Life and Love are far more complicated than we can possibly understand. For one young cop, a journey of self-discovery will teach them that true strength was inside them all along.

It was the day before the gala at city hall, and Olivia found herself back at the hospital waiting to see Doctor Miller for her physical evaluation. She was nervous and she wasn’t without reason. The assessment would determine if she was ready to return to work, or even if she would ever be able to. Physically she felt no repercussions of the incident that had brought her to this moment in her life. Her body was healed and her strength had grown greater than she’d ever known it to be. As far as her mind would rationalize the fear, she knew it was the potential it held than any real power over her.

Doctor Miller greeted her with a smile and welcomed her into the exam room. It wasn’t her usual office that Olivia had visited before, but one a few floors lower near where she had attended physical therapy. The room contained the usual hospital furniture, along with a collection of gym equipment and computers.

“How are you feeling?” Miller asked as she indicated for Olivia to sit in the chair beside her desk. “Free movement I see, any pain or discomfort?”

Olivia shook her head. “None,” she smiled nervously, “I feel good, nothing for some time.”

Miller nodded and made some notes. “We’re going to run you through some exercises today and check your performance and once that is over, I’d like to give you a full physical exam and we can hopefully have this over before lunch.”

Doctor Mille ran Olivia through a battery of tests of both her strength and endurance on the various equipment in the room. She even ran several miles on the treadmill with a mask measuring her aerobic respiration.

By the time she was done, Olivia was drenched in sweat. She’d ditched her tank top and was just wearing her shorts and sports bra as she toweled off, her body exhausted.

Miller sat at her desk writing up her findings while Olivia collected herself.

Miller looked over, “I have to say, you’re a lot different from the person I first treated.”

Olivia glanced down self-consciously and grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, I’ve changed my hair.”

Doctor Miller laughed, “That sense of humor is special, please never lose it.”

Olivia smiled. “I am… well, I was a comedian when all this began. When I first found the world of drag, I didn’t want to sing or dance. I found that when I created that persona, Mia, she was so much more confident than I was. She had a real fire and a sharp wit and I ended up taking to stand up comedy as my act. I think I rolled a lot of her into myself.”

Miller nodded and stood as she gathered her stethoscope. “Let’s hope you find the rest of this just as funny, time to strip.” she gestured behind the partition to where an exam table was partially shielded by a blue curtain. “Grab the robe in there and I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Olivia complied and removed her clothing behind the partition before shrugging into the paper gown. Once she was ready, Doctor Miller joined her and politely asked her to lie down on the table.

Over the next fifteen minutes, Olivia was poked and prodded and examined. Her wounds were checked and her scars were noted. She felt shame when the doctor examined her genitals, as relevant as it was to her case.

Miller smiled apologetically as she covered Olivia back up and sat back on the low stool she had placed beside the table.

“Thank you, I know that was hard.” she comforted the girl. “Just one final check if I may?”

Olivia nodded.

“Sit up, and lower your gown for me please, I want to check your breast development.”

Sheepishly, Olivia dropped the gown to her waist and had to fight the urge to cover herself. It was a strange feeling for her, sitting there topless. She had always had difficulty with nakedness or even showing a lot of skin. Before she had begun this journey, she’d spent much of her life covering herself, bulking herself with clothing, and trying to hide her body. Now much more confident in herself she no longer hid, but this felt different.

Miller carefully palpated her skin and measured her chest before allowing Olivia to dress while she made her final notes.

Rejoining the doctor by her desk, Olivia sat and waited for the final verdict.

Finishing her writing Miller turned and smiled. “Without much fanfare, I can tell you that you’ve passed your physical and are fit to return to work.”

Olivia smiled happily, a warm rush filling her being. Her greatest hurdle was behind her.

“Your strength and endurance are exactly where I’d expect them to be for a woman your age and profession and from what I can see you’ve had no lasting effects from your injuries beyond the obvious,” she added with a small quirk of her lip. “The wounds are healed nicely and your scarring is minimal. As far as your gender is concerned, I’m extremely pleased with your development. From what I can see, body fat has redistributed and your breast growth is excellent. With your younger age, there has it seems been some small growth of your pelvis although that’s likely as much as will occur. Your reports from Doctor Barton show you to be a well-adjusted young woman.”

Olivia took it all in. “I’m normal?”

Doctor Miller nodded. “For your situation yes. Your physical condition is good, I see no problems continuing your path. As far as your job goes, I can sign you off for duty.”

Olivia wasn’t sure what to think. Six months had seemed so long when she was sitting in the hospital bed after her shooting, almost a lifetime. Addressing her feelings and her situation had seemed like an easy choice with so much time on her hands. Now it was over and she was able to return to the job she loved. Would it still love her?

Doctor Miller noticed the look of concern on the girl’s face. “You’re realizing you have to confront that aspect of your life aren’t you?”

Olivia nodded and swallowed. “I’m not worried about anyone I have to deal with knowing but I’m worried about my colleagues.”

Miller nodded. “You’re a strong woman, you’ve made it through all of this mess with grace and a clear head, I have no doubt you’ll handle whatever comes your way.”

It was just after lunch on Friday when Olivia took a cab from the apartment to the Salon she had booked for her battle preparations. The place was an upscale affair just far enough off Rodeo to not be insanely overpriced. She stood on the sidewalk for a moment frozen by a jolt of fear at what she was about to do. She wasn’t sure why she felt concerned, she’d stood on stages in front of crowds and had the confidence to tell jokes. She had spent countless hours in public with other people interacting as a female and nobody had noticed a thing, why was she worried now?

Olivia reasoned that this was the first time she was going to be examined at close range, her face, her hair, and her body would all be on display that afternoon. She tugged at the waistband of her shorts. She’d dressed down in flats, a teeshirt, and shorts for her appointment not wanting to appear overdressed, but now she felt as though she should have put more effort in. Squashing the feeling she made her way inside and walked over to the reception desk with more confidence than she felt.

A rather wild-haired woman with a lot of makeup greeted her with a wide smile when she approached.

“Welcome to DeMarco’s! You have an appointment?”

Olivia nodded. “Olivia Dalton, One PM?”

The woman checked the computer behind her desk and nodded. “Got you here for the works, take a seat and we’ll grab you as soon as we can, you want a glass of wine while you wait?”

Olivia shook her head then changed her mind and agreed. Perhaps it would take the edge off her nerves?

The woman, whose name she learned was Angela brought her a tall slim glass of Chardonnay while she waited. Olivia regarded the surroundings she now found herself in. This was her first visit to a salon and it was a fascinating place. In her life, before she hadn’t taken much care of her hair, and she’d certainly never had her makeup and nails done professionally. As long as she didn’t count the queens that taught her. She still felt a bout of nervous energy about being discovered but reasoned that it was unlikely anyone that worked here would actually care.

Eventually, an effeminate man called Paul introduced himself and whisked her off to a wash station. She felt a little strange at first when she had her neck craned back to reach into the basin but found she rather enjoyed someone else washing her hair. Once Paul had finished, he led her across the room to one of the styling stations and sat her down.

“So my darling, it’s obvious you need to be rescued from whatever that mess on your head is, what are you thinking?”

Olivia grimaced, she hadn’t thought it was that bad. Thankfully she’d prepared. “I had to get my hair cut short a few months ago… I had an accident.”

Paul looked sympathetic, “Dear me, well let's fix that, you’ve enough to work with now, so I’ll take care of you.”

“I was thinking something like a bob or something neat and low maintenance but stylish.”

Paul frowned, “Low maintenance darling? Really?”

“Don’t be offended, I’m a cop I need something that can look good but be manageable for day-to-day.” Olivia smiled at him in the mirror.

“So getting dolled up to be armed and fabulous?” Paul smirked.

“Gala at city hall tonight. I’m not working.”

Paul nodded, “I’ve had a couple in this morning for that shindig. Okay… Let’s take a swing at this. You’ve got enough for something nice without going down the extension road.”

Olivia nodded her agreement and left her fate in Paul’s expert hands. They chatted comfortably as he worked his magic on her hair, his hands flying with comb and scissors as he neatened up the shape she had.

“You’re not from round here are you darling?”

“No, Montana originally,” Olivia responded fighting the urge to shake her head.

“Oh exotic, I’ve always wanted to bed a cowboy.” Paul giggled to himself.

Olivia screwed up her face and laughed. “Nope, not for me, none of them last longer than eight seconds.”

Paul froze what he was doing and squinted at her suspiciously through the mirror. “That’s a rather specific joke.”

Olivia realized there was no hiding her deer-in-the-headlights expression. “Is it?” she asked carefully trying to sound offhand. “I heard it somewhere.”

“Really?” Paul asked putting his hands on his hips. “You know I think I heard it the same place, but you don’t look like the sort to patronize the same establishments I do.”

He tilted his head and stared at her for a moment before using his hands to mask off her hair leaving only her face. His eyes went wide.

“You!” he gasped theatrically. “You’re her!”

Olivia swatted his pointing finger away and cringed. “Please,” she begged. “Not here.”

Paul kneeled down beside her and stared into her face. “You’re her!” he repeated in a stage whisper, “Mia Calafia!”

Olivia’s shoulders sagged. “Yes,” she admitted, “I’m not here for that.”

Paul waved his hand dismissively. “Obviously not darling, gosh, I always thought you were a regular queen.” he sounded almost disappointed.

Olivia felt a small sparkle of happiness at Paul’s assertion. She briefly considered going along with the idea but realized she might need a confidant. “I was once.” she winked conspiratorially.

Paul feigned shock. “No, rea…” he rolled his eyes. “The hair, darling, am I right?”

Olivia blushed and nodded.

“Sweetie I’d never have known if you hadn’t told me, gosh, I love your show… now I know why I’ve not seen you in so long you little scamp!”

Paul returned to cutting Olivia’s hair and chattered excitedly. He continued to make sly assertions and little knowing looks as he worked, he seemed rather enthused to be working on someone he considered a celebrity.

While he worked, a woman arrived and began working on her nails. Olivia was overwhelmed by the attention she was receiving, finding it to be an incredibly relaxing experience. Eventually, the pair were done and she was shown the results in the large mirror in front of the station.

Olivia’s eyes went wide and she fought the urge to cry. She clasped her hands to her mouth and caught sight of her new longer perfectly manicured nails. It was all too much for her and tears fell from her eyes.

“Don’t cry sweetheart,” Paul whispered kneeling beside her. “I know it’s a lot, but you were easy to make beautiful. This suits you.”

Paul had styled her hair into a sleek bob style with a side parting that curved gracefully around her slim face, the tone was somehow richer and more vibrant than her hair had ever been with darker highlights running through the lengths. Olivia could barely take her eyes off her reflection, it was as though she was finally seeing herself for the first time as others did.

“It’s amazing,” she whispered quietly, her fingertips stroking the end of her hair. “I love it.”

“Just wait till we get you all dolled up and ready for war darling, you’ll put that old you to shame.”

Paul was right. Amanda had led her away to one of the other stations where she proceeded to work her magic on Olivia’s face. Olivia had worn more makeup before and even had others do it for her when she was starting out on stage, but she’d never had anyone do what Amanda was doing. The woman used her face as a blank canvas to craft and create a version of her she never imagined possible. She’d talked Olivia through what she was doing and why, and while she understood the techniques and craft, she was certain she would never have the talent of this woman.

When she was done, Olivia could barely believe the image in the mirror was her. From the neck down, she still wore her teeshirt and shorts, but from the neck up, her face and hair were perfectly sculpted to a vision of beauty she hadn’t ever imagined in her wildest dreams. Paul came over and stood behind her shoulder smiling knowingly.

“Not bad blondie,” he noted approvingly. “This suits you.”

Aware they were alone, Olivia agreed. “I think it does. It took me some time to realize that.”

“Will you ever perform again? I always loved you, you were a breath of fresh air amongst those tired old queens.”

Olivia shrugged. “Maybe, but I feel like Mia Calafia’s time is over… Part of her is dead and part became who I am today. Seeing myself like this, I can feel her fire inside me.”

Paul looked pensive for a moment and he fluffed her hair gently. “You’re going to be a force to reckon with my little mockingbird.”

“You’ll keep my secret, won’t you Paul?”

The man nodded and gave her a gentle squeeze. “Of course dear, on the condition that you keep coming back to me.”

Olivia found she could agree to that condition readily. She thanked the staff and paid her bill before hailing a cab back to the apartment. She felt entirely incongruous dressed so casually whilst made up so finely but the driver didn’t seem to care. Well, she knew he cared from the glances in the mirror, but she didn’t think her clothes were noticed.

Once she returned, she made an effort to avoid Richard and retired to dress for the evening. She sat on the bed for a moment taking everything in. Her dress was hanging on the open closet door to her side, and she just stared at it for a moment, lost in her thoughts.

How had she gotten here? She was about to accompany her man to a high-profile event full of politicians and officials. She’d gotten her clearance to return back to work and she would be doing that as a version of herself she never expected others to meet. Her life was so very different from where she had been only a year ago and it was an extremely daunting feeling.

Olivia stood and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window that filled an entire wall of the bedroom. The blinds were drawn and she gazed out over the city below them. She was frightened for the future, and she was frightened for this evening, but she was determined not to let it affect her. Life was finally in her control, and she wasn’t going to let anyone take the wheel from her.

Yes, Mia Calafia’s time was over, the character that had given her the chance to be popular, attractive, outgoing, and strong was gone. She had given her existence to allow a new being to occupy her body and that girl was strong, she was capable, and she was powerful. Olivia Evelyn Dalton was as soft and caring as Harry ever was and as outgoing and alive as Mia demanded of her. Olivia wasn’t just defined by what she did, or who she was to others. She might be a girlfriend, a daughter, a sister, a performer, a cop, and a woman, but she was more than all of that. She was here.

Olivia stripped and changed into the lingerie she had set aside for the evening. She’d selected a black satin bustier and panty set that made her feel deliciously naughty. She paired it with a pair of silk stockings that she clipped carefully to the garter straps attached to the bottom, careful not to run the expensive garments with her slightly unwieldy talons. Once done, she posed playfully in the mirror and gave herself a wink. Mia would remain in some fashion, lending her armor to the cause.

Stepping over to the dress, she removed it from its hangar almost reverently, running her hand along the smooth silk of its skirt. She stepped carefully into it and pulled it up her body. With some difficulty and a distinct lack of grace, she was able to zip the dress closed. Smoothing it with her hands she slipped her feet into the matching pumps and turned to regard herself in the mirror.

Olivia wasn’t prepared for what looked back at her. The woman in the mirror was elegant and sophisticated but radiated an innocence and beauty she had never felt before. Her skinny figure was enhanced by the silk skirt of the dress that swayed with each movement of her body. Olivia felt like a princess.

She checked her makeup one final time and moved a strand of hair from her eyes before deciding she was ready. She paused momentarily at the door to the bedroom, a small moment of nerves gripped her as she wondered if Richard would think she was beautiful. She pushed the feeling aside and stepped out into the living area of the apartment and approached the sofa where the man sat, still in his office attire.

She coughed lightly and he turned to look at her. His expression told her everything she needed to know. Richard stood and walked over to her wordlessly and reached out to take her hands in his. He grinned like a teenager. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

Olivia averted her eyes shyly and blushed. She felt like a teenager, or she reasoned, what she thought she might if she had been. “Thank you.”

Richard lifted her chin until their eyes met. “I almost don’t want to go tonight, I don’t want to share you with anyone else.”

“Looks like you’re not coming along,” she observed dryly, regarding his suit with a raised eyebrow.

Richard grinned sheepishly and shrugged. “I won’t take long, not like I can compare to you anyway.”

He paused and remembered something, “I’ll be back,” he explained rushing off to the bedroom.

Moments later he returned holding a long velvet box that he placed into Olivia’s hands. “I got these for you, for tonight.”

Olivia opened the lid and gasped. Inside were a matching set of diamond drop earrings and a matching choker.

“This is too much.” she protested lightly fingering one of the earrings, her smile betraying her modesty.

Richard shook his head, “Not even close to being enough you mean, I think these deserve you.”

Olivia smiled at his little joke and removed her existing earrings and replaced them with the diamonds, they felt positively scandalous to wear. Richard helped her fasten the choker and led her to one of the room’s mirrors. She could see the light glint off the stones as she moved.

“These must have cost a fortune.” she protested, feeling guilt creep into her good mood. “Tell me they weren’t that expensive.”

Richard shrugged. “Not bad, and I did a favor for a dealer a while back and represented him, he owed me more than one.”

Olivia felt slightly better, but not much. “Go get changed.” she chastised. “I swear to god, I’ve been at this for hours and you’re going to be ready in ten minutes, it’s not fair.”

“You can wear the tux if you want.” he chuckled heading for the bedroom. “Somehow I think you’d still look stunning.”

Olivia smiled. Looking like she did, it would probably be quite amusing.

Her estimation was almost correct. Fifteen minutes later, Richard returned as she stood gazing out over the city, afraid to sit and ruin her dress. He’d scrubbed up well, his hair was neat and his facial hair still stylishly scruffy. His tuxedo fit him like a glove and she felt mildly annoyed at how quickly he’d managed it all.

Taking her arm, Richard led Olivia out of the apartment and down to the lobby where a black town car was waiting for them. Ever the gentleman, he held her door for her and assisted her into the vehicle before joining her on the opposite side. The car drove them through the early evening traffic towards the center of the city.

“I can’t get over how beautiful you are.”

Olivia looked over at Richard beside her and smiled. It wasn’t the first time he’d said that to her, but it felt distinctly special this time.

“I’m a little surprised myself,” she admitted, nervously fingering an earring. “I was hoping I’d be okay, I just wanted to make an effort for your sake.”

Richard shook his head and grinned. “There is nothing okay about you Olivia. You’re beautiful every day but somehow you’ve managed to just blow that out of the water, I’m going to be the luckiest man there tonight.”

“Oh, so I’ve ruined my every day for you now?” Olivia asked sadly, mocking a disappointed frown.

Richard smirked. “That is not going to work on me, young lady.”

“Well I’m glad I meet the dirty old man’s approval.” she parried, a twinkle in her eye.

“I’m only eight years older than you.”

“You’ll always be a cradle robber to me.” Olivia giggled.

Richard smiled and shook his head. “I swear this is a new version of you.”

Olivia looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. “It is. I’ve been a little uncertain of myself for some time, battling guilt and fear and other people’s expectations. Today, I felt like I belonged and I decided that all those versions of myself, those characters were all me in equal parts.”

“Be nice to people tonight. I’m almost worried”

“You’ve got nothing to fear from me, I’ll be a good girl.” Olivia grinned.

The town car pulled up outside City Hall. The building was set on its own block in the civic center district. It had always appeared a little out of place with its sandstone gothic architecture but tonight it was for that reason it seemed so fitting for a formal affair. Lights were playing over the exterior as groups of people moved up the pathway towards the entrance, chatting and exchanging pleasantries.

A valet opened Olivia’s door for her and offered her a hand. She accepted the man’s assistance and carefully extracted herself from the car with as much grace as she could muster.

Richard joined her and she took his arm as they walked towards the doors. She was certainly not underdressed she observed. It appeared as if the city’s bigwigs had pulled out their finest rags for this Hoedown.

An attendant at the door checked for Richard’s name and admitted them into the cavernous atrium of the building. Olivia had only been here once when she had first arrived in the city and the place had been transformed for the event. Music was playing from a jazz band on a small stage to the side while waiters with trays of drinks and food moved amongst the crowd filling the space.

“This is really something.” she mused aloud as they accepted champagne flutes offered by a waiter that had appeared beside them. “I feel rather out of place.”

Richard shook his head, “nonsense, you’re absolutely perfect.”

Olivia was going to comment when she shut her mouth and stared. The Attorney General was walking up, arm in arm with a woman she assumed to be his wife smiling warmly at Richard.

“Richie you old dog, private practice treating you well?”

Richard shook the man’s hand firmly and nodded. “It certainly pays far better than when I worked for you.”

The man turned and regarded Olivia for a moment smiling. “And how is your lovely guest?”

“John, this beautiful woman is my girlfriend Olivia Dalton. Olivia, this political beast is John Michaels, The AG.”

The older man extended his hand to Olivia shaking it firmly. “A pleasure my dear, you’ve managed to tie this wandering heart down I see?”

“Thank you, and you sir.”

“Margret, his long-suffering wife.” the woman beside him explained, taking Olivia’s proffered hand. “Are you in the profession too?”

Olivia shook her head. “No ma’am, I’m a Sheriff’s Deputy.”

“Bloody hell, they improved the uniforms.” Michaels chuckled.

Olivia blushed, she felt entirely out of her depth in this world.

“I worked for John back when he was District Attorney,” Richard explained. “How is the political realm treating you?”

“Exhausting, but I have my eyes on other avenues.”

“You always did.” Richard grinned. “Good to see you again, John.”
They spoke for a few minutes before the Attorney General and his wife made their excuses and moved on to mingle with other guests. Richard led Olivia onwards and introduced her to a number of notable parties in attendance.

Olivia was beginning to feel a little starstruck as official after official seemed to know Richard well.

“I never realized you were this connected,” she mentioned when they finally were able to find a table to rest.

Richard shrugged. “Hazard of the job when you worked for the city, and now work for a lot of these folks in their private matters, all of them want to be on your good side.”

Olivia sipped her champagne. “I promise not to tell them I’m a country yokel.”

“I don’t think a cattle rancher’s daughter qualifies as a yokel by any stretch.” Richard pointed out. “Your dad has a helicopter.”

Olivia shrugged, a gesture she felt slightly incongruous in her gown. “I don’t think these people differentiate beyond the cow shit.”

“Who’s being prejudiced now?” Richard chided playfully.

The room’s attention was drawn to the podium located by the stage when a functionary announced the arrival of Governor Macdill.

The crowd clapped politely and camera bulbs flashed as the man ascended the steps and took his place behind the seal-emblazoned podium.

Governor Macdill was a handsome man in his mid-fifties. He was the very image of a Californian politician with his head of sandy blonde hair and tan skin. The man had been elected three years prior and was beginning his reelection campaign.

As the applause died down, he began to speak.

“Thank you everyone for coming to this little event tonight. I’m honored to see so many of you fine folks in attendance. I promise not to keep you here all night so I’ll make this brief I promise, I know you’d all rather be elsewhere!”

The governor chuckled at his joke before continuing. “As you’re all aware, tonight marks the start of my reelection campaign. I feel we’ve had a strong start at our promises to make this fine state the best it possibly can be, and I implore you to share my dream and help me take us forward into our rightful place at the forefront of the entire nation.”

The crowd clapped loudly and the governor waved and smiled. He was about to continue when a burst of gunfire ripped through the room. The room descended into pandemonium.

Olivia grabbed Richard’s shoulder and dragged him back into a corner as people began to panic. The room was filled with gunfire and screams.

Olivia watched several uniformed and plainclothes officers rush from the wings to extract the Governor, only to be gunned down by men in tuxedos. The band, she realized to her horror. The band was firing into the air, corralling the crowd of startled guests and rapidly neutralizing any threats to their apparent objective; the Governor.

Macdill cowered behind his podium, gripping it as though a life preserver. One of the men approached and jabbed the butt of his rifle sharply into the back of the man’s head, crumpling him to the ground. He stepped over the Governor’s unconscious form and snatched the microphone from the podium.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention,” he shouted theatrically, his voice booming around the entire space.

The shooting had stopped and more tuxedoed men were now herding frightened guests toward the center of the room. Olivia pulled Richard with her and merged with the herd of bodies.

“This is our official protest against Governor Steven Macdill’s systematic ruination of the state of California. Long enough this man has torn down the moral fabric of the state and thrown our values to the wolves. We are here to end that tonight, an example must be set. Civil war is upon us and it’s time to take arms against the systematic erasure of everything we hold true as Americans.”

It was political Olivia realized, the media hadn’t helped in the slightest. Different networks lean to different extremes of the spectrum whipping up radical beliefs and hatred of the other. It was only a matter of time before it exploded into violence. She just hadn’t expected to be there when it did.

The man on the podium raised his rifle over his head and fired a burst into the ceiling.

“This is our Alamo. We are willing to die to protect our America and you will too unless you do exactly as we say. As we speak, my men are securing and boobytrapping any potential exits. Our goal here is to raise awareness for our fight and make an example of this traitor.” he added kicking Macdill. “Do as we say, and you may live through tonight. Cross us, and your blood will feed the flower of freedom.”

The building’s age and architecture were going to work to their advantage in this instance Olivia realized. Its heavy sandstone construction and elevated windows were going to place the police at a distinct disadvantage.
“We’re going to start separating you into groups and moving you to other areas of the building.” the man announced waving to his comrades. “Comply with their orders or there will be permanent repercussions.”

The men worked efficiently. Olivia noticed that a good number of the waitstaff were alongside the men. If they survived tonight, she was pretty sure some heads were going to roll amongst the state’s Law Enforcement Agencies.

Richard and Olivia were taken to a room on the eighth floor by a pair of terrorists along with eighteen other guests. She saw the logic in their tactic. If they had all hostages in a single location, it would be far simpler for the police to mount a simultaneous rescue attempt. By separating the guests, they created confusion and bought the terrorists time to enact revenge for any attempts to restore order.

The room was a long functional conference room with a row of slim windows along the upper edge of the exterior wall that likely held routine civil meetings in more ordinary times. For now, it was their entire world. The hostages were quieter now that the initial shock and awe of the takeover was beginning to fade. Their guards were not brutal in their treatment but were firm in their instructions as they ordered everyone to sit on the floor against the walls.

“Are you ok?” Richard whispered beside her. Olivia nodded wordlessly. She was too busy watching the guards.

Both men had bandoliers of pouches filled with magazines and equipment along with their assault rifles. Their equipment was compact, likely secreted in instrument cases and other innocuous items they could bring in before the event.

Richard saw the look in her eye. “You’re not going to do anything.” he hissed. “I know it’s your job, but you’re only one woman, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Olivia shook her head gently. “I’m just mapping things out,” she muttered. “I’m not planning to do anything silly.”

Richard grasped her hand tightly between them. “You’re not John McClane.”

“I think I have better hair,” Olivia muttered with a slight smile.

Olivia’s eyes were drawn to the windows as she heard the dull beat of helicopter rotors passing low overhead. The cavalry had finally arrived.

Outside the building, the scene was one of organized chaos. Police vehicles were surrounding City Hall and incident command vehicles were beginning to arrive on location. Officers were moving around setting up barriers and tape in a fight to keep back the growing crowd and media circus that was developing once the news had spread.

A tall blonde figure strode purposefully through the officers moving around the scene. Sheriff Reilly marched into the command truck that had arrived moments earlier and regarded the chaotic scene before her. “Update, now.”

While a highly political post, the Sheriff loathed such theater. She was glad this once she had found an excuse not to attend the event being held within their cordon that evening. Otherwise, she’d be hoping someone competent was in charge.

“Ma’am, we’ve not gotten communication inside yet, but we’re informed we have between ten and fifteen armed individuals with high-power rifles holding roughly one hundred and fifty hostages.”

Reilly sighed and sat heavily in one of the chairs and massaged her forehead. This was going to be a very long night.

“SWAT?”

“Enroute ma’am, ten minutes.”

“Have their commander find me the second his boots hit the ground, I want options yesterday.”

She glanced at the monitors on the wall displaying a live feed of the front doors of the building across the block. This was going to be the longest night.

The hostages in the conference room had settled into an uncomfortable silence. There was the occasional comment or muted conversation but most people simply sniffled quietly to themselves.

Olivia glanced around the room cautiously. The group with them was a mix of ages and sexes, no particular effort had been made to separate the young from old, or men from women. She did recognize the Attorney General and his wife on the far side of the room huddled together in fear.

If such a high-value target was here with them, he must of secondary importance. The two men guarding them didn not appear to be particularly concerned about the low level of conversation in the room; they were in charge and they knew it. She noticed them talking into radios occasionally suggesting they had a good level of coordination with their compatriots across the building.

Olivia hugged herself tightly and leaned against Richard’s shoulder. She was frightened but she was still thinking clearly, which was a good sign. She knew what she’d said to Richard, but she wasn’t going to just let people get hurt if she could help it. She would do nothing that might endanger his life, but she was taking in as much as she could all the same. She’d only been on the job a handful of years and she was green, she knew. That wasn’t even counting how extremely rusty she was from her time off. A fire within her belly told her that she wanted to live very badly; she wasn’t going to leave it entirely in other people’s hands. They were never going to see her coming. For the first time in her life, Olivia was going to take her destiny by the horns.

Mike Sanderson was pacing the rotunda, his rifle slung across his shoulder. Five men and two women were on their knees in front of him, Governor Macdill was amongst them.

Sanderson was fifty-three, his body carrying more than a few extra pounds than he had during his army days. He’d witnessed firsthand as his precious US Army had been systematically ruined by politicians and woke initiatives that turned it into a global laughing stock. That hatred finally culminated when his own son, his pride and joy turned out to be a damn fairy. He’d argued with his wife to the point where the woman wanted nothing more to do with him.

They had understood his plight and his passion though, his brothers in the Sonoran Militia had understood everything he told them. They came from all walks of life, men united by a common purpose to defend their rights, fight government overreach, and restore their great nation to its former glory. Many of them were former military like he was. Veterans that gave everything for a nation that didn’t want them once their usefulness was over. Their country took their youth and their blood and gave it over to deviants and liberals intent on forcing their agenda on the world.

“Whatever you want, we can get you but please, let these people go.” Governor Macdill begged, breaking him from his inner monologue.

Sanderson turned toward the man and stroked his mustache. The asshole had the gall to look assertive he thought. This bastard had the cheek to say he valued veterans and patriots yet took their jobs and gave them to immigrants instead.

“I’ll decide when we let anyone go, traitor,” he barked. “Your time has been and gone, now it’s time for patriots to steer this ship once again. When the media gets here you’re going to give a statement and issue a bunch of executive orders to set the path straight before you pay for your crimes.”

Macdill wilted visibly. “I… I can’t issue orders under duress, there’s a chain of command in place. As long as I’m in captivity I have no power.”

“They’ll do it, or you’ll die,” Sanderson answered sharply. “I’m not afraid to die, and I’ll take as many of you with me as it takes. I will go to God with conviction in my heart!”

Olivia shifted uncomfortably. The floor of the conference room was not particularly suitable for spending a long period of time and she was beginning to get restless. They’d been in the conference room for almost an hour now, and the temperament of the hostages had degraded somewhat. Once the fear and shock of the initial takeover had faded, and normality had begun to settle in, more and more people began to speak.

A woman seated on the far side of the room raised her hand as though she were a schoolchild and waved toward one of the guards.

“What?”

The woman appeared suddenly bashful, “I… some of us will need to use the bathroom soon, or this is going to become an unpleasant place to spend any time.”

The guard didn’t reply, but instead muttered into his radio. He listened for a response for a moment before turning back to the woman and nodding.

“Ok, we’ll take everyone in two groups, women, then men.”

The woman seemed satisfied by his response.

After a few moments, a third guard arrived at the door of the conference room and gestured to his compatriots. The decision-maker ordered all the women in the group to stand and head for the door. There were nine, including herself Olivia noted. They were marched in single file out of the room and back along the corridor they had followed to reach the room. Several hallways later, they arrived outside a set of bathrooms on the far end of a corridor amongst what Olivia assumed were municipal offices.

The women were ushered inside and the guard followed them. A few thought to protest the invasion of the bathroom, but changed their minds when the man waved his assault rifle in their general direction.

Taking her turn in one of the three stalls, Olivia sat and did her business. The brief moment of isolation was almost refreshing after being around others for so long. It was only a thin wooden door, but she felt rather irrationally safe. They’d only sent one guard to escort the women, seeing them as a far lower threat to their successful control. This might be the one opportunity she would be afforded to slip away.

Smoothing her dress, Olivia exited the safety of the stall and checked her makeup in the mirror. It seemed entirely normal for a woman to do this, however, it gave her an opportunity to blend in and disappear in the hostage taker’s eyes.

She regarded the man for a moment. He had a shaved head and was neatly dressed, his band uniform consisted of a tuxedo that fitted him well. These weren’t last-minute costumes or a thin charade, these men were organized and appeared to take a pride in what they were doing. His eyes flicked back and forth over the group for any signs of trouble.

Olivia took her place in line and waited whilst the remainder of the group used the bathroom and the guard made to lead them out towards the hallway. She moved in beside Margret Michaels, the Attorney General’s wife, and leaned in close so as to not be heard. “Make a scene when we get outside.” The older woman looked at her sharply, as if questioning the request. She saw the look in her eye, a mixture of fear and uncertainty. Olivia nodded reassuringly and touched her arm, “please.” Margret nodded and returned her gaze to the front.

The guard led them back out into the corridor and started to herd the group back the way they had come. Olivia deliberately remained toward the rear of the group. As she had hoped, Margret threw herself into her role and burst out crying, and collapsed to the floor in hysterics.

The guard’s distraction was momentary, his attention focused on Mrs. Michaels and her wails. Olivia moved quickly and slipped through a doorway into the darkened interior of an office and pushed herself under a nearby desk.

Outside she could hear the muted wails through the door and the gruff orders of the guard. It was clear he’d lost his control over the group and was trying to reassert order.

Olivia briefly considered interceding with the distracted guard but changed her mind almost immediately. That terrorist would be missed sooner than later and she would have eight hostages on her hands to protect, not an ideal situation.

She lay silently in the dark until the voices quietened down and she heard the group moving away toward the conference room. She breathed a sigh of relief; she hadn’t been missed. She felt a brief pang of sadness as she thought of Richard. She hadn’t said a word to the man about her intentions, hell she’d almost promised not to get involved. She shook her head. This was her job, she had no choice, he would understand.

Once the sounds of footsteps had vanished, she crawled out from under the desk and slipped off her shoes and jewelry to reduce the chances that anything that might sparkle or make noise.

Her priorities were clear; make contact with the outside and gather information. These were highly organized armed men that had run through the Governor’s security like they were mall cops. There was no way she was going to take them on directly, it would be suicide.

Olivia tried one of the desk phones in the office and received the expected silence that confirmed her suspicion; the phone lines were down; it was what she would have done herself in their situation. She glanced around the office, hoping for inspiration to strike. The place appeared to be a planning office of some sort with rolls of charts and map tables dominating the space. She started searching the desks and drawers for anything that might be of use. Most of the desks she searched were useless, containing only office supplies or personal effects but the final one had been abandoned by someone in a hurry, possibly someone working late and it had a backpack and jacket tucked neatly beside it.

Olivia rifled through the items and struck gold. Inside the jacket, she found a cell phone and recovered a small penknife and flashlight from the bag.

Clutching her treasure, she tucked herself in behind the desk and tried the phone. It was locked.
She cursed and mashed the buttons in disappointment. There was no way she could unlock it before it became a useless paperweight in her hands. There was a pack of cigarettes in the jacket along with a lighter. She hadn’t smoked in a couple of years. It had been something she picked up when she first started performing and had ditched shortly after, it had helped her with the long nights and lack of sleep.

Feeling deflated she tapped one out of the packet and lit the cigarette before inhaling deeply. She felt the wave of nicotine flood her system as she sat there in the darkness staring at the one brief flash of hope she’d had. She tossed the phone onto the floor and watched it bounce across the thin carpet. The movement must have hit one of the external buttons because the phone’s power-off screen lit up and Olivia recognized one of the buttons on the screen: EMERGENCY SOS.

How could she have been so stupid? All cell phones had an emergency mode that bypassed the lock system that could dial 911. She slid the button across the touchscreen and held the phone to her ear; it was ringing.

“911, Police or Fire?”

“Police, please.”

There was a momentary click as the call redirected. Olivia tapped out the cigarette on the floor with a grimace. She really didn’t miss those things.

“911, can you tell me what’s happening?”

“My name is Olivia Dalton, Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department badge 2628, I’m in city hall, and I need to be connected to whoever is in charge over there.”

“Ma’am, standby.” The voice of the dispatcher was calm and showed no surprise at her request and efficiently processed her call. “Ma’am, we’re transferring you to the command post, please hold.”

Olivia waited, the phone rang for what seemed like an eternity before it was finally picked up.

“Who is this?” a male voice asked sharply.

“Deputy Dalton, 2628. I’m off duty and I’m inside the building.”

“You are? Where are you? Are you safe?” the voice asked.

Olivia began to repeat what she’d seen and what had happened, explaining her slipping away from the hostages, the gunmen, their number, and disposition. The man seemed to take notes before he explained that he was handing the phone over to someone else.

“Dalton, you’re not even back to work yet and you’re already neck deep in the crap,” a familiar female voice remarked. Sheriff Reilly, Olivia realized, she must be in command out there.

“I was here as a guest ma’am,” Olivia explained weakly feeling as though she were being chastised by a teacher.

“Whatever the reason, I don’t need you going all Buck Rodgers on me Dalton, this is serious shit. I want you to keep your head down and pass on whatever you’re able to when you can, do I make myself clear?”

“Roy Rodgers Ma’am.”

“What?”

Olivia smiled in the darkness. “John McClane referenced Roy Rodgers in the first DieHard movie Ma’am, Buck Rodgers was a Science Fiction character.”

She heard a huff on the other end of the phone. “Whatever, just keep your head down.”

Olivia agreed and ended the call. If she needed them, she would go through the emergency 911 system again and be forwarded on. It wasn’t perfect but at least it was communication. She looked down at her stocking feet and wiggled her toes. She had far better legs than Bruce Willis, that was for sure.

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