Drunk & Disorderly
Author's Note: March Break is over and I'm back grinding away to finish my bachelors! Thankfully I managed to finish a few chapters during that break. Even more thankful that I have a week or two's worth of leeway to get some editing and publishing out of the way before group projects consume my fragile and beaten soul once more. Should be fun either way! If this chapter feels a bit short, don't worry. Chapter 3 is in the editing phases, so it'll be up sooner than later.
If you liked this story, Follow, Favorite and Review! If you want to see my other works, I have my May Zedong fic "I'll Watch Your Back" still going.
Eternal thanks to /u/bekeleven for editing this chapter and for all the feedback they've provided me. Seriously I wrote way too much between Chapters 2 and 3.
Chapter 2: Dues and Liabilities
Four Years Ago...
Mantle City, Mantle State
District 5, Sector 14 Police Station
"Detective..Deeeteeeeectiiiiiive!"
"It's constable."
"Riiiight, where we goin'?"
"To a holding cell."
"You're not even gonna take me out to dinner first? Sheeeeeesh."
"You have the right to remain silent. I suggest you use it."
Winter breathed a sigh of relief when the man finally remained quiet. A brief respite. She was at her wit's end. This drunken, intolerable man had spent the better half of the trip flirting with her and making crude jokes. Winter was unsure which had been more unpleasant. And the nicknames. Her face burned up when she recalled the particular one the man had eventually settled on.
She marched her suspect through the main floor of the police station, keeping the drunk close to her to prevent him from falling over. No easy task with the stench of cheap liquor that seemed to emanate from his every fiber. As they passed by, a few officers glanced up from their desks. It must have been quite a sight, the new constable propping up a drunkard wearing a tattered coat and a equally tattered newsboy cap.
The pair walked between rows of cubicles filled with busy officers making calls or typing away on their computers. The sergeants were shouting orders. The constables were running in and out. Some were carrying files while others shuffled suspects from place to place. There was half-eaten food lying around. Officers were leaving their equipment unsupervised on their desks.
It was disorganized. It was chaotic. It was a stark contrast from the prim and proper life that permeated through every aspect of the corporate class. Childhood lessons tugged at the back of her mind, telling her to bring order to this uncivilized behavior. Yet there was another part of her, one that was buried even deeper, that couldn't help but revel in the disarray.
Winter frowned and shook her head. But more importantly,this was hard work. Good work. Work that was for the betterment of the State. Every sector in Mantle City had one Atlas Police Force HQ responsible for all law enforcement operations in their designated area. This was their duty and they would complete it.
Winter made her way towards Processing when her attention turned towards one of the other constables. He was trying to calm down a middle aged gentleman. They were speaking loud enough for Winter to overhear their conversation.
"Please constable, I can pay back the company! I just need more time!"
"I'm sorry, sir. That's not for us to decide. You must wait here until your corporation's representatives arrive."
"And then do what? They'll take everything from us!"
The gentleman wore a business suit that was a bit too large for him. Old and tattered, with an ID card that read Guillaume Fourrage clipped on the left chest pocket. An ID card that was also marked with a black, twelve-pointed snowflake.
Mr. Fourrage noticed she was watching and turned to her, as if begging her to help him. His face was pale, gaunt even.
You can't help him.
It's not your place.
It has nothing to do with you anymore.
Winter averted her eyes and dragged her suspect through the room a little faster. Because she was running. Because of course she would run. Not her place? Not her responsibility? No, they never were.
"Schnee!"
Winter turned on her heel and saluted. "Superintendent Hemlock, sir!"
Her commanding officer walked towards her, a towering and imposing presence that made Winter tense up in trepidation. He had graying hair and a thick mustache, both groomed with more diligence than most here spent on their uniforms. And speaking of uniforms, the superintendent's was spotless. Not a single wrinkle or stain or even the hastily sewn cuts that a uniform should collect over the years. Instead? Medals, badges, a long list of commendations and decorations that presented the story of an accomplished man. An insignia with a single crest denoted the superintendent's rank, though his demeanor, his conduct, they reminded Winter of a low ranking executive vying for a promotion.
Superintendent Hemlock pointed down the hall. "Schnee, go help Sergeant Fer transfer his reports into the IRIS database. Get them done by the afternoon."
Winter clenched her fist behind her back, making sure the superintendent did not see. "But sir, I need to bring this suspect through Processing," she replied, making sure her words betrayed no emotion.
The superintendent walked closer and examined the drunken man. Whereas the superintendent was a model of perfect posture, her suspect was barely able to remain upright.
"Why have you brought him in?"
"He was reported by concerned citizens for public intoxication and disturbing the peace," Winter replied. "I answered the call and apprehended him."
"What's his name? His ID number?"
She hesitated. "He...does not appear to have any identification on his person. I wanted to have Processing look over it while we keep him in a holding cell."
Her superior stroked his mustache, then leaned in towards to the drunken man. The latter groaned once, seemingly stirring into alertness, before belching into the superintendent's face. Winter's jaw dropped. If the superintendent didn't kill this man in the next minute, she would.
Superintendent Hemlock's brow furrowed in disgust. "Sit him down somewhere. You can worry about him later," Superintendent Hemlock growled.
"But sir, I-"
"That's an order!" With that, the superintendent walked back to his office, making it abundantly clear to Winter that the discussion was over. She had her orders.
Winter heard giggling from the desks next to her. The two constables responsible stopped abruptly when she shot them a scowl. They turned back to their work, avoiding eye contact.
She gritted her teeth as she directed her suspect towards an empty chair. This always happened. Unprofessional. Preferential. Frustrating. She was just as good as the other officers, better even. Why was she always the one to get desk work?
The suspect slumped into the chair with another groan. "Do not get out of this seat," Winter commanded. "I will return to get you."
The man tilted his head up, revealing eyes the red eyes underneath his hat. Her own eyes narrowed for a moment, as the man's gaze was steadier than she had expected.
"I'll be waiting," he replied.
Winter shot him one more look before reporting to Sergeant Fer. The sergeant proceeded to give her a rather large stack of files without even looking. The cases of the day included misdemeanors, gambling, theft, and illicit substance use. There were even requests by corporate police for permission to proceed with corporate espionage cases. Winter dropped the files onto her desk, which shook under the weight of the impact. Sighing, she sat down and flopped her arms and head down on the table.
Winter glared at the stack. This was not what she had expected when she after graduating from the Atlas Police Academy. Office work. Filing. Spending hours in front of a screen. Had she not joined the police academy to avoid becoming a glorified secretary?
Winter turned her head and stared at a photo on her desk. In it, she wasn't even a teenager. Her sister was even younger, holding onto Winter's dress and shying away from the camera. Her brother was only a baby at the time, wrapped tightly in a blanket and sleeping in Winter's arms.
It wouldn't do.
She picked up the photo and smiled softly. It wouldn't do...for her to act in this manner. What kind of example would she be setting for them?
Winter set the photo down before turning her attention to the task at hand. Fourteen files to be registered into the database by 4:00 PM. Three hours. She could have it done in half that time.
Winter looked up to see her suspect still slumped in the chair she left him in.
Then I can deal with him.
Winter was on her third file when she heard the yelling again.
"Sir, it is in your best interests to cooperate."
"What is there to cooperate about? They won't listen, they don't care!"
"Mr. Fourrage, come with us. We can discuss the matter of your outstanding balances in a more... appropriate setting." This voice was new. Male. Not a constable, not an officer. Every word dripped with insincerity.
"NO! Get your hands off me!"
A crashing sound, heads turning to see what the commotion was all about. An officer being shoved to the ground. Mr. Fourrage spun around to look at the others in the room. One of the other officers was slowly walking towards him, hands low, trying to calm him. Two men, guards, wearing familiar body armor pushed past the officer and confronted Mr. Fourrage. Too fast. Too sudden.
"Get away from me!"
Winter watched as the scene unfolded in front of her. A desperate man with nothing to lose. A firearm left unattended on a desk. A drunk man sitting alone.
Everyone was too far away.
"Stop!"
Winter wasn't sure who shouted first, but in an instant every officer in the room had drawn their firearms. The two guards ad also drawn their weapons: white assault rifles with that same black snowflake.
But they were all too late. Mr. Fourrage had his hostage.
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