It was bigger than anything they had ever seen. The fire had engulfed the lower six stories of the building, and it was spreading fast. The residents had fire escapes, but the flames were just too dangerous. They couldn’t risk climbing down past the fire.
It would be up to them, and them alone. They would have to go out there and get those poor people out. And then try to save whatever they could of the building.
Sergeant Briggs divided them into two teams. The first team would be inserted a couple of floors above the fire to see if they could do anything to stop it’s progress, or at least stop the awful march of the flames. The second would be inserted even higher, to get the survivors out. Neither team had much time, and the time for action was now.
They were the only precinct that did this, but they put their hands into the middle of the circle, and looked each other in the eye. These were the bravest men they knew, some of the toughest and meanest firefighters this city had ever known. But they were more than just colleagues.
When you’ve pulled a man from underneath a burning length of teak wood, you’re not his colleague anymore.
You’re his brother.
Masks on.
He made his way up the ladder with his team, making sure that he was right behind Jean. There would be no better man to fight this fire with, and he would be beside him all the way.
Tough, brave, resourceful Jean Driscoll. He had managed to squirm his way out of a lot of tight spots, and he had managed to take a lot of others with him. He would have to see how Jean managed to make his way out of THIS one.
And he was going to be beside him all the way, watching.
They climbed in through a smashed window. Even though the flames were two stories below them, they could still feel the heat of the awesome flames. It was a sobering reminder.
Don’t fuck with fire. It will fuck you right back. And then fuck you some more. And then leave you, nicely cooked, for the birds to eat.
But that wouldn’t be their fate tonight.
They broke off into two man teams, to scout for any places where they could stop the blaze. He tapped Jean on the shoulder, and moved towards an apartment. Jean followed.
“Come on, I think we can do something over here”, he said. His voice, muffled and tired, through the mask-it had always sounded funny. But there was nothing funny about what he was doing tonight.
“I think you’re right”, Jean said, “Let’s call the others over and see what we can put together.”
“Not yet”, he replied, “Let’s see if there’s anything we can do. Don’t pull them off a scouting trip for nothing.”
Jean didn’t reply, he just grunted and continued looking around the apartment. His walkie went off, “One floor, guys. Be ready to evac”. Meaning that the fire was now one floor below them.
“So, been having fun with that redhead you met, Jean?”
Jean glanced over at him, his confusion and annoyance evident even through the moisture-fogged visor of his helmet. He shook his head, and continued looking around.
“Come on, you can tell me.”
Jean swung around this time. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Will you focus? And talking about me back at the station?”
“Sure. I was just wondering why you left out some details about her.”
He ignored him this time.
“Details like where she lived. What she did for a living. What she looked like. That she was married.”
In front of him, Jean grew very still.
“Married to me, you fuck.”
He brought his axe down with an almighty thud, onto the back of Jean’s head. Even with the helmet, he didn’t stand a chance. He dropped to the floor, unconscious.
He leaned over to his friend, bringing his face very close to Jean’s mask.
“Yes, I referred to her in the past tense, you prick. Figure that out. You fucked a friend’s wife. You fucked MY wife. Now, you’re just fucked.”
He turned around and walked out of the apartment, shutting the door behind him.
“Your floor, guys. Evac. NOW.”
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