The Policewoman

"Surround the perimeter!" The commander's voice echoed through the earpods placed in Dorothy Lane's right ear and swiftly she slid out of the police van along with her colleagues.

This had to be the best night of her life!

For someone who got stuck with pansy jobs like writing tickets and parking duty, she was immensely grateful to be on a heart-pulsing mission. She adjusted her helmet and clutched her gun like it meant her life.

Because in a way, it did.

"Move, fatty!" An officer hissed behind her, shoving her out of the way.

"Who are you calling—"

"Not now, Lane!" Her commander hissed and she winced.

"Sorry, sir." She muttered in response. 

He was right. She had no time for arguments. There were civilians inside the bombed building who needed help. She would deal with Charles Dutch later.

"Who has a visual of what's going on inside?"

Radio silence met the commander's question. Dorothy eyed her surroundings. She was stationed at the exit of the building along with four others, two on her left and right. A series of gunshots could be heard inside the already damaged building and her heart slammed harder into her rib cage.

This was it. This was why she had joined the police academy. This was why she had become a cop. 

Oh, she wished she could whip out her phone and take a selfie. Her shoulders shook in laughter as she imagined the shocked look on her parents' faces.

"Charles was right. You're a freaking weirdo." The cop closest to her said and she gave him a stink eye.

The world was a bitter place for Dorothy Lane. 

She hadn't always seen it that way. She barely thought about the world when she was younger. However, one always learned the hard way.

And Dorothy? Well, she learned that the world dictated, when you are a country bumpkin all red-faced and particularly a woman, you are NOT allowed to be a detective. 

If her parents had anything to do about it, they would've stashed her behind a counter in a library. And if her superiors had anything to do about it, she'd be their milkmaid.  

She peered into the building. It was hard to see underneath the dust and rubble in the large rectangular hall.

An older woman crouched to the ground in a corner, holding onto her three grandchildren in fear. 

Dorothy pressed her lips in a flat line. Whoever was responsible for this deserved a helluva beating.

"There are a couple of civilians huddled in the back. Everyone seems shaken sir. But I don't see any terrorist in sight." She said into her earpiece.

The commander mulled over it for a while. Chief Davis, the head of the Belmont police department ordered that his subordinates call him commander, not chief. He had wanted to be a soldier, but his height failed him. 

Yeah, that was the kind of man he was. He also didn't like Dorothy much and she was fairly certain it was because he was a bit of a misogynist. Having a female police under his command was like having an ugly baby foisted upon him by its mother.

"Fine." He said spitefully and she grinned at his next order. "Dutch, Lane, move in. All of you on the right-wing, cover them. Getting those civilians out is the priority."

"Copy that." She muttered and swooped into the building, clutching her gun. Charles dashed in front of her, grinning widely at Grandmother and three grandkids.

"Aren't you a bit old to be attending these events, ma'am?" He teased as he helped the older woman stand up.

Scruffling in the hall drew her attention and she whipped around to face it. 

A man. 

He ran towards them rather blindly and her fight and flight instincts kicked in.

She strengthened her stance, cocked her gun, and aimed at the attacker.

"Stand down, your hands in the air. Now!" She ordered.

The man immediately threw his hands up and Dorothy did a mental dance. 

It felt so good to finally say that! All she had done in the past two years was sit by a desk, handling complaints from snotty suburban women, most of which were her parent's neighbors.

It had been boring, tiring and she gained two pounds. 

She could quite handle herself. She was nimble, heck, she was pointing a gun at a supposed terrorist! 

While the rest of her skinny team cowered behind. No one had the right to tell her she wasn't cut out to be a cop.

"Don't shoot!" The supposed terrorist yelled, taking slow steps forward. "I'm a victim here!"

"Yeah right!" Dorothy yelled in return, balancing her pointy finger on the trigger. "Take one more step and the last thing you'll hear is a kaboom."

"You don't freaking understand! Dammit!" The culprit yelled. She noticed he was wearing a shirt all buttoned up, looking rather corporate for a terrorist.

"He... He..." The man trailed off glancing behind him. She watched his shoulders tense and knew he was going to run so she fired.

Throughout her stay in the police academy, Dorothy never missed.

Well, this time she did. The bullet spiraled, hitting a dilapidated pillar behind the terrorist.  

Charles had hit her arm in the last minute, redirecting the shot. The man she had aimed at crumpled to the ground in fear, trembling visibly.  

"What was that?!" She screamed at Charles who pointed at the man.  

"That's Neal McAlister!" Charles hissed. "The senator's son!" 

Her eyes widened and she swallowed. She had shot at the senator's son? She might as well kiss her career goodbye. She took a step forward, wanting to explain herself when her Commander walked in.  

"Stand down, Dorothy," 

Chief Davis helped the senator's son up, apologized profusely on her behalf, and ordered a troop to escort the shaken man to the police vehicle.  

Dorothy gnawed on her bottom lip, eyes down cast in shame as Neal McAlister walked past her. She could feel the accusation in his gaze when he did and mumbled an apology.  

After evacuating civilians all night, she made her way home. The tears came but she refused to shed them. Her job was over. Chief Davis would have an excuse to fire her and her parents would have an excuse to make her work in the local library.  

The next day, she got summoned into Davis' office. 

"This is Senator Nolan McAlister," Chief Davis gestured at the haughty-looking man sitting before him.  

Swiftly she bowed her head in apology. "I am so sorry sir, I didn't mean to shoot your son. Well, I did, but only because I thought he was a terrorist. I understand if you intend to sue me, but I'd rather you don't." 

The senator laughed much to her surprise and when she looked up, there was mirth in his eyes.  

"I do not intend to sue you, Miss Lane," Senator Nolan said, a twinkle in his eyes. "I am here to hire you. My son requires a personal guard and with a clean shot like that? I think you're perfect." 

Dorothy grinned. It would seem that her career was safe after all. "I am at your service, Senator McAlister."