For part one click here
“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.
