Dont Be a Hero

Prologue

As always, traffic was ridiculous in Los Angeles. The morning rush was already underway as Detective Jackson Wolfe reluctantly pulled into the cluster-fuck of sweat and metal that covered the vast downtown portion of the eight-lane highway. It was six A.M. and he had meant to be at the station already but had overslept. He cursed as human nature made its finest attempt at proving its stupidity as vehicle after vehicle cut him off or nearly ran him down from behind. He hated the way people drove in California. He'd had so many near death experiences since he had moved from his hometown of Salt Lake City, Utah, that he was positive he would die in a tangle of heated metal on one of L.A’s death-trap freeways. He was grateful to be in investigations, not highway patrol. He doubted he would have the patience not to shoot half of the people he pulled over.

The city itself was an amazing place. A whole world of its own, seemingly isolated from the rest of humanity in one aspect, yet totally connected to every living, breathing human being in existence via Hollywood, movies, and T.V.

There seemed to be far more imports than natives of L.A. Just about everyone you met was from somewhere else. Jackson had been hesitant to take the transfer offer, but he needed to get away. He needed peace. Distance. He felt as if L.A. could swallow him and allow him to forget.

The blaring horn of an impatient semi snapped him back from his thoughts into the reality of the insanity on the road around him. He gripped the steering wheel tighter as he shook his head, reminding himself that this was not the time or place to allow his thoughts to wander. He kept his focus on his driving for the rest of the commute to the station. In a different city, he would have been there in 10 minutes. In L.A. it took him closer to 45.

Jackson walked into the office, with eyes wild and hair standing on end, and made his way to his desk. I'll never get used to driving around here, he thought to himself as he dropped his keys and brief case on his desk. His annoying, tow-headed partner had yet to arrive. She was younger than he was by about 10 years, and she still hadn't figured out the filter between her brain and her mouth. She didn't come off as overly intelligent, but he had learned that it was just an illusion. One he wasn't quite sure was intentional. Her blonde hair and bubbly personality were the perfect disguise for her sharp intellect. 25-year-old Detective Macy Grey had shocked him several times in the beginning of their partnership, but he was well aware at this point that the little, blonde bombshell was more than she appeared to be.

He noticed the stack of paperwork on her desk. Her desk was positioned facing his, pulled together so that they were joined. The two detectives sat face to face, as though they sat across from each other in a booth at a diner. Macy took on more paperwork than he did, seeming not to mind the tedious job of filling out reports and keeping things legal and in order. Jackson wasn't into all that. He just wanted to do what he had signed up for when he became a cop. He wanted to be on the streets catching people who broke the law.

Detectives Wolfe and Grey were assigned to a special division of investigations. One that the public was unaware of. It was called the V.S.I.D. or The Vigilante and Superhuman Investigations Department.

..................

Back story:

   For some time, reports had been coming in of people using unusual talents and doing seemingly impossible things while apprehending known criminals and aiding innocents who were unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Jackson almost laughed in the face of the Chief when he had first been made aware of his expected duties:

"You are joking, right? You want me to go forth, hunt down, and apprehend Batman?"