Exiting the locker room, Eirene met with her partner as he finished buttoning up his uniform over a white t-shirt.
Despite only being in his mid-twenties, he had a full thick beard and the build of a construction worker. His hairy arms did little to hide the couple of scars on his forearm from a past incident.
She jabbed a finger into his chest.
"Why are you still getting dressed?" She scolded. He shrugged, unsure how to respond.
"Show up on time, officer Randall." Eirene demanded as she motioned for her partner to follow. He nodded, patting himself and going through an internal checklist.
"What's on the itinerary today?" Randall insisted.
"We'll be patrolling King Street in the Rose Suburban area. There was a break in last night at one of the stores. He got away but he didn't steal too much... nothing of major importance anyway."
"Heard about what happened the other night. You probably should've shot him. He had an illegal weapon so you wouldn't be charged with shooting him in the back."
She scoffed. "It was dark and I didn't want to hit any bystanders." Though I didn't see any and even if I had shot, I would've definitely missed and hit something or someone.
Randall opened the back trunk and spotted their patrol rifles. Diligently, he inspected both for any defects or jams. Though criminals usually used handguns in the commission of their crimes, the academy and fellow officers emphasized not to make any firefight or fight in general fair. The last thing a suspect deserved was a balanced confrontation.
Eirene and Randall got in the patrol car, the city's name in sleek black letters on a white background covering the front and back doors. Inside, a laptop invaded some of the passenger side's space. Being the senior officer, Eirene took the wheel and Randall sighed as he situated himself in the passenger seat.
"What's to eat around King Street?" Randall asked.
"I don't know. I bring my lunch with me." Eirene replied as she buckled herself in and turned the key. The engine roared to life, spitting out fumes.
"You have time to pack a lunch after working ten or fourteen hours? It's one thing if we didn't have the salary but..."
"I have someone to pack it for me."
After shifting, Eirene drove out of the police station and onto the main road. Riding smoothly, Randall stared out the window.
Beside a restaurant was a pole sign of a bucket. A chicken appeared to be in it and was giving passers by a thumbs up. Perhaps Randall had an idea what he'd have for lunch.
~
Small hands swiped plastic cups and plates off a pink table's surface, revealing the faces of cartoon women who wore different colored silk dresses and tiaras.
The young girl, Aisha, placed the plastic cups and plates beside a miniature plastic oven. She scurried over to her large bed where a plethora of stuffed animals leaned against the headboard. She pulled four of them and planted them at the table.
Her green dress swished as she pranced over to the oven, picking up a pot and a spoon as she stirred her imagination.
Across the hall in the kitchen, Jeanna blew on a large spoon, cooling it a fraction before she sipped a small amount. Her eyes fixated on the sauce as if to compare the appearance to the actual taste. She dropped a few pinches of herbs into the skillet.
She wore black leggings and white tennis shoes along with a white sleeveless sports top.
Through the front door, Derek smiled.
"Hey, babe." He called as he made his way into the kitchen. As usual, Derek gave his wife an embrace behind, planting a couple of affectionate kisses on her neck.
His teasing hands caused her to push him away playfully as she refocused on brewing the sauce. Hearing her parents, Aisha came out of the room to greet Derek, her eyes wide with eagerness to recount events of her dinner party.
The cliche Derek was eternally grateful for. Most individuals involved in a criminal lifestyle, whether part time or full time were just as chaotic in their personal lives and never approached this degree of normalcy.
When Derek had become a member of the Golden Pythons, members weren't the most functional but still attempted to do right by their families and rear their children in a way to escape a future like this. However, the prominence of impregnating multiple women started to infiltrate the ranks. Derek didn't have much of a problem with it, but it got to the point where instead of a member being arrested for a homicide or burglary, they'd spend time in jail for months for missed child support payments. There were even a couple of members who were sent to prison.
Since Derek became the leader of the Golden Pythons two years ago, he had reduced this practice.
While talking with his wife and daughter, there was a knock at the door. Derek had a rough idea of who it was and excused himself as he stepped outside.
Standing there, Little J held a tote bag on his shoulder.
"Didn't I tell you not to come to my house after - ?"
"I haven't done anything today and the bag is empty." Little J interrupted to correct Derek.
"The money is already safe and hidden. But I need to tell you what happened last night."
"You're here at my doorstep, so I don't see a problem." Derek scanned the area, eyeing for a secret patrol car or a mysterious wanderer. Little J proved his loyalty time and time again to prop up the Golden Pythons. However, Derek felt one could never be fully devoted. If he needed to protect his family, he'd betray the whole gang himself.
"When I was trying to find somewhere to lay low, some guy got in my way. He didn't have a gun or a baton or anything, but he fought me."
"Is he dead?"
"I couldn't kill him. I had to leave or I'd be caught." Little J suspected that if the fight dragged on and the police weren't looking for him, the man might've lasted and had the means to kill him, though barely. Nevertheless, Little J disliked the probability, even if the odds were in his favor.
"He fought you." Derek repeated, hoping Little J would explain more.
"Yeah. Insane motherfucker threw hands with me." Little J confirmed.
Derek rubbed his chin. Sounds like some fucking vigilante. Those guys are rare and I wouldn't think anyone would have the balls to operate outside law enforcement. Or is he a member of the Neon Nobles?
"Keep an eye out." Derek commanded.
"Keep your pistol available and don't bother wasting time. If he comes at you again, just shoot him." Then Derek had an epiphany. Why didn't this guy just shoot Little J?
~
Emerging from the art building, Isha followed the brick path that led to her apartment complex. She massaged her head as if she could still feel the headache from a couple nights ago. Okay. Even if Ulyana asks next time, I'm not going. The last thing I want to do is make that a habit. Also didn't help that I needed to stay up until about one-thirty in the morning to finalize that assignment.
Isha, however, didn't hold a grudge against Ulyana after she spent a few hours with her. The hangover didn't disappear because of her presence, but it made it much more bearable.
Students suddenly started pouring out of the Philosophy and Religious building. Isha merely glanced but among them, she noticed a boy with particular hair.
Azhir caught her looking and... he smiled? No, it was more of a grin a child would display when they knew a secret no one else did. Is that how he looks? It's kind of unsettling. Isha retracted her gaze and continued at the same pace.
A second passed. Then three. Seven. Fifteen.
"You don't seem all that affected."
Isha jumped, muscles tensing as her guard rose. Azhir laughed. His posture had straightened more than the previous time they talked. The grin had relaxed into an outgoing smile, yet it was still ghastly.
"Affected?" Isha exhaled.
He tapped his temple. "Heard you had a little too much to drink recently." Azhir sighed as he adjusted his backpack.
"Guess I really did miss out." Azhir walked alongside Isha.
"How'd you...?" Baffled, Isha wondered if Azhir knew Ulyana or someone close.
"You were in your room for most of the other day." And your friend loves to talk. Azhir shrugged his shoulders.
"At least you seemed to have fun."
Rolling her eyes, Isha and Azhir slowed as they came to the apartment complex.
"I didn't. I could've done a lot more useful things than being in that environment. It's just a waste of time." Isha glowered at the concrete before arriving at her door.
"Those habits are the last thing I want to have. It always turns from one night to three, then to five like I'm made of money."
Azhir anticipated Isha to say more but she stormed off into her apartment. Why do you act like it's a bad thing to indulge, Isha? I'd indulge more if there wasn't a drab know-it-all and a reactive introvert, I have to share this mind with.
~
At this small restaurant colored in red and white, the parking lot had two or three cars. Anyone inside didn't pay attention to whatever happened in their periphery. The food kept them occupied.
Zuri laughed, nearly bending over at the force of it. Experiencing Zuri laughing like this caused Sean to wonder if she could express joy when it didn't involve other people's suffering or failure.
He waited patiently for her to regain her composure.
"That was really something. Never knew you were the type to commit suicide." Zuri breathed deeply as she recovered. Sean remained unperturbed.
"You should've sent Zuri to intercept him. We could've had someone to interrogate, and you wouldn't have been at risk." Carson reasoned. On the surface, everything he said made perfect sense.
"You're not any use dead after all." Zuri added.
"I was the closest one, and I'd rather not have Zuri scouring the streets or alerting our target." Or accidentally killing him. Sean leaned on the car.
"Are you saying I'd struggle like you?" Zuri took offense.
Sean shook his head. "Not at all." In fact, you'd beat him though it'd be more than a low effort fight on your part. "These punks have little to no fighting style under pressure."
With that said, Sean refused to underestimate them. He knew if things didn't go a criminal's way in a one-on-one fist fight, one party could easily pull out a firearm and shoot. Maybe I was a little reckless. He conceded in his mind.
"Are we going to do this until we catch one of them? There's no guarantee that the gangster we eventually nab is the one who has the drug either." Carson ruminated further.
"Do you think their allies know?"
"I don't see a reason why they wouldn't." Sean gave his hypothesis. However, from what he read in the report, these gangsters were definitely more organized and tactical. Certainly, they weren't likely to win a firefight with police yet, but they could prolong them and cause officers to expend more resources.
If the Golden Pythons and the Neon Nobles joined forces, they'd likely be able to undermine law enforcement in both cities!
"Did you really think that after learning a little martial art and getting some brass knuckles, you'd take on a half-breed?" Zuri scoffed.
I probably should've threatened him, but I didn't know if he could take a bullet or not. Even if I shot him, would the result have been the same? Sean evaluated the confrontation once more, conjuring more possible countermeasures to employ.
"Like you said that night, he isn't dead." Carson spoke up.
"And he wasn't injured much." Carson and Zuri looked over Sean's body. The scratches he received were minor and would be nonexistent in a couple more days. His face had nothing but a thoughtful expression.
"Well then Zuri, if I or Carson encounter another half-breed khata, I'm expecting you to get over there as fast as possible."
Knowing that waiting out at night could draw attention from the wrong crowd, Sean began formulating a better plan to learn more.