It was the start of an average day for Stan. He had gone on patrol once around his zone already, without incident as was the norm. The whole day thusfar had just been normal for him, with no excitement like almost always. The German Shepherd craved action though, and almost wanted something to crop up on his beat just to give him something to do; to make him feel like he was a real police officer rather than a tour guide and crossing guard. He was built to fight crime; muscles adorning his 7 foot 8 inch frame from head to toe in a physique that could put Greek gods to shame. He had the right attitude for it as well; brazen, bold, and aggressive. The few times he had needed to actually do the part of his job he enjoyed, the suspects rarely had a happy ending to their story. Stan took pride in that fact too, bragging about it to all those that would listen whenever the opportunity presented itself. Overall, the canine just craved something new to brag about and be proud of, and little did he know that he would be getting it in spades for the rest of the day, and the many days following.
“Ugh… Hey Charlie, you ever gonna lay off the donuts?” Stan called out his window, looking on at his chubby partner lumbering out of a bakery with a large box of pastries. The out-of-shape Doberman just scoffed at him and tossed the other door of the cop car open, rolling into the vehicle with a grunt and settling down into the seat beneath him. The car groaned slightly at the added weight, making Stan groan as well before he gave a rather rough jab to Charlie’s midsection. “You’re getting pretty damn soft there dobie; you working on your desk-job figure?”
“Not all of us have the metabolism of a rabbit and work out as much as we breathe.”
“Apparently not.” Stan ribbed back. The jibes between the pair were usually this harsh, creating a rather tense partnership which neither one particularly enjoyed. Stan saw the sac of lard beside him as a waste of space on the force, and Charlie saw the meathead beside him as little more than that; an arrogant meathead. They kept things civil at least though, which was more than some of the other cars on their squad had done. This civility and their combined arrest record had landed them their cushy posting in the safe and ‘boring’ section of town, which had driven Stan to perpetuate more problems with Charlie over the past several weeks. The Doberman was near the end of his rope in terms of patience for this new treatment, but Stan could care less about that fact. He wanted to get transferred back to another precinct with more action in the very least, or transferred to another department which could better use his skills.
The pair drove in silence for a few minutes, Charlie munching idly on his treats while Stan just sat in disgusted annoyance. Each bite was a show of how little the Doberman cared about his physique and, in Stan’s mind, his job. So as sne donut after another vanished into the rolling mound of canine beside him it chipped away at his resolve to not make yet another remark about the doberman’s excess. Stan held his tongue for the time being though, just concentrating on driving and scanning the streets for something, anything that he could use as a distraction. However, a rather loud belch arrived thanks to Charlie first, coming after pastry number four. The burp broke the silence and was the final nail in the coffin for Stan; he just couldn’t contain his temper any longer. “You k-“
“Calling all cars! Calling all cars! There is a 211 in progress at the Sloan International on Wilkins! Two suspects appear to be armed with high-powered rifles and explosives! Please use extreme caution!” The radio barely finished blaring all that information out before Stan flicked on the blue-and-whites and put his paw into the floor. The engine of his patrol car roared into higher RPM and lurched the vehicle forward far faster than it had been traveling. Sirens taking a moment to kick in, Stan had to lean on the horn to get a couple of stragglers out of his way before he could really tear down the road ahead of him. Charlie barely had time to secure his snacks before all this happened, one paw holding onto the handhold above him in the car while the other clung to his box of pastries for dear life.
“Can’t lose those treats huh?” The German Shepherd all but hissed at the other canine in the car, drawing a glare for a long moment before a retort came his way.
“Shut up and drive you yahoo.” Stan did just that, barely even hearing Charlie as he flung the car around a corner with such force that for a split-second it was on two wheels. That really got the adrenaline pumping for Stan, who let out a loud howl of glee before flooring the accelerator once again and pushing the car to go faster towards its destination. Charlie, on the other hand, looked like he was about to be sick from that driving. “Take it a bit easier, you know these cars aren’t designed to do this.”
“Department’s problem, not mine.” Stan spat back, screaming around another corner at breakneck speed. He let out another howl of glee, while Charlie just got paler with both fear and nausea. Luckily for the Doberman, the bank was on the road the pair had just careened onto, and a short way from where they were to boot. 1