Growlithes In The Real World: Part III

11:53pm

"All right, men! Suit up for battle and report to the briefing room for your assignments. We'll be taking down some drug dealing scum in two hours! So move it!"

The captain's order echoed through the locker room common area above the din of slamming metal locker doors and chatter. Harrison put on his body armor and strapped it down tightly. He had already put on his male protection in the men's shower area, then his clothes before he put on the leg armoring. Parker cussed as she tried to strap on her body armor. Jackson watched her, as did Striker. Apparently, Harrison wasn't that interesting to look at. He stepped over to her and helped with the strapping.

"There ya go."

"Thanks," she smiled back at him, but something in her eyes gave her away.

"You okay, Parker?"

The smile faded a bit.

"I just...I just get a little nervous when I do this. Especially when I do this. I'm just not sure what's going to happen to me. That's all. Just the usual crap about going on a big raid."

"I hear ya, Jan. I'm feeling a bit queasy myself, but I know it'll pass. It always does."

"Thanks John," she sighed, the smile returning as she and Jackson went to the briefing room. Harrison lingered a moment to watch her leave, then put his steel toed combat boots on. Dressed like a modern day gladiator preparing for the arena, he slammed the locker door and the partners went to briefing room.

12:24am

Striker and Harrison arrived at the large briefing room. It looked like a large classroom, but right now, it was standing room only. The two managed to find some space in the back as Captain Patakas began his speech, pointing to the large map of a forty-room home behind him.

"Listen up! We've got a major opportunity to bust one of the biggest drug dealers that's residing at this house and I don't want anyone getting hurt because they weren't listening to the plan. Now, I just want to make a quick note about Officer John Harrison and his partner, Striker. The two of them managed to bring in the guy who gave us all this information. So, if you would please, a quick round of applause for their brave work."

The other officers turned and applauded them; some cheering as Harrison turned a tad red, waving off the applause. Striker seemed to smile as he looked around at the clapping policemen. The captain continued.

"And despite the fact that he didn't listen to me about not screwing around, thankfully all he suffered was a broken nose. So how's the nose there, Rudolph?"

The captain smiled some as the other officers chuckled at the reindeer reference. Harrison couldn't help but to smile and shake his head. He gave the okay sign to the captain coupled with a look of "I'll get you for this." The captain settled the crowd down and became very serious.

"Okay, guys. This is it. We have three strike teams. One through the front door; one through the back door; and the last one through the garage door entrance, if it's open. The DEA will be offering some assistance, but they don't have enough manpower to be able to add significant numbers to the teams. They were, however, able to give us a picture of what Don Vicente Villalobos looks like."

The captain gestured to the slide screen he had pulled down and turned on the overhead projector. The picture was a fuzzy black and white photograph of a dapper Colombian man in his forties. He had a moustache, thinning hairline and an aquiline nose. It was apparent that he was of European descent, unlike the hired hands that surrounded him. He shouldn't be too tough to spot.

"This is the man we want to keep alive at just about any cost. The guards and other men on his payroll are extremely dangerous and quite resourceful. Killing cops is *not* something they are afraid to do. In fact, to date about fourteen have lost their lives in the line of duty, trying to stop this bastard's operations. This includes three of our own that were killed by assassination during the past couple months. Do NOT, I repeat, do NOT try to be a hero and do it yourself. Call for back up. *Wait* for back up and then proceed. As I've been told, Don Vicente will be at this house at around one in the morning and it's midnight-thirty right now. Be safe out there and take them down. Take them down hard."

1:22am

They arrived about four houses down from the mansion they were about to invade. Technical SWAT guys were scanning the UHF channels to find the security camera frequency that Villalobos was using. Once it was found, they recorded about five minutes of tape and looped it so that it would be on continuous play of just clear grass and sidewalk - the perfect cover for invading policemen. The teams quickly crossed the lawn, all led by DEA agents, except for Harrison's team, in which it was just seven cops, including Parker, Jackson, Striker and him. He happened to glance at his watch: 1:31am as they stood by the side door, waiting for the go from the captain.

1:28am

Jorge didn't like his job much and neither did his friend Marcos. Staring at security camera screens all day was damn boring. Nothing ever changed. Back and forth, back and forth. Even the cat was doing the same thing. Just running out onto the lawn, then chasing his tail in the middle, then darting off. Jorge stood up and looked very closely at the front lawn video. Marcos walked back in at that moment.

"Qué pasa, hombre?"
<"What's up, man?">

"No sé... hay un gato que corre sobre la yarda y después se desaparece."
<"I don't know...there's a cat that keeps running out onto the lawn and then disappears.">

Marcos looked at the screen and saw the cat. It ran, then when it was near the edge the screen, it disappeared.

Marcos blinked and Jorge just looked at him.

"Y sabes? Es el mismo modelo cada vez."
<"And you know? It's the same pattern every time....">

Marcos pondered this for a moment, then his eyes lit up in fear.

"Dígale al jefe , llego la policía!"
<"The police are here! Tell the boss!">

Don Vicente was quietly having a drink as the head of his American operations and half-brother, Juan Rodriguez, offered some entertainment of two young girls having a sexual encounter with each other. He was enjoying himself quite a bit as he usually does with this sort of entertainment. Even in spite one of the underlings having to put a gun to the heads of these girls to motivate them, he didn't care. The girls needed to broaden their experience, their heterosexuality notwithstanding. They should be taught at a young age what their place was in their world and to remember it well. The bartender picked up a blinking phone and talked quietly into it. His eyes widened a bit as he handed to Rodriguez. Rodriguez took the receiver, listened, then cussed under his breath. Handing the phone back to the bartender, he turned the music off and spoke first to Don Vicente, then to everyone else, his voice harsh with fury.

"Lo siento, Don Vicente."
"Llego la policia y tenemos que pararlos. Máteles sin misericordia! La seguridad de Don Vicente es su preocupación más grande y no la fallarás! Ahora muevense a mátarlos, a esos bastardos del policía! AHORA MISMO!"

<"I'm sorry, Don Vicente.">
<"The police have arrived and they must be stopped. Kill them all without mercy! Don Vicente's safety is your biggest concern and you will not fail it! Now move it and kill those police bastards! NOW!>

As the men quickly rushed out to stop the LAPD, he cordially gestured for Don Vicente to be led to a saferoom. The girls are left to their own devices as they quickly got dressed, trying to force their minds around what they were just doing with each other.

1:33am

>chik< "Go."

Three points of entry are taken by force and met with strong resistance immediately. Gunfire erupted everywhere, echoing through the mansion coupled with the screams of dying men. The body armor gives the lawmen some advantage against the heavily armed henchmen. After the initial melee, only Parker, Harrison and the two Growlithes remained, the other three were wounded and bleeding profusely. Harrison radioed in for them to be picked up and they proceeded into the house to find Don Vicente.

Rooms were searched. They covered each other. The pokémon sniffed at doors, but found nothing. As the four of them were about enter the main foyer, both of the Growlithes perked up, hearing something. Suddenly, a lone gunman turned the corner and fired a volley of bullets at them. Harrison crouched quickly, his eyes wide as he opened fire on him. His shots hit the wall close to the gunman, scattering debris into his eyes, blinding him. Striker jumped him and locked his teeth around his throat and shook viciously. An audible crack could be heard and the gunman went limp. Harrison took a sigh of relief, but heard Parker's voice bubbling next to him. He turned to see Jackson's lifeless body lying on the floor, several bloody entry wounds in the side. Coupled with that, Parker had taken one in the throat. The blood bubbles popped along with air wheezing through the hole as she tried to speak, but her voice was muted. He went to her and cradled her in his arms, his lips pursed with the knowledge that there was nothing he could do to save her. Their gazes locked onto each other, both of their fears were understood. With that, the light left her eyes and her last breath escaped with a quiet groan. He closed her eyes and laid her back down.

1:38am

"Numbers fifteen and sixteen were claimed by Don Vicente." His voice was remorseful and quiet.

>chik< "Who were they?"

"Parker and Jackson."

There was a long silence, then an acknowledgement of his statement and confirmation that backup was on the way. Harrison chose not to wait and stood up, looking at his partner. Striker paced very nervously. His fur bristled and his body tensed, seeming to avoid Jackson's lifeless form. Before Harrison could even say anything, Jackson's body burst into flames, completely consuming the pokémon. Harrison jumped out into the main foyer with Striker as the body burned quickly, turning into a pile of ashes. His eyes were filled utter amazement at what he just witnessed. The show wasn't over though. Striker started to grow in size and his fur expanded on his head, chest, and tail. Harrison scuffled away from him, not sure what was going on. A quick burst of flame spread all over him and then it was finished. Harrison was awestruck by Striker's new, almost regal appearance. He was the size of an adult mountain lion.

"Sweet Jesus," he muttered.

Striker turned and barked strongly. Harrison almost jumped out of his skin. It was definitely louder than before. Maybe he was a lion, but the bark was distinctively dog-like. The Arcanine padded over to him and licked his face. Harrison chuckled nervously as he petted him back, looking him over.

"Damn boy. The K-9 instructors never told us about this."

Striker growled lightly at the comment, but lightly was relative and it made Harrison nervous, in spite of recognizing the tone as a friendly one. He knew it would take a little time to get used to his "new" partner, but that was fine by him. He stood up and hit the switch to cover his ears; although he wasn't sure it would protect him from Striker's roar attack. But that wasn't important, they had to find Vicente and the two of them went off to find him.

He was sure that all the rooms had been searched upstairs, but they trotted up there anyways. Other cops walked by, escorting and dragging prisoners downstairs to be booked. Everyone gave incredulous looks at the evolved pokémon. Harrison tried not to be self-conscious, although there wasn't any reason he should be. There seemed to be a lot more rooms than the front of the house would indicate. Of course, the floor plans he saw were just for the first floor. The Arcanine sniffed around at some of the doors, not finding anything. The din of the other officers died away as they continued down the hall, even more so with his ear guards down. Suddenly, Striker stopped at one of the doors and whimpered at Harrison. Harrison nodded and drew out his gun. He took a breath and broke the door in, his booted foot pulverizing the doorjamb. It was the master bedroom and two young semi-nude girls were sitting on it, embracing each other, almost reluctantly. They looked like they might be engaged with each other sexually, except for the machine gun pointed at their heads. The gunman was dressed in a nice, but simple black silk suit. His back was to him. Harrison gritted his teeth for action to take down Don Vicente.

"Striker! Roar attack!!"

The roar that followed could at the very least be described as a thunderous booming. The very floor shook with the vibration of the bellowing Arcanine. Harrison could feel himself losing his nerve as his gun shook in his hand, but he held on as tightly as he could. The others simply started screaming for their lives. The girls, not concerned about the machine gun, but the pokémon's roar as they both dove off the bed and scrambled to get under it. The gunman, to Harrison's surprise, didn't turn around, but just screamed in terror as he dropped the gun and tried to throw himself out the window. Thankfully, Harrison managed to gather enough willpower to stop him and throw him to the ground as Striker stopped roaring. Harrison's nerve returned, but was sweating profusely. His gun was pointed to the man on the ground.

"Freeze! Vicente Villalobos, you are under arrest for the crimes of murder, conspiracy, and drug possession with intent to distribute. Lace your fingers together behind your head."

The face-down man did so, as though he knew the drill. At that moment, a swarm of officers filled the room. Trask was the first to speak up.

"What the hell was that?!"

"That was Striker," Harrison replied, nodding to the Arcanine as the pokémon sat on his haunches. He looked at Trask, as though expecting something. Trask looked at the beast and mumbled a curse to himself, then he clicked his communicator.

"Yeah, uh, that was Striker roaring."

>chik< "Striker?! He can't roar *that* loud!" Patakas' voice came over. "The tech guys four houses down heard that!"

"He can now, sir.," Trask replied.

Another one of the policeman cuffed the well-dressed man on the floor, then turned him over. Harrison's eyes went wide, then he cussed furiously, slamming his pistol back into his holster. The other officers looked at the man and realized why he was cussing.

It was one of Vicente's underlings in his clothes. The scared Hispanic man simply looked around at all the cops, wondering what his boss got him into and if he was going to be tried for his crimes. At that moment, Harrison turned grabbed him, forcefully picking him up. His face was scrunched in anger as he fiercely growled his question:

"Where is he?!"

The man panicked and started jabbering in Spanish. The few that could translate shook their heads, not able to understand what he was going on about. Harrison dropped him unceremoniously. He couldn't believe how close he was to Don Vicente. He could practically taste him in his mouth; his nose filled with his cologne. He was ---

Smelled him?

He looked between his partner and the man on the floor, then knelt down beside him, grabbing his jacket and pulling up and away from the man. The man gained a look of fear, thinking he was about to be beaten.

"Striker. Here boy. Smell this."

The Arcanine padded over to him. The man started screaming loudly, thinking now he was going to be fed to the beast. One of the other officers quickly knelt and put a forceful palm over his mouth and held him strongly to keep him from trying to kick himself away. With the screams muffled, Striker sniffed the jacket a few times. A quiet whimper escaped from his throat, but he kept sniffing up and down the jacket, the shirt, the pants, going back up to the collar. He lingered there a long moment, backed up a step, then sneezed all over the handcuffed man. Some of the officers let out a little chuckle, then immediately shut up when Striker barked a couple times loudly. Harrison smiled.

"You got it, boy? You got the scent? Okay, let's go!"

1:54am

A team of officers started searching the sizable backyard. It was a beautiful place with tall bushes, various statues, an Olympic sized pool, and even a big lawn a couple teams of kids could play football on. Unfortunately, it also meant a lot of hiding places too, if he was still on the grounds. Striker pulled strongly, heading to the huge lawn. Captain Patakas was with them, along with ten other cops and DEA agents. He directed them to fan out as the pokémon sniffed away, following the trail. Harrison's flashlight caught sight of a small shed. Striker pulled towards it. Patakas saw it also and called over three cops for cover. Once they stood outside the doorway, Patakas gave the nod and Harrison thrust a boot into the door, turning it into splinters. Flashlight beams filled the tiny shack. The shriveled man on the cot curled up even more in fear, his back to them. He cried out in Spanish as guns cocked to fire.

"Sanchez, front and center. What's he saying?" asked Patakas.

Sanchez stepped forward and inquired about who he was.

"Soy Juan Contreras, el jardinero. No me por favor no me regreses a Méjico. Soy enfermo y mi familia necesita el dinero que les envío." The man then coughed a couple times as he finished his sentence.

"He said that he's Juan Contreras, the gardener. He's sick and his family needs the money he sends back to them. Apparently, he thinks we're Immigration because he doesn't want to be sent back to Mexico. "

"Ask him if he saw or heard anyone come by here tonight," said Patakas. Sanchez made the inquiry of the gardener.

"No, he visto a nadie. Pero oí a alguen pasar corriendo... puede haber sido hace diez o veinte minutos. No estoy seguro.", Juan replied.

"He heard someone run by about ten or twenty minutes ago, but he's not sure. He didn't actually see him," translated Sanchez.

"Okay," said Patakas, looking pretty disgusted. "See if you can get him down to the station and we'll see if he can provide more information on what he heard."

Sanchez nodded as he walked in, holstering his gun, and ordered the sick man to stand up and go with him. The man coughed a few times, then started to roll out of bed. The others, including Harrison, walked away. Striker was still pulling pretty hard, barking loudly. Harrison ordered him to be quiet as Patakas made a call over his communicator.

"Dispatch, this is Romeo Three Fiver. We need some air support at 1000 Elysian Park Drive. We've got a fugitive on foot and must be captured. Over."

>chik< "Roger Three Fiver. Air support is en route. ETA five minutes. Over."

"Copy that. Over and out."

Harrison glanced at his watch, 2:02am, then looked at the captain, who looked back at him, shaking his head and sighing. He looked tired.

"We were close, John."

"I know, Cap, I know," Harrison replied. He glanced over at Sanchez and Juan as Patakas continued to talk. Juan was hunched over a bit, covered in an old sarapé. Striker growled at them. Harrison sighed, furrowing his brows some. He arbitrarily pointed his flashlight at Juan, happening to light up his face. Juan turned from the light, being blinded by it. Harrison pursed his lips as he clicked off his flashlight. The image of the face remained in his mind for a moment. He had wide brown eyes and a moustache. Certainly different than most Mexicans he had come across. Harrison furrowed his brows more, mentally zooming in on the image he had of him. His nose was rather pronounced too...aquiline. An alarm went off in his head.

"...and he was pain in ass to chase down."

"Cap, Vicente's the gardener."

"What?" not sounding too happy at being interrupted in his story.

"He's the freakin' gardener. Sanchez! Sanchez! Get away from him! It's Vicente!!"

Sanchez turned, barely hearing what Harrison was yelling about. Harrison could just make out what was about to happen; their forms silhouetted from the numerous headlights of the police cars. Both Harrison and Striker bolted towards them. Patakas made the call on his communicator to warn the other cops, but it was already too late. Vicente stood up to his full height, pulling out Sanchez's gun and firing it at his face. The bullet splintered his lower jaw, then lodged itself where one of his molars were. When doctors went to take x-rays for the damage later that night, they discovered the tooth had been violently pushed into his skull, but it was that very thing that stopped the bullet from entering his brain. With Sanchez screaming in pain on the ground, the drug lord whipped out an Uzi from under his sarapé and fired a few shots at the ground, near Sanchez's legs. Numerous guns were cocked and pointed at Vicente as Harrison and Striker squared off against him. The Uzi was pointed at the squadron of police cars, the 9mm pointed at Harrison. He grinned evilly at Harrison as he cocked the pistol.

"So you're the bastard who killed my nephew. You are Officer John Harrison," spoke Vicente, his English very clear. Harrison nodded, wishing he had pulled out his pistol, but all he did was keep his hands up for now.

"Yeah, that's me Vicente. Why don't you put the gun down? You can't win here, not unless you want to be killed. Your sister will grieve even more. Do you really want that?"

"What I want...is to kill you. That's all...and I will too."

"Final warning, Vicente.."

Don Vicente looked at him a bit oddly, not quite expecting that reply. The look then disappeared, returning to the murderous grin.

"Adiós, cabrón."

"Fine...see you in hell. Striker. Fire attack!"

The Arcanine inhaled deeply and breathed out a large cone of fire. The heat was even more intense than Harrison recalled, but his mind was more on jumping out of the way of any bullets that might get discharged. The cone of fire was short, but effective. The sarapé immediately caught fire and any surface hair that was visible singed away to a crusted baldness. Several shots were fired, but the weapons were too hot to handle and he dropped them. Don Vicente then quickly removed the flaming sarapé as numerous other cops tackled him and took him down hard. Harrison leaned against the side of the house as Striker trotted over to him and started to lick his face. Harrison chuckled as he hugged his partner and scratched all about the head and behind the ears. Paramedics, who responded to the house's fire alarm, quickly went to Sanchez and worked on him. Eventually, they took him to the hospital, while Don Vicente was given the privilege of an armed escort in a squad car to the same place. There were still a number of cops milling about the residence, but it was over. The reign of terror had ended.

****************************

"Good morning, Los Angeles! This is Sharon Tay with KTLA Channel 5 News. The top story of the day: Big drug bust! One of L.A.'s biggest Columbian drug lords was captured at ten minutes past 2am this morning. The captured drug lord is Vicente Villalobos-Rodriguez. He is noted as being the patriarch of the crime family known as The Dark Wolves on the streets of our fair city. He and his operations are responsible for the deaths of sixteen of LAPD's finest; three of which were direct assassinations when he declared war on them when the Los Angeles police broke up a child prostitution ring some three months ago. The forth man who was also a target of these assassinations, Officer John Harrison and his K-9 partner, Striker, will be awarded with Medals of Honor by Mayor Riordan, later this afternoon. This will also be followed by a touching speech about the two officers that were killed during the raid: Officer Janice Parker and her K-9 partner, Jackson."

And now, stay tuned for other top stories, weather and sports, right here on KTLA Channel 5 News."

THE END