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A light flashes amidst the abyssal black that envelops the world, but it dies almost as soon as it appears. You felt heat grace your skin before it went out, was it…flame? You try to open your eyes but they’re sealed shut by something.
Using your ears, you can’t hear anything out of the ordinary; doors slamming, drunks yelling at each other in the local pub and puking their guts out by the gutter, local thieves boasting to their fellows about deeds committed and items taken by the manhole entrance across from the pub, the sound of metal striking flesh within the homes of reputable men and women. Nothing out of the ordinary for a night watchman, especially not for a veteran of said craft for as long as could be considered respectable.
You try to open your eyes again, but they refuse to open. Another light flickers into existence in front of you though; it seems to be stronger than the last one. That smell, a match? You feel something close to your ear begin to make noise.
You can hear the street whisper to you, her beautiful range of voices from the sharp sound of shattering beer bottles to the frantic staccato scurrying of innumerable dog-sized rats in the alley-ways and sewers around you. You don’t need eyes to identify her presence; nobody who’d ever been born on Eighth and Glass had ever needed help knowing when she was around. The smell of decaying corpses and despair always helped of course; the aroma of released bowels belonging to the recently dead was really just a bonus. And every fiber in your being is calling for you to run, to escape; hell even to suffer anything other than the fate you know is right behind you.
One last try, you promise yourself. You give everything you have into forcing your eyes open, and-
Your eyes are greeted by a blinding flash of light; which after a few agonizing seconds of brightness adjustment by your pained peepers you understand is a result of staring straight into a lantern.
You avert your weary eyes to the lantern’s carrier, and you are met by the welcome sight of your-
Wait that can’t be right…..
-----------------------
A voice reaches you as you refuse to look up at whoever is holding up the lantern.
“Can you remember anything? Sir, please look up at me I don’t have a clue how to deal with this shit!”
“Shit, shit, shit, uh, try to talk to me if you can sir!”
“How do you like your eggs?”
(You may want to consider this carefully…)
>Sunny-Side Up
>Scrambled
>Hardboiled
>>
>Hardboiled
>>
>>124658
>Hardboiled
...what
>>
SCRAMBLED MUTHERFUCKA ALULULULULULILLU
>>
>>124658
>>Scrambled
>>
Rolled 1 (1d2)
1 - Hardboiled
2 - Scrambled
>>
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>>124668
“Hardboiled, of course.”
You glance up at your partner; well you like to call him rookie or boot or basically anything that isn’t his name and sounds good at the time. A younger, well-shaven, and definitely more naïve face returns your gaze with a smile.
Kid probably isn’t even twenty-five yet, you think to yourself.
He offers you a gloved hand and you take it, saving you the trouble of having to get up since your legs feel shot to pieces. You do notice his uniform however, shit did he actually clean that? He even has his watchman helmet on, polished and shiny against the light of the lantern.
Lord, how did you end up on the ground instead of this kid?
“Got a light on you?”
You reach into your pockets and pick out a cigar and hold it up to your face as he takes out a lighter and helps you out. After a few delectable puffs, you actually stop to look around you to maybe…figure out what in blazes is happening.
Though honestly, you really just want to know how you got knocked out instead of him.
Both of you are standing in an alleyway; an unusually wide, one you notice.
You seem to be covered in blood (which you honestly hope isn’t your own) and there are at least four unconscious hooded men around you who also seem to be covered in blood. You step over one and grab your trusty blackjack, distinguishable from theirs by the notches you’ve carved into it.
Your partner seems to just be waiting for you to say something.
Shit this kid really is straight-out-of-the-academy new.
>Ask him what is going on
>Lie that you literally have no idea what is going on, and instead chase the trail of blood you see leading out of the alley
>>
>>124805
*>Lie that you know what you're doing, since you literally have no idea what is going on, and instead chase the trail of blood you see leading out of the alley
>>
>>124805
>Lie that you literally have no idea what is going on, and instead chase the trail of blood you see leading out of the alley
>>
>>124805
>Lie that you know what you're doing, since you literally have no idea what is going on, and instead chase the trail of blood you see leading out of the alley
>>
>>124805
Whoever is running away from this crime scene isn’t making it far, not if you can help it.
“Hey kid, get your notebook out and shit and follow me!”
You don’t even stop to hear his reply before you start to sprint ahead following the trail, whoever you’re chasing seems to really be hurt based on the sheer amount of blood you find in the upper alleys.
Alleys and empty streets don’t deter you, even when you feel the breath slowly sap out of your lungs you aren’t deterred in the slightest.
This is what you do, who you are.
A hunter.
One who works for the law anyways.
You round a corner and see a glimpse of loose fabric, the same kind that made up the hoods on the men you apparently left bloody at first.
Another corner and you seem to have caught your prey, a heavyset man in some strange robe and that damn hood with a knife in his hand. He’s backed up against a dead-end, but you check his eyes and see pure hatred mixed with fear. The large knife in his hand ups the ante a little, but you see that his right leg is bleeding from what you believe to be a stab.
>Tell him to surrender to the law or face the consequences
>Charge him and try to beat the shit out of him
>One of the two (specify) once your partner catches up to you
>>
>>124915
>Charge him and try to beat the shit out of him
>>
>>124915
>>Tell him to surrender to the law or face the consequences
>>
Rolled 1 (1d2)
1 - Tell him to surrender
2 - Charge him
>>
>>124970
“You have nowhere to run buddy, now I suggest you drop the fucking knife and put your hands behind your back before I have to club the shit out of you.”
He looks at you furiously, before spitting at you and cursing you and all the people you know/love/work with/etc.
Well, you suppose it wouldn’t really be much of a job if it didn’t come to this at times.
You grimace and slowly approach the man, who by now looks faint and is pointing his knife at you in shaky hands. You’re almost within range to jump inside his reach and batter the poor bastard into unconsciousness before your partner shows up, winded and sweating with his notebook in his hand.
“Hold…up….let me…..catch my breath,” He pants out laboriously.
The man looks at your partner and groans, unluckily for him you noticed and in seconds you tackle him and bend his arm behind his back.
“Stay fucking still, you crazy bastard!” You manage to wrestle his hands together and a few punches to the back of the skull later he gives up and you tie his hands together. Your partner looks down and scribbles furiously into his notebook, well at least he isn’t unhappy doing all the paperwork this shit’s going to bring.
>>
>>125033
(cont.)
>Drag these assholes back to the station with your partner
>Let your partner do this shit, call it a night and go home
>>
>>125058
>Drag these assholes back to the station with your partner
>>
>>125058
>Drag these assholes back to the station with your partner
>>
>>125033
You tear the hood, and part of the suspect's clothing to make a makeshift bandage for his leg, or something. You just hope he survives long enough to make it back to the station, and you tell your partner to bring the rest of the suspects to the station.
“But, sir, what if they try to resist? There are four of them after all.” You actually spot a trace of fear in his face, which would have actually been worthy of a chuckle if you weren’t feeling like shit and covered in blood.
You almost scream at his rookie ass, but your throat wasn’t really feeling it. “Kid, man the fuck up and haul these clowns back to the pen, I’m pretty sure I need to take a leak and you have some paperwork to do.”
He acquiesces and runs off back to gather the rest of the jackasses while you half-drag, half-carry the bloodied mess of a man to the station.
After what honestly seems like an eternity of solitary suffering through the night, you manage to reach the police station. You find your partner waiting for you, and he helps you toss the man into the arms of the waiting station nurse. Your boss, Captain Grewal, has his furious face on and you audibly sigh as he waves you into his office. The two of you stare at each other, one obviously angrier than the other, and you quickly turn around and look at your partner who has diligently positioned himself by the open door to the stuffy, stereotypical watch commissioner office that belongs to your boss.
You wink at him, and he smiles before walking further into the station, meanwhile your boss walks over and closes the door before facing you.
The two of you then crack up and begin laughing like madmen.
“You think he bought it?” You squeak out as you try to contain yourself from cackling hysterically.
“Of course he did, kids shinier than my dress uniform, and my wife cleans that shit out every day!” Your boss doubles over and laughs hard, then slowly regains his composure before sitting at his desk.
“Right then Sergeant, I think I’ll let you off early today before he comes back.”
“Anything else you need before you leave?”
>Nope, go home
>Yeah (wait for the prisoners to wake up before interrogating them)
>>
>>125239
Callin' it a night, be back tomorrow folks
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>>125239
Go home
>>
>>145057
You nod at him and head to the locker room, showering off the blood and grime off your body and stashing your uniform to await the gentle attentions of your little angel. As you begin to leave you find your partner waiting for you outside the station, silently smoking a cigarette. He turns to you and gives you an annoyed grin, though you spot mirth in the edges of it.
"How long have you and the boss known each other anyways."
"Since we got out of training together, he's better suited for it. I catch 'em, he does the rest."
You toss him a cigar and he reacts faster than you expected, catching it in his left hand. You slowly walk the long road back home, before you turn your head and see him grinding his cigarette to dust in the street and flipping his lighter open for the cigar.
Maybe he might not be so bad after all.
Time passes faster than you expect, walking the same familiar road that you've used for years and years. You don't even have to think about going home, your body and mind know exactly what to do.
You open the door to your modest apartment on Ninth and Locke, the one you'd complained about to your co-workers and boss for years on years. It was just banter really, place wasn't bad it just contrasted with the filthy living-spaces you'd used most of your life up to this point.
Quietly you slip into the neat and spotless apartment, taking extreme care not to make any instance of noise. You find her exactly as you expect, sleeping in bed like you ask her too every single day.
Your own little angel, and maybe the only reason you haven't gone mad in this damned place. Maybe you can find some peace in your sleep tonight, with an entity from heaven at your side.
Just Maybe.
>>
>>146869
Might be it for now, will continue when school ends for me after the 25th. It might not mean much, but thank you and I really do mean every single one of you for taking the time to vote or even read.
Have a good one.
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