The Second || 𝘩.𝘴.

『17』| 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙸𝙽𝚂𝙸𝙳𝙴

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THE
SECOND
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CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
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THE
INSIDE
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[[ DETECTIVE BOOKER. ]]

The streets weren't safe. They were never safe. This job and this life would never make me a hero to anyone. In fact, to the victors belong the spoils, as they say. If the corrupt win, I'm nothing but a faceless fucker with a God complex staring down a loaded gun; emptied, sucked dry by these no-good fucks. With everything, ever since the Blue Velvetina case of masked fiends, the blood for blood & bricks for fucking bricks, people believed this to be the new society that would wipe civilians clean of the kidnappings, the murders, the rapes, and of course the mass robberies. I despised nothing more than hearing the distorted voice of the criminal mind that started it all.

Men like him made my job much more complicated than it should be and even kept me from seeing my daughter. Days went by when phone calls were all we had when it was all we had ever known. I resented these criminals, for walking so carelessly, like this world revolved around them and only them. It sickened me. It only drove me to work harder living this job.

I sat at my desk, putting out my fifth cigarette of the day, gazing at the photo frame of me and my seven-year-old daughter Rylee on my desk. It was Thanksgiving dinner when I taught her everything she knew about the art of mashed potatoes and turkey cookery.

[[ 6 DAYS BEFORE D-DAY. ]]

"Booker, you've really done it now. I cannot believe you let these criminals stand their ground! What kind of police officer are you, James?"

"Let them have their leverage and watch it backfire when those scumbags realize we've got them right exactly where we want them." I desperately reasoned with the executive, slamming my third cup of joe down onto the mahogany table.

"Time, detective. It's the time we don't have for this, sitting on our asses any longer. We've got no leads, throughout this entire investigation, none. Fucking nothing."

"I understand that. Listen to me. This is going to work, and I know so. We might have no leads here and now, but there's going to be a waking day when we do, I just know it. I see it. These fiends aren't going to sit and rot inside of that bank for long, as much as I'd wish they would, they'd never. They've got to be working around Starlight security databases right now, alright? The security in that bank's top-notch, as far as I know after I got off the phone with Erick Jupiter and he told me it should keep them there. He's certain of it. If they're that desperate to get to the money in that bank, they'll do anything to breach the security systems."

"How intelligent is Prodigy? Did you get personnel intel on this guy or not?"

"No, he sounds like a fucking sociopath, Jermaine. Prodigy showed no sympathy, no empathy. He sounded like a man possessed by a fucking telecom voicer." I scoffed tiresomely, rubbing the tense crease between my eyebrows.

"I do not care if this psycho's got no emotions. I asked you if he was intelligent. How was that anywhere near the answer to my fucking question?"