[ WP ] `` What a shame . Out of all the decisions you could have made today , you chose to die ... ''

A raindrop fell into the icy blue right eye of Detective Rudy Lamis. He unfroze from his rigid posture, staring out over the sands of South Beach; dollar signs rolling across his vision trailed by an obscene ratio of zero's to one's. It seemed hard to comprehend, $ 7.8 million was only a short drive away....his whole life in 180 lbs.. Even IF he had to split it four ways, or six ways, or even ten; it'd be so much more than worth it. When he made Detective, the money was the last thing on his mind, all he wanted was a chance to prove himself and really'get shit done'. That was 6 years ago, that was Fresno; this is 1984, and this is Miami. He was different, things were different, more expensive especially. A night of much needed stress relief with the squad on the town could break the bank nowadays. Bread, bologna, mustard and mayo made him feel like a kid making his own school lunch; not a Miami Metro Detective with nearly a decade as a cop. The rain began to speckle his blue Izod polo as he glared at the payphone across the boardwalk, two quarters sliding anxiously between his fingertips. Thunder clapped from offshore as the slim, stern faced detective dropped the change into the phone and resolutely punched out seven digits. 
 
 `` This is too fucking much.'' Roscoe lamented, eyeing the saran-wrapped cube of money that sat on the counter. `` How long is it here?'' he asked turning his laser like gaze to a rather tall Nordic looking woman in a beaten grey jumpsuit running her hands over her shaved head is exasperation. 
 `` Should only be about two more hours.'' She sighed, glancing at Roscoes leathery, tan face, waiting for his decision. 
 `` Who's picking it up?'' 
 `` Fuentes, from Del Rey.'' 
 `` Fucking great... I swear if that tequila tampon is fucking drunk again I might just shoot his ass. I mean it this time Mary. FUCK that guy, this shit is not a game.'' 
 `` Well hey, if the clock strikes 0100 and they do n't show, we split as per the usual arrangement, fuck this stupid block. We're only responsible for keeping it in place until one.'' She sighed heavily again, and shoved herself off the wall, impatiently striding out through the front door, right into a cloud of freshly exhaled cannabis smoke. 
 `` Roscoe is really worried, I think we need to get dressed Lola.'' 
 Lola coughed a couple times. `` I get the Browning.'' she said through a short feud of low coughs. Immediately rocking out of her chair; careful to leave the spliff on the plastic armrest. She followed Mary in close step as they wordlessly manuevered back to the kitchen, drawing closer to the police scanner on the counter as Roscoe cranked up the volume. 
 `` Dispatch this unit one-oh-one and we have a report of a two-eleven on the 2300 block of west fifty fourth, how copy?'' A monotone voice calmly inquired. 
 `` Uhhh, what code is this? Over.'' A deep southern accent responded. 
 `` Code zero, how copy?'' 
 `` Roger code zero, out.'' 
 `` Out.'' 
 Roscoe was staring flatly at the money on the table as Mary strode in. 
 `` What was that code zero shit? Is that a new thing here or something?'' She asked pointedly. 
 `` At least four law enforcement officers, probably Vice Squad detectives... fucking'God Squad'... are to come HERE and rob us.'' Roscoe replied, his gaze unwavering on the glistening plastic wrapped prism. 
 `` this is corruption right? How many might come at a time MAX?'' She asked tensely as her eyes darted around the dimly lit room. 
 `` One squad car, they usually have someone in orbit 2 or 3 block away. So..'' 
 `` So about eight to teyn people...'' She cut him off, and dashd through the threshold into the living room, sliding to a stop at a large green footlocker. She flipped the top open to reveal a small collection of weapons and ammunition. First, she snatched a 9mm Hi-Power and a couple of loaded magazines, swiftly turning and and sliding the three devices along the linoleum floor to Roscoes feet. 
 `` Get fokken dressed asshole.'' She said angrily, glaring at him briefly before retrieving a CAR-15 toting a heatshield and a well worn M-203 40mm grenade launcher, and the matching chicom chest-rig, bristling with HEDP grenades and extended 45 round magazines. She trotted through the screen door back onto the porch, Lola was trailing a long wisp of smoke as she jogged across the street lugging a Browning 1919A4, the long belt of brass glistened as half moon peeked out from behind the clouds. 
 `` Woogy boogy.'' Mary chuckled to herself as she bounded out the yard and up the street. 
 
 The 1984 Cadillac DeVille effortlessly gave a smooth ride over the poorly maintained trash speckled ghetto roads. Lamis gripped the wheel harder as the signs counted up; 51st...... 52nd.....53rd. He brought the dark green sedan to a quiet stop a block away from his right onto 54th. 
 `` Ok you guys, are we all good? Anything last minute?'' Lamis surveyed his four peers packed into the car, he turned to the muscular ski-mask clad man in the passenger seat. `` Evans you're out first, then Cooper and all the rest. Remember we got ta lay it down at the first sign of trouble...'' He trailed off as he spotted the grey Miami Metro emblem on the face of a rather skinny man in the back seat. `` Richter....are you fucking wearing department armor?'' 
 `` What? You want me to go out there naked? This is the concrete jun-'' 
 `` Do n't fucking monlogue me about the streets again fucktard; just do n't get fucking shot so far out we leave your sorry ass behind.'' Lamis grunted as he checked the safety on his evidence locker derived M1 Thompson submachinegun before gliding off to the end of the block. 
 
 He paused at the stop sign briefly; `` I want everyone hangin' out the windows, Richter, get on the console up out the sunroof.....ready?'' He asked amid a brief shuffle. the car eased forward and gently accelerated down the block to the well lit beige duplex in question. 
 `` Ok guys, GO GO G-'' Lamis was cut off as a bright red tracer round crashed through the windshield and straight into his mouth, smashing his jaw. 
 
 Bullets snapped through the car and cracked off the pavement; the inside of the Cadillac became a cacophony of confused wailing as thirty caliber rounds shattered, lacerated, and splattered a whole manner of things among the white leather interior. 
 
 After the tempest lasted a mere eight seconds. Lola and Mary jogged over to the smoking, bullet riddled wreck as oil and blood pooled under the car, coagulating and the curb. Mary hunched over and closely inspected the car as Lola kept her head on a swivel, lazily clutching the smoking machine gun. 
 `` What's up?'' Lola whispered from a few feet away behind a low concrete wall. 
 `` About one and half faces out of what was five it seems.'' She replied at a normal volume. Suddenly the driver sat up and took one heaving, gurgling breath before he died thirteen inches from Marys sever gaze. `` What a shame. Out of all the decisions you could have made today you chose to die.'' She muttered before rolling a de-spooned white phosphorous grenadeoff he fingertips into the car. 
 
 

