Uniforms Part 2

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“Come on,” Trev said, “put your uniform on.”

“Oh Trev, not again. That’s three Saturdays in a row. I just wanna watch Pointless.”

Trev threw the clothes at Conrad.

“Don’t be an arse. You said yourself it made you feel like a man.”

“But mate, the Champions League is long gone. We stick out like a sore thumb now.”

“Nonsense,” Trev said, “people are used to us. We’re keeping the streets safe. Now get your kit on.”

Conrad sighed, got changed and the pair of them left the house and marched through the city.

“See no one cares about us,” Trev said.

“Yet,” Conrad replied. He had to admit he was buzzing. He’d noticed over the last couple of weeks that the women looked at him differently when he had the uniform on. He smiled at a blonde pushing a pram, she smiled back and blushed.

“Let’s have some fun,” Trev said nodding at the same homeless guy they’d seen a few weeks before.

“No Trev,” Conrad said, but it was too late, his mate was gone.

“Oi, Eddie, remember me?”

“Eddie looked up blankly.

“Didn’t we tell you to get out of town?”

 “Did you? I don’t…”   

“Yeah, before the Champions League,” Trev said.

The man scratched his head. “That was weeks ago.”

Trev grabbed the man’s coat and hauled him up. “Yes mate, and we meant permanently. Look you’re making this city look dirty. It’s time to go.”

“Trev, leave it,” Conrad looked around, people were stopping and watching the commotion. “Let’s go.”

Trev pushed the man back down. “You better get the fuck out of town pal,” He said pointing a finger at him, “if I see you again…” He turned to the crowd. “Nothing to see ladies and gentlemen, just keeping you and the city safe.”

“You’re fucking mad Trev, we’re not real policemen remember.”

“Don’t be wet, we’re not doing any harm. Look, the people like us.”

“Let’s go home.”

“In a minute, Trev said. He’d seen a group of young Muslim men outside the library.

“Right boys,” Trev said. “Each one of you empty your pockets and open your bags.”

“What’s this all about?” said one of the bearded men.

“Trev, leave it,” Conrad said, but it was too late.

“Oi, you piece of shit, “I said, empty your pockets.” Trev pushed the man in the chest and then landed a punch on his cheek. “Now, the rest of you, open your fucking bags.”

“What’s going on?” a woman with a pushchair had stopped to watch proceedings.

“None of your business, misses,” Trev said. “We’re community enforcement.”

“These guys haven’t done anything wrong,” the woman said, “and what the hell is a Community Enforcement Officer anyway?” the woman asked.

“I said, it was none of your fucking business, you fucking leftie shite.” Trev withdrew a baton from a holder on his utility belt.

“Jesus Trev,” Conrad said, he had no idea his mate had a weapon.

“Twenty quid, eBay, cool, innit?” He swung at the woman and missed but then swung again and this time she fell to the ground under a crack, the baby howled.  Trev then turned back to the group of boys. “Right who’s next?” He snarled. He swung again, the boys stepped back, the wind from the baton ruffling their hair.

“Trev, stop,” Conrad said. He tried to grab his mate’s arm but Trev was too fast. He swung the baton like Errol Flynn on drugs. Swooshing it through the air, connecting with skulls and ribs.

“Stand back!” Conrad looked around to see a police officer lining up a shot.

“Don’t shoot him,” Conrad said, but with a crackle of lightning Trev dropped the baton and crumpled, the Taser dart in his shoulder. Conrad ran, hoping people would have forgotten about the mad man’s accomplice. But he heard footsteps behind him. Running in the heavy uniform boots was like running in gravy. He heard a familiar crackle of lighting and crumpled to his knees in electrifying agony.