VenatoR
07-21-2011, 04:23 PM
I consider this to be my best piece of work so far, and I wanted to share a bit of it to see how people would react.
I'd also like to mention that all of the locations in this story are authentic, taken from Google Maps.
Enjoy.
San Diego’s Cops
1
To Protect and Serve I thought, sitting in the driver’s seat of an old FCV Police Interceptor. The Interceptor was a second hand vehicle, although many of my colleagues, those who had been in the force for a longer period of time than myself, convinced me that it was one of the best Police vehicles around. This was mainly due to the fact that it was very durable; the body-on-frame construction allowed for inexpensive and quick repairs without the need to straighten out the chassis (the skeleton of the car).
That was advantageous to the Police Force because the officers could have their vehicles up and running in just a few hours after a particularly costly PIT Manoeuvre.
My partner was Sergeant Matthew Grand, a man of average height and build but exceptional knowledge and agility. Rumour had it that he once chased down a drug addict after following him over the tops of buildings, jumping from roof to roof. I found those tales to be exaggerated, but I never doubted old Grand. His cheek was clean shaven with no facial hair in sight, but to contradict his facial baldness he had a plume of brown hair on his head which he kept in check with an old army-style flattop cut.
As for Grand’s personality... Well, let’s say that just because he was smart, it didn’t mean that he ran his mouth off at every mistake someone made. His usual attitude would be to gently help them into being correct without making any sudden moves.
I was alone in the interceptor because Grand had gone off to get us Subway sandwiches. It was a kind of ritual for us, since we took turns in paying for the food. Perhaps Subway wasn’t the healthiest option for a man who spent most of his time moving around, but it was tasty and it kept me going through most of the day. The stereotype a lot of people make about cops and doughnuts wasn’t entirely true. For example, Grand absolutely hated icing. He never ate sweets and never drank any soft drink that contained more than one gram of sugar, which is to say; no soft drinks.
Me, on the other hand? Well, I liked cakes and wouldn’t mind a doughnut or two, but just the smell of coffee made me go green. Not much more to say on the subject. We were cops serving in the twenty first century, and the present future had its benefits.
I am Daniel Redder, and this is my story.
2
I was absently stroking the handle of my Glock while perching my chin on my hand, the elbow propped onto the open window’s edge, when Grand emerged from the darkness of the Subway store. It was strange, how a place that would normally be illuminated on the inside looked dark from the outside on a very sunny day. Grand walked around to the passenger’s side of the Interceptor and got inside, the suspension shaking as he sat down in the leather seat. He was by no means a heavy man, but old cars had the habit of rocking when anyone got in, as if to acknowledge their presence.
“Anything happen while I was in there?” He asked, pulling the seatbelt on as I drove out of the parking area by the pavement and entered the traffic, heading for the park where we could eat our food in the cool shadow of a tree. Grand had a musical voice, one that would go well with singing in an Opera, and God knows why he went for a Police career as opposed to becoming a vocalist for some band.
“Not really. The radio didn’t go off either, all I got were reports of a stolen vehicle being found somewhere upstate.” We both served in San Diego, California, a place which could get ridiculously hot on some unlucky days. It depended on one’s point of view, really. Weather that was hot for us as Police Officers would have been bliss for sunbathers and surfers.
“And how did that turn out?” Grand took off his hat and placed the bagged sandwiches inside to stop his lap from heating up. Our uniforms were all black, the only things standing out being our badges and the small gold pins that went on the tie to stop the thinner tail from flapping around. Someone must’ve been very intelligent to put black uniforms on people who stayed out in the sun most of the day – the black only absorbed the heat. But then how stupid would a Police Officer dressed all in white look?
“They found it banged up with all the windows and light smashed.” I pulled into the parking of a wooded area in Balboa Park, finding a perfect spot just under a great Oak. As I had been taught, I parked the car back first to be able to pull out of the spot as fast as possible if the need came.
“Ouch. Here.” Grand pulled my Subway sandwich from the plastic bag and handed it to me just as I took off my own hat to place it on the dashboard.
“Thanks.” I unwrapped the Subway and took a bite once I was in. The habit I forced myself to follow was to put a napkin on my stomach and not unwrap the sandwich entirely, giving as little chance as possible to any sauce dripping on my spotless uniform. “The youth these days is just unbelievable. I mean, it isn’t the kids, but their parents. They aren’t taught any manners, their swearing would put sailors to shame.” I found myself rambling away like some old man to Grand, who just smiled to himself as he chewed on his own Subway.
But, Grand was friendly, and he decided to join in. “Not to mention their drinking would drown fish.” He cracked the joke at a perfect time, since I had just swallowed. I burst out laughing at the truth of it all, patting my hand onto the steering wheel.
Due to the fact that I wanted to keep in shape, I opted for the half-length version of the Subway sandwich and was therefore done within a few minutes. As we sat in the shadow of the Oak, resting and looking out into the expanse of Balboa Park, something caught my eye. I sat up and squinted, trying to get a better view.
“What is it, Dan?” Grand also leaned in, attempting to pick out what I was trying to see. What I spotted was a young woman, in her early twenties, sitting on the grass and crying. Even from my position in the Interceptor I could clearly hear her weeping.
“That woman. Crying.” I said, pointing out the young woman.
“You sure it’s worth checking out?” Grand asked, slightly hesitant. He was the sort of man who liked to be in the car in case something really bad happened and his help was needed.
“I’ll go talk to her. You stay in the car. Honk twice if you need me to get back quick.” I looked at the more experienced Law Enforcement Officer for confirmation of my plans. Over the weeks I spent with him he had began to trust my intuition, so I got a nod from him and stepped out of the Interceptor, straightening out my uniform and putting on my hat.
Walking through the park was a refreshing experience, especially after the heat of the car. I went off-course by a few metres to pop the trash we had left in the bin and then walked in a straight line towards the woman. Where the trees separated, spots of light shone onto the grass. As I passed through these spots I felt the distinct heat of the sun on my shoulders and the back of my neck, even though I didn’t spend long in them.
As I neared the woman, I spoke up. “Ma’am? Is everything okay?” I asked, in a louder voice than used socially to get through her weeps. From close by she looked like a student, a handbag with her pens and notepads dropped beside her with the contents spilling out. Her head was perched between her knees so that I couldn’t see her face, but my conscience told me that there was something wrong.
I crouched next to the girl, going on one knee, and spoke more quietly.
“Ma’am? Is everything all right?” I asked. The girl looked up at me. Her cheeks were red, some of the mascara and eyeliner she wore spread out over them in smeared patches. Upon seeing the badge I wore she knew that she had attracted some embarrassing attention and wiped her eyes with the sleeves of her white fabric jacket.
“Y-yes... I’m f-fine.” She sniffed. I took a packet of tissues from my pocket and opened the top, offering one to her. She smiled and took one, blowing her nose then wiping her eyes. “Thank y-you.”
“Whadda ya say I help you over to that park bench over there and you can tell me what’s got you in such a down mood?” I put my hand out to her, which she took, and helped her back to a standing position. Ever the gentleman, I even collected her belongings from the grass and carried the handbag over to the bench with one hand on her back as reassurance that I was still there.
People had mixed feelings about the police, and it was right of them to do so, since not all of us were loyal to the motto. But there were the occasional few officers that did everything they could just to make a person feel better. Another effect the presence of a police officer had on people was giving them a feeling of calmness, a feeling of safety. This was exactly what happened to the young woman as I sat down with her on the park bench. By the time we got there, she was breathing normally and no longer crying.
“Okay, so tell me, what happened?” I pulled the notepad from my breast pocket to record our conversation as was protocol. It was proof of what was said during the event, in case the civilian decided to throw lies at the given officer. Personally, I didn’t believe that the girl could be any trouble, but rules were there to be followed.
“Oh, well, it’s nothing serious. My boyfriend just left me for another woman. Since I study law, he thinks I’m too badly into my work and not enough into our...” She hesitated, giving me a look of uncertainty. I raised an eyebrow. “Sexual life.” She put her hands together and twiddled her thumbs. That gesture was one of waiting, or one of thinking, depending on the situation.
“And this woman is someone you don’t take too kindly to?” I jotted some things down on my notepad while talking.
“Exactly... She’s... How should I put it...” The girl struggled to find the words.
“Use vulgarity if that’s easier.” I encouraged.
“She’s a slut. I’ve seen her with more guys than I can count. Thing is, she doesn’t even work. Just leeches off the boyfriend of the moment and leaves him in the dirt once he’s been spent.” The woman explained.
“I’ve met a few of those in my time.” I admitted, also noting that down. Everything had to be put down on the notepad, down to the letter.
“Then you know what it feels like to be left-” She stopped, realising that I was a man. Again, red flowers bloomed in her cheeks, this time out of embarrassment.
“I can guess.” I gave her a reassuring smile. A glance back to the squad car showed that Grand was still sitting there, his head turned to the open window in thought. “Do you feel better after talking?”
“Yes, definitely. Thank you.” A sweet smile was her show of gratitude, which I accepted. As I stood, a thought struck me.
“Hey, don’t worry.” I crouched in front of her. “I’m sure that with your looks and brains you’ll have no trouble finding a great boyfriend to share a relationship with.”
This time I really made her happy, and she threw her arms around my neck, giving me a meaningful hug. When she let go, we both stood up.
“Thank you so much, officer. You have no idea how much better my day will be now.” She waved me goodbye and walked off in an opposite direction.
As I walked back towards the Interceptor, I embraced a feeling of warm pleasure that rose in my stomach whenever I improved a person’s day. It was a good feeling, one that put a smile on my face and a skip in my step, and one that lasted all day long.
Reaching the car, I sat inside the driver’s seat and pulled a bottle of still water from the cup holder, taking a few deep gulps, partly from the heat, partly from the spicy sandwich I ate earlier.
“What was it?” Grand asked. In response, I handed him my notepad on the page which I had just used. Grand was a speed-reader, and he was through the small pages in a matter of seconds. He put the notepad down in my lap once he was done, nodding in approval. “You kept your composure and made the girl feel better. A job well done, if I’ve ever seen one.”
I'd also like to mention that all of the locations in this story are authentic, taken from Google Maps.
Enjoy.
San Diego’s Cops
1
To Protect and Serve I thought, sitting in the driver’s seat of an old FCV Police Interceptor. The Interceptor was a second hand vehicle, although many of my colleagues, those who had been in the force for a longer period of time than myself, convinced me that it was one of the best Police vehicles around. This was mainly due to the fact that it was very durable; the body-on-frame construction allowed for inexpensive and quick repairs without the need to straighten out the chassis (the skeleton of the car).
That was advantageous to the Police Force because the officers could have their vehicles up and running in just a few hours after a particularly costly PIT Manoeuvre.
My partner was Sergeant Matthew Grand, a man of average height and build but exceptional knowledge and agility. Rumour had it that he once chased down a drug addict after following him over the tops of buildings, jumping from roof to roof. I found those tales to be exaggerated, but I never doubted old Grand. His cheek was clean shaven with no facial hair in sight, but to contradict his facial baldness he had a plume of brown hair on his head which he kept in check with an old army-style flattop cut.
As for Grand’s personality... Well, let’s say that just because he was smart, it didn’t mean that he ran his mouth off at every mistake someone made. His usual attitude would be to gently help them into being correct without making any sudden moves.
I was alone in the interceptor because Grand had gone off to get us Subway sandwiches. It was a kind of ritual for us, since we took turns in paying for the food. Perhaps Subway wasn’t the healthiest option for a man who spent most of his time moving around, but it was tasty and it kept me going through most of the day. The stereotype a lot of people make about cops and doughnuts wasn’t entirely true. For example, Grand absolutely hated icing. He never ate sweets and never drank any soft drink that contained more than one gram of sugar, which is to say; no soft drinks.
Me, on the other hand? Well, I liked cakes and wouldn’t mind a doughnut or two, but just the smell of coffee made me go green. Not much more to say on the subject. We were cops serving in the twenty first century, and the present future had its benefits.
I am Daniel Redder, and this is my story.
2
I was absently stroking the handle of my Glock while perching my chin on my hand, the elbow propped onto the open window’s edge, when Grand emerged from the darkness of the Subway store. It was strange, how a place that would normally be illuminated on the inside looked dark from the outside on a very sunny day. Grand walked around to the passenger’s side of the Interceptor and got inside, the suspension shaking as he sat down in the leather seat. He was by no means a heavy man, but old cars had the habit of rocking when anyone got in, as if to acknowledge their presence.
“Anything happen while I was in there?” He asked, pulling the seatbelt on as I drove out of the parking area by the pavement and entered the traffic, heading for the park where we could eat our food in the cool shadow of a tree. Grand had a musical voice, one that would go well with singing in an Opera, and God knows why he went for a Police career as opposed to becoming a vocalist for some band.
“Not really. The radio didn’t go off either, all I got were reports of a stolen vehicle being found somewhere upstate.” We both served in San Diego, California, a place which could get ridiculously hot on some unlucky days. It depended on one’s point of view, really. Weather that was hot for us as Police Officers would have been bliss for sunbathers and surfers.
“And how did that turn out?” Grand took off his hat and placed the bagged sandwiches inside to stop his lap from heating up. Our uniforms were all black, the only things standing out being our badges and the small gold pins that went on the tie to stop the thinner tail from flapping around. Someone must’ve been very intelligent to put black uniforms on people who stayed out in the sun most of the day – the black only absorbed the heat. But then how stupid would a Police Officer dressed all in white look?
“They found it banged up with all the windows and light smashed.” I pulled into the parking of a wooded area in Balboa Park, finding a perfect spot just under a great Oak. As I had been taught, I parked the car back first to be able to pull out of the spot as fast as possible if the need came.
“Ouch. Here.” Grand pulled my Subway sandwich from the plastic bag and handed it to me just as I took off my own hat to place it on the dashboard.
“Thanks.” I unwrapped the Subway and took a bite once I was in. The habit I forced myself to follow was to put a napkin on my stomach and not unwrap the sandwich entirely, giving as little chance as possible to any sauce dripping on my spotless uniform. “The youth these days is just unbelievable. I mean, it isn’t the kids, but their parents. They aren’t taught any manners, their swearing would put sailors to shame.” I found myself rambling away like some old man to Grand, who just smiled to himself as he chewed on his own Subway.
But, Grand was friendly, and he decided to join in. “Not to mention their drinking would drown fish.” He cracked the joke at a perfect time, since I had just swallowed. I burst out laughing at the truth of it all, patting my hand onto the steering wheel.
Due to the fact that I wanted to keep in shape, I opted for the half-length version of the Subway sandwich and was therefore done within a few minutes. As we sat in the shadow of the Oak, resting and looking out into the expanse of Balboa Park, something caught my eye. I sat up and squinted, trying to get a better view.
“What is it, Dan?” Grand also leaned in, attempting to pick out what I was trying to see. What I spotted was a young woman, in her early twenties, sitting on the grass and crying. Even from my position in the Interceptor I could clearly hear her weeping.
“That woman. Crying.” I said, pointing out the young woman.
“You sure it’s worth checking out?” Grand asked, slightly hesitant. He was the sort of man who liked to be in the car in case something really bad happened and his help was needed.
“I’ll go talk to her. You stay in the car. Honk twice if you need me to get back quick.” I looked at the more experienced Law Enforcement Officer for confirmation of my plans. Over the weeks I spent with him he had began to trust my intuition, so I got a nod from him and stepped out of the Interceptor, straightening out my uniform and putting on my hat.
Walking through the park was a refreshing experience, especially after the heat of the car. I went off-course by a few metres to pop the trash we had left in the bin and then walked in a straight line towards the woman. Where the trees separated, spots of light shone onto the grass. As I passed through these spots I felt the distinct heat of the sun on my shoulders and the back of my neck, even though I didn’t spend long in them.
As I neared the woman, I spoke up. “Ma’am? Is everything okay?” I asked, in a louder voice than used socially to get through her weeps. From close by she looked like a student, a handbag with her pens and notepads dropped beside her with the contents spilling out. Her head was perched between her knees so that I couldn’t see her face, but my conscience told me that there was something wrong.
I crouched next to the girl, going on one knee, and spoke more quietly.
“Ma’am? Is everything all right?” I asked. The girl looked up at me. Her cheeks were red, some of the mascara and eyeliner she wore spread out over them in smeared patches. Upon seeing the badge I wore she knew that she had attracted some embarrassing attention and wiped her eyes with the sleeves of her white fabric jacket.
“Y-yes... I’m f-fine.” She sniffed. I took a packet of tissues from my pocket and opened the top, offering one to her. She smiled and took one, blowing her nose then wiping her eyes. “Thank y-you.”
“Whadda ya say I help you over to that park bench over there and you can tell me what’s got you in such a down mood?” I put my hand out to her, which she took, and helped her back to a standing position. Ever the gentleman, I even collected her belongings from the grass and carried the handbag over to the bench with one hand on her back as reassurance that I was still there.
People had mixed feelings about the police, and it was right of them to do so, since not all of us were loyal to the motto. But there were the occasional few officers that did everything they could just to make a person feel better. Another effect the presence of a police officer had on people was giving them a feeling of calmness, a feeling of safety. This was exactly what happened to the young woman as I sat down with her on the park bench. By the time we got there, she was breathing normally and no longer crying.
“Okay, so tell me, what happened?” I pulled the notepad from my breast pocket to record our conversation as was protocol. It was proof of what was said during the event, in case the civilian decided to throw lies at the given officer. Personally, I didn’t believe that the girl could be any trouble, but rules were there to be followed.
“Oh, well, it’s nothing serious. My boyfriend just left me for another woman. Since I study law, he thinks I’m too badly into my work and not enough into our...” She hesitated, giving me a look of uncertainty. I raised an eyebrow. “Sexual life.” She put her hands together and twiddled her thumbs. That gesture was one of waiting, or one of thinking, depending on the situation.
“And this woman is someone you don’t take too kindly to?” I jotted some things down on my notepad while talking.
“Exactly... She’s... How should I put it...” The girl struggled to find the words.
“Use vulgarity if that’s easier.” I encouraged.
“She’s a slut. I’ve seen her with more guys than I can count. Thing is, she doesn’t even work. Just leeches off the boyfriend of the moment and leaves him in the dirt once he’s been spent.” The woman explained.
“I’ve met a few of those in my time.” I admitted, also noting that down. Everything had to be put down on the notepad, down to the letter.
“Then you know what it feels like to be left-” She stopped, realising that I was a man. Again, red flowers bloomed in her cheeks, this time out of embarrassment.
“I can guess.” I gave her a reassuring smile. A glance back to the squad car showed that Grand was still sitting there, his head turned to the open window in thought. “Do you feel better after talking?”
“Yes, definitely. Thank you.” A sweet smile was her show of gratitude, which I accepted. As I stood, a thought struck me.
“Hey, don’t worry.” I crouched in front of her. “I’m sure that with your looks and brains you’ll have no trouble finding a great boyfriend to share a relationship with.”
This time I really made her happy, and she threw her arms around my neck, giving me a meaningful hug. When she let go, we both stood up.
“Thank you so much, officer. You have no idea how much better my day will be now.” She waved me goodbye and walked off in an opposite direction.
As I walked back towards the Interceptor, I embraced a feeling of warm pleasure that rose in my stomach whenever I improved a person’s day. It was a good feeling, one that put a smile on my face and a skip in my step, and one that lasted all day long.
Reaching the car, I sat inside the driver’s seat and pulled a bottle of still water from the cup holder, taking a few deep gulps, partly from the heat, partly from the spicy sandwich I ate earlier.
“What was it?” Grand asked. In response, I handed him my notepad on the page which I had just used. Grand was a speed-reader, and he was through the small pages in a matter of seconds. He put the notepad down in my lap once he was done, nodding in approval. “You kept your composure and made the girl feel better. A job well done, if I’ve ever seen one.”