Special Circumstances - 21. Epilogue

It was two weeks after my last encounter with Morris Walker, and I once again found myself in a torturous situation.

Grocery shopping on Tuesday morning.

At the same time trying to wrap up a conversation with my boss before my boyfriend returned from the produce aisle. I managed to hang up right as Mike returned with the ingredients for an iceberg salad and placed them in the shopping cart.

“Who was that?” he asked.

“Mwangi.”

Mike turned to one of the shelves and picked up a pepper bottle. “What did he want?”

“Just an update on a case. Today, we’ll bust someone.”

Mike looked at me. “You smile. I’d love to ask details, but I know, specialist unit cases.”

He’d accepted I couldn’t talk about my cases. It was standard police practice that specialist units’ cases were confidential. As expected, my new unit’s investigations dealt with the unusual. It wasn’t quite X-Files, but in our office hung a big ‘I believe’ poster.

Instead of dwelling on this, I picked up on his comment. “Do I?”

Mike smiled back at me. “Yes, you do. I’m glad this new posting is working out.”

Yes, it was working out. Inspector Boswell had barely been able to contain his excitement when I handed him two letters. One was my transfer order to the Specialist Firearms unit headed by Chief-Inspector Mwangi, and the other was from Minister Morris-Walker in which he declared that he wouldn’t need to continue to receive close protection. I’d packed my stuff from my locker and left Boswell’s unit without uttering another word.

Reception at my new unit had been extraordinarily welcoming. Mike’s cake had disappeared within minutes as the morning briefing had been extended to allow for detailed introductions. The unit consisted of the Chief-Inspector and four others, Jerry the sergeant, Fatima, Chris, and Symon. Meeting other people with super powers was like meeting the first men I knew were gay. I didn’t feel alone anymore. We all shared a common bond.

“Me too," I said. “Now, two weeks in with that unit, I can confirm Chief-Inspector Mwangi was right. My colleagues are good people, and the posting is as interesting as it could ever be. We do investigations and still act as an Armed Response Vehicle crew. It’s the right balance between paperwork and action.”

Despite being in the middle of a supermarket aisle, I went to hug Mike.

He hugged me right back. “I’m so happy. You’re again the man I fell in love with.”

I was in an equilibrium now and genuinely happy. My colleagues and I had a secret that set us apart. We all hid our special abilities from our loved ones and everyone else we knew. Working with other specially gifted people whose job was to keep their job details secret was a good solution for everyone involved. We all had an outlet and support in each other.

To be fair, it wasn’t that different from standard policing work. A police officer couldn’t talk to people outside the job about the gory details of incidents either.

Mike released me. He checked at the shopping cart and his notes. “I think I have everything.”

I looked at the full shopping cart. “I hope so. Otherwise, it’ll flow over.”

“It’s your damned six pack of two-litre coke bottles which steals all the space in there!” Mike said with feigned indignation. “Before I met you there was always enough space in the shopping cart. And in the fridge.”

“Coke has to be cold!” I said, laughed and clapped him on the back. “Come on, time to go home.”

Mike drove us home, and we distributed the items bought into their assigned spaces. I had to admit the two coke bottles I insisted on being in the fridge, one open and one reserve, took some space. We’d already discussed getting a bigger fridge.

After the superb lunch created by Mike, I got into my biker gear and mounted my trusted motorbike to drive to my new duty station. On the drive, I thought fondly of some motorway in Germany. One of Mike’s sincere insistencies had been that I’d tone down my biking. There wouldn’t be any more racing holidays for me. Instead, we’d begun planning our first getaway together. Budget constraints limited our options, and we’d settled for a walking tour in Scotland.

The holiday was still a bit to go. I drove onto the small police station’s yard and parked my bike in the shed. The station was an old town police station which had its response units removed in the eighties and then existed as a neighborhood station till its planned closure ten years ago. That was when it was suddenly assigned to be the home of ARV 39 and the unit that crewed it - us.

My daily commute wasn’t as pleasant as the commute to Enfield had been, but the station made more than up for it. I walked past our BMW X5 armed response car into the office area.

“Hi, Leon,” Sergeant Jerry Woolworth said from behind a computer.

Yes, my nickname was back, but not because of my bad breakup. Of course, the members of this team had also read the news accusing me of being Morris-Walker's secret lover. Like so many others, they’d checked out my profile and found the picture collection Nam had made. The whole Met probably had.

Jerry was a keen Resident Evil player and recognised my likeness to the main character Leon Kennedy. When I joined the team, he made clear my nick could be none other than Leon. I’d genuinely laughed this time. It was fine.

“Hi, Sarge.” I waved and continued to the locker room, where I changed.

A short while later, Chris joined me. At 57, he was the oldest of the bunch. Although he could retired after having fulfilled his 35 job years, he stayed on because of this team. We exchanged some greetings and got ready. I was in the middle of my weapons check when my phone rang with a message from Nam. He had his own signal tone. A short while later, a second message from him arrived, and I got curious.

He had an update. “Moving in with Melanie!” “Excited!”

I typed an answer. “Wow, never again tell me that I was quick.”

Mike and I had been nearly inseparable since we first met. I’d effectively, although not officially, moved into his flat after two weeks. Nam had made some comments about gays being quick. He and Melanie had known each other only for a couple of weeks.

Nam remembered well. “I learned from the master.”

“House warming party?”

“Saturday. After you’ve helped me move. Need a muscle boy. I checked your duty roster. You’re free. <many devil smilies>”

“I hate you! Cu Sat.” I would show up at his flat at six in the morning!

“Cu!”

I put the phone away and started my weapons checks from the beginning. Better safe than sorry.

Luckily, I wasn’t the last to arrive giving me time to greet my teammates. If someone arrived later than Mwangi himself, he would have a snide remark ready. However, we were all assembled when the big man entered.

There was one investigation into an odd occurrence to perform which would be done by Jerry and Mwangi. Usually, team members shifted through all the notifications around odd jobs to find the ones that could actually involves superpowers. These were then checked by Mwangi and or Jerry. The rest of us would crew the ARV today.

Incidents involving ghosts or superpowers were more infrequent than I’d feared. They were very rare in fact, and I was happy about that. Because there were so few, when six months ago, the bodycam footage of me fighting an invisible man was tagged as odd, the Chief-Inspector had come personally to investigate.

If we did not have any assignments, we were free to back up any incident as we saw fit, like a regular armed response unit. We weren’t part of the usual armed response organisation and, therefore, weren’t assigned any jobs by the control room. However, the Met’s ARV regulations still applied hence we were three in one car, the driver, a navigator, and a communicator.

Most of the time, we executed regular high-risk warrants and excelled at that. None of the scumbags could run from us, hide from us, or beat us in a fight. They couldn’t even hear us coming - or so they said.

So far, the day had been uneventful. I parked the marked BMW X5 at the fast food restaurant’s car park. My two crewmates got out to buy some grub while I stayed behind and unwrapped one of Mike’s sandwiches. While I was already munching away, Fatima and Chris came back laden with unhealthy food.

As soon as they settled down in their seats and began unwrapping their burgers, the car filled with the smell of grease.

I had to comment. “Ow, I hope you know what you’re doing to your bodies by eating that.”

I saw Chris in the rearview mirror looking at his chicken burger. “You’re just jealous, Leon.”

“Not everyone has a chef as a husband.” Fatima took a bite of her veggie burger.

That debate again. I’d mistakenly called Mike my husband instead of my boyfriend, and that horde of social hyenas called colleagues had jumped at it like, eh, hyenas.

I sighed. “Not husband, Fatima. Boyfriend. I still haven’t asked him yet.”

Of course, John was at it too. “You know we’ll ask you every day, don’t you?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m getting that impression.”

“You know we mean well, don’t you?”

In response I threw him a glare in the rearview mirror. He smiled and chewed.

Control rescued me. “Sierra-Xray, any ARV available for backup to an immediate fight in progress in Enfield? I have only one single-crewed unit making.”

“Hey, that’s my old area. Shall we?”

Fatima put her burger away. “Gosh, you’re keen.”

I smiled at her. “If you aren’t then why are you preparing the navigation there?”

“I have nothing to say about this, do I?” Chris asked from the rear seat.

“No!” Fatima and I replied in unison and laughed.

Chris still had his mouth full, so I responded. “ARV Three-Niner for last.”

“ARV Three-Niner, thank you. Please make your way to the Red Lion pub in Enfield proper. URN 9884 of today refers.”

“Copied,” Fatima responded and logged the address.

I turned on the blue lights and siren. Carefully leaving the car park, I joined the traffic heading north. I loved my job, my colleagues, and my boyfriend. I couldn’t be happier at the moment.