Stabbed in the Back

 

The rain trickled down my apartment window with the grace of a falling feather. It was just another day in this city. I sat there in the bathwater which was slowly but surely losing its heat, kind of like me in a way. As I dried myself and got dressed I looked out the window one more time and wondered if this city really could be saved. The grey colour of the entire place was almost a reflection of the people living here. Lifeless, dark and without hope. I took a sniff of the air rich with the smell of smoke and gasoline. I looked at my badge and wondered how much power did the law really have in a city where half of the cops are in the mobs pocket?

As I shuffled into the office with little to no motivation in my movement I was approached by officer Watts. He then proceeded to tell me that the Chief was expecting Officer Briggs and me in his office. Walking through the pasty white halls of the building heading towards the Chief's office I bumped into Briggs, I tried telling him that we were expected in the office but all I was given in response was an unenthusiastic grunt followed by Briggs storming off ahead towards the Chief's office.

I knew Briggs had a reputation of not being the friendliest guy on the force but jeez who pissed in his cornflakes this morning? Briggs and I quickly darted towards the chief's office. As I walked in I slowly started to realise that something serious was going on.

"Good morning sir I..."

"Sit down Dawson and shut up! You too Briggs," the Chief said sternly.

"Yes sir" I muttered under my breath.

As I sat there staring at the Chief I began to notice my surroundings and began to slowly peel away the layers of who I was looking at. He clearly wasn't as bothered about this situation as I was; the nonchalant expression on his face said it all. I could see sweat drenching his shirt that was one size too small. I could tell from just looking at the stain on his shirt that he enjoyed eating, A lot. I could tell this due to the simple fact that the stain was most likely from a jam doughnut as I spotted a box of them on the table half finished.

"What's this all about?" Briggs asked authoritatively.

"What this is about Detective Briggs is that vigilante killer who thinks he can take the law into his own hands, he's struck again. 32 Randal apartments on North street, go, see what you can find and come back with results."

Briggs and I pulled up outside the dilapidated apartment building it looked like a shithole, however we had a job to do. As I got out of the car the smell immediately hit me: cigarettes, gasoline and I think something is dead. I looked at Briggs and he had no reaction, not even to the smell. He's like a jigsaw puzzle with a missing piece, like if we were to put everything together there would still be something missing.

We made our way into the reception area where there was a janitor sitting passed out on a chair. Briggs walked over to him and gave him a shove.

"What are you doing?!" I asked hysterically

"I'm just checking he's still breathing"

"Well is he?"

"Yeah he's fine, oh and look he's got a present for me, a nice big bottle of scotch," Briggs said sarcastically as he took a large swig from the bottle.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" I asked enraged at his idiotic decision.

"Hey they don't pay me enough to stay sober on this job," He replied curtly, I found it hard to disagree with him as it was true our pay was abysmal.

We then proceeded up the stairs with caution as to not step on any broken glass or discarded needles. God Briggs was right; this place really was a shithole. We arrived outside the door of number 32, we had no idea what was inside, at least I didn't. I opened the door precariously almost scared as to what we might find. The door was literally hanging from the hinges, due to poor condition or the door itself being forced open I don't know, it was a sickly green colour, quite fitting that the door reflected how I was feeling at that moment. This was it, the moment of truth, behind this door we would see what waited for us.