05-30-2017, 09:09 AM
The 34th Precinct of Tier 5 was a noisy den of chaos and criminals, but no more so than usual in the past month. It had only been a scant few days since the accident at Karachi Plaza’s elevated train station (MAD BULL 34: LONG ARM OF THE LAW); the gory event would have merited a national day of mourning in higher tiers, but here down below on the 5th, it was an inconvenience for some and business as usual for most. Engineers had assessed the damage and determined it would take six months of work to get that rail station in working order again. Fortunately for Sergeant John Estes, his diagnosis wasn't nearly as severe.
Mad Bull had spent a week in the quiet coalescence of a hospital bed with a dislocated shoulder and some superficial wounds. The first two days had been a trip to blissful Dreamland filled with morphine and reruns of Night Court, but the next five were a little more bumpy. By the end of the week, the Director of Medicine had grown tired of Sleepy showing off shrapnel scars on his bare hairy ass to any 22 year old nurse to innocent to realize what he was after and kicked him to the curb.
Things were not so bright and bawdy for the passengers he had rode with. All told, 41 commuters ended up dead that day, plus the quickly dispatched Officer Janie Phanili. The press were having a field day, with papers flying off the shelf that described the carnage as instigated by homegrown terrorists… or the police force themselves. Yellow and red rags each told their own tale, the facts be damned. What mattered though, is that Sergeant John Estes had caused a headache, one which the Chief of the 34th Precinct was all too eager to be rid of.
Not long after his hospital discharge, Mad Bull found his gargantuan body squished into the tiny, squeaky wooden chair that sat opposite the Chief's desk. Chief Edwin Mundo was an old fashioned cop… perfect for the old fashioned sort of criminals that plagued the Fifth Tier of Corsucant. He had walked a beat for years in the 34th, carried that badge proudly, and could understand the violent means necessary to keep his turf safe.
The greasy cigar jutting from his thick sausage sized lips smoldered, casting a pungent haze across the messy office. He inhaled deeply, and sighed with fatherly exaggeration. With a sweaty old palm, he ran his meaty fingers through his grey buzzcut hair.
“Goddamnit, Sleepy! I swear to Mary and her fucking Space Baby Jesus that you go through partners faster than a two-bit whore smokes rocks! How long did that kid even last, huh?”
“ 'bout 8 hours, Chief.”
“Christ on a Christmas cracker, Mad Bull! That's not even a full shift! You got any idea how much a pain in the ass it's gonna be to write her next a’ kin a paycheck for half a day's work?”
Sleepy shrugged.
Chief Mundo sarcastically imitated Mad Bull’s shrug. Uneasy stillness enjoined the two men as they looked grimly at the other. Through the office door the two men could hear the din of clacking keyboard keys, the cacophony of ringing phones and the shouting and arguing ever present at the Watch Commander's desk. The two men stared intently at each other. Finally, Mad Bull broke the silence.
“Listen Chief, you gotta let me go after that blonde crum that iced Junie. I owe it to 'er!” he exclaimed, beating one fist against the other.
“Julie, you mean Julie.” the Chief corrected helpfully.
“Yeah, yeah. Anyways, I think I got a hot lea…”
“Not a chance Sergeant Estes! You know, I been thinking 'bout how ya got that nickname o’ yours. You're strong as a bull… and twice as smart!”
Sleepy flashed him a bright smile, “Hey, That's mighty nice, comin’ from you Chief!”
“It's not a compliment you buffoon!” Chief Mundo bellowed. He plucked his cigar from his mouth and crushed it into an overfilled ashtray. With measured intent, he continued, “I can't rely on you to chase clues down like some kinda gumshoe, so you're off the case!”
Mad Bull raised a fist in protest, but a fearsome look from the Chief told him to sit down and shut up.
Past the door and down the hall, a mischievous and flirty chatter arose from the secretarial pool. The sound of heeled boots and the jangle of a heavy sidearm could be heard rhythmically approaching.
“I can't trust you with new recruits, so this time I'm partnering you up with someone outside the precinct that's more accustomed to your particular policing style… but hopefully equipped with a handful more brain cells.”
There was a light knock on the door and a turn of the knob that preceded the Chief rising from his chair and calling out, “Come in!”
Mad Bull had spent a week in the quiet coalescence of a hospital bed with a dislocated shoulder and some superficial wounds. The first two days had been a trip to blissful Dreamland filled with morphine and reruns of Night Court, but the next five were a little more bumpy. By the end of the week, the Director of Medicine had grown tired of Sleepy showing off shrapnel scars on his bare hairy ass to any 22 year old nurse to innocent to realize what he was after and kicked him to the curb.
Things were not so bright and bawdy for the passengers he had rode with. All told, 41 commuters ended up dead that day, plus the quickly dispatched Officer Janie Phanili. The press were having a field day, with papers flying off the shelf that described the carnage as instigated by homegrown terrorists… or the police force themselves. Yellow and red rags each told their own tale, the facts be damned. What mattered though, is that Sergeant John Estes had caused a headache, one which the Chief of the 34th Precinct was all too eager to be rid of.
Not long after his hospital discharge, Mad Bull found his gargantuan body squished into the tiny, squeaky wooden chair that sat opposite the Chief's desk. Chief Edwin Mundo was an old fashioned cop… perfect for the old fashioned sort of criminals that plagued the Fifth Tier of Corsucant. He had walked a beat for years in the 34th, carried that badge proudly, and could understand the violent means necessary to keep his turf safe.
The greasy cigar jutting from his thick sausage sized lips smoldered, casting a pungent haze across the messy office. He inhaled deeply, and sighed with fatherly exaggeration. With a sweaty old palm, he ran his meaty fingers through his grey buzzcut hair.
“Goddamnit, Sleepy! I swear to Mary and her fucking Space Baby Jesus that you go through partners faster than a two-bit whore smokes rocks! How long did that kid even last, huh?”
“ 'bout 8 hours, Chief.”
“Christ on a Christmas cracker, Mad Bull! That's not even a full shift! You got any idea how much a pain in the ass it's gonna be to write her next a’ kin a paycheck for half a day's work?”
Sleepy shrugged.
Chief Mundo sarcastically imitated Mad Bull’s shrug. Uneasy stillness enjoined the two men as they looked grimly at the other. Through the office door the two men could hear the din of clacking keyboard keys, the cacophony of ringing phones and the shouting and arguing ever present at the Watch Commander's desk. The two men stared intently at each other. Finally, Mad Bull broke the silence.
“Listen Chief, you gotta let me go after that blonde crum that iced Junie. I owe it to 'er!” he exclaimed, beating one fist against the other.
“Julie, you mean Julie.” the Chief corrected helpfully.
“Yeah, yeah. Anyways, I think I got a hot lea…”
“Not a chance Sergeant Estes! You know, I been thinking 'bout how ya got that nickname o’ yours. You're strong as a bull… and twice as smart!”
Sleepy flashed him a bright smile, “Hey, That's mighty nice, comin’ from you Chief!”
“It's not a compliment you buffoon!” Chief Mundo bellowed. He plucked his cigar from his mouth and crushed it into an overfilled ashtray. With measured intent, he continued, “I can't rely on you to chase clues down like some kinda gumshoe, so you're off the case!”
Mad Bull raised a fist in protest, but a fearsome look from the Chief told him to sit down and shut up.
Past the door and down the hall, a mischievous and flirty chatter arose from the secretarial pool. The sound of heeled boots and the jangle of a heavy sidearm could be heard rhythmically approaching.
“I can't trust you with new recruits, so this time I'm partnering you up with someone outside the precinct that's more accustomed to your particular policing style… but hopefully equipped with a handful more brain cells.”
There was a light knock on the door and a turn of the knob that preceded the Chief rising from his chair and calling out, “Come in!”