's how guns work," says Vi. "Or maybe I don't know anything about them, because I'm just, what did you say, a dumb bitch. I couldn't possibly be the Deputy Sheriff. I've definitely never seen a gun before. How does the Sheriff get anything done? No clue. Certainly not firearms. Couldn't possibly be." She inspects the fingertip on one of the gauntlets briefly. Looks like the paint job from the last ding that last time when she'd reached for that concrete block is holding up pretty well. Sweet.
When she looks back up, the guy has turned a very interesting shade of purple.
"C'mon," she says with a slow, predatory smile. "Or did you want to wait and see if you can outshoot the Sheriff?"
His head turns, jerking up to the dozens of rooftops around them, which is when Vi punches his face in.
It only takes her two more punches (two punches is all she needs) before she catches movement in the corner of her eye.
Vi waves enthusiastically upwards as the last thug crumples to the ground in a funny heap.
"You're late," she says.
"I'm not late," Caitlyn grumbles, hopping down from a balcony. Her shirt has clearly come untucked, the top button undone. Her Sheriff's cravat is nowhere to be seen but what has Vi grinning sheepishly is the gun Caitlyn has in her hand, a standard issue Warden model and not her favored rifle. Someone must have been in a real hurry. Oops.
"You're not supposed to be here," Caitlyn says, though she doesn't look too upset at the knocked out and tied up thugs, nudging one of them with the toe of a boot.
Her blue eye drags once across Vi, top to bottom.
"All good," Vi says, hands held out. "Lots of barking, no real biting."
A quiet hum as the set of Caitlyn's shoulders softens. "I'm guessing you blew up that warehouse too."
"Yep."
A brief sigh. "Did you at least leave some of the cargo for deeper analysis?"
"Of course. What do you take me for, an idiot?"
"Never," Caitlyn looks briefly appalled. "But I understand how sometimes things don't go to plan" —she raises her eyebrows at Vi— "and how sometimes people don't want to wait for a plan."
"They were going to move it."
"I know. We would have found it again."
"You sure about that?"
Caitlyn holds her gaze for a moment. Then she sighs again. "We have protocol for a reason. It's dangerous taking on such a large group on your own."
"Sure," Vi says. Then, "How did you get here so quickly?"
"You said I was late," Caitlyn digs through the main thug's pockets, pulling out a small sheet of tablets that she frowns at, then tucks away into her evidence bag.
"Late to the party," Vi says. "But earlier than I thought you would be."
Caitlyn shrugs as she uncovers another sheet of tablets. "There are trackers."
Vi freezes.
"There are what?"
"Trackers," Caitlyn says, "in the heels of the palms of your gauntlets." She turns her head, blue eye visible for a moment before she turns back and continues to rummage through the cargo pants of thug three. "There's one in the stock of my rifle too, in case you were wondering."
Vi's jaw drops.
"That's a gross invasion of privacy!"
Caitlyn shrugs. "They're technically work property. You're not supposed to be using them when you're off duty." She straightens up, dusting her gloved hands on her pants before tugging them off, thankfully not with her teeth this time. After last time, Vi is glad that some lessons are sticking.
"Don't look so put out," the laughter suffuses through every syllable. "It's not so bad. I'm the only one who has access and" —she gently taps Vi on the chest— "I didn't get here early enough to save your sorry butt."
"I didn't need saving, thank you very much. And my butt isn't sorry. It's really nice."
"I know," Caitlyn smiles. "But think about how cool that would have been. Popping up over a rooftop, a shot finding its mark before you could even see me. How thankful my love would be with those wide puppy eyes. Thank you for saving me, you would say."
"I would not," Vi snorts, checking Caitlyn gently with her shoulder.
She gets a real laugh for her efforts.
"That is true. You would not." Another brief pause and then Caitlyn's expression grows serious. "I am glad you are unhurt, Violet, and I wish you would spare me the anxiety next time."
"It had to be now. You know it."
"I wish you would have trusted that I would have come with you," Caitlyn says. She reaches out, a thumb brushing gently at Vi's cheek, a frown forming at what must be a stubborn smear of dust or dirt.
Vi blinks a few times. "Would you have?"
"Yes," the syllable snaps shut. Caitlyn looks genuinely taken aback. "I might complain the whole way, but I would not let you go alone into a potentially dangerous situation." A look of horror dawns on her face. "Surely you know that."
Vi shrugs. Caitlyn gapes at her.
"Would you let me go into a dangerous situation alone?"
"Hell no," Vi says. "No way."
"Then?"
"Well," Vi scratches the side of her head, suddenly aware that this argument is slipping very quickly away from her, but still being stubborn enough to cling on, so sue her. "You're the Sheriff."
"And?" Caitlyn stares back at her, brow furrowed. "I don't see how that changes anything."
"You're supposed to be responsible and shit."
The moment the words leave her lips she knows she's lost. Drat.
"You're the Deputy Sheriff," Caitlyn says. "You're supposed to be 'responsible and shit' too." A jerk of her head towards the thugs. "Clearly hasn't stopped you." A purse of her lips. "Why do you think it would stop me?"
Vi shrugs her surrender.
"I was worried," Caitlyn's words fall so quiet Vi can barely hear her. A familiar warmth wraps around Vi's shoulders in a hug that she sinks happily into. "I looked up and you were so far away."
"I'm sorry," Vi says. "I—"
"Bitch, looks like your handler—"
The sharp ring of a gunshot, a clear chip in the stone right next to the awake thug's thighs, a squeak, and a scream. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, sorry. Sorry! Don't shoot. Please don't shoot."
If Caitlyn was not standing right next to her looking like she was very capable of murder, Vi would have chuckled at the growing dark spot on the thug's pants. Instead, her gauntlet rests gently on Caitlyn's shoulder. "He's tied up. He's not a threat. It's just words, Cait. I don't give a shit."
"Which is why I did not shoot him," Caitlyn's voice is low and cold. The rifle lowers after a moment. "Gun discharged. We should all be so lucky it does not discharge again."
The thug mimes zipping his mouth shut which, given how his hands are tied together, is actually quite impressive. Vi's half surprised he didn't pretend to pass out. Either way, she can hear the tap tap of their backup finally arriving.
She bends down. The thug's eyes dart rapidly between her and Caitlyn. Vi lets him squirm for a moment. She taps his forehead before she straightens up.
"Told you she's the scary one."
The murderous tension bleeds right from Caitlyn's stance. In its place swims an adorable affront.
"The what?"
Vi laughs.