GBDP: "Reflection"
Author: Robert Smith
Editor-in-Chief: Robert Smith
Chapter 1: Late Night
A calming hum reverberated throughout the basement, which laid home to the Ecto Containment Unit of Ghostbusters: Doom Patrol. This immense under section of the building was one of the many rooms used for regular maintenance of various apparatus and the experimentation of devices used for combat against hostile spectral entities. The humming emanated from the temperature control system connected to the ceiling. This sound would be trying on the patience of anyone who didn't spend much of their time in this section of headquarters, but to Robert Statler, it was soothing. Close to four years have passed since he'd served in the U.S military as a mechanical engineer. It was a different ballgame, a life of protocol and living under the order of his superiors. Not that he'd mind. The service had been good to him. He enlisted in the army not long after he graduated with a Bachelor of Arts degree in Graphic Design and Studio Art at Gallaudet University. Few know that he's as adept at using a pencil and paintbrush, as he is a combination wrench. He could draw, but mama always said computers were where the money was.
It was Friday night, the beginning of the weekend, and the end of his shift. Well, it should have been, but there was always something to do. He could have gone to bed anytime and put off the paper work that lay across his desk till morning, but he wasn't all that tired. Being absent from active field duty due to his injuries, he often spent more time resting and keeping track of things that 'needed to get done around the house', while the others took care of most of the domestic calls. Statler's mobility was limited. The beating he received from Adrik Thorsen's disciple would have killed a lesser man, but by some chance of luck, he managed to survive. He owed a lot to Erin, she watched over him when he was incapacitated and unconscious toward the end of last year's grim events. In truth, she saved his life, so he called it an even trade when she told him she was behind the wheel of the Ecto-M before it was destroyed. She was afraid he'd be angry; she was right. But, he knew it wasn't her fault. The disciple should feel fortunate he was sent to whatever hell Riddle banished him to, because had Statler confronted him for blowing up his car, there would have been real hell to pay.
No more than an hour ago, everyone had for the most part cleared out for the night. Tim Bondo and Dr. Hide Tanaka, two of the newest members of the team, invited him to go along with them to Kristopher's Bar northeast of Philadelphia. He was familiar with the establishment and on a better day, would have been up for it, but this time opted not to go. Tim and Hide understood and thought nothing more of it. They knew Rob wasn't one hundred percent, but invited him in good gesture. It'd been a while since he'd really spent time outside of the highrise, at least were it not business-related. A few inventory runs here and there to keep up with parts for the equipment, checking up on customers to see if they were satisfied with their home installed Ectoplasmic Detection Units (a home P.K.E. system that he'd invented that acted much like a smoke detector), etc. He'd occasionally, spend time with the group out to dinner, but that was about it. The rest of sick leave was spent in the HQ. It's not that he didn't want to do more, but he couldn't. And what he did do, he shouldn't have been doing anyway. The doctor preferred that he'd refrain from over-exerting himself, but Rob could be as stubborn as he was bald. Now, he was in the basement tying up loose ends with the ECU in preparation for tomorrow. He recently completed upgrades to the protection grid that would make it impossible for anyone other than DP personnel to use the massive machine. As he told the others, he's not taking any chances with a security crisis the likes of which occurred in New York City nearly twenty years ago caused by idiots working for the Environmental Protection Agency. But, he was tired. Turning in for the night didn't seem like a bad idea. Besides, his aches were beginning to flare up again. The prescription painkillers the doctor gave him only worked for as long as he let them. In other words, overworking himself made it worse.
Screw it, he thought.
Statler was basically finished anyway. All he was doing was bidding his time with busywork. He was tired and his body told him so. After returning his tools to his utility belt, he put the system on stand-by and sat down by the workbench that had been draped over with blueprints. The beer he'd left on the coaster was nearly warm and he drank the last of it while skimming over the plans and documents spread out on the surface. Some were unmarked and others were marked "Work-in-Progress".
File Name: Automatic Multi-Angle Proton Machine Gun (AMA)
Classification: Firearm
Status: Work-in-Progress
File Name: Proto-Gun
Classification: Firearm
Status: Work-in-Progress
File Name: Ectoplasmic Bomb
Classification: Explosive
Status: Completed
File Name: Pulsar Rifle
Classification: Firearm
Status: Work-in-Progress
File Name: Ecto-1M
Classification: Urban Terrain Vehicle
Status: Completed
File Name: Ecto-Voyager
Classification: Caravan Vehicle
Status: Work-in-Progress
If there was one good thing that came from being out of commission, it was that it gave him an opportunity to set plans for the future. Statler was a creationist and to say that he was brilliant was an understatement. But, for all his credits, he wasn't always regarded as such. The little, deaf, light-skin boy from Camden, New Jersey had come a long way.
Rob gathered his papers in order and placed them back in their files. His office was situated in a corner of the basement near footlockers used by the other Ghostbusters, though those lockers were often meant to hold equipment needed for repairs. Hunting the things that go bump in the night was hard on the machines. Sometimes, he wondered if it'd be easier just bribing a ghost instead of busting them. Yet, after that bullshit move Tim pulled at Wynnewood Lanes, that didn't seem like a half bad idea. He had to laugh. In all the adventures he and his friends have had battling wraiths of every sort and traversing through extra-dimensional planes, it never occurred to him to just reason with a ghost.
He switched off the lights of the basement before taking the elevator to his living quarters. Several years ago, Doom Patrol's homestead was once Dave and Busters Bar and Grill on Pier 19 not far under the Ben Franklin Bridge of Philadelphia. D&B as it was called, was a popular eatery with a great view across the Delaware River Channel overseeing the Campbell Stadium grounds in Camden. The restaurant caught fire and consumed a substantial section of the pier, in addition to the outstretched three-level parking lot, the main restaurant, and the warehouse it was attached to. The costs of the damages were high and the owners took responsibility for rebuilding everything with the check they gained from their insurance coverage. When the restaurant re-opened, business was dismal. Patrons didn't flock to D&B as much due to the stigma of the fire. Trying to reclaim the glory it once had became a pipe dream. Every penny was put forth into rebuilding not just the restaurant, but everything destroyed by the blaze. They lost more money than they gained and were forced to shut down for good. The restaurant, the empty building attached to D&B, the parking lot, and that section of the pier were sold back to the city and had come to be abandoned until Doom Patrol set up shop in Philadelphia. It was pricey, but with the combined efforts of the original five members of the team, the gamble paid off.
Headquarters acted as a homestead, garage, a place of business, spectral holding facility, and an extensive laboratory for all facets geared toward paranormal investigation and elimination. Both the buildings and the former restaurant area maintained several rooms and more space than the Ghostbusters could ever dream of. When they first came to the city, there was virtually nowhere to settle. Pier 19/Penn's Landing was their last resort. The realtor, a middle-aged balding man who seemed to look down on his luck, took Statler and company on a tour of the premises. The cost of living in the abandoned complex was nothing short of an arm and a leg, but the guys (Brian, Rob, and CJ) proved to be a convincing trio. They were able to purchase the building at half the price than it was being sold. It didn't take much to come to terms with a reasonable deal, nothing that asking Salina to go out to dinner with the poor guy didn't hurt. She wasn't thrilled, but when she saw a room large enough to hold enough books to fill a university library, she acquiesced and took one for the team.
Rob rubbed the stiffness in his neck and toweled off, then changed into his evening clothes. A long time ago, a friend he once knew told him 'sometimes at the end of a day, the best healing in the world can only come from a hot shower…and a good woman'. His room was better furnished than what he'd been used to over the years. It was more of an apartment than a single bedroom. The benefit of living in what used to be a warehouse attached to the remodeled remains of a five-star restaurant had its perks. His room, as well as that of the others, had an appealing view of both the city and the river. He pulled back the drapes of his window and stood with his arms folded, as he gazed at the spectrum of bright lights illuminating the skyscrapers. During the day, the streets were busy and bustling with activity. He'd been to New York, Seattle, Atlanta, Miami, and Houston, but there was nothing like "Center City", as what many who live in the metropolitan region of Philadelphia have come to call it. Despite living in South Jersey for most of his life, he also called it home. Though, it was the nights that intrigued him. Every city has its secrets; his was no exception. Everyone is entitled to their secrets.
Earlier on, Erin informed him that Detective Madison had called. For as much good as he's done for them, a call from Madison was rarely a good thing. Then again, he was sure the detective felt the same way. Rob stretched out on his living room couch and turned on the TV. He kicked up his feet on the coffee table in front of him. He loved to read just about anything he could get his hands on. Ebony, Jet, Black Enterprise, and Muscle and Fitness Magazine lined his table. And what kind of techno-genius would he be if he didn't also subscribe to Popular Mechanics. This month's front layout of PM covered a wide selection of articles: "Understanding the Information Superhighway", "New Life for Dead Batteries", "Testing the Eight Quickest Cars You Can Buy"…"Brain Waves Drive Man's Bionic Arm". He picked up the magazine, flipping to page 83 of the article that caught his interest.
Brain Waves Drive Man's Bionic Arm
By Tony Morton
A man who lost both of his arms in an accident is getting some high-tech help with an innovative artificial limb that controls movements by thought.
Two years ago, a healthy Jesse Sullivan, 56, was at his job repairing utility lines when he accidentally touched a live wire, costing him both his arms up to his shoulders. Like most amputees, Sullivan was fitted with a traditional artificial prosthesis, relying on chains and buttons to move his arm. But then doctors at the Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago offered a "bionic" arm for his other lost limb, putting him at the forefront of biomechanical technology.
"I didn't really know what was available. It was a scary thing," Sullivan remembers. "I thought maybe it would be like the 'Six Million Dollar Man' on TV."
To get the new arm, Sullivan first underwent surgery to graft existing nerve endings from his shoulder onto the pectoral muscle on his chest. Those nerves grew into the muscle after about six months. Electrodes on the graft can now pick up any thought-generated nerve impulses to the now-absent limb and transmit those to the mechanical prosthesis, controlling the movements of the arm.
Sullivan's doctor says this is the first time a nerve-muscle graft has been used to control an artificial limb…
Just as he was reading, the station that had been airing the Tonight Show with Jay Leno had switched off following a familiar 'blip and click' signaling an oncoming call on his Sorenson VRS Video Relay Phone. The videophone was attached to his television. His were installed with the option to switch between closed caption functions or manual signed relay with the operator. Rob grew up with the ability to talk and understand in the same manner as anyone else who could hear with both ears, but at age twelve he lost sixty percent of his hearing due to an illness he contracted when he was an infant, an illness that suffered him long-term effects that have lasted into his adulthood. He learned American Sign Language and Signed English at Gallaudet. His 'Deaf Education" started late, but it's served him well when he needed it. He had other videophones like this in his offices, a necessity that enabled him to communicate with his peers. The call came from Salina. She and Orla were on their way to meet Detective Madison at 1118 Crescent Place. Something had occurred that required their intervention.
Salina and Rob exchanged pleasantries.
"Hey, ace. Sorry to call you so late."
"It's alright."
"Did I wake you?" Salina asked.
"No. The TV was on in the background. I wasn't really watching it. Just casting up on some reading. What's up?"
"Nothing much. Just checking up on you."
"Thanks."
"We'll be pulling up to the mansion soon. From what our friendly neighborhood flatfoot said on the phone, he needed us there immediately."
"Is that right?" Statler replied.
"Yeah, and this time, the request came straight from the commissioner."
"You're kidding. What's this all about?"
"We're not sure. Ms. Wainwright and I are in the dark, so to say. But, Madison said it couldn't wait till morning."
"I hope he knows you're not just stopping in to say 'hi'."
Salina grinned. "Um, no. He knows the rules. We're on the clock. We were told that Philly's 7th Precinct is scoping out the estate."
"All of it?"
"Seems like it," She replied. "What would the boys in blue ever do without us?"
"Probably do an Irish jig for starters."
Ms. Wainwright laughed in the background.
Orla Wainwright was a single mom raising two children. Out of the many hopefuls who aspired to be part of the team several weeks ago, those who showed up at Doom Patrol's open house, she impressed the senior staff with her positive attitude. She had been a welcome addition to the company and exemplified a strong work ethic and a willingness to learn. Rob was happy to have her aboard. He had to give her credit, not many people have the psychological stability to undertake what they do on a daily basis, few and far in between. He's heard the horror stories from the other divisions, recruits who have been driven mad or committed suicide after working on the job for no more than two weeks to a month. It was a shame. Ghostbusting had always maintained a misunderstood reputation in the public eye. It isn't glorious. There are certain risks you take as a Ghostbuster; your business is death.
"How're you doing, Orla?" Rob asked the newest female paranormal investigator of the team.
"Ah, I'm doing fine."
"Glad to hear to that. You know you didn't have to go on this assignment. Erin would have been happy to have taken your place."
"What? And miss an opportunity to see the country side?"
Rob smiled. "Come on, Orla."
"I know what you mean. Don't worry; I have a babysitter watching my kids until I get home. I'm sure Erin has plans of her own. When I was in my mid-twenties, I hated being tied down on the weekend. Let her have fun. Besides, if what we're about to encounter is as serious as the intonation of Detective Madison on the phone, I doubt the night will end on a boring note."
"Fair enough. Just make sure Salina doesn't get into trouble."
Salina shifted her eyes toward the video monitor on the control panel of the Ecto-1M above the gearshift, while Orla turned her head to the passenger side window hiding an amused expression on her face.
"Very funny, Rob. Thanks." Salina replied shaking her head.
"I think I see the mansion in the distance. Is that it?" Orla asked, peering over the horizon at what looked to be their destination point.
"Yep, that's it," Salina confirmed, noticing a forensic truck and squad cars parked on the lawn. She returned to Rob. "We're pulling up now. We'll be in touch if anything develops. Get some sleep. Duran and Wainwright–out."
"Will do. Peace."
The video connection ended.
Rob put down the magazine he had been reading before and continued watching TV. Leno was already on his second guest–Terrence Howard. Howard had portrayed Djay, a Memphis pimp undergoing a pivotal mid-life crisis, in the 2005 critically acclaimed independent film "Hustle and Flow". For his role, he was nominated for a "Best Actor" academy award, but in controversial fashion lost to Phillip Seymour Hoffman's leading performance in "Capote". "Hustle and Flow" was one of Rob's favorite movies. He'd postponed seeing it for several months until it debuted on DVD. On one occasion when everyone had time off for President's Day, Rob asked Erin if she'd like to watch it with him, but declined since she was on her way out the door to see another film at a local independent movie theater uptown. No one else was around with the exception of Brian, so he and Rob watched it together. By the end of the flick, Brian was singing "It's Hard Out Here For A Pimp". Needles to say, he enjoyed it.
Rob stared at a picture frame on the end table by the lamp, showing the image of the four men (Brian, CJ, Rob, and Andrew) posing in front of the Ecto-M with Salina. Those were better days that had gone by much too soon; days that he'd wished more than anything he could take back.
The live audience applauded as the Tonight Show returned from its commercial break.
"Welcome back, folks. Hey, thank God it's Friday, right?"
Audience cheers.
"We love you, Jay!" A woman called out from the crowd."
"Ah, yes, thank you; ladies and gentleman my lovely wife. Yeah, and even on this show, we're never too good for a cheap pop."
The audience laughed.
"I love you too, Jay!" Called another person in the upper decks of the balcony; this time a man.
"Okay, now that's just creepy."
More laugher.
Everyone, earlier in the show, I promised tonight's lineup would be interesting. Our first guest is a famous actor hailing from Cleveland, Ohio. He achieved critical success in movies such as "Lackawanna Blues", "Crash", and more recently in last year's sleeper hit "Hustle and Flow". He'll co-star with Robin Williams in next year's drama "August Rush". Everyone please welcome the versatile, Terrence Howard!"
Kevin Eubanks and The Tonight Show band play the theme song from "Hustle and Flow", as Howard smiles and waves to the whistles and cheers of the raucous studio audience.
"Wow," Howard remarked feeling a little overwhelmed. "Haha! You guys are too much."
Applauds begin to die down.
Jay adjusts his tie and organizes the notes on his desk.
"That's amazing isn't it?" Jay asks.
"Yeah, its something." Howard replied.
"Some guys have all the luck. I walk into my grocery store and get recognized, but never receive an ovation like that in public. Maybe I should carry around a gold chain like Djay and wear designer leather. It works for Eubanks."
Kevin Eubanks shook his head and laughed while looking on from the band. "Hey, come on Jay. You know that ain't right, man."
"Well, that's what I heard," Jay replied. "So, Terrence, how's life been treating you?"
"I can't complain. Things have been good. My fiancé and I just moved to a new home in Pennsylvania. We're redecorating now."
"I see. Like the usual stuff, right? Living room furniture, kitchen set…his and her turntables?"
"Oh, absolutely, Jay. Those were the first things we bought for the bedroom."
"Touché!"
The audience laughed again.
"Really, it's been a lot of work, though. The movers have been good to us. Most of our things are still in storage. Some of it has been flown in, the rest of it we sold and gave to charity."
"So, tell us about your new movie, 'August Rush'."
"August Rush" is a story about a charismatic young Irish guitarist and a sheltered young cellist who have a chance encounter one night above New York's Washington Square, but because of issues beyond their control, are forced to part and go their separate ways. Their romantic fling produced a child and the infant goes on to become an orphan. The kid grows up having displayed musical ability and spends his time performing on the streets of New York. Robin Williams plays a mysterious character that raises the boy much like a father figure. August uses his musical talent to search for his birth parents. The film is a drama with some elements of fantasy. I play a character named Richard Jeffries."
"Who is he?"
"You'll have to see the movie to find out."
"It's like that, huh?"
"Yeah, sorry, Jay. I'm bound to secrecy. But, I will say this…Robin Williams is a trip!"
"Him? Nah. He seems like a pretty normal guy."
Audience laughter.
"He's brilliant. I had a great time working with him. I mean you hear the talk about how loony he is on the set, which I'll say is a hundred percent true. But when the cameras are on, he's a total professional. We've learned a lot from each other."
"Sounds like a great experience. Robin's been on our show quite a few times over the years. When he's on a roll you can't blink. About six months ago, we had an animal trainer who showed up with an African elephant in the parking lot. Robin wanted to feed it peanuts. Before we took a commercial break, he was doing just that. But, when we returned, he was still feeding it."
"What's so odd about that?" Howard asked.
"The elephant had him upside down with its trunk while Robin was tossing peanuts into its mouth!"
Howard laughed along with the studio audience.
"Hey, I know we've joked around about Hustle and Flow, but really I think that's one of your best movies."
The audience applauded.
"Thanks you," Howard replied.
"Djay and Terrence Howard are complete opposites. It's like night and day. How did you approach the role?"
"Well, I'll be straight with you. At first, I didn't want to do it. I've played supporting roles and bit parts where I've either been a street hustler, a thug, a killer, a drug addict, deadbeat father, etc. It wasn't even matter of being typecast either. Playing a pimp wasn't something I was eager to do because I wanted to avoid playing derogatory characters that painted African American men in a negative light. Craig Brewer, the director of the movie, had asked me a few times if I'd reconsider. I declined more than once, but ended up having a change of heart and looked at the script. I'll go on record to say that after reading it, I really liked the story. I was wrong about the tale, but I still didn't like the direction they had originally set for Djay. So, if I was going to accept this role and do any justice to the character and what he stood for, I was going to do it my way and with truth."
"So, how did you start?"
"I went to Memphis and spent a lot of time with real-life pimps. Engrossed myself in their world. It's a sad business. Some care about the women they solicit and others would sell their mothers to the devil if it'd make them a buck. I saw Djay as the latter. He was no better than any other hustler, but he made sure he did right by his women while they're turning tricks."
"Who says chivalry is dead?"
"Exactly,"
Light laughter came from the audience.
"In a nutshell, that's Djay, a pimp with a dream and a way out with his music. Call him what you want, but he's real about what he wants…"
Chapter 2: Back in the Day
"…Are you sure you want to do that?"
"…"
"Hey"
"…"
"Yo!"
"Huh? Oh! Sorry, Hittles, I must've drifted off."
Alexandros Hittles, along with his co-worker, had recently pulled out of the drive-thru of a nearby McDonald's and were on their way back to the garage to punch out for the day's work shift. It was the hottest day of the year in the summer of August 7, 1987. Alexandros was a forty-three year old African American male formerly married with two children from his previous marriage and a new baby on the way in his current one. The Hittles weren't rich, but were a benevolent family. Alexandros was raised with strong values. His parents supported him through his ventures and various career paths. He was also very bright and keen in his observations. Camden had always been his home. His family had had ties to the city council; his father was a former city assemblyman and his mother a tax clerk. Education and success were highly regarded in the Hittles household. He excelled in high school and later enlisted in the military to pay his way through college. During his four-year stint with the service, he saw the world. Ever since he was a child, all he ever wanted to do was leave home. At a young age, he believed there was more to life than what lay beyond his front door step. He once vowed that if he'd ever fulfill those desires, he would never look back. Though, things change.
His partner was a fifteen-year-old who had earned summer employment with the Public Works Department of Camden. It had been his first time working as a civil servant. He and Hittles had especially become good friends. They started together around the same time and, interesting enough, almost the same way. While Hittles family maintained good standing with the city, his partner's uncle was also formerly employed with the PWD. In a simple twist of fate, his uncle's nagging back injury had been the catalyst in him getting the job. He had been one of the more trusted and experienced members of the team, a real everyman who often repaired the machines when they became 'busted'. Since he could no longer continue manual labor and didn't want to become a liability to the department, he convinced the supervisor and the city administrator to accept his nephew as his successor. At the time, the PWD consisted of only five men. One of which committed aggravated assault against another employee and was; thus, fired. Alexandros was hired in his place. The teen was a nice kid, but a quiet sort. The job was never short of its band of charlatans and smooth-talkers. The others were good enough guys, when they weren't out to stab each other in the back. The kid didn't have many friends, not that he wasn't sociable, but few of his peers rarely took the time to get to know him beyond the surface. He wasn't very tall or classically handsome. He was average at best and somewhat portly. But, much like Alexandros, he got by on his wits. The two weren't that dissimilar apart from their differences in age. One could say that they understood each other, better than they understood themselves.
"Might want to eat that Big Mac before it gets cold," Alexandros said.
"Too late," The kid said after taking a bite of a semi-warm burger.
"This is the second time you dozed-off today. You look like hell. So, who's the girl?"
He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and took a sip of his coke. "Yeah, I wish."
"Well, it's something. You must be burning the midnight oil somewhere else."
The kid gave him an awkward second look.
"Nah, its not that either. Just haven't been getting much sleep is all. I take care of my kid brother in the evening while my mom's at work. She doesn't get home till late. And when I try to get some shut-eye, the neighbors down the hall won't shut up. They argue damn near every night."
"Have you told the landlord?"
"That's who I'm talking about."
"That is a problem."
"Tell me about it."
"Do you get out much?"
"Sometimes, but not often. I'm either working at 'the shop' PWD during the day or watching my brother. I dunno', any other time, I'm sitting out on the stoop listening to tunes on my Casio player."
"Really? I didn't know you listen to music."
"I swear, brotha', for every dollar someone's said that to me…" The kid laughed, as he rolled down the passenger side window to let the air in.
They had spent the morning and afternoon cleaning out storm drains. It was a full days work that would have went longer if they didn't push the deadline. They were responsible for maintenance over the entire city. While nowhere close as big as the metropolis across the Delaware River, Camden was immense. He and Alexandros were in command of truck #5, or what they've come to call "the old pisser." It was a decrepit roaming pile of metal and rust. It got its name because it often broke down out of the blue and dripped motor oil and exhaust fluid. The horn was shot, the seats were tattered and the air conditioner was all but dead. They couldn't start the car by turning the ignition. It had to be hotwired. Unfortunately, "the old pisser" was their third partner. That's the way politics were at the shop.
The PWD was coming up right around the corner. Truck #5 trudged into the lot, as its sputtering, which sounded not unlike the hacking cough of an old man, could be heard half way down the block. Hittles parked the vehicle into the cargo area and shut off the engine. When they were about to unload the truck, the supervisor, walked out of his office in a huff. The stoic fifty-six year old chain smoker had only two expressions, pissed and more pissed. He walked with the aura of a man beaten down by life, but with a cockiness that came from the overblown pleasure he took in exercising his hypocritical tyranny over those he surveyed. He reached into his pocket, removing and opening a fresh pack of Newports, placing an unlit cigarette between his lips. He called the foreman over asking for a light. The foreman obliged and then called for his subordinates to gather 'round.
"Listen, Supervisor Carr has something to say. You can finish whatever you were doing after he's done speaking."
Carr began to speak.
"All, right now. Like Rick said, I have some things to say, so listen up. As you know, we're in the middle of a heat wave. You're all responsible for taking care of yourselves. When it gets too hot, either find some shade or take a short rest. I don't want nobody passing out from exhaustion; not on my time. You're allowed to make rest stops and get something to drink at Exxon or 7-11, but only in this section of town. I will say this only once, YOU ARE NOT TO GO OUTSIDE OF YOUR DESIGNATED AREA. Now, I ain't naming names, but I know one of ya'll motherfuckas' have been taking the trucks outside of Camden. If I find out exactly who's been doing that, you are hereby fired on the spot!"
Every man stood his ground and remained silent, making little eye contact with Carr.
"Furthermore, its come to my attention that someone has been stealing tools from the shed. Stealing is punishable by termination and imprisonment. I will not hesitate to call the authorities and have the person who's doing this thrown in jail."
Another man spoke up.
"How do you know someone has been stealing tools?"
Carr looked at the man, incensed that he would ask such a question like that.
"What did you say to me? Do I look like I just stepped off the fucking slave boat?"
"No. I only meant…"
"Shut your damn mouth! I know what you meant. I'm the first one here in the morning. Three times this week, the gate has been left open as well as the locker holding the keys. Now, when ya'll leave everyday at closing time, I'm the last one to go home. Someone has been sneaking around and I suspect it's one of ya'll. We don't have security cameras in the garage because we never needed them before. But, because of shit like this, my hand has been pressed to do just that. Now, come first thing Monday morning, you are all expected to arrive at 6am sharp.
All: What? Come on!
"Did I stutter? You heard me, 6am. And if anyone is late, your pay will be docked for the day."
"This is bullshit, boss," Another guy balked.
"There's no debating over it. That's my final word. Understand?"
Alexandros and his partner had been looking on. He was used to bullheadedness like this having been chastised by Drill Sergeants in basic training, but the teenager beside him had not been spoken to like that a day in his life. He didn't know what to make of it and stood somewhat frozen as Carr looked in his direction.
"You! Are you listening? Are you deaf and dumb?"
Another man spoke up.
"Hey, what's wrong with you! We get it, but don't speak that way to him."
"Watch it, boy!" Carr snapped back at the guy and then continued on the kid. "Look at me. If I catch you or anyone else stealing city property, you're gone…"
"…Do I make myself clear? Do you understand what I'm saying, STATLER?
With his eyes transfixed in heated emotion with his supervisor, a young Robert Statler stood up from his seat. Being yelled at for something he didn't do was one thing; being insulted and having his deafness exploited was another. Seething underneath his breath, he kept his composure. Men like Carr disgusted him. He was a bully and his kind were the same everywhere. Robert often wished he could do something about it. Picking on those who can't defend themselves was the mark of a coward. Perhaps one day, things would be different.
"Loud and clear, sir," Statler replied. "Loud…and…clear."
"Good," Carr concluded. "Everyone, day's over. Go the fuck home."
The other PWD employees dispersed and did just that. Statler and Hittles finished unloading the truck when Statler had reached over the railing to grab a leaf blower. He slipped his arms through the harness straps and gripped the hose.
"You know what, kid?" Hittles asked. "I've gotta' say, when we're out there working in the streets clearing away trash and debris or doing landscape work at the park, you really know how to use that leaf blower well. It's as though its second nature to you. Are you sure you've never used one before?"
Rob stood at the open entrance of the garage hanger as the early remnants of a pink sky loomed in the background. The sun cast it's gleam against his navy blue work uniform and created a shadow over the concrete fixture on the ground beneath his feet. He looked down the nozzle of the leaf blower and turned back toward Hittles.
"Well, can't say that I have, Alex. But, between you and me…I kinda' think I like it."
…
TO BE CONTINUED.