Disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever, owned any part of Flashpoint, much to my eternal disappointment. I am merely borrowing these characters and promise to return them in reasonably good working order when I'm done.

Author's Note: Yet another Spike story for your reading pleasure, because 1) he's my favorite Flashpoint character and 2) there still aren't enough Spike stories here. As with all of my stories, this has not been beta'd and all mistakes are my own. My goal is to make this read like an episode, so it might jump around a bit. You'll have to let me know how successful I am with that. Enjoy and, as always, please read and review. Thanks - Psy

Officer Michelangelo "Spike" Scarlatti stepped carefully around the metal drums and containers lining the light industrial lot, the tac light on his MP5 the only thing keeping him from bumping into them or tripping over anything else in his way. He fanned the light back and forth ahead and to both sides keeping a watchful eye out for the subjects. Spike could hear his teammate, Raf, moving stealthily behind him and occasionally the light from Raf's MP5 would catch the corner of his eye as Raf did the same.

As they approached the back third of the property, a motion sensing light suddenly came on overhead, illuminating the near corner of an outbuilding. Spike heard a muffled curse and the sound of an empty drum being kicked. Training his rifle in the direction of the noise, he called out.

"Police! SRU! Get down on the ground! Do it now!"

Two figures, one about 5-foot-10 and 180 pounds, the other about 5-foot-4 and 110 pounds, both wearing dark hoodies, popped up from behind a container about 50 feet ahead. The two subjects ducked back down and scrambled to disappear again into the shadows behind the building. Spike had just started running toward the subjects, Raf just behind and to the right of him, when a couple shots rang out.

As he ran, Spike felt a searing pain high on his left shoulder, his mind barely registering the sound in his headset as he heard Raf report to the rest of the team their location and that they had taken fire. The pain grew as he heard his team leader respond, ordering the rest of the team to converge from different directions.

"Ahh," Spike groaned as he took cover behind a drum. His arm was already starting to go numb and he wondered how long he would be able to continue holding up his MP5 with it. His breath was becoming somewhat labored as well. He took a few seconds to concentrate on his breathing, slowing it down as the team's snipers had taught him in their cross-training sessions.

"Spike!" hissed Raf, "You okay?" He reached his teammate and placed a hand on the man's good shoulder. Pulling out his flashlight, he quickly assessed the injury.

"Kira," he spoke to the SRU dispatcher, "we're going to need EMS here."

"Raf?" team leader Ed Lane growled.

"Spike's been hit," replied Raf. "Left shoulder. Looks like the bullet just missed his vest. Doesn't look like it hit the artery though."

Spike shook his head, still trying to control his breathing. "I'm good," he assured his team. "Let's get these guys." He stood and started to move around the drums.

"All right, Team One, stay sharp!" Ed's voice came through the comm link again.

Spike and Raf carefully made their way around the back corner of the building. They cleared the area between the building and the back fence as quickly and quietly as they could. As they approached the other side of the building, they both caught another glimpse of the two hooded subjects under another security light. They ran toward the subjects, their rifles trained on their prey. They shouted, once again ordering the two subjects to put their weapons down and get on the ground. Instead of complying, however, they two figures kept running. As they turned the corner of the building, the shorter one looked back, simultaneously raising his arm and revealing a black metal handgun.

2 Hours Earlier

Cliff Collins paced back and forth across the worn out carpet of the small apartment he shared with his mom and little brother. He held a cell phone to his ear, listening to it ring endlessly before finally giving up and ending the call. He stood in the middle of the room staring up at the ceiling.

"This is great," he muttered defeatedly, "this is just great! D gonna kill me!"

On the couch, his little brother sat playing a video game. "Why?" he asked without looking up.

"Dude! They just repo'd ma's car!"

"Yeah? What that got to do wit' D?"

Cliff shook his head. "Dude! D's dope was in the car! I was gonna take it to him after moms went to sleep.

"He gonna kill me I don't get it back!" He grabbed the repo notice from the table and read it through again.

"Says here the repo company's in Yorkdale. I know where that is." He went into the bedroom he and his brother shared and came back out a couple of minutes later. In his right hand he held a semi-automatic pistol and in the left a fully loaded magazine. He shoved the magazine into the handle of the gun and pulled the slide back to load the chamber. Grabbing a black hoodie from the back of a chair, he put it on, zipped it up and slid the gun into a pocket. He started for the door, but stopped when his brother paused his video game and jumped up to follow him.

"Petey, what the hell you doin'?"

"Comin' witchoo," his brother responded, grabbing his hoodie from the couch and turning off the TV.

"Oh, hell no you ain't!" Cliff argued.

His brother was defiant, though. "Come on, man," he implored. "Mom's asleep and you never know, you might need backup!" He reached into one of his pockets and started to pull out his gun.

Cliff just shook his head. "Yeah, right," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "like that's gonna stop anyone!" He stared at his little brother for a minute before relenting. He never could say no to the kid and besides, when he was Petey's age, he was already a member of D's crew.

"Okay, fine," he said, "but, you keep behind me and don't e'en thinka pullin' 'at stupid thing out a'ight?"

"A'ight," shrugged Petey and the two of them quietly headed out of the apartment.

They walked a couple of blocks north before they found an unlocked car. Cliff easily broke the ignition from the steering column and quickly hotwired the sedan. They jumped in and Cliff started driving across town. He took surface streets and did his best to stay under the radar of any patrolling cops. It didn't take that long, no more than half an hour, to get to the Yorkdale area, but they had to drive around for nearly an hour more before they found what they were looking for.

Turning off the headlights and throwing the car in neutral, Cliff let the car coast to a stop across the street from the nondescript building. He was sure this was the place. He turned off the engine and they sat in the car for several minutes just watching the door.

"Man, what're we waiting for?" asked Petey. Now that they were here, he was starting to get nervous. "Let's just get in there, get your stuff and get outta here."

Cliff didn't move or take his eyes off the building. "Naw," he said, "we gotta make sure there's nobody watchin'."

After watching and waiting for about ten minutes, Cliff finally sat up straight. He pulled the gun out of his pocket and checked the magazine and chamber again before putting it back, shanking his head as Petey mimicked his movements with his own 'piece.' Then they got out, quietly closing the car doors and made their way to the side of the building. There was room for maybe two or three cars to park in front of the building and a driveway that ran beside it on the right that was blocked by a large chain-link gate that was chained and padlocked. At the top of the gate was a roll of barbed wire to discourage anyone entertaining any ideas of climbing it. A cement block wall about six feet tall separated the drive from the property next door. Cliff took a flashlight from the left pocket of his hoodie and shined the light down the side of the building. Not seeing a car that looked like his mothers, he walked around to the property next door and started walking along the cement wall, looking for a way over it. About halfway down, he found a small picnic table near a door in the side of the building to his right.

"Petey, give me a hand," he said as he lifted one end of table and started dragging it over to the wall. His brother quickly complied and before long, they had jumped the wall and had begun scouring the repo yard for their mother's car.

Sergeant Greg Parker sat at the head of the table in the SRU briefing room, a number of file folders and forms spread out before him. He dutifully filled out a form, signed it and placed it in a folder before reaching for another one. He sighed heavily. While he enjoyed having a quiet night shift for a change, he hated all the paperwork that went with it. Of course, it was the fact that this was their first quiet shift in several weeks that had caused the avalanche of paperwork he now faced.

"Come on, Greg," he heard his second in command, Team One's tactical leader Ed Lane as he walked purposefully into the briefing room. "You've been at that for over an hour now. You need a break!"

Ed reached over Greg's shoulder and forcibly removed the pen from his superior officer's hand, setting it down and taking a step back to allow the other man to stand up.

"Eddie," Greg shook his head, though he couldn't help the small grin spreading across his face. "You know if I don't get this done now, it'll never get done!" He looked up at his friend, his grin spreading wider at the stern look on Ed's face.

Ed nodded. "Yeah and you know what, Greg?" he asked, "Even if you get it all done tonight, there'll still be more to do tomorrow. Let's go."

With a chuckle, Greg pushed the chair back and slowly rose to his feet. "Okay, Eddie," he said, "what've you got in store for me tonight?"

The two men walked out of the briefing room, nodding to the dispatcher as they passed by. Ed slapped his friend on the back and grinned. "Sam and Jules, head to head in the indoor training range. Spike's cooking up something special for them."

Thirty minutes later the team stood in the hallway outside the training range. Sam had his arm around Jules consoling her as Spike counted up the money he'd made on his bets and Raf just shook his head. He whispered something in her ear prompting her to elbow him in the ribs.

"Jules," Raf said, "I really thought you had him, right up until the last target."

Spike grinned over at his teammate. "No way, Raf," he argued. "It was Samtastic all the way!" He and Sam a triumphant fist bump.

He turned to his team leader and sergeant. "Maybe Jules should take the Sierra position a little more so she can get her shooting rhythm back," he smiled.

"We'll take that under advisement, Spike," Greg smiled. He took a breath, but before he could say anything else, the familiar sound of the alert system and Kira Marlowe's voice flooded the station's PA system.

Team One gear up, Hot Call; shots fired 138 Bentworth, North York. A security guard was shot and killed. North York PD responded and a uniformed officer was shot one block north at 124 Cartwright.