Small Justice(Chapter 1)

[Firewall]

Hey folks! I had a idea over the last week to expand and reboot one of the quickies I made months back. This is a lengthier version of said story that I'm currently working on but the ones I left unfinished are being worked on as well!

Chapter 1

The wind whispered low across the pavement as the armored van sat parked at the edge of a cordoned-off block. SWAT officers crouched behind their shields, tension heavy in the air. Officer Keira Sparks zipped up her blue-and-yellow doll-sized uniform, the oversized meter-maid hat just barely staying on her head. She adjusted her utility belt—each gadget perfectly miniaturized—then listened as Sarge’s gruff voice crackled over the comm.

“Alright Sparks, don’t screw this up. You’re small, but this is big,” Sarge barked. “We’ve got a hostage situation at the corner deli. Two perps. At least three civilians inside. We need finesse, not fireworks.”

Keira grinned. “Copy that, Sarge. I’ll keep my fireworks on safety.”

Outside the deli, her teammates crouched behind police cruisers. Keira got the rundown: two guys, one armed with a cheap revolver, the other twitchy and yelling at the hostages to “shut up.” Her backup looked tense, hands gripping standard-issue sidearms—each one way bigger than Keira herself.

But Keira was ready. She deployed her drone: a palm-sized quadcopter disguised as a pigeon. She piloted it deftly, sending it swooping in through a broken window. On her visor, the live feed panned across the deli: the perps, the scared hostages, the counter stacked with candy bars.

Keira mapped her approach, then slipped through the dog door with a practiced roll. Inside, she ducked behind a napkin dispenser and scanned the room, heart pounding but head cool.

She popped out, voice amplified through her suit’s speaker. “Alright, gentlemen! Time to put down the gun and let everyone go. Nobody needs to get hurt today, yeah?”

The two criminals spun around, eyes widening when they saw her.

“What the hell is this?!” the first one blurted, aiming his gun—though he looked more confused than scared.

The other one burst out laughing. “Is that a toy cop? Oh man, this city’s got jokes.”

Keira stood her ground. “I’m not a toy. I’m Officer Keira Sparks, and I’m telling you, this is your chance to walk away.”

The one with the gun strode over, bending down to her level. “What are you gonna do, huh? Cuff our pinkies together?” He reached out and, with a snicker, picked her up between his thumb and forefinger. “Maybe I’ll just stick you on the counter for time-out.”

“Bad idea, tough guy,” Keira shot back, unfazed. She kept her eyes locked on his, even as he set her on the counter like she was some collectible figurine.

The other perp pointed, howling with laughter. “Go ahead, officer! Book us! Or what, you gonna write us a tiny ticket?”

Keira just smiled and whipped out her custom micro-blaster, aiming straight at them. “You might wanna step back.”

They rolled their eyes, still giggling. She pulled the trigger—pffft pffft—two rounds zipped out and struck each perp in the chest.

For a split second, nothing happened. The perps looked at each other, ready to mock her again.

Then the rounds clicked—and a jolt of electricity surged through their bodies. Both men stiffened, eyes bugging out as they convulsed. The one with the gun dropped it, hitting the linoleum with a loud clang before both men collapsed to the floor, twitching and cursing.

Keira dusted off her hands. “Shocking isn’t it?” she quipped, hopping off the counter.

She called out to the hostages, “You’re safe now! Cops are coming in, don’t be scared. Just stay down.”

A minute later, her full-sized teammates burst in, gawking at the two unconscious criminals and the tiny officer standing triumphantly on the counter.

Sarge’s voice came through Keira’s earpiece, and she could practically hear the pride (and exasperation). “Nice work, Sparks. I’ll be damned. You might just make detective yet. Next time, try not to get picked up like a plush toy, yeah?”

Keira smirked. “No promises, Sarge. Perks of being toy-sized.”

The deli owner peered at her in disbelief. “You saved us. All… six inches of you.”

Keira tipped her cap. “It’s not the size of the cop in the fight—it’s the size of the fight in the cop.”

And with that, she strutted out, ready for whatever wild, weird thing the city threw at her next.
===
Officer Sparks navigated her way down the “Keira line”—a slender catwalk of polished brass, built just above the hallway’s baseboard. Officers passed by overhead, boots thudding and radios crackling, but down on her level it was quieter. She gave a wave to Janine at the front desk, who always managed a wink in return.

She ducked through a tiny doorway marked BREAK ROOM (someone had taped a picture of a mouse holding a donut to it which screamed “rookie humor”), then climbed the custom ladder up to the big round table. She popped the lid off her thimble-sized travel mug and sat down, swinging her legs over the edge.

It had almost been a year since she’d been shrunk—a “freak accident” according to the news, “miracle survival” according to her mom, and a “logistical nightmare” according to the city’s HR department. Three months since the department finally cleared her for duty again, and life had gotten… normal-ish.

At least, that’s what she tried to tell herself.

She watched as Officer Ramirez came in, still in uniform, sipping her coffee with her nose in a paperback. Ramirez paused, doing a double take when she noticed Keira on the table.

“Oh, hey Sparks!” Ramirez said, smiling in that easy way she always did. “Heard you fried a couple of idiots at the deli. Nice work.”

Keira managed a sheepish smile. “Thanks. All in a day’s work for the world’s tiniest cop, I guess.”

Ramirez laughed and went back to her book, but Keira couldn’t shake the flicker of doubt running under her pride. She’d taken down perps with her drone, outmaneuvered guys twice her size (which was, to be fair, everyone)—but she didn’t want to be a sideshow. Didn’t want to outshine the others, or worse, make them look bad by accident.

She glanced down at her hands. Tiny, sure, but strong. And if she was being honest, a little scared too.

They laugh at you, but you still do the job, she reminded herself. You do it for the badge, not the attention. They’ll get used to you. Maybe you’ll even get used to you, too.

She took a sip from her mug, savoring the warmth. If she just kept showing up, maybe the rest would fall into place. For now, she could settle for another ordinary day—just a little closer to the tabletop than most.

As the precinct bustled around her, Keira’s smartwatch which was shrunk down for her vibrated against her wrist. She glanced down to see a text from Robert, her husband. Even after a year, the way he always checked in made her feel grounded.
ROBERT:
Hey, superstar. Everything okay? Need a ride home later?
Keira smiled, her tiny fingers tapping out a reply on her shrunken phone.

KEIRA:
[Hey love! All good. Just about to drown in paperwork, so might be a late one. Don’t wait up but save me some of your pasta if you order in!]

A second later, another message buzzed in:

ROBERT:
[Only if you promise not to arrest me for eating the last breadstick.]

She grinned, shaking her head. The jokes never got old. Having Robert by her side—someone who’d stuck with her through the weirdness, the days she went stir crazy when she first shrunk, the endless adjustments—made every tough day a little easier.

Before she dove into the stack of reports, she sent one last quick text:

KEIRA:
[Deal. Love you. See you soon…if I don’t disappear under a mountain of paperwork first.]

With that, she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and slid across the table to tackle her next assignment—knowing that, big or small, she had someone in her corner.

Keira hunched over a pile of forms that looked like large banners at her size. She signed reports with a pen the length of her arm, the world around her busy and bustling. Even now, after months back on duty, part of her still half-expected the old “are you sure you can reach the coffee?” jokes.

She didn’t get much time to dwell on it. Officer Ana Jensen strode over, her badge flashing as she set down her coffee. Janine, the ever-smiling desk sergeant, followed close behind, swinging a chair around to sit backwards, facing Keira on the table.

“So,” Ana grinned, lowering her voice like they were plotting a bank heist, “did you hear about Gibbons and the vending machine? Swears it ate his dollar, then got his arm stuck trying to fish it out. Had to call facilities.”

Janine laughed. “Next week, he’ll probably ask Sparks to crawl inside and get his candy bar. Small jobs, you know?”

Keira grinned back, rolling her eyes. “I draw the line at vending machine rescue. Tell Gibbons if he gets stuck again, I’ll write him a ticket. For stupidity.”

They all burst out laughing. The conversation shifted from station gossip to weekend plans—movies, someone’s kid’s soccer game, Ana’s latest dating disaster. Keira added her two cents, teased Janine about her marathon coffee intake, and genuinely felt… there.

For a moment, the nagging insecurity faded. She wasn’t just “the tiny cop,” or a sideshow. She was part of the crew. Still, sometimes it crept in—a little voice reminding her she was different and always would be.

But Ana nudged her coffee closer. “You good, Sparks?”

Keira nodded, smiling. “Yeah. I really am.”

Janine winked. “Good. Now hurry up with that paperwork—if you finish first, you get to pick the music at lunch.”
==
Lunch was always a lively affair in the break room, especially when shifts ran late and everyone was starving. Ana brought takeout which contained two greasy burgers, a pile of fries, and a salad “for balance.” Keira’s meal which was a miniaturized burger, stashed in a little plastic container, was about the size of a matchbox, but she didn’t mind. She was more interested in the conversation.

Keira sat perched on an upturned sugar bowl in the center of the table while Ana and Janine took seats on either side. From her spot, Keira could see everything—condiments, coffee mugs, and the way Janine kept glancing toward the door.

Ana took a huge bite of her burger. “So, Keira, any juicy dirt from your side of the station? I swear the records office is dead quiet these days.”

Keira shook her head, grinning. “You know Sarge runs a tight ship. The only drama is if someone brings in decaf by mistake.”

Janine, usually the cool and collected desk sergeant, suddenly got flustered as the subject changed. Ana noticed and smirked.

“What about you, Janine?” Ana teased. “You keep looking over at the door. Someone you’re hoping will walk in?”

Keira perked up, folding her tiny arms. “Oh, this sounds good. Spill it, Janine.”

Janine blushed, hiding behind her coffee. “It’s nothing. Seriously.”

Ana grinned, undeterred. “It’s totally not nothing. Come on, Keira’s married, I’m tragically single, and you—well, you’ve got a secret. Don’t make us beg.”

Keira leaned in, giving her best detective stare. “Janine, we’re off duty. You can trust us. Consider it… officer privilege.”

Janine groaned but finally gave in. “Fine! It’s—look, I just think Officer Garcia’s cute, okay? The way he always brings donuts on Fridays and lets old Mrs. MacGregor pet his police dog in the lobby…”

Ana and Keira exchanged a look, then burst into matching grins.

“Garcia, huh?” Ana said, waggling her eyebrows. “He is adorable. You should ask him out before someone from dispatch beats you to it.”

Keira giggled. “I could always leave him a tiny note from you. I’m discreet—no one suspects the small stuff.”

Janine laughed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, maybe I will. Or maybe I’ll just let fate and coffee breaks decide.”

For a moment, the three women just enjoyed the laughter, the stories, and the feeling of belonging. Even with her doubts, Keira couldn’t help but be grateful. She might have been six inches tall, but her place at the table—and in the hearts of her friends—felt just right.
==
After the ride home, Ana and Janine waved as Keira hopped out in front of her apartment building—a tall brick walk-up with a little brass door set into the base of the main entrance, just her size. The sign above read: SPARKS RESIDENCE — NO SOLICITING, NO CATS (Robert’s sense of humor, of course).

Keira tapped her badge to the sensor beside the tiny door and it swung open with a soft “beep.” Inside, a miniature elevator—complete with art deco lighting and velvet wallpaper—whirred up to her floor. She rode up, humming along with the tinny jazz piped in through hidden speakers.

On the landing, she reached a perfect little blue front door, about eight inches tall, with her name stenciled in gold. She pressed her palm to the reader, which flashed green before clicking open.

“Hey, I’m home!” she called, her voice echoing as she entered the apartment.
From the kitchen, she could see Robert bustling about—tall, bearded, and focused on stirring something in a big stainless steel pot. His glasses fogged up instantly from the steam, making him squint and laugh.

“Keira! Perfect timing.” He wiped his lenses on his shirt, peering down with a goofy grin. “Dinner’s just about ready. Hope you’re hungry.”

She set her gear down at the tiny table Robert had built just for her—complete with a ramp for her chair and even a charging dock for her drone. “You’re a lifesaver. I’d hug you, but I smell like a police station.”

Robert leaned down, offering his finger for a “high five” instead. “That’s okay. I’ll take what I can get.”

Keira giggled, feeling the stress of the day melt away. In this space—filled with all the little things Robert had made to help her feel at home—her size didn’t matter. Here, she was just herself.

And as the scent of garlic and tomato sauce filled the room, Keira knew she’d landed right where she belonged.

The apartment glowed with the amber light of early evening, Keira sitting at her tiny seat while Robert plated up spaghetti for himself and a delicately portioned “noodle nest” for her—complete with a minuscule fork he’d 3D printed himself. He placed a doll-sized glass of wine at her side, and a regular one for himself.

Keira admired her little wedding ring—so small and perfectly fitted, a marvel of patience and love. She watched Robert as he finally took a seat across from her, his brown eyes crinkling as he smiled.

“So,” he said, twirling pasta on his fork, “save any hostages today?”

She grinned, swirling her own spaghetti. “Actually, yeah. Couple of guys at the deli. Tried to pick me up and set me on the counter like I was part of the register display. I think I impressed the Sarge, but you know how he is. ‘Sparks, don’t get yourself stepped on.’” She did a spot-on imitation, and Robert nearly choked on his wine.

He chuckled, pushing up his glasses. “You know, I still can’t believe you go out there every day. I’d be terrified if it were me.”

Keira shrugged, smiling. “You got used to mixing volatile chemicals, didn’t you? Cops and chemists both have their risks.”

“Maybe, but I don’t usually have to worry about getting stuffed in a vending machine by perps.”

She laughed, then her gaze softened. “You know, sometimes I still worry. About being taken seriously, about everyone thinking I’m some sort of mascot. But then I remember—I’m still the same person you fell for, just… travel size.”

Robert reached over, brushing his fingertip gently over her hand, his thumb running across her wedding band. “You could be any size, Keira, and you’d still be the bravest person I know. The only difference is you make my engineering projects more interesting now.”

She rolled her eyes, but her heart squeezed. “You mean all the ramps and elevators you keep installing?”

“And the retractable bed, and the cat-proof doors, and the tiny umbrella you never use because you say, ‘I’m not made of sugar, Robert!’” he teased.

Keira let out a real laugh. “I like to keep you busy. Besides, you’re the one who said, ‘I want a wife who’s a challenge.’”

He grinned, eyes warm. “I meant intellectually. Didn’t expect I’d be designing the world’s smallest sock drawer.”

They ate for a while, talking about Robert’s work which was some breakthrough in sustainable solvents, which Keira only half-understood but loved listening to. They swapped silly stories about their days, and every now and then Keira would look down at her ring and remember the day he proposed, the way he’d worried about dropping the tiny band, how big his hands looked against her own.

When they finished, Robert leaned in close, his voice gentle. “You know I’d marry you again tomorrow, right? No matter what.”

Keira reached over, squeezing his pinky. “Same goes for you, you giant nerd.”

And for a while, all the worries about size, perception, and being “enough” faded away—leaving just two hearts, perfectly in sync, no matter how small.