A Shame

It's strange how all large house parties end up the same. A festering collaboration of disintegrating youth and delinquency. They all hold that same stench. A collection of alcohol, sex, marijuana, and vomit fills the air above and ferments, waiting for you to approach and began its assault on your senses. Parties are loud. They can be heard from a great distance. Thumping music. Cheering crowds. Screams and laughter emit from a single location. A calling to the masses around. A call to criminal mischief and regrets bringing all types of crowds to increase the size of this diseased group. More alcohol. More drugs. More women. More fights. It slowly become a living organism itself. The residence becomes alive, each participant a cell, completing a self chosen job. Drink. Fuck. Fight. Repeat. Most anyone is invited, only requirements for entry are falling morals and whatever alcohol you can conjure up. Everyone invited. Except for me.

Strange what a badge and gun do to your reputation at a party. Simply my presence will send a few tipsy individuals scrambling. I let them run. I'm not here for them. No. I have bigger fish to catch. The brass want someone to question. Someone to inform them of this rebellious movement gaining strength within our city. Within my city. I leave the light bar off. No need to alert them before I get what I came for. The glory of a noise complaint is it's anonymity. Although this neighborhood is ruled by the rebels, preventing any noise complaints from neighbors, anyone can file a complaint.

"I don't like this song. A little too loud for my taste" I remark to my partner.

She nods with a smirk."Let's check it out" she chirps out.

"Baker 21 - Show us on scene for a noise complaint - requesting additional units" I pipe over the radio.

"Baker 21 - we show you on scene, stay safe" dispatch replies.

I reach for the plastic handle to my door. It's worn smooth over the years of opening and closing. The oils and coarse surface of my hands have glossed it over. I pause. And take a breath. "One... Two..." Smash! Before my door opens a beer bottle, half empty, shatters over the window of my door sending alcohol and brown glass in a magnificent explosion through the air and across my cruiser. A few seconds later and that would have been my head. I throw my door open and lock eyes with the kid that threw it. His body still bent forward from the release of his beverage. Cheers emit from the crowd as he regains his balance and straightens his posture. He pumps his chest out at me. That's our man. His tattoos show his affiliation to the group we're after and he just committed assault on a peacekeeping officer.

"You're done you little shit" I murmur as I slam my door closed and begin my advance towards him. One hand on my holster and the other holding my mag light. I send the beam of light directly into his face, keep him distracted while I go to snatch him up. But the crowd seems to have a different plan. Booing echoes around me. Swearing intensifies as we get closer. "Fucking pigs" seems to be popular phrase with this group. A shame they lack respect for what we do. I'm going to take pride in ending their little party. I reach forward and snatch the punk who threw the bottle then drag him back towards my cruiser. I need to get him away from this crowd, away from the chaos in order to make my arrest. Unfortunately the mass in front of me disagrees with the apprehension of their own. Like white blood cells fighting against a foreign body they begin to advance.

"STAY BACK" I yell out.

"STAY BACK" my partner joins in. Her voice doesn't carry the power mine does, but I'd rather her backing me up then her being a silent witness to this hostile mob.

"STAY BACK, STAY THE FUCK BACK!" I yell into the crowd.

"Let him go! Let him go! Let him go!" The begin to chant back. More bottles began raining down on us. Shattering behind us. Shattering at our feet. This situation is turning bad quickly. I increase the pace of our retreat and yell over the crowd to my partner.