They all sat there in silence, their lives all equally hectic and stressful. Their minds had two gears: detective mode, and citizen mode. It was the first one they had trouble shutting off. Sure it was a job, but it was more than that. It was the force in their life, a gear that never stopped turning.
Each of them in the room knew what that meant for them. It meant more work, less sleep, more time in the precinct, less time with the outside world. But it was the outside world they protected every day they spent in that building. Another early morning, another late night - the cycle never ended. It didn't keep them from coming back.
Only a few people were made with perfectly mixed DNA, the specific recipe that equipped a person for the job. Their hearts had to be compassionate, yet merciless and driven. They had to comfort victims and gain the trust of broken families, often having to, but they also had to shoot perpetrators, sometimes even the victims themselves. They had to be able to do that day after day. And they did.
So they sat in the early hours of the morning, ready to take on another day of the darkness the human race had to offer. When they found themselves outside again, a routine excursion, they owned the streets. The minute they stepped onto the sidewalk, it became theirs. They gave so much to the city every day that it threatened to kill them some days. But they carried on, sliding their armor over their heads and pushing their badges to the tops of their belts.
Their hands only had to come in close contact with their shields of authority and pride to remind them of what they were doing and why. This was their calling. They were each meant to be in the position they were in.
One followed the next along the fence of the house, guns drawn, aimed at the ground in their steady hands. The younger ones followed their leader, the brunette detective known across the country. She held her head high as she prepared for another deadly situation to unfold.
The fully armored officers led toward the house as the detectives readied for another fight for justice, possibly for their lives. Whatever it was going to turn into, they were ready. The door went down with the force pulsing through her extended leg. Her gun came up at a perfect right angle to her body, her only small, insufficient defense to protect and defend herself and those following her. Those behind her did the same as they filtered through the door.
Each had a face of dignity, of a renewed sense of what a blessing life really was after they walked out of another impossible situation alive.
She led her troops, those she protected as readily as she did her city. They were her responsibility, hers to keep safe and bring home alive every night. Tonight would be one of those nights. She would lay down her life if it meant getting them back safely. It was her job - her life.
The younger detective followed his partner into the squad room, his hands still shaking. He followed her with a sense of security, still renewed even under the most terrifying of circumstances. She would give his life for him and he knew it. He was prepared to do the same for her.
The young woman followed behind her fellow detective, her teeth refusing to cease their chattering. Her hands shook as well, swinging nervously at her sides. As a police officer, it was her job to do what she just did. But she hadn't gotten used to it. She was beginning to wonder if she ever would.
Behind the blonde, her partner followed, protectively bringing up the rear. He would never admit it, but when he had to point his gun at an unpredictable maniac who was wielding his at him and his teammates, his heart sped up. It scared him to know that, with just one shot, any one of them could have been gone. But here they were again.
Their captain awaited them, his breath still held until they all appeared in the doorway. He watched his troops as they were stomped on by the most terrible side New York City had to offer. He watched day after day as they left through that door, out of his sight, into the dangerous unknown.
Every time they came back through that same door, he let himself breathe a sigh of relief. When he would go into the field for high-end cases, he got only a taste of what they did on a weekly, sometimes daily basis. If he lost one of them, he was sure he would not be working in the NYPD any longer. They were his family, his whole life now. They were each other's life, now.
Each of them had been willing to put their lives on the line for ungrateful, unaware strangers. They had made it through the academy, the strenuous hours rookies put in. Any one of them could have chosen a different, easier, higher paying route, but none had. Now their goal was to go in, wherever that might be, and come out alive. They knew where Death sat every day: on their shoulders, behind every corner, inside every home.
They knew the pain of mortal wounds, as each of them had experienced at least one, if not more. Their heads hadn't swelled with the praise they'd received and continued to receive for their excellent work. That wasn't who they were. That wasn't what they did. The only thing they set out to do everyday was make their city a safer place.
Every day they holstered their guns and put on their badges, the weight of the city on their belts. With the two items they carried came the city they carried. When they woke up in the morning at the crack of dawn, they put on for their city, and never put off. They went to work with the primary objective to save others and then, if it was possible, to save themselves.
The statuesque woman was a machine. Her long legs carried her after criminals who, if needed, she could beat to a pulp. Her beauty was exceeded only by her strength and compassion she brought with her to work every day. Each of the detectives working beneath her wing felt safe, always ready to watch her take the brunt of the heavy burden. And she took it, knowing that someone had to.
Her partner worked diligently every day to maintain his immense strength in case he ever needed to use it. As the partner of the lead detective in the unit, he was prepared to work at her level. He brought himself to work with a readiness to work that no one else had.
The smaller woman was compact, her spirit full of fire. She was willing to do whatever it took to get a perp, even if it meant a brush with death. When she signed on to be a police officer, she knew full well what her job was going to entail. Her quick intensity brought a quality to the squad that no one else possessed.
She stood near her partner as they all got their items together before heading into the darkness of the night. One followed the other out the door, down the elevator, onto the streets of their city. Their mindset never changed. Even though being a police officer was their job, it was also equally their lifestyle. There was no 'on' or 'off' switch to change them between cop and citizen. And they didn't mind it. They were all right where they needed to be.
Each climbed into their separate vehicles; the squad divided. One after another was swallowed by the air of New York City, their city. They would put on for every person in their city until the very moment their hearts stopped beating in their chests. Until then, their shoulders would slouch forward beneath the weight of the job, their chins held high with pride and confidence.
The fearless, the compassionate, the joyful and brave - the only four people in the world capable of doing what they did day in, day out. But they kept coming back for more, waking up to put their guns on their hips, their badges on their belts, and their city on their shoulders.
