The disadvantages of the LAPD

Lucy Chen flicked on the lights of her patrol car, 7-Adam-15, as the dispatch crackled over the radio. Her eyes darted to the screen, catching the call number for a suspect transport. She sighed, adjusting her rearview mirror as she pulled away from the curb.

"7-Adam-15, you copy?" came the voice of control.

"Copy," Lucy replied, her voice steady, though her pulse quickened. The streets of LA had been quiet lately, too quiet. She had a bad feeling about tonight.

She was on her own, as usual. It was late, and she'd been working solo for most of her shift. While the rest of the team was dealing with their own cases, Lucy was stuck driving from one crime scene to the next, chasing down petty criminals, keeping her head down. She was more than capable, though. She'd proven herself long ago. But tonight? Tonight felt different.

"Suspect's been detained," control continued. "Proceed to transport him back to the station."

"Roger that," she responded, her fingers gripping the steering wheel.

Her thoughts briefly turned to Tim—her mind always wandered to him when she was alone. She hadn't seen him much lately. Tim had been involved in his own investigations, and their paths hadn't crossed in a while. She thought about sending him a text, just to say hi, but decided against it. Tonight, her job was her focus.

As she drove, her attention flickered toward her surroundings. The streets, darkened by streetlights casting long shadows, seemed unusually still. It was almost too quiet.

She flipped on her sirens, just as the next call came in.

"7-Adam-15, shots fired in your area. We've got a full-scale firefight. Be advised, possible gang activity. Proceed with caution."

Lucy's heart skipped a beat. She hit the gas, speeding through the intersection. Shots echoed through the night air—loud, sharp, and unmistakable.

"Control, do we have a location?" Lucy's voice was calm, but her mind was racing.

"Negative, 7-Adam-15. Just head toward the sounds of gunfire. It's a war zone out there."

War zone. The words stuck in her mind as she drove through the darkened streets, weaving around cars and debris. Her sirens screamed, but it was hard to know if anyone could hear her over the sound of the distant shots that were getting louder with every second.

The gunfire echoed off the walls of the buildings. There was no doubt now—it wasn't just one or two people. This was a full-on shootout.

Lucy took a sharp turn into an alley, spotting a flash of movement up ahead. She parked her car quickly and took cover behind a dumpster, assessing the situation. Gunshots rang out nearby, and she could hear shouting—men cursing, shouting orders, and the sound of automatic weapons firing in rapid succession.

She pulled her weapon from its holster. She'd handled high-risk situations before, but this? This was different.

With a deep breath, she crept toward the source of the chaos. The sounds of gunfire were deafening now. She could hear the clinking of bullets hitting the ground, the crunch of shattered glass, the staccato of semi-automatic rifles.

Another burst of gunfire rang out, and Lucy's instincts kicked in. She moved quickly, keeping her cover behind the dumpster as she peered around the corner. In the distance, she saw flashes of movement—masked figures running through the streets, firing at each other. There were too many to count.

Lucy was careful, her eyes darting from side to side, scanning for the enemy. She couldn't let them see her. Not yet. She needed to know how many there were.

From her vantage point, she could see that the attackers were organized. Too organized. This wasn't just a street brawl. It was tactical. Military-style precision. And they were firing indiscriminately, taking down anything in their path.

"7-Adam-15," Lucy radioed, her voice firm but calm. "Requesting backup."

"Negative, 7-Adam-15. We don't have units available for support at the moment. You're on your own."

Great. Just great.

Lucy scanned her surroundings, her heart hammering. She couldn't wait for backup. She had to act now, or there would be more casualties—maybe even civilians caught in the crossfire.

Without hesitation, Lucy crept toward the end of the alley, slipping silently behind a row of abandoned cars. She had to get closer to the action. She needed a clear shot.

She checked her ammo count and adjusted her grip on her gun. Her focus was razor-sharp. She could feel the adrenaline surging through her body. This was what she had trained for. This was the moment she had been preparing for, even if she hadn't known it would come this way.

Another gunshot rang out—this one closer. Much closer.

Lucy didn't waste time. She darted forward, firing off a shot toward a figure that had emerged from behind a building. The bullet struck its target, and the figure dropped to the ground. Lucy's heart raced, but she didn't pause. She was too exposed now. She had to move.

As she continued her advance, the gunfire grew heavier, the noise more frantic. It was clear that the attackers were digging in for a prolonged fight. They weren't just running; they were holding ground.

Lucy moved methodically, never exposing herself for too long, firing strategically as she picked off targets one by one. She was calm, focused—her training kicked in. She wasn't a rookie anymore. This was her territory, and she wasn't going to let anyone take it from her.

But just as she was about to make her next move, something felt wrong. The air shifted, the sound of gunfire grew louder, closer, and then—bang!

A bullet whizzed past her head, so close she could feel the heat. It slammed into the wall behind her, sending debris flying in all directions. Lucy ducked, taking cover behind a nearby car.

This is real, she thought, her heart pounding. She wasn't just taking down criminals anymore. This was war.