A Police Officer's Story - part 2
by Ben Nettleship

A few days later

It was about one o'clock in the afternoon, and the afternoon shift was leaving the station for their patrols. Patrick and Jack had been transferred off of the night patrol and were now on the afternoon shift for patrol duties at the park. As they walked through the station towards the exit, Captain Scott Murphy came up behind them.

"What is it, sir?" Patrick asked, pausing mid-stride and turning around.

Captain Murphy handed over a picture to the pair. "Just got this from the feds. They want us to be on the look out for this man. Name's Andreich Sukov, some spy working for the reds."

"Sukov?" he repeated, looking at the photo. "Isn't that the guy who they thought was running those gangs a couple of days ago?"

"Not running, more of hiring to help steal secrets and cause dissension. Turned out some guy named O'Connor was stealing secret government papers from the nuke plant. We picked up O'Connor the same day that the whole Minuteman thing went down."

Jack studied the photo. "If he's a spy, why the hell is he wearing a fur hat with a red star on it?"

"Apparently, he's a real arrogant son-of-a-bitch. Doesn't think he'll ever get caught, and he hardly ever directly involves himself. He's wanted for espionage, conspiracy to commit treason and first degree murder."

"What about his buddy, O'Connor? What's happening to him?" Jack asked.

"He's being taken to Washington by the feds for questioning," the Lieutenant responded. After they're done with him, they'll bring him back and we can have his trial. Last I heard, he'd admitted to murdering a man named Frank Stiles. With a treason and murder charge, he'll life imprisonment at least and probably the chair. Open and shut case really, we found a dozen stolen files in his house."

Patrick wasn't an advocate of capital punishment, but he made an exception for traitors. "Good," he said firmly.

"Anyway, if you see this guy, he's to be considered armed and extremely dangerous. I'll be sending it out over the radio to the other officers already on patrol."

"Thank you, sir," Jack said. "Let's get going," and the two officers walked out the door into the parking lot.

Half-an-hour later, at the park

Patrick walked along the paths of the park, tossing his nightstick up in the air and catching it. The police presence in the park was a joke, muggers operated here day and night. The only reason Patrick, Jack, and a few others were there at all was because it would reflect badly on the department if they just gave up, and the mayor wouldn't like that, not one bit. Besides, they had to do something.

A minute later, Patrick rendezvoused with Jack at a gate, next to their patrol car. "See anything unusual?"

"Nothing," Jack responded.

"Same here. Looks like it's going to be a quiet day."

This would gain the distinction of being the most fallacious statement that day.

As they chatted, the radio crackled. Jack reached in the window and grabbed it. "Officer Armstrong here."

"Officer Lyonel has reported that there is a mugger heading towards your place. Lyonel attempted to apprehend him, but he escaped. Wearing a red shirt."

"Roger that dispatch. We'll get him." The two officers headed into the park when the mugger arrived.

The mugger, his bat in one hand and a purse in the other, tore around a corner and was headed down the path towards Conner and Armstrong.

Patrick stepped off the path and Jack did likewise. The mugger, trying to see if he was being pursued, didn't notice them until his legs collided with an outstretched foot. The man gave a short scream and hit the path flat on his face, breaking his nose.

"You want to come along quietly, or do you want a jaw to match that nose?" Jack suggested cheerfully, stepping over the fallen body.

"I give, I give, don't hurt me no more," the mugger cried, rolling over and clutching his hands over his nose.

"We got one," Patrick said as Jack finished handcuffing the mugger and pulled him too his feet.

"Yeah, just five thousand left to go and then we can concentrate on the car thieves," Jack responded, as cynical as ever, as they started walking towards the gate. "We've made seven arrests in three days, yet there's over fifteen muggings each day."

"Still, it's a start. We've got a better record of arrests than most of the other officers on the force. I figure we can make a difference."

"That's just because the other officers are all either on the take, or have seen that trying to keep down crime in Patriot City is like trying to keep down the salt in the sea. I'm of the same opinion, but I signed up to do a job, and this badge is more to me than as a target for those hoods to shoot at."

"That's a bit pessimistic. It's just a phase the city's going through. We'll get through it, just like Chicago got through the twenties."

"You're a hopeless optimist, you do know that, don't you?"

This was an argument Patrick and Jack frequently had. It was old and each of them knew they would never convince the other.

Once they reached the car, Patrick reached inside and grabbed the radio. "This is Officer Conner," Patrick said into it. "10-15, requesting a 10-16."

"Roger that, suspect in custody. I'm dispatching car thirty-two."

"Confirmed."

Conner and Armstrong chatted on various topics, from politics to the weather, until car thirty-two pulled up. A police officer got out and caught sight of the prisoner. "Mickey, Mickey, Mickey," he said, shaking his head after he saw the prisoner. "I thought you said you were going to stay out of trouble. It's terrible what the world's come to, isn't it? You can't trust anybody anymore."

"Yeah, a real bloody pity," Patrick responded. "I take it you know this punk."

"Arrested him a month ago."

"That's the legal system for you," Jack commented dryly. "Punish the innocent and reward the lawyers."

"Heh, ain't that the truth. Now, come on, Mickey," the officer said to the mugger. "You know the routine."

The officer patted Mickey down, then put him in the back of the police car and climbed back in, heading back to the station.

An hour later

Conner and Armstrong were back patrolling the paths of the park.

"Is it me, or is it getting cold?" Patrick asked Jack, as they passed by the lake, heading back towards their car.

"Now that you mention it, yeah," Jack replied.

"Damned odd. It's supposed to be ninety degrees today."

In a few minutes, the temperature dropped rapidly, until both men were shivering. "What the hell is going on with this crazy weather?" Patrick said, rubbing his hands together.

"Oh my God," Jack suddenly said, pointing. "Look at the lake!"

Patrick turned to look, and took a step back in astonishment. The lake was freezing over. And then, slowly but surely, it started to snow.

"What's going on? This sort of thing just doesn't happen!" Patrick shouted, ignoring the evidence of his eyes.

In another minute, the snow was starting to pile up. The two officers walked away from the lake, towards their parked patrol car. Nearby, out of their sight, several trucks pulled up, and men with coats, furry hats and odd looking rifles poured out.

"We're going to have to report this," Patrick said.

"Report what? Snowstorms out of season? They aren't going to believe us."

"Look, I'm telling you, we've got to report this."

"And what exactly are we going to tell them?"

"Well, it's almost a 1040."

"Civilian in charge of a stolen vehicle? They'll never believe that at the station."

Oops, damn, Patrick thought. "Well, we should at least call emergency forces."

As they two officers discussed the situation, Minuteman and Mentor ran past them.

"Wait a minute," Patrick said. "Wasn't that the guy-"

At this point, however, he was interrupted.

"It does not matter who that was, all that matters is that you capitalist dogs will freeze before the Soviet Union," was heard from behind the two in a Russian accent.

"What the devil?" Jack said, as both he and Patrick spun around, pulling their .38s from their holsters.

"Freeze, imperialist fools," the frost trooper proclaimed, leveling his ice gun at the pair.

While two officers were confused by the man's appearance and statement, when he aimed his gun, instinctive reactions to most police officers kicked in and they both started pulling the triggers on their guns.

The trooper staggered back as the bullets slammed into his chest, involuntarily sending a freeze beam into a nearby tree when his fingers tightened on the trigger. When the barrage of bullets ceased, he was bleeding from a several bullet wounds in his chest, and proceeded to slowly fell over, dead.

"Now this, this we can report," Jack said, reloading his gun with a speed loader.

"Jesus Christ," Patrick swore, his face pale. This was the first time he'd ever fired his gun outside of the target range.

"Snap out of it," Jack snapped this is an emergency."

"I, I, killed him," Patrick stammered, his gun dropping from his hand.

"You can worry about it later. We've got to call the station and get some backup down here. There might be more of these guys."

"But-"

"I know how you feel," said Jack, in a more reassuring tone of voice. "I felt that way too, the first time I shot a two-bit punk who thought he was faster on the trigger. Everybody feels that way the first time. If you don't, you shouldn't be on the force. But there isn't any time right now."

"Okay, okay," Patrick said, some color returning to his face, as he retrieved and reloaded his gun. "Let's just call the station and get out of here."

"Just stay calm," Jack said as the two walked towards their car. "We're police officers. We're here to serve and protect first, you can let your emotions out later."

At the car, Patrick watched as Jack grabbed the radio and flipped it on. "Dispatch. We have armed men shooting up the park. Send in backup, ASAP. I think they may be Soviet terrorists."

The only response was static, Jack fiddled with the radio for a little while, but nothing he did got it to work. "Damn, the radio's busted," he cursed.

"Actually, it is jammed," said a voice from behind, followed by the familiar sound of a rifle being racked. "Hands up, imperialist fools."

Patrick sighed and raised his hands, Jack followed suit.

"Nuclear Winter will be pleased-," the trooper started to say, but got cut off.

"For freedom!" came a shout from behind the trooper, followed by a loud thump. There was a short scream, and the two officers watched as the trooper flew over the car and headfirst into the fence surrounding the park.

They turned around, to see Patriot City's new heroes, Minuteman and Mentor. Minuteman had his staff in one hand, and was holding an unconscious woman dressed for cold weather in the other.

"It is a pleasure to see you," Minuteman said. "I was wondering what we'd do with this frosty commie here. She's partly responsible for what's happening."

"Really?" Jack said. Either enough had happened to him today that being confronted with a pair of superheroes didn't faze him, or perhaps it was because he was still in shock.

"Yes, take her downtown, and send in some more officers to clean up the mess. We have to take care of a problem at the pump house. For freedom!" Minuteman proclaimed, then dropped the Ice Queen and take off towards the north end of the park.

After a minute, the shock wore off. "Was he for real?" Patrick asked.

"No idea, but I'm glad he's on our side. Look how far he knocked that guy. Smashed right through the fence"

"My God, whoever he is, he ain't human."

"I imagine we'll be seeing more of him soon."

Jack knelt down and examined the woman; she was starting to regain consciousness. He quickly handcuffed her.

"Release me, immediately, and perhaps Nuclear Winter will be merciful!" she snarled.

"That's the second time we've heard that name. Who the hell is Nuclear Winter?" Patrick asked.

"He is the one who shall bring your materialistic society to its knees, fool. He has been gifted with the powers of ice and cold, and will use them to destroy you."

"That's a good story," Patrick said, smirking. "In fact, I like it so much, we're gonna take you downtown so you can tell it to the rest of the boys at the station."

She responded by spitting in his face. Patrick whipped away the spittle, and helped her into the back seat of the car. Jack climbed into the driver's seat, and they started off towards the station, but didn't get far.

As they pulled away from where they parked, something slammed into the side of the car, knocking it into a snowdrift.

"Jesus, what was that?" yelled Jack.

"Looked like a snowball to me," Patrick replied, pulling out his gun, and rolling out of the car.

"It was I, Nuclear Winter!" a voice intoned.

The two scrambled to their feet, aiming their guns at the supervillian. "Hands in the air!" Jack screamed. "You're under arrest!"

"Pathetic fools. Your guns are useless. I defeated those two incompetent superheroes. Do you really think you stand a chance against me?"

Something suddenly clicked in Patrick's mind, as he examined the icy face of Nuclear Winter. "Wait a minute, you're Sukov, that Soviet spy."

"You know me? No matter, the world shall know me as Nuclear Winter soon. Now freeze along with your precious park!" Nuclear Winter stated and leveled his hands at the two officers. They both fired off shots, but it was two late. A spray of ice burst out of Nuclear Winter's hands, and around Patrick and Jack, freezing them solid.

"Imperialist dogs," he muttered, ripping off the back door to the car, and freeing the Ice Queen. "I want you to go to the pump house, and oversee the shipment of those pathetic heroes.

"At once, Comrade Winter," she replied.

To be continued...