after it's over

Who: Danny and Eric
Where: Fontaine Park
When: Evening

It was over, but Eric had thought it’d feel different. He’d been on the move all day now, flitting between derelict buildings in the Sprawl, alleys around the city, even spending a hunk of time under the Sixth Street bridge, and Eric had hoped to see more on his last day of freedom. He’d been disappointed there, though, knowing that the ripples of his work would need more than a day before their effects would show. And frankly, while he could’ve kept ahead of the cops to see those ripples? Eric was tired.

That was a feeling he’d anticipated; a profound weariness that settled deep in his bones as he thought back on the lives he’d taken, the terror he’d sown, and the sacrifices he’d made to be able to do so. What was missing was the satisfaction over succeeding, and he hoped that Eily was feeling it for him somewhere out there. Her life could go on, and his had been worth giving up for that.

He’d called the cops about fifteen minutes earlier, reporting a sighting of a man who looked very much like himself in the park and hanging up, and now? There he was, right where he’d told them he would be. Stretched out on a bench near the fountain with a brown-bagged pint of whiskey in one hand, Eric was smiling faintly as he tossed errant handfuls of popcorn for the pigeons with his other. He’d miss this, and so much more. Really, for a city he’d always detested? He was going to miss all of it.

Danny had been at the station when the call came in. He and Brett had spent the better part of the day retracing steps, re-interviewing people and while Brett had gone in one direction, Danny had gone in his and wound up with nothing. It had him back at the station before Brett and there when the frantic uniform told him about the tip. There was no time to find Brett before making a move, so Danny moved alone, leaving word to guide his partner in the right direction when he was found.

The sun was fading as the police made their way into the park, Danny holding Marten’s photo in one hand as they studied the few patrons and ushered them out for their own safety. It was slightly surprising to see the man there, sitting like it was nothing and it took Danny at least three looks at the photo then back to make sure they had the right man. Nodding for the others with him to hold back he drew his gun, keeping it ready but at his side for now, so as not to scare Martens. He wouldn’t get far if Danny had to fire, but a confession not to the coroner would be beneficial. “Eric Martens?” he called out once he was close, watching the old soldier for any signs of trouble.

There were none to be seen, none that Eric planned to show here and now. He could always be dangerous, sure, but here and now? He was standing down, leaving himself entirely unarmed. His guns had been stashed earlier in the day, jammed into the crawlspace of a derelict building with strict orders to his dogs to guard the space. Even his belt knife and tools were gone, his pockets cleaned out, and the few tricks he had? They weren’t finding them on him. Which, Eric supposed, was the problem. His mind never stopped working, planning ahead, forming tactics and contingencies. So, really, it wasn’t over. Not while he was alive.

“Took your sweet time,” he called Danny’s way, tipping his pint back for a swig of liquor. “I was starting to wonder if I’d have to waste another dime calling you boys.” This guy was a cop, right? The plainly-displayed gun said as much, though Eric knew that by now the Konoviches wouldn’t be very subtle in their own pursuit of him. If they’d found him before the cops? Well, he’d just have to play that one by ear.

The bastard had called himself. That sent Danny’s temper up a few notches, but he didn’t react. Not with a crazy man in his reach. He did get a small signal to his men, enough to have them surround the area. “If you’re calling then you aren’t thinking about running, though I guess I don’t really have to tell you that’s futile do I?” This time the gun did come up, leveled on Eric. “Up slowly, hands where I can see them.”

Smiling probably didn’t help the impression that he was a mad man, but Eric couldn’t help it. It was a small grin, weary and resigned, but there all the same as he reached for his cigarettes where they sat on the bench next to him. “In a second,” he said to Danny’s order, lighting up with a soft sigh. Eric was moving slow and careful, mostly to let Danny and his men see every move. Getting shot right now wasn’t the current plan. “As for futility, well... let’s just say that past events have left me doubting the department’s deductive reasoning. Or, so the uniformed boys can follow?” Eric clarified as he puffed his smoke, “You’re only here because I wanted you here.”

“Like hell I’ll wait a second,” Danny said moving his gun in a upward motion but keeping it trained on Eric. “Get up. Now.” His tone was gruff, hardly good with negotiating but he didn’t need to be. He could just shoot. While he didn’t believe in the same vigilante attitude that Eric might have, if that was his motive, Danny had no issues with bringing the suspect in with less blood than he started with and perhaps a leg that didn’t work as well.

The commands sparked his nerves, telling Eric to just rush the cop. People shot sloppy when charged, he could take a bullet and break this man. No reason to, he told himself, eyes slipping shut as Eric took one last, hearty swallow from his bottle, gulping down the last of the whiskey. He chased it with his cigarette, head dipping back to trail smoke upwards as Eric finally opened his eyes, staring at the first stars revealing themselves in the sky.

“A smarter man would’ve just shot,” he finally said, slowly rising from the bench. “Do your paperwork, cut your losses, save us all a lot of trouble. ‘Course, a smarter man wouldn’t be wearing a badge,” he mocked, dropping his cigarette and presenting his wrists for Danny. Eric looked like hell, which would fit in with the timeframe of the cops’ pursuit, but it was just for show. Cuts and scrapes on his arms, split and gouged nails, grime on his neck and cheeks, they presented a compelling picture of a man who’d been running hard all day. That suited him just fine.

Danny didn’t lower his gun. Not even when he nodded for one of the uniforms came forward to put Eric in handcuffs. “I could shoot you, and I wouldn’t miss, but I figure there’s a much longer line of people who’d rather see you dead when I’d only shoot so you didn’t walk so great.” Danny smiled a little, something that didn’t fit his features, something grim and unfriendly.

“And this way you get a pat on the head, right?” Eric asked as the cuffs locked tight, focusing on the subtle clicks he could feel against his wrists. It was almost patronizing of them to think that handcuffs would offer security after what he’d done with no real resources. “A shiny new badge, a few more bucks a week, your picture in the Echo. Shit, maybe your wife’ll even show some interest?” he went on, noting the wedding ring on Danny’s finger. “Do me a favor, pal. Whenever you stop to ask yourself why I’d do this after everything else, have someone take your picture. I want to see the look on your face.”

Danny gave the man a look, only slightly lowering his gun. “You do think you’re rather smart hmm?” He asked shaking his head. “No. I don’t need a new badge or my picture in the Echo. I’d actually rather it not. Trent’s the one that your girlfriend talked to, not me. Let him have the press. He’s got a better face for it.” Two men had Eric despite the cuffs, two more had guns on him and though Danny lowered his, it didn’t go away. He didn’t trust the others to make the shot, not like he could. “I get to see you behind bars. That’s all I need.” He gave another nod and one of the uniforms started reading his rights, stumbling over the names of the men Eric had murdered.

He could’ve made it worse for these men, sure; could’ve smacked a headbutt into either cop holding an arm, just for a laugh. Petty violence wasn’t on the menu, though, not against men just doing their jobs and lacking the entire perspective Eric worked under. “Glad you’re a cheap date,” Eric told Danny. “But when you’re feeling satisfied for this? Remember, if you’d done your job right and locked up those men years ago? Like you should have? Their victims would be alive, they’d be alive. They died because none of you would stop them.” The mocking humor was gone with those words, replaced with a low growl in his voice and a spark in his eyes that was menacing to behold, handcuffs or no. “But hey, this is all you need, right?”

That got Danny’s eyes to narrow, one fist clenching while he considered punching Eric. “Did you enjoy stringing us along while you slept with the pretty little coroner and keeping tabs on what we knew?” There were only so many coroners and almost none were women. It wasn’t hard for Danny to guess who Eric had been dating, who’d ratted him out. “Bet you enjoyed that too huh?” He shook his head taking a step away before turning back and punching Eric in the gun anyway. None of the other cops would say anything. “We do our job. Don’t need you to do it for us.”

It was a decent hit, one that Eric took harder than he needed to for the sake of show, bending at the waist as he was held in place. “I told her, you potato-faced fuck,” he grunted as he was hauled upright, spitting on the pavement. “Everything, literally everything you have on me, I gave you. Is that doing your job? Leaving the mobs in place, is that your job?” He felt himself get yanked forward, out the way he’d entered the park, no doubt to a waiting car, but Eric wasn’t done. “Either you can’t stop them, or you won’t. Either you’re weak or a coward. Your right hook needs work, so let’s just say ‘coward’, deal?”

The next punch from Danny landed on Eric’s jaw. The force of it moved up his arm, leaving him shaking it as he stepped away. “You left your own fucking victims you asshole,” he said they got close to the car. “Like the girl you used to get back to us. I’m sure that left her in a great place finding out her boyfriend’s a psychopath.” That his loyalty to the job was questioned had Danny seething and he wanted nothing more than to toss Eric into oncoming traffic and let God have his way with the man. That wasn’t his job though and doing such a thing made him no better than the man in his custody. Instead he let the uniforms take him to the waiting squad car, rubbing his hand.

He’d seen that before, the way Danny was shaking his hand after the punch, and Eric saw it now through blurry eyes as his head swam. The cop didn’t have a clue about a fistfight, leaving Eric wondering if ‘weak’ might be more appropriate. Not that he could say it as his jaw ached, tasting blood in his mouth. “Failure!” he bellowed back at Danny when he could speak, “Coward! Joke of a fucking man!” Yeah, cheap shots had stirred his anger, as had the comment about December, but in the end? It didn’t matter. He’d never have his chance to show the cop what a real punch felt like, or to defend his actions and motivations. Because in the end, this was another step in the plan. “You should’ve shot me when you had the chance!” Eric yelled as he was forced into the car roughly. And the moment the door slammed shut, his eyes dipped downwards to the handcuffs. It was time to study.

Danny went back to his car, rooting around under the seat until he found the flask there and took a pull off it. “Should have given me a fucking reason,” he mumbled under his breath then got in the car to take Eric back to the station.