2A/N:
oh my gosh, i'm so sorry. i was just looking in on my fics today and realized i never updated this one, even though it's been updated on ao3 for weeks now. at least you'll have a shorter wait between ch2 and ch3 than them? ha...ha...ha.. yeah. i'm so sorry. anyway,
just a heads up that there's a pov switch here, from neil to andrew. i'll be switching back and forth between them for every chapter till the fic is done
(also, the fic is officially all plotted out, it just needs to be written. unfortunately i still have no idea how many chapters this'll be, although at the moment i'm thinking 4 or 5)
finally, thanks to my beta, queenofmoons67 (tumblr handle)
i hope you all enjoy the new chapter!
(Cat)astrophe Chapter Two
Andrew got the call at five in the afternoon, just as the cats started meowing and thumping their heads into his legs.
"Dinner's at six," he told them, "so you'll just have to wait."
They meowed some more, so he ignored them and picked up the phone.
"Neil Josten's fantastic menagerie of cats," he said in greeting.
There was an awkward silence, and whoever was on the other end coughed and then cleared their throat.
"Andrew Minyard?" Their voice was more serious than he expected, heavy with something he couldn't name.
"Yes," Andrew said.
"This is Captain Juan Bradley with the Walkerton* police department. We have a situation, and we need you to come down to the pet store on Seventeenth and Aspen."
Andrew stiffened. At his feet, King wove her way through his legs.
"The pet store," Andrew said.
"Yes," Bradley said.
Andrew turned to the door, grabbing his car keys as he went. "What's wrong with Neil."
Andrew broke at least twelve traffic laws on his way to the pet store, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Instead he swerved the car into the parking lot, parked across half of two separate spaces, and then marched right up into the closest police officer's personal space.
"Juan Bradley," he told her.
Wide eyes greeted him, but she still pointed him toward the type of van typically used for police intelligence.
Inside, a short man — taller than Andrew, but still short — with thin, balding hair looked up from a computer screen.
"Captain Bradley," the officer said, holding his hand out for Andrew to shake.
"Andrew Minyard," he said, and ignored the man's hand in favor of looking at the screen. It was split into nine separate sections, each with a black and white video and a timestamp. "Where's Neil?"
Bradley's mouth soured, and Andrew waited for him to pull rank, but instead the officer just pointed at a figure in the center of one of the videos. From what Andrew could make out, Neil was laying on the ground, the rest of the hostages behind him while the gunmen pointed their guns at everyone.
"They want the equivalent of Josten's salary for this season," Bradley said.
"We can't give it to them," Andrew said.
"I'm sorry, but we can't—" Bradley stopped abruptly and looked at Andrew. "Sorry, what?"
Andrew looked back and curled his fingers over his left armband. "We can't give it to them. Keep up."
"Why… okay," Bradley said, and Andrew knew he wanted to ask why, if Andrew had known the police's procedure when it came to bank robbers and not giving in to demands, or if Andrew had another reason. And Andrew did, because giving them Neil's full seasonal salary would be the equivalent of sentencing three people to death, of sentencing Neil to death, but there was no need for Bradley to know that.
"Why did you call me here?" Andrew asked instead, cutting off whatever Bradley may have wanted to add. "You won't let me go in there myself, obviously, and you wouldn't have given them the money anyway, so there's some other reason you want me here. What is it?"
Bradley glanced away, and at first Andrew thought he was being cowardly, avoiding Andrew's glare, but then he followed Bradley's gaze.
On screen, Neil shoved himself to his knees. One of the thieves stepped forward, towering over him, but then Neil looked up and even on such a small display, Andrew knew Neil had said something cutting. The taller of the two thieves planted a boot in Neil's chest, and he went flying backward.
Andrew turned from the videos and marched toward the van's door. His knives were in his armbands, there were only two thieves on that camera, and it was time that people relearned what happened to those who hurt Neil Josten.
"He asked for you," Bradley said behind him. Andrew paused in the doorway. "Neil, I mean. The suspects have another hostage relaying all of their demands; he said that Neil specifically asked for you to get the money."
Andrew turned around, his hands falling back to his sides from where they'd been gripping his armbands. Bradley was no longer sitting, but standing, his mouth pressed into a firm line.
"And see," Bradley said. "The thing is, I may not be an exy fan myself, but my daughter sure is, and I've listened to enough of her ranting to know that you and Josten are supposed to have some crazy rivalry type of thing going on. So why the hell would he trust you of all people in this situation?"
"See," Andrew said, "Sometimes, people can only report on what they think they know."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Bradley asked.
Andrew just ignored him, instead turning and making his way from the van.
Another officer stopped him in his tracks. She was holding a bulletproof vest in one hand, despite the fact she was already wearing one, and what looked like a small earpiece in the other hand.
"Andrew Minyard?" she said, and then nodded to the space behind him. "Captain Bradley, sir."
"Get on with it," Andrew said.
She looked at him again and held out the spare vest and earpiece. "These are yours."
Andrew took them, narrowing his eyes at her, and then turned to glare at Bradley. He raised the items in a silent demand.
Bradley just looked back. "I thought you may like those. Put them on, stay behind the caution tape, and I promise that you'll be the first one inside after all of us."
"Us?"
"The police." Bradley shook his head. "I won't pretend to understand what's going on between you and Josten, or why Josten specifically asked for you, but if compromise is what you need to not storm a delicate situation, then I'll give it to you."
Andrew didn't hold out his hand to shake, didn't nod his agreement. Instead, he shrugged into the vest, put on his earpiece, and walked back into the van to commandeer the only chair.
He had a junkie to look out for.
A/N:
* there's no actual significance to this, i was just listening to walk the moon and trying to come up with a town so walkerton it was
also, thank you so much for reading! i hope you all enjoyed, and friendly reminder that my tumblr is bookdancerfics, so feel free to bother me there (i say bother, but i swear i'll be happy to see you)
sorry again that i forgot to update here earlier (i would've sworn i did), and please don't be afraid to comment!
