The next day, I woke up late. Very late. And when I finally managed to drag my ass out of the house, I was confronted by a media storm. Cameras...microphones, tape recorders all shoved in my face.

One lady was bold enough to grab me by the arm and spin me around as I tried to wade through the vertible onslaught and undertoe of human bodies pressing me for information.

"Mr Alexander, do you have anything to say to New Yorkers who are blaming you for the mishandling of this case?"

That stopped me in my tracks. "My what?"

"What do you have to say to detractors who are saying you are so mentally unstable that you shouldn't even be a cop?"

I blinked, slowly, and turned to face her fully. "What do you mean 'unstable'?"

"You were seen crying and sobbing into the Assistant DA's shoulder last night at the exlposion. People say this is not a confidence inspiring sight and that someone who breaks down so quickly has no buisness being on the police force."

That infuriated me. "First, I'd tell them to shut the hell up. Secondly, do you have any idea at all why I was so upset?" When she didn't answer, and everyone else was quiet I continued, my voice a low, menancing rumble. "Of course you don't. The media only pays attention to what they feel like and never the whole facts. God, how stupid can you, and whoever is thinking that I'm unstable be? Jessica Gabrielle died in the explosion. The explosion originated in her apartment building. I grew up with Ms. Gabrielle and, until her death last night, was ROMANTICALLY INVOLVED with her. "

The camera's flashed. And then...something odd happened. The a tear passed down the reporter's face. "My God...." she said. "Oh my God..."

I nodded "Yeah. Makes you feel kind of bad for the way you were acting, doesn't it?"

Several of the reporters backed way, some even drove off. The reporter I was talking to turned to her camera man, and opened the camera, taking the digital recording disc from inside, she smashed it on the ground. "I'm so...so sorry, Officer. I....sorry..." She gestured to the camera man and walked away. The lawn was cleared, and two officer arrived to keep it that way.

I'd never seen that before. Normally the press were hawks...but I guess, knowing the case as the public did, and then hearing that side of the story...they hadn't expected that. They'd fully expected me to have reached my breaking point. Which, in point of fact, I had. But they didn't need to know that.

First things first for me, I thought. The revolver that Jessica had given me was a nice weapon, good stopping power. But it only had six shots and was a pain to re-load in the middle of a fire fight. I need something else, and not something that the average officer had available to him. I figured it was time to call in a couple of favors.

Heading to an area downtown, I walked into the FBI's divisional headquarters for the area and asked for Agent Warner. The receptionist eyed me supiciously, and called for him. When Johnny Warner finally got to me, he was with two other agents, both armed. When the skinny, bespectacled man finally saw me he waved the guards on silently and called me just as quietly down into his office. When he shut the door, he turn on me.

"You got a lot of nerve coming down here, Jay. You've been all over the papers lately. Have you forgotten how to stay out of sight? You used to be Secret Service, you know better than that!"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, well, when things start blowing up, and the FBI isn't showing up, or the CIA and I'm the most visable, this starts to happen. Just be thankful that the press doesn't know I'm former FBI."

He nodded. "You've got a point. I'm trying to keep this HQ as low profile as I can. Anyways, what can I do for you? If it's help finding evidence, believe me, we're already on it, but you havn't found anything we don't already have. And we havn't found anything you havn't. So, it can't be that."

I nodded. "You're right." And I drew my revolver from the holster on my chest."

He whistled appreciatively. Say what you will about Johnny, but the guy knew and loved weapons. He was part of procurment for my old team back in Mas. He was the procruement team. "This is a nice gun, but it's far from standard. It's a custom job. Gift?"

I sighed "Yeah, from the...former...DA."

He blinked. "Jessica. Oh God..I'm so sorry Jay."

I waved it on. "Look. It's a nice gun, but even with a speedloader, it's only six shots. The extended barrel means I don't waste those six, but it's still only six. I need something more. A couple of something mores. What can you get for me with my credentials."

I suppose it's time to let you in on a secret. I'm not former FBI. I'm still FBI. I'm an attache to the NYPD to give them extra support. It's not like in the movies where we interefere with what's going on. On the contrary. Our function, unless it's a federal case, is strictly support. And this is how I was doing it.

Thing is, once you go to this sort of support job, you can't go back. I lose my full FBI liscence. I report to only the CO at the station, and have nothing to do with and no juristiction with the FBI. Lucky for me, however, it didn't remove my weapon credentials.

It's sort of a state of flux. I'm a liason between the two levels of police enforcement. And that's about it. My father was a cop...but I knew that I needed more training to protect those around me. Which I still havn't successfuly done. That's why I became special ops.

Anyways, Johnny looked at me like I had three heads. "The Firearm Creds only count during an emergency where the FBI is giving direct help, Jay. You know that. There's no way I can give you something that you would have used back in Massachussetts."

I cocked an eyebrow, not really believing Johnny too much. He lived by the letter of the law, but he knows all the loopholes. And I said as much.

He sighed. "Alright. I have...a couple of things. Pistols only. I can't authorize anything more than that."

I nodded. "Ok, fine. What do you have for me?"

He gestured to follow him, and I did. Down to the armory. Using his keycard to open it, he walked over to the pistols cabinet. And pulled out the first of the weapons I'd be using. It was short, stocky and pitchblack.

He held it lovingly, and field stripped it. "This," he began  "Is the Heckler & Koch USP45CT.  A compact version of the larger H&K USP weapon, it's light and made from a tough carbon polymer.  As you can see, even fieldstripped it's not an overly complicated piece of machinery. The clip is detachable box magazine, holds 8 .45ACP rounds. "

He slapped the slide and and body back together and threw the clip into the reciever on the bottem. "The gun itself is required to be frozen to -42 degrees centigrade fired, frozen again, and then heated to 67 dagrees centigrade and fire again before it's allowed to be sent into the field.

"It's reliable. It's robust. It's got stopping power. It can also be fitted with a Laser Aiming Module, or this specially designed toy," he reached back into the cabinet and pulled out a little box and afixed it to the bottem of the barrel. "A combination LAM and Flashlight. The ironsights on top are more than enough when coupled with the LAM."

He handed me the weapon. I ejected the cartridge, checked the slide, and reloaded it. I pulled back on the slide and drew a round into the chamber then hit the safety. "I'll take it. What else do you have?"

He drew out an old favorite. But, it was slighly smaller I noticed.

"This, is a variant on your old standby, the P7. However, this varient is slightly smaller. Generally used when you need to use defensive fire. Close quarters, room clearing etc. It uses the smaller .32ACP, and can also be fitted with a sound surpressor.  Though I would think, in the cases it's being used, your enemy has already seen you and silence isn't an issue. It uses straight blowback for it's operation. This variant is called the P7M13, and is designed to carry 13 shots in the clip."

He dropped the cartidge out and handed me the weapon. I handled it a little bit and then slammed the cartridge home. "It's light."

He nodded. "Very. Be careful. When you fire, it has a tendancy to muzzle flip and start moving up, not unlike a mauser. We also have a customize kit that allows you to replace the barrel and casing, and turn the chamber into a floating chamber, allowing you to use the .22 LR kits." 

I shook my head at that. "No...no long rifle bullets. This'll do just fine. I'll take them both."

Johnny shrugged and reached into the cabinet and handed me two cases. "Here you go. If you need more ammuntion, just come back, and I'll hook you up. Though, I swear to God, if you need more than what's in there...you're murdering and not policing. And I have a problem with that."

"Yeah...I know. Don't worry." I took the weapons and thanked him. Returning to my home, I opened up the case for the USP and took it out, field stripped it and got to work bringing out my own cusomtize kit. I removed the trigger guard and suadered in my own, extending it making it easier to fire quickly. I used an engraver to add a checkered patteren to the handgrip, that way, if I was sweating, wet or bleeding my grip wouldn't slip on the weapon.

Next, I built on to the iron sights, making them sit a little higher. Just a personal preference of mine. Next, I got out a polishing kit, and inserted it into the barrel and polished it to a mirror sheen. This allowed for quicker disappation of the flash back, and made chambering a new round smoother. Lastly, I added gription near the barrel of the gun, allowing me to pull back and load the first round of a clip easier by giving more leverage.

Rebuilding and stripping the weapon again, I added on the LAM. I now had all the tools I needed. Winchester wasn't going to like it, that was certain. But, given how things had been going, I suspected I'd need the fire power. Three weapons were better than one in a combat situation. 

I'd already learned the hard way that these guys were playing for keeps. Now I just had to figure out what they would hit next......