Amy Stocking was tired. It was nine o'clock on a Tuesday evening, she was wearing a bulletproof vest and the most unfashionable black trousers available, and she was tired.
She'd had a long day dealing with stupid people, and now it seemed she'd have to deal with more. "So, what way are doing this?" She asked the head officer, securing her ponytail as she did so.
The officer gave her a long look before answering. "What are you even doing here, Ms. Stocking? I thought you had a desk job..." He trailed off, seeming to attempt to end the sentence delicately. It didn't work, and Amy gave him a withering look. "I'm here because I've been following this case from the start, and I'm going to be here when we get the guy- and no one knows this guy better than I do, I've been profiling him for seven months. So let's not ask any more idiotic questions, yes?" She smiled at him. He gave a long sigh before launching into a long winded explanation that she really couldn't care less about.
"So we have five officers going in and the rest surround the building in case he, what, jumps or something?" She impatiently summarized for him after a minute and a half of listening. He have another long sigh. "Yes, Ms Stocking."
"Call me Amy, please." She gave him a winning smile before going to join the officers at the front. "Count of five." The heavily-armored man beside her said, and she allowed herself a little smile. She loved this- the chase, the breaking in of the doors. It made her feel powerful.
"Five, four, three, two... one."
The biggest, scariest officer kicked in the door and him and the other three stormed in, shouting the usual things like "Freeze!" and "Nobody move!" and "Police!"
Drawing her pistol from its holster, she moved quickly and effectively like she'd been taught, kicking open doors and searching for their serial killer.