Night had fallen. A cop was leaning against the wall, arms crossed as he peered at all the people wandering by through his aviators. Why he was wearing sunglasses at this time of night was a bit odd, but it had a purpose behind it; not one, however, he'd be willing to share with any old random citizen. He sighed quietly to himself, Lord Business sent him on a wild goose chase it seemed, after some Master Builder who had shown his face in the city. And while the chase went on, they had gotten better at hiding, ducking out of sight of the cops as if there was a whole secret underground network in place to hide the fugitives. And if this was the case they had done a darn good job and were successfully driving the cop out of his mind. There was no sleep for him, not that he needed it much, and no relaxation. Just long hours of endless chases that led nowhere. His better side switched in occasionally when the stress slipped into depression, which, in turn, led to anger to give him some relief. And despite the good intentions, it was sadly never enough.
On this particular evening, however, he was so stressed his back had begun to ache and he needed something- anything to calm down. Without thinking he stuffed his hands in his pockets and wandered to the nearest convenience store. In the past he drank to ease the stress, but a cop couldn't do his duty while intoxicated, what kind of role model would he be? And while pain killers eased the stress physically, they did next to nothing for the mental stress, and those were becoming increasingly expensive with the amount he took. No, he needed something else.
He walked into the store casually. The owner stood behind the counter flipping lazily through a magazine, only looking up when a bell chimed announcing his arrival. They locked eyes for a moment before he went back to his reading, and the cop wandered up and down the aisles. Candy? No he wasn't hungry. Alcohol was already out of the question, although it did look pretty appetizing at the moment. He shook his head and moved on. There were other drinks, sure. Tea, coffee, bottled water. And while those would thoroughly satisfy his thirst, they wouldn't do much else. It wasn't until he had looked at everything in the store and came up to the counter did he know what he wanted. It was risky, sure, but he needed something. He pointed to the display behind the clerk, and said in a gruff voice, "a pack of those, please."
The clerk marked his place and set the magazine down. He then turned on his heel and plucked a package of cigarettes from the display and said, "That will be $4.95."
Expensive. Not as much as coffee, though. He held out a five and took the package before the clerk could offer him his change and pushed through the double doors. He opened the package after giving it a once over and paused... Would it really be smart to start this habit up again? He was a cop, he needed his strength and endurance. These would destroy those. Slowly, but they would.
He took one from the package and stuck it in his mouth. It struck him that he didn't have a lighter or matches and looked up and down the street for someone who did.
Hey... what do you think you're doing?
He frowned, having for a moment forgotten his good side was still present in the back of his mind. He ignored him, however, and went down the street.
Don't ignore me!
"Shut up," he mumbled under his breath and, seeing a citizen who was slumped against a wall with a cigarette burning slowly in his mouth, he went over. "Excuse me, sir... Can I borrow a match?"
The man raised his head slowly, peering up at the cop while hiding his face under his hood. He stared for a moment, hesitantly, before slowly holding a little pack of matches out and then returned his hands to his pockets. This man was certainly suspicious, the cop made a mental note of that, and vaguely familiar. Perhaps he was a Master Builder, but, without proper evidence, the cop couldn't do anything about it. He struck the match and watched it burn for a moment before carefully lighting the end of the cigarette and returned the matches. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs, glad to have that feeling of satisfaction back. But it wasn't long lived when he was interrupted.
Are you smoking again?
His good side asked in the back of his mind, frantically, and tried to gain control of their body. This mad the cop frown, and he growled at his good side, "Shut up." This made the suspicious figure look up again, giving him a weird look. But he was used to weird looks, and simply ignored it. "I'm stressed," he told himself, "figured this would help a bit."
Help? How could this possibly help?
His good side was furious with him. Not that he really cared, until they suddenly switched out, and he tore the cigarette from his mouth in disgust and threw it to the ground. "Do you not remember how long it took me to get you off this habit last time? After all my hard work you casually just start up again. I can't believe you! What would ma and pa say?"
His bad side shrugged mentally. How should I know, they're not here. They weren't here last time either. I doubt they even know.
Ooh his bad side was infuriating sometimes. He took the package from his pocket where they were tucked away and he made his point by stomping them into the ground. All the while the suspicious figure sat there and watched the cop put on a display, silently wondering what the brick was going on. This must have been the guy the others told him about, the strange cop who would act as two different people by simply removing and putting on eye wear. He took the opportunity to escape, although he did so subtly, while they were distracted: stuffing his hands into his pockets and wandering down the street.
Hey! Hey he's getting away, go follow him. His bad side said, quickly changing the subject.
But the cop would have none of that. Oh no, he wasn't done lecturing yet.
Bad cop sighed mentally, they'd be here awhile. And there was one of their targets, going down the street making an easy escape. Sometimes he really hated sharing a body.