The man in the visor hat slowly emerged from the corner, hands raised near his head, screaming not to shoot. Once fully visible, Ethan approached and handcuffed him.
After securing the suspect, Ethan searched the area and found a matching silver chandelier lying nearby.
—You stole two chandeliers and shot at me— Ethan said, frowning. Angry, he yanked the visor cap off the thief and smacked it against his head.
—I was scared! I didn't mean to hurt anyone!— the thief whined pitifully.
—Enjoy prison. Take your time picking up the soap— Ethan retorted.
Still annoyed, Ethan adjusted his own cap and had Emmett transport the thief to the station for processing. The man would await his arraignment tomorrow and remain jailed until trial.
Returning to the mayor's residence, Ethan knocked on Mrs. Kendall's door.
—Mrs. Kendall, we've apprehended the suspect— Ethan reported calmly, though satisfaction tinged his voice.
—Oh thank goodness, Ethan! Was anyone hurt?— Jenny replied, her relief palpable.
Ethan smiled despite her not seeing it.
—Nothing I couldn't handle. He tried running but he's in custody now.—
—Please be careful, Officer Morgan. And thank you.—
After the door closed, Ethan returned to his patrol car, already thinking about lunch and the rest of his shift.
That afternoon, Alma radioed Ethan to respond to Banshee Town Hospital's second floor emergency room.
Exiting the elevator, Ethan found Siobhan staring solemnly through a patient room window.
—Remember that UFC fighter Sánchez? From last night at the Kinaho Casino?—
—This morning they found a woman outside his motorhome— Siobhan continued, jaw clenched. —Just wrapped in a towel. Bruises everywhere, broken ribs...—
Ethan peered through the glass. The battered woman's face was so swollen she was nearly unrecognizable. Hood stood inside comforting her.
—She's accusing Sánchez?—
—Yes. Casino waitress. Says he invited her for champagne last night— Siobhan explained. —After sex and cocaine, he turned violent.—
Hood emerged from the room, his expression dark.
—What's the plan, boss?— Siobhan asked urgently.
Hood's eyes burned with fury.
—We do our jobs. Let's lock the bastard up.—
A convoy of patrol cars raced to the casino, lights flashing. The valet gestured for parking, but officers plowed past as the terrified attendant scrambled aside.
Inside, the casino floor had been transformed. A half-octagon cage dominated the center for tonight's exhibition match ahead of tomorrow's main event.
The venue buzzed with excitement—such spectacles were rare in Banshee. Attendees mingled, congratulating Proctor and Kinaho tribal leaders.
In the ring, Sánchez posed for photos, flashing peace signs—until he spotted Hood's entrance. His smile vanished as he urgently signaled his agent Dunn and Proctor.
Proctor intercepted Hood, hand extended.
—Sheriff Hood! Terrible news about that girl. How is she?—
—Like she got hit by a train. Shattered face, two broken ribs— Hood replied icily.
—Dreadful— Proctor said. —But might I request you delay Sánchez's arrest until after tomorrow's fight? Many stakeholders would—
—Are you serious?— Siobhan exploded, pushing forward. —That girl's brutalized and you're worried about profits?—
—Stand down, Siobhan— Hood ordered before turning to Proctor. —Not happening. You saw her injuries.—
Dunn, Sánchez's agent, sidled up with an oily smile.
—Sheriff, might we discuss compensation? These matters can always be—
—This has happened before?— Hood's voice turned dangerous.
Dunn chuckled.
—We're all adults here. These groupies understand the game. I'll visit tomorrow with a generous settlement—
—Dunn, was it?— Hood growled. —Walk away now and stay gone, or you'll regret it.—
Shoving Dunn aside, Hood advanced toward the ring—until Ethan stopped him.
—Wait, Chief. Let me handle this.—
As Ethan entered the casino, his system pinged with a new mission:
**"Defeat Damien Sánchez. Reward: Skill Book +1"**
The reward was irresistible. Though facing a professional fighter, Ethan had to try—system missions were rare.
—Be careful— Hood said, surprised but yielding.
Ethan nodded and pushed through the crowd. A bodyguard moved to block him at Dunn's signal. Without breaking stride, Ethan drove a kick into the man's gut, sending him crashing through a table.
—Officer! Benny's just doing his job!— Sánchez called from the ring, releasing the woman he'd been posing with. He sauntered to the ropes, adjusting his suit sleeves.
—Damien Sánchez— Ethan announced. —You're under arrest for sexual assault and aggravated battery.—
Sánchez's smirk faltered, then returned with mocking bravado. Even if arrested, he'd humiliate this small-town cop first.
—Arrest me?— He extended his wrists theatrically. —Come put the cuffs on then... if you can.—
Unarmed and in public, Ethan couldn't simply shoot. He unbuckled his duty belt—its gear would only hinder him—and tossed it to Siobhan before vaulting into the ring.
Sánchez cracked his knuckles, oozing contempt.
—This is my world, pig—
Ethan's right hook exploded against Sánchez's jaw before he finished speaking. The fighter staggered, shocked by the punch's power.
Snarling, Sánchez unleashed a flurry of professional strikes. Ethan blocked some, absorbed others—each impact rattling his bones—but countered with precise blows of his own.
When Sánchez grabbed him in a clinch, Ethan snapped his head forward. Their skulls collided with a sickening crunch, blood gushing from Sánchez's ruined nose.
—Think this is UFC?— Ethan spat, driving a knee into Sánchez's groin.
As the fighter doubled over, Ethan tackled him through the ropes. They crashed onto casino tables, scattering spectators.
Pinning Sánchez down, Ethan rained hammerfists onto his face.
—Like hitting women? How's it feel?!—
—Ethan! You'll kill him!— Siobhan screamed as she and Hood pulled him off.
Sánchez lay motionless, face pulped, arm bent at a grotesque angle. The crowd stood frozen in horror.
Ethan, breathing heavily, wiped blood from his split lip. He'd taken punishment too—Sánchez's professional strikes had landed hard—but the mission was complete.
—Call an ambulance for this trash— he told Siobhan, applying a handful of ice to his swelling eye. —Boss, I need a drink.—
—Damn right— Hood agreed, clapping Ethan's shoulder. The mild-mannered officer had unleashed shocking brutality.
With Sánchez's hospitalization canceling the event, Hood drove them to The Forge.
Sugar gasped at Ethan's injuries, pressing an ice-packed towel to his face.
—Vodka. Neat— Ethan croaked.
—Shouldn't you be at the hospital?— she fretted, pouring the drink.
—Just bruises— Ethan said, downing the vodka in one burning gulp.
Hood studied him curiously.
—Why jump in? I had it handled.—
—That girl...— Ethan exhaled. —Someone had to answer for what he did to her.—
As the alcohol eased his pain, Ethan added casually:
—By the way, when you fence Sánchez's gold watch, cut me in. I earned it.—
Hood's glass froze mid-sip.
—What watch?—
—The one in your pocket. Don't worry— Ethan grinned. —Just want my fair share for taking those punches.—
Tension thickened until squealing brakes outside broke the silence. The door slammed open—Proctor stormed in, quivering with rage.
—Kai! Drink?— Sugar offered weakly.
Proctor ignored her, glaring at Hood.
—You cost people a fortune tonight, Sheriff.—
—Blame Sánchez— Hood countered. —Should've kept his pants on.—
—I asked for one day's delay!— Proctor snapped. —My arrangement with previous sheriffs was mutually beneficial. I'd hate to lose that.—
—Funny— Hood stood, towering over Proctor. —I don't recall taking orders from you.—
Proctor's sneer faltered. He turned to the bar, drumming nervous fingers.
—If you're done, we'd like to drink in peace— Ethan raised his glass, battered face defiant.
Proctor eyed Ethan's injuries, then exhaled sharply.
—This better not happen again.—
As Proctor left, the bar's tension eased slightly.
—To justice— Ethan toasted weakly. —However it comes.—
The three drank in weary silence, knowing tonight's violence was just one battle in a larger war.
---