Times Like These
A/N: Wow! Thank you for the awesome feedback! I'm so glad that you all approve :) This story will eventually become pretty angsty, but I have written this fic more akin to an episode because I wanted to bring back some of the old-school banter and fun that used to be Third Watch. I don't know about you guys, but I miss it a lot! So, bear with me here, and we'll get to the angst in due time... Thanks again for the wonderful reviews!:)
Faith pulled her knees to her chest and held her breath, hoping that the small measures would stave off the nausea that was ripping violently throughout her fevered body. The minor change of position helped ease her discomfort to some extent, but she still felt like she was dying a slow, torturous death.
A high-pitched squeak of the bedroom door warned her of the impending bright light, and she squeezed her eyes shut to block it out. Bright multicolored spots swam before her, dancing merrily in the semi-darkness that she'd created for herself.
"Faith...?"
Fred's footsteps were earsplitting against the hardwood floor, sending shooting pain through her skull with every reverberation. The bed shifted as he sat on the edge, his weight rolling her aching body back slightly towards him. She winced and groaned out a long, miserable moan, gritting her teeth against the queasiness that threatened an undesirable trip to the bathroom.
God, Fred... Go the hell away...
"You okay?" he asked rather gruffly, hesitantly tapping her shoulder with a single finger as though he thought that if he actually touched her with a whole hand, he would become instantaneously stricken with the virus.
Another moan omitted from her lips, this time coupled with a weak shake of her head. "Feel like shit..." she breathed, and instantly regretted it as a wave of nausea sent her stomach flying into raw spasms.
The room was silent for a moment as Fred processed this information, and Faith thanked God for the temporary reprieve of sound.
"Okay... I guess I'll feed the kids then." His tone was less than sympathetic, more annoyed than anything, but Faith understood his plight. Fred could barely cook a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to save his life and was probably starving. She almost felt sorry for him, but the inclination to vomit promptly replaced any feelings of commiseration.
Fred would just have to get over himself and fend for his breakfast.
The skies were dark, ominous as the looming clouds churned and threatened to spill heaping piles of snow on the already abounding walks and streets. The vicious winds of the day before had nearly dispelled entirely -- the calm before the storm and a clear-cut forewarning of the night's expected whiteout. Leafless trees begged to be free of the icy burden that currently weighed down their boughs, stretching and pulling at the smaller saplings until they nearly broke. Although the impending nor'easter loomed precariously on the horizon, the residents of New York were undeterred in their course of action, going about their business a usual, the streets characteristically full, sidewalks peppered with bundled up people.
Icy, week-old snow crunched under his boots, gritting as the crisp partials compacted under his weight, and his jeans made a faint swishing sound as Bosco made his way hurriedly to the warmth of the precinct house.
Before he entered the aging building, he paused for a moment and glanced up at the sky, squinting and frowning in disgust at the imminent annoyance that would only contribute in what was sure to be yet another lackluster, dreary, pain-in-the-ass day.
Great. Snow. Just what I need -- traffic jams, fender-benders, and irritated people. Thanks, God. I'll remember this one...
He sighed, resigning himself to another bad shift, and pushed the front door open with a frustrated heave.
Being a cop wasn't the easiest of jobs by any means, but contrary to all of his mental carping and grousing, Bosco loved every minute of it. He lived for the sense of urgency and thrived under the dangerous intensity that his job provided. The inconsistencies and variations of each day afforded him an upbeat, on-your-toes work environment that was a strangely comforting solace.
The House was alive with activity as he stepped in, a stark comparison to the drab and bleak outdoors. The approaching shift change had ushered in half of the force and the bad weather had done its part in leaving the lobby filled with complaining civilians, all bemoaning about one thing or another.
Ducking his head in an effort to be unnoticed by his superiors, he made a hot trail for the locker room. Halfway there, he unfortunately managed to catch the eye of Sergeant Christopher, who gave him a quick and seemingly disappointed shake of his head, his finger simultaneously pointing at the large clock that took up half of the opposite wall.
"You're late," he mouthed to Bosco, a pleased smirk tugging at the corners of his feigned stoicalness.
Instead of the usual insolent dissing that he would have usually spouted as a follow-up to Christopher's asinine intimations, Bosco simply ignored him and wove through the crowd on his way to the locker room. The sheer attitude exuding from his condescending supervisor was enough to send his jaw clenching angrily, and also unfortunately reminded him of the previous day and the foul mood that his partner had been.
Faith had better be in a good mood today, he thought crossly, 'cause I'm not about to put up with any more of her bullshit.
Ty adjusted his coat color, pulling the lapels down to lie flush with his chest. His reflection in the hazy, cracked locker room mirror gazed back at him, expressionless. In a contemplative disposition, he stood there for a moment, eyes traveling from his handsome face to the dark blue uniform that he wore day in and day out. The shiny silver of his badge gleamed in return, pronouncing his authority and proudly sporting more than its fair share of nicks and dents. Just below, his small nametag displayed his name, 'Officer Tyrone Davis Jr.', although even after over a year of experience he still wasn't used to the title, and occasionally felt a bit incompetent and --more often than not-- pretty green.
His pensive reverie was abruptly interrupted as Bosco broke into the reflection, embellishing the mirror with his flushed and hurried figure. Ty turned, curiously watching his friend and the amusing demonstration of flying clothes and muffled grunts of displeasure as Bosco attempted to perform a full change in record time. He noticed that Sully and some new kid were watching as well -- Sully, shaking his head at the typical episode; the kid wide-eyed and open mouthed as if he were shocked.
Bosco was oblivious to his audience, though, and continued to struggle into his uniform, hissing in exasperation when his turtleneck shirt refused to cooperate fully and maliciously twisted around his muscled torso in lumpy bunches.
"Shit..." he muttered as he rushed, his frenzied fingers grabbing at the fabric and yanking it down. The shirt immediately loosened into its rightful place and Bosco proceeded to struggle with his pants.
"You'd better hurry or you're gonna be late..." Ty nonchalantly warned, noting the time -- or lack thereof.
"Thanks, Einstein..." Bosco snapped, glaring at him. He glanced over to his right where the new kid was standing, eyes still wide at the flustered display. "What you lookin' at?"
The newbie immediately averted his gaze to the floor and shook his head nervously as he spoke in a vacillating voice, "I, uh...nothing. Sorry."
"It's okay, kid. You'll get real used to this," Sully scoffed to the youngster, who couldn't have been much older then eighteen and stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the seasoned police officers.
"What the hell's that supposed to mean, Sullivan?" Bosco spat back, obviously perturbed, his face starting to flush red from exertion and frustration.
"I mean, you're always late and you're always an ass."
"What's up your craw, huh?! Krispy Kreme burn down last night?"
"Com'on, Davis, lets go," Sully commanded, rather then invited, as he left the room in his usual jaded gait, but his expression showed the faintest signs of contentment and mirth. Peeving Bosco had to be the longest-running entertainment the job had to offer, and he took a small bit of pleasure in irking his hotheaded friend.
Shaking his head and smirking amusedly, Ty threw a shrug in Bosco's direction as he left, mentally chuckling at the comical jousting. Sully seemed to be in a good enough mood...
Maybe today wouldn't be so bad after all.
The placid tranquility of the station house was audaciously overrun by rowdy footsteps pounding up the narrow staircase and loud, shouting laughter as the troop of paramedics and firefighters made their way into the warmth of the cozy dining room.
Doc, alone at the huge round table, glanced up as his ears were assaulted by the roaring of Walsh and DK as they shared some mirthful hilarity at Carlos' less-then-awake appearance.
"Guys, guys, show a little respect!" Jimmy rebuked them sarcastically, flashing his jovial dimples as he straightened, clicked his heels together, and brought his hand up in a full military salute. "Salute your Major... Major Bed-head, that is!"
Stumbling in behind the hooting and howling bucket-boys, Carlos was the picture of death-warmed-over, and it was completely understandable why the witty, jesting gang of firemen and medics weren't about to let him pass without a few lighthearted quips.
The station immediately ripped into a fit of laughs at Jimmy's double entendre, and even Doc couldn't suppress an amused snigger, ducking his head in an effort to hide his smothered chuckles.
"Hey, Nieto, try to come to work more alive then dead -- otherwise Doc might be tempted to use the defibrillator on you!" Bobby teased, playfully smacking Carlos on the back of the head as he passed him on his way up to the bunkroom.
"Yeah, yeah..."Carlos waved them all off with a bat of his hand and slid into a vacant chair, letting his face bury into his palms as he struggled to rub the sleeplessness out of his red-rimmed eyes.
The room quickly emptied once again as the staff of Camelot made their way upstairs to change for the approaching shift.
"God..." Carlos moaned, sighing overdramatically. "I'm so tired... Stupid tests kept me up all night at the books..."
A long silence followed his pathetically delivered remark, and Doc knew that his lamenting was just another ridiculous gambit to get him to empathize with the young medic and perhaps cut him some slack. But alas, Doc had no such sympathy for Carlos, and shook his head, grinning humorously at his tousled, heavy-eyed partner.
"Carlos, you aren't going to win any pity from me. It was your choice to juggle med school along with your job." Doc shrugged apathetically, still highly amused, and then added his own corny wisecrack, "You made your bed, now sleep in it."
Carlos rolled his eyes at Doc, the cleverly utilized saying all too tempting right then, "Oh, funny..."
A chorus of scuffling and the loud raking of metal chairs being dragged across the floor permeated the modest room, echoing off of the faded linoleum and nearly-bare walls as the small space was rapidly filled with uniforms and badges.
Ty slipped into a vacant seat near the door and the new kid haltingly took the chair beside him, his big brown eyes darting around the room as he struggled to process the proceedings and events of his first day.
The look on his face, one of pure nervousness and apprehension, brought Ty right back to his own first day on the force. His mind wandered, remembering the way that everyone had ignored him, leaving him alone in the roll call room until Sully had come for him. Through all of the excitement and anxiousness of the day, he'd felt excluded and out of the 'loop', and then to make matters worse, when Sully had casually strolled up to collect him, he'd felt as though he was a little kid being picked up from day care.
Choosing not to aid in bequeathing the new kid with any similar memories, he turned and stuck out his hand. "Name's Davis. Ty Davis."
An instantaneous, relieved smile lit the young face, and he reached to reciprocate Ty's friendly greeting. "Steven Gusler," he replied. "I'm new."
"No kidding -- couldn't tell," Ty grinned, shaking his head at the blatant obviousness of Gusler's nervous statement.
Lieutenant Swersky entered the room and stepped up to the rostrum, a handful of loose papers gripped in one hand, a mug of steaming coffee in the other. His eyes, aged and wise beyond their years, scanned the room leisurely, gaze flitting from one face to another.
"Afternoon," he addressed the small crowd, forcing a smile to light his tired face. Weeks of an unusually high crime rate had worn him out, and his world-weary appearance replicated it. Wasting no time, he delved into the important information of the day, his voice even and melodic as he spelled out the notices, warnings, and 'who-to-watch-out-for's.
"...and I want you all to be careful out there," he finished up. "That bad storm's supposed to hit around nine, so please be safe, okay? Have a good shift. Dismissed."
The room was once again thrown into an animated compilation of sound and movement as most of the officers hustled out the door, off to onset another chapter in the constant drama that encircled their occupation.
"Lieu, you know where Yokas is?" Bosco asked loudly over the racket, his tone displaying evident concern as his eyes darted around, searching for the familiar blonde of his partner's hair.
Ty found himself looking about the room as well, immediately becoming aware of her atypical absence. This wasn't like Faith. She never showed up late -- that was Bosco's job...
"Yeah -- she called in sick," Lieu stated laconically. "You're riding with Davis today. Sullivan, you take the new kid."
His command was rewarded with mixed reviews; Gusler, happy to be paired with a partner, all the others nearly groaning when they heard the new arrangement. Sully heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes, the familiar 'great-I-have-to-babysit' look plastering across his face as an annoyed mask. Bosco was just as put-out, it seemed, and he opened his mouth as if he'd just been insulted, the rest of his face scowling incredulously at his lieutenant.
"What? She's sick? She looked fine yesterday!"
Lieu shrugged in flagrant indifference and shook his head. "Sorry, Bosco, she said she had some nasty stomach bug. She should be back in a few days."
"A few days?!"
"That's what she said."
Bosco crossed his arms in dissatisfaction as Ty gathered his hat and gloves, ready to go. "You comin'?" Ty asked, his brow raised in a questioning arch, pretending to not have heard the way his obstinate friend was protesting.
"Yeah..." Bosco sighed, still looking quite bothered as he got up and stalked out of the room.
Oh, this is just great... The one time I get Bosco, he's in a bad mood, Ty thought as he followed his new partner down the corridor to claim their radios. One very long day for two, please.
In an advantageous dash for the warmth of the soon-to-be heated environment, Bosco plowed through the parking lot, making a beeline for the RMP that sat in the corner of the lot.
The older, modest car had character -- as Davis would soon find out. Spidery cracks in the leather steering wheel from years of wear, seats that had been used and abused until they could be considered 'bucket seats', a trick seatbelt, and several long scratches in the white paint all made up what had been a second home to Bosco for years. Comfortable and well broken in, the RMP exuded personality and a dog-eared charm.
Shivering slightly from the harsh cold, Bosco quickly unlocked the driver's side door and opened it, popping the passenger lock as well. Ty moved to do the same, but Bosco's voice stopped him with firm instructions regarding what would be the protocol for the day.
"First things first, Davis. This is my RMP, so I'm the boss - got it?"
Curious by the unconventional --but not wholly unexpected-- order, Ty looked at him for a long moment, his mouth trying fastidiously to mask the amused smirk that attempted to warp his even features. His deep brown eyes sparkled though, giving his forced sincerity away entirely. Bosco had to be one of the most interesting and humorously entertaining persons that he'd ever met.
"Sure, man...whatever," he shrugged, plopping down and into the car as if he didn't give a damn -- which he didn't.
Shaking his head in stupefaction, Bosco slid into the front seat, rocking the cruiser slightly as it took to his weight. What the hell Davis was so amused at, he had no idea. It seemed like the guy was perpetually happy... The familiar smells of aging leather and coffee were ever-present in the familiar environment, relaxing him, and he sighed in satisfaction.
Before he started the car, he stole a glance over at Davis, who was preoccupied with fastening his seatbelt across his lap. Truth be told, he wasn't really upset at all about having to ride with Ty --hell, riding with another young guy might be fun for a change-- but the dreariness of the day and the foul mood he'd arrived in had only egged him to become upset over the trivial matter.
"Hey, Davis, you've only ever ridden with Sully, right?"
"Yeah, that's right..." Ty shot him a slightly confused look, still struggling to fasten the trick belt.
Bosco chuckled and shook his head, a pleased grin working its way across his face. As far as he knew, riding with Sully was like the kindergarten version of being a cop -- easy and calm, never any of the good action that he craved. Ty was in for one hell of an interesting day...
"Well, get ready for some real police work -- we're gonna kick some ass today."
"So...uh, what do we do now?"
Sully sighed deeply, fighting back the urge to roll his eyes or lash out a snide comment at the tentative question. No, he should be nice to the new kid. This would be, after all, the one day in which the young cop was allowed to really screw up and be utterly annoying. Without a doubt, there would be a hailstorm of equally wet-behind-the-ears questions to follow, transmuting what could have otherwise been a normal, boring day, into a 20 questions free-for-all. If the kid didn't have his act together by tomorrow, the eye rolling and tongue-lashings would definitely commence -- no holds barred.
"We get our fix."
A long silence followed Sully's curt and vague answer, the newbie obviously wracking his brain for the section in his handbooks that called for a 'fix', his youthful face screwed up in a look of pure bafflement.
"Our fix...?" he ventured hesitantly.
"Coffee," Sully growled, dangerously low on patience. Although it was only five minutes into the shift, he was already craving the familiar rush of caffeine and wondering if this kid would be a 'two-cupper'. The slang term was fabricated by Sully and the other more senior cops to describe the level annoyance that a newbie would provide them with the first day. The more difficult and/or annoying the trainee, the more cups of coffee one would need to put away to stay sane.
Sully stole a glance at Gusler, silently giving the kid a once-over. Hands twisting in his lap, a gaze that never stayed long on any one thing and darted around nervously, a mouth that hung open slightly and wide eyes burning with thousands of curious questions. Definitely a two-cupper.
"Oh... Okay," Gusler nodded, then fell silent once more, as if pondering which all-too-obvious inquiry he would subsequently inflict upon Sully.
That's right, kid, Sully silently prodded, Be quiet. Stay quiet. Don't bother m--
"So then what? Should I call in our 10-98?"
Sully repressed a groan and put a bit more pressure on the gas, willing the car to the nearest 7-11. Right about then he would have given his left leg to have Davis back.
Intent on finding a drug deal going down --or any sort of criminal activity for that matter-- Bosco let the RMP cruise leisurely down the street, his practiced eyes carefully scanning the full sidewalks. In the hundred yards or so that he could see ahead, there weren't any clusters of pot-smokers or even shady loners standing to the side, waiting for offers. Instead, pedestrians plagued the walkways and crosswalks, the fast-paced city appearing to be as busy as ever -- and conspicuously free of crime.
Ty settled back in his seat, bored already. He and Sully never did this sort of thing, and usually spent their downtime conversing idly or writing tickets for parking violations. Riding with Bosco was definitely going to be a learning experience...to say the least.
"What is this?" Bosco hissed as he shook his head in annoyance, his eyes clearly not thrilled with what he was or wasn't seeing. "Where's all my skels?"
"Maybe you arrested them all," Ty suggested impassively.
"Ha! Fat chance of that -- they multiply like rabbits. New ones come here every week from who-knows-where."
"Why don't you try down on the south end...seems to be a seedier area. Sul and I have caught a few dealers down there."
"And that's exactly why you need to learn this stuff from me. See, you hav'ta go uptown to the nicer lookin' places - more money. More money, more drugs," Bosco chanted, raising his brow and nodding his head as his mouth curved into his infamous smirk.
Ty pondered this for a second. The man did have a point...
"Ah-ha!" Bosco exclaimed and pointed up ahead. "What'd I tell you?"
Ty followed his extended index to the street corner that was half a block in front of them. A tall skinny man stood rocking back and forth on his heels, hands stuffed in his over-sized coat's pockets, his eyes wandering around the streets a bit too uneasily.
"That's Endo -- little punk likes to sell right under my nose. I nearly busted his dumb ass last week for drug dealin', but he'd already gotten the goods off to the next guy," Bosco grumbled quietly as he raptly watched the impious dealer. "Not this week..."
"Looks like he picked the wrong spot to deal, huh? There's a school about a block up that way." Ty gestured to the school crosswalk signal that graced the nearest street sign.
"What an idiot..." Bosco hissed, his face breaking into a lop-sided grin, evidently extremely pleased. He pulled the cruiser to the side of the road, shoving it into park and settling back in his seat to watch the impending deal go down. "Oh, this is goin' to be way too much fun..."
"You think he's gonna sell now? With us right here?" Ty asked incredulously, his tone and expression equally disbelieving.
"Yep, he's that stupid. Watch."
Bosco had no more than finished his sentence when a car pulled up to the curb in question. Hesitating somewhat, Endo looked around cautiously a few times and then approached the vehicle, pulling his clenched hand out of his pocket in a mock show of friendliness. Through the rolled-down window, the driver 'shook hands' with the edgy dealer, sealing the transaction, and then quickly roared down the nearest side street.
"Damn...he is an idiot," Ty murmured, shaking his head, utterly taken aback. The guy had to be the biggest morons that he'd ever seen. Selling drugs not two hundred yards from the police --and to top it off-- within a school zone.
"Alright, I've seen enough," Bosco stated, promptly hopping out of the car. Ty followed, reaching for his nightstick as an added measure of defense. Dealers were tricky, and no one could ever really predict exactly what would ensue once they attempted to bust them.
"You think he's armed?" Ty asked.
"Not this one. He only shoots off his mouth."
"Right..."
In apparent eagerness, Bosco took off across the street, swaggering up behind the moronic fool of a drug dealer, all the while swinging his nightstick blithely. Endo, turned around and facing the opposite direction, was unaware of the approaching enforcement and began to tap his hand on his upper thigh -- a known drug sign of the streets.
"Endo, my man!" Bosco shouted when he was no more than a foot behind the man, startling him so badly that he jumped and spun around rapidly. Bosco clamped a hand quickly onto Endo's shoulder, firmly warning him not to try anything. "How's it going, pal? Huh?"
"Bosco...what a surprise, man," Endo sputtered, his face lighting with the usual hangdog, jumpy, 'I-hope-they-don't-find-the-goods' look that Bosco and Ty had long-since grown accustomed to. "Uh, what's goin' on?"
"Not much - heard you got a new jacket, though. Lemme see..." Bosco chatted nonchalantly as he reached to pat the man down. "Looks like its got some ample pocket room... Now what would you need such big pockets for?"
"Hey!" Endo complained and quickly pushed away from Bosco, shaking his head in insubordination. "You can't do that -- you don't have probable cause! Fourth amendment -- I got my rights!"
"Oh-ho, look who's a lawyer now! What'd you do -- start watching 'Law & Order' all of a sudden?" Bosco scoffed, slamming the protesting dealer into the wall. Keeping one hand tightly pinching Endo's neck, he reached with the other into the deep pocket of the man's inner coat and fished around. His scowl quickly turned into a smirk when his inspection paid off and rewarded him with a wad of plastic zip-lock bags full of white powder. He yanked them out quickly and waved then in front of Endo's face as he taunted, "Hey, look here -- looks like was have actual cause! Try arguing your way out of this, lawyer-boy!"
"Hey, Bosco, that ain't mine. I swear, it ain't!"
"Yeah, and the moon is made out of cheese, pigs fly, and this coke here is--"
"C'mon, man!" Endo interrupted, whining in protest.
"Sorry, pal, you picked the wrong city to deal in..."
"You takin' me in?"
"Oh, yeah, you're goin' to jail. You know -- 'do not pass 'go', do not collect two-hundred dollars'..." Ty reeled off offhandedly, jumping in.
With a good deal of satisfaction, Bosco snapped cuffs on Endo's wrists, firmly securing flailing hands behind his back. The dealer recoiled as sharp pains shot through his arms as a result of the tightened metal, and he immediately started to whine. "Ow! Damn, that's too tight!"
"The handcuffs are tight 'cause they're new," Ty pronounced sarcastically, "They'll stretch out after you wear them awhile..."
Bosco laughed at the snide remark and shoved the remonstrating man into the back seat of the cruiser. He then turned, holding up the fist-full of powdered coke and grinning like a fool. Mischievously, he smirked and winked and at Ty, pleased as hell.
"And that is how it's done."
Sully carefully pulled the RMP up to the sidewalk, taking care not to slide on the ice that covered the glistening street. Still already utterly fed-up with his new 'recruit', he didn't bother to explain why they were stopping. It wasn't like the kid wouldn't be asking anyway...
He mentally counted down the seconds until the next guileless and green question would discharge from the rookie, whom he'd newly dubbed 'bothersome-question Zen master'. Three...two...one...
"What are we doing now?"
"Parking violations," Sully barked grumpily, shoving the ticket book into Gusler's hands. In no mood to procrastinate, he got out of the car and marched down to the nearest meter, checking for the red flag of a run-out.
"You want me to write?"
"No, I want you to shove it up your ass..." Sully muttered under his breath, his gruff words lost in the wind.
After finding a timed-out meter, he knocked on the hood of the beige Lincoln that was occupying the space and nodded at Gusler. "Write it up."
"Yes, sir..." Gusler breathed earnestly, his excited fingers fumbling with the pad. Gloves never worked well with that type of notebook, but Sully didn't bother telling his raw trainee, and instead found a small bit of hilarity in watching him struggle. Hey, if he had to endure a whole day of this crap, he'd might as well enjoy it...
"Get a load of this, Boss," Bosco declared as he slid the evidence bag full of coke across the slick countertop of the admittance desk. "'Crack-in-the-box' here thought it was a good idea to sell in a school zone today..."
The sack stopped when it met Swersky's open palm, and the lieutenant raised his brow and nodded at the two young cops, obviously pleased with the amount of illegal substances that they had procured.
"Is this coke?" Swersky asked, picking up the drugs and holding it up to the light for a better look. The white powder gleamed like thousands of tiny diamonds in the florescent lighting, sparkling and tempting with the promise of a few hours of painless nothing. However, to the three cops that were currently gazing at it, it only spoke of a job well done.
"Yep," Ty responded, concurring and reiterating the information, "one-hundred percent, unadulterated crack cocaine..."
The Lieutenant took a moment to ponder the scale of their catch, and then nodded his satisfaction at the impressive accomplishment. "Good collar, guys," Swersky congratulated, eyeing the dealer wryly as he handed Bosco back the evidence.
"Only the best -- right, pal?" Ty poked at Endo, who was now glowering contemptibly, and ushered him up the stairs to lock-up.
"Uh...he's gonna need a room -- king sized bed with a view preferably," Ty stated to the officer in charge of the two cells that lined the back wall like human-sized kennels. Aged and dreary, the long-standing cells had held their fair share of winos and deadbeats, crack whores and gangsters, and proudly displayed their wear and tear from many a beating. Empty now, they craved to hold another warm body, their daily use an essential service.
Playing along with Ty's satirical mocking, the officer shook his head solemnly and gestured to an empty chamber, "This is all we have, I'm afraid... All our best rooms are booked up."
"Awww, man..." Bosco feigned disappointment and rolled his eyes in 'displeasure'. "Okay...I guess it'll have to do," he agreed reluctantly, smirking at the guard whose boring day had just livened up with sarcastic fun.
"I hope you enjoy your stay at le downtown lockup, monsieur," the officer declared sardonically in a mimicked French accent, making a show of unlocking the confinement cell by sweeping the door open as though he were welcoming a king.
Planting his palm firmly in the middle of their arrestee's back, Ty shoved Endo forward into the tiny chamber, satisfied when the man pitched forward and nearly fell flat on his face. Finalizing the arrest, Bosco slammed the door shut, the noise reverberating around the room as a loud echo.
"C'mon, guys, cut me a break..." the dealer bellyached and scrambled up, pressing his face up to the chain-link 'walls'.
"You know how it is, man," Bosco shrugged, frowning and shaking his head at him in apparent condescension. "Life's tough...and it's tougher if you're stupid."
To Be Continued... I hope you guys still like it :) Make my day and tell me what you think! I appreciate it so much!
