Fanculo alla Polizia

Bad Boys

July 25th, 2000

I could only hear screams, windshields breaking and the loud sound of bullets being fired right into the car door, so close to my face. If I could, I would cover my ears and call it a day, but I had a mission. I saw one of the few women with me on the job trying to get one of the crew hot-heads to keep his ass down and stop shooting. We were being attacked from every direction and he was trying to fight them all. I saw one of the bastards aim right at his head and I didn't hesitate, not even a second, to kill him. As soon as he was down, the man turned his head towards me in only a second, making me scream at him.

"Get the fuck down!", I shouted while gesturing chaotically with my hands.

Surprisingly, he did as I told him, leaving me with fewer things to do. I shot at every guy surrounding me, killing them in an instant. My life flushed before my eyes when a bomb was thrown right at my feet, the sound of it causing chills to run down my spine. There were maniacs with weapons in every single place possible and a fucking bomb threating to blow my brains out. Knowing that I had less than 7 seconds, I rushed in the opposite way, shooting my way through the gangsters.

They were so confident, some of them didn't even have guns. Getting away from my only concern at the moment turned out to be rather easy, managing to throw myself on the ground, the gun in my hand making it uncomfortable for me to cover my head.

"Move! (L/N), Move!", I heard the guy whose life I saved only seconds ago shout.

Feeling weak in the legs, I crawled behind a pillar, getting in cover as an explosion could be heard way too close for my liking, making me pray I won't get any ear damage after this. An unknown source managed to injure my stomach, fortunately missing any vital organs. I put my hand over my wound, putting pression on it like I was taught on my past jobs.

Blood gushed through my fingers, making me want to destroy the fucker that shot me. Not even caring about my injury anymore, I began shooting everywhere my arm could reach, managing to take down 6 guys. Starting to pant, I took the radio out of my uniform before my eyesight became hazy.

With a grunt, I managed to say "I'm down."

From behind me, hurried steps hit the cold concrete, an arm lifting me up by my own as another trapped my waist.

"No, the fuck, you're not.", the same man said. He carried my weakening body and brought me to the safe zone, leaving the others to deal with the rest. Laying me on the ground, the guy, whose name I didn't remember, started looking for the med kit. Muttering some curses until he found it, he started tending to my wounds as fast as he could, time pressuring him. Noticing his name on the left side of the uniform, I sighed.

"I'll be fine. Go kill those fuckers, Abbacchio!" He looked at me for a second, not sure of my affirmation.

"They missed everything vital. Good thing they suck at shooting. ", I reassured him. He gave me one last look before rushing the hell out of there with a gun in his hand.

The guy, Leone Abbacchio, was rather young, but not younger than me. He was 19 at the time, making me a year younger than him, although neither of us acted like it. We both joined the police force after finishing high school. That required a lot of maturity, meaning that I couldn't make a fool of myself anymore. I had to to impress the captain, who also happened to be my mother.

I heard guns firing and glass breaking. Groans of pain filled my ears as the sound of an intense exchange of bullets became louder. Louder, and louder, and louder. And then it stopped. Everything was silent for minutes, making it hard to guess what actually went down. It was either all the gangsters that were dead or the cops.