Jake
Los Angeles
Los Angeles Police Department
8:00 PM
Friday Night
The streets of Los Angeles were always busy at night. Always. To say LA was a busy place was an understatement. It was alive. However, too much of something isn't always, necessarily a good thing. But then again, whatever was troubling Lieutenant Jake McClain that night had nothing to do with life. More like death.
Jake McClain, a tall black man, with a bald head, sat at his desk in the Police Department. His head was in held up by his hand on the desk, his right hand busily writing out a report of the night's events. He just got back from a huge hostage negotiation. A man had held his now ex-wife captive in their apartment with a gun to her head, screaming and hollering about how she was a demon.
The neighbors called the police and they waited outside for about an hour, until finally, the man was thrown through the window, of his 26th floor, and landed on one of the cop cars down below, dead. He had died obviously on impact. Or so Jake thought. The same with every other witness.
Jake didn't interview the wife himself, but, it came out that the husband had been dealing with some sacrificial and cult shit. Some drugs were also found in the house. That's one of the reasons for him calling his wife a demon. The other, well, maybe he didn't want to call her a bitch.
Besides the drugs, they found a sacrificial symbols spray painted under the carpets, and some dead bodies in the closet. The bodies had been tortured and killed. There blood was also drained and put into small viles, along with books on rituals, for some Armageddon type shit. It chilled Jake that his city was getting this bad. Just think what Rudy Guiliani must me thinking when he reads this in the paper. And he's not even the mayor of LA! Jake closed the case file and put it in his desk, along with all the other files from past crimes, solved and unsolved as well. He shut the desk and locked it.
Jake grabbed his khaki trench coat and slid it on over his white dress shirt. On his belt was his badge and his holster with pistol in it. He waved goodbye to some of the guys there and went into the parking garage. It was empty, except for all of the cars in there. He went to his and unlocked it, getting in and sitting in silence for a moment before turning his car on.
Jake was single and had lived in New York up until he was 20. He loved NYC, he still does. But, he felt there was something better out there for him, so, he decided to move to LA. Why Los Angeles? Who knows. Jake didn't even know why yet. It just felt right to him, so he moved there. He's been a cop for 12 years now in Los Angeles, and, well, he can't say he's loved every moment of it. But, it's been great. He pulled up into his apartment complex parking garage and into his assigned space, turning the car off. As he was getting out, he heard a scream from around the corner.
By reflex, he reached and grabbed his pistol, out of the holster, and aiming it towards the way he was looking. He saw a woman in the arms of a man, and the man was…giving her a hickey? Jake was confused, to say the least. It must have been a painful hickey, because the woman was screaming her head off. The man brought his head up and looked at Jake, blood running down from his mouth. There was a blood wound from the woman's mouth too, from where his mouth had been. There's Jake's reason.
"LAPD! FREEZE!" Jake screamed.
The man didn't pay any attention. He grabbed a tighter hold on the woman and then suddenly jumped up, with the woman, through to the second story above them. Jake was wide eyed, he couldn't believe that just happened. How did he - -
Jake's thoughts were interrupted by the screams of the woman. Jake ran towards the hole in the ceiling, and jumped up, just grabbing the edge of the hole. Thank God he worked out, he pulled himself up completely by his hands and into the dark room. He looked around in the darkness, the screaming had stopped. The only light was coming from the parking garage below them. It barely lit the room.
Jake stood from his kneeling position, and held his gun out in front of him at all times. Jake saw an outline of a door, and went towards it, avoiding falling through the hole. He put his hand on the door knob and pulled it open, stepping back and putting his hand back on the gun.
Nothing.
Jake stepped forward, into a kitchen. This wasn't lit either. But, he could still see, vaguely. Jake continued and then stopped as he heard something. Like a rummaging sound. He heard it again. And then, the woman's scream. It came from the living room, adjacent to the kitchen. Jake jumped over the bar, tuck and rolled into a crouching position and held his gun in front of him again. The man and the woman stood up, the woman trying to get away, the man trying to get a hold of her again.
Jake tried aiming for something other than his head, but that was the only shot he could get. He took it.
A bullet escaped the barrel of his gun and entered the skull of the man, sending him down. The woman tripped to her knees, crying and screaming. Jake stood up and walked over to the woman. He kneeled down next to her and checked on her.
"Miss? I'm with the LAPD, are you alright?" he asked.
She was going into shock. Blood leaked from her neck onto the floor. Jake quickly applied pressure to it, the gun still in his other hand.
Suddenly, the lights came on in the living room, and Jake looked up at the door. There stood Xander Harris, groceries in his hand, dumbfounded. Jake didn't know who this guy was, but it was obviously his apartment.
"Uh….can I help you?" Xander asked.
Los Angeles
Los Angeles Police Department
8:00 PM
Friday Night
The streets of Los Angeles were always busy at night. Always. To say LA was a busy place was an understatement. It was alive. However, too much of something isn't always, necessarily a good thing. But then again, whatever was troubling Lieutenant Jake McClain that night had nothing to do with life. More like death.
Jake McClain, a tall black man, with a bald head, sat at his desk in the Police Department. His head was in held up by his hand on the desk, his right hand busily writing out a report of the night's events. He just got back from a huge hostage negotiation. A man had held his now ex-wife captive in their apartment with a gun to her head, screaming and hollering about how she was a demon.
The neighbors called the police and they waited outside for about an hour, until finally, the man was thrown through the window, of his 26th floor, and landed on one of the cop cars down below, dead. He had died obviously on impact. Or so Jake thought. The same with every other witness.
Jake didn't interview the wife himself, but, it came out that the husband had been dealing with some sacrificial and cult shit. Some drugs were also found in the house. That's one of the reasons for him calling his wife a demon. The other, well, maybe he didn't want to call her a bitch.
Besides the drugs, they found a sacrificial symbols spray painted under the carpets, and some dead bodies in the closet. The bodies had been tortured and killed. There blood was also drained and put into small viles, along with books on rituals, for some Armageddon type shit. It chilled Jake that his city was getting this bad. Just think what Rudy Guiliani must me thinking when he reads this in the paper. And he's not even the mayor of LA! Jake closed the case file and put it in his desk, along with all the other files from past crimes, solved and unsolved as well. He shut the desk and locked it.
Jake grabbed his khaki trench coat and slid it on over his white dress shirt. On his belt was his badge and his holster with pistol in it. He waved goodbye to some of the guys there and went into the parking garage. It was empty, except for all of the cars in there. He went to his and unlocked it, getting in and sitting in silence for a moment before turning his car on.
Jake was single and had lived in New York up until he was 20. He loved NYC, he still does. But, he felt there was something better out there for him, so, he decided to move to LA. Why Los Angeles? Who knows. Jake didn't even know why yet. It just felt right to him, so he moved there. He's been a cop for 12 years now in Los Angeles, and, well, he can't say he's loved every moment of it. But, it's been great. He pulled up into his apartment complex parking garage and into his assigned space, turning the car off. As he was getting out, he heard a scream from around the corner.
By reflex, he reached and grabbed his pistol, out of the holster, and aiming it towards the way he was looking. He saw a woman in the arms of a man, and the man was…giving her a hickey? Jake was confused, to say the least. It must have been a painful hickey, because the woman was screaming her head off. The man brought his head up and looked at Jake, blood running down from his mouth. There was a blood wound from the woman's mouth too, from where his mouth had been. There's Jake's reason.
"LAPD! FREEZE!" Jake screamed.
The man didn't pay any attention. He grabbed a tighter hold on the woman and then suddenly jumped up, with the woman, through to the second story above them. Jake was wide eyed, he couldn't believe that just happened. How did he - -
Jake's thoughts were interrupted by the screams of the woman. Jake ran towards the hole in the ceiling, and jumped up, just grabbing the edge of the hole. Thank God he worked out, he pulled himself up completely by his hands and into the dark room. He looked around in the darkness, the screaming had stopped. The only light was coming from the parking garage below them. It barely lit the room.
Jake stood from his kneeling position, and held his gun out in front of him at all times. Jake saw an outline of a door, and went towards it, avoiding falling through the hole. He put his hand on the door knob and pulled it open, stepping back and putting his hand back on the gun.
Nothing.
Jake stepped forward, into a kitchen. This wasn't lit either. But, he could still see, vaguely. Jake continued and then stopped as he heard something. Like a rummaging sound. He heard it again. And then, the woman's scream. It came from the living room, adjacent to the kitchen. Jake jumped over the bar, tuck and rolled into a crouching position and held his gun in front of him again. The man and the woman stood up, the woman trying to get away, the man trying to get a hold of her again.
Jake tried aiming for something other than his head, but that was the only shot he could get. He took it.
A bullet escaped the barrel of his gun and entered the skull of the man, sending him down. The woman tripped to her knees, crying and screaming. Jake stood up and walked over to the woman. He kneeled down next to her and checked on her.
"Miss? I'm with the LAPD, are you alright?" he asked.
She was going into shock. Blood leaked from her neck onto the floor. Jake quickly applied pressure to it, the gun still in his other hand.
Suddenly, the lights came on in the living room, and Jake looked up at the door. There stood Xander Harris, groceries in his hand, dumbfounded. Jake didn't know who this guy was, but it was obviously his apartment.
"Uh….can I help you?" Xander asked.