Betrayal at it's Finest
Betrayal, such a fragile word. Who is really your friend? Who is there to protect you? Betrayal at it's Finest is just a small little Flash Fiction that I came up with off the top of my head, it may someday turn into something more I have yet to decide. When one cop faces the tragedy of him closest friend's how will be face her murderer?
"Well, if you could accuse anyfur of being evil, it would be him." The words of my late partner, Anna, rang from where they had been chiseled into my mind. They continued to echo threw out my skull as I proceeded to kneel next to her limp body, trying to stay out of the pooling crimson encircling her. A pretty cougar face with blonde locks cresting it's top. Peacefully her eyes appear as if they are gazing up into the rafters of the dark storage house. No light left in them, only the dark uncontracting slit pupils. With one of my claws I brush a lock of hair away from her face. Then using the pads of my fingers I close my dear friend eyes for the last time brushing the back of my hand across her soft cheek as I pulled it away. Feeling something wet side down my own cheek I realize I'm starting to cry. The solo tear drips landing on Anna's eye lid with part of me wishing it would wake her, but the futile thought is pushed from my mind as I squeeze my eyes shut.
Jak Shay, he was the antagonist to this tale. A trusty German Shepherd, one of the few friends down at the precinct I enjoyed having a beer with now and then. I had my doubts about him being a Dirty Cop, but Anna had her own personal skepticistic thoughts about him. Something about Jak just didn't sit right with her, "...if you could accuse anyfur of being evil, it would be him." Then it happened, we found him out and Shay had hunted the two of us down for it. His treacherous ways have never been clearer then this very moment.
I slowly picked myself up and reached for the radio strapped to my belt. My fingers where clumsy with the black box nearly dropping it and catching it last second. Pushing in the button my voice cracking as I spoke into the transmitter, "We have a 10-00, officer is down, please...send a bus!" The only response I received was a few crackles and pops from the dead signal. Then I heard it, footsteps, approaching from back of me. Spinning around I find myself trapped in his cold gaze. Shay stood in the middle of the dimmed room, a smirk plastered to his face and his hand clutching onto a revolver. Those damn canine eyes start staring me down as I brandish my own sidearm from it's holster. Our eyes meet for only a flash. The tension can be felt in the air, tight as a guitar's string. I breath in feeling the metal trigger with my fingerpad. From my point of view neither of us was going to back down. Simultaneously we jerked back the triggers. B-Bang!