A/N
Do I have other things I should be working on? Absolutely. But this idea popped into my head a few days ago so I sat down to write out the scene. It took me about three hours to finish this one shot - two hours to write it and a third to edit it.
Considering my recent work ethic, I actually managed to impress myself.
I've never really been into roleplay. But whenever I play a game with a customizable protagonist I like to think up a personality and identity for the character; one that is distinct and different from my own. Sometimes, I even draft short character sheets so I can better understand and organize the traits of these new characters, even if I never actually use them in a story.
My first real Division OC, William Finnegan, was slowly developed as I played through the WONY dlc campaign of Division 2. Today's OC, Becker, I actually developed last year when I re-played through the whole of Division 1; although I never actually wrote anything involving the character that was worth posting to this site.
Perhaps one day when I have the time I'll get around to writing a proper Division story. Maybe…
Truth Stranger than Fiction…
On a small street corner on the eastern end of Brooklyn sat an old apartment building.
It was four stories tall, and made from old brown bricks which were visibly cracked and worn from years of harsh weather and poor upkeep. The windows were dull and filmy with winter frost, heavy drapes concealing the room's beyond. The front steps, which had been built unevenly and were covered with a fine sheen of ice, led up to the weathered front door.
The intersecting streets weren't exactly quiet - New York never slept, as the old saying went. But save for the occasional passing car or pedestrian wrapped up in multiple layers to ward off the early December chill, there was little activity.
A lone figure travelled the dark streets and approached the front steps - a woman. The woman kept her hands tucked into the side pockets of her coat as she closed the distance between herself and the handrail. Reaching out her foot, she gave the front steps a cautionary rub with the tip of her sneaker; and upon noting the lack of friction, the woman swiftly abandoned any notion about jogging up the stairs to escape the winter cold. Instead she ascended the steps slowly, gripping onto the chilly metal handrail with both hands and tugging her way up much like how someone would ascend a rope.
With some effort the woman reached the top of the steps and wasted no time in pushing open the rickety front door of the building. The lobby was far warmer than outside - perhaps a little bit too warm - but for the woman it was a welcome respite from the winter winds. The acrid scents of dust, mildew, and a touch of cat urine filled the still air like a creeping miasma. There was not an inch of the wall-to-wall carpet that was not stained with some manner of contaminant or filth.
For once grateful that the cold had made her nose stuffy, the woman unzipped her white coat and made for the stairs. She avoided the fourth step of the first flight with practiced ease, lest she wanted to wake up her cranky and unpleasant neighbors; the woman exhibited the same level of caution with the sixth step of the second flight.
After three flights of stairs the woman reached the top floor of the building. Her sneakers audibly rubbed against the floor carpets as she traversed the length of the hallway. She passed several other apartments before reaching her own, her hand already fumbling around in the pocket of her uniform pants for her keyring.
Clearing her throat, the woman peered down at the small pile of metal in her hands - over a dozen keys, nearly identical to each other save for the etchings.
"Fuck…" The woman swore quietly under her breath.
With her fingers still numb from the winter cold, the woman began trying the keys on the door lock. The first three wouldn't go in; the fourth she tried to jam in upside down; the fifth slid in but failed to turn…
"I really need to label these…"
Right as the woman prepared to jam the sixth key into the lock the door was abruptly pulled open. A different figure - another woman - stepped into the doorframe and crossed her arms.
"Roxanne Becker, where the hell have you been?"
The woman in the white coat, now identified, sighed as she tucked her keyring back into her pocket.
"Who are you, my mother?" Roxanne muttered as she tried to push her way through the door frame.
"Don't you get lippy with me."
"Ugh, you sound just like her…" Roxanne rubbed the dark spots beneath her eyes. "Why are you even up anyways, Jen? It's almost four in the morning."
"Yeah, and you were supposed to be home five hours ago," the woman in the doorway, now identified as Jen, muttered in response. "What gives?"
"Work was busy…"
"You are such a bother…" The other woman shut her eyes and rubbed her temples. Her long brown hair had been pinned up near the top of her head by several pink rollers. "Just get inside already…"
Jen stepped backwards into the apartment to allow Roxanne entry. The latter woman gently closed the door with her foot before hanging her winter coat up on a nearby coat stand.
"Look, I appreciate your concern and all… but don't you start work at ten tomorrow?" Roxanne muttered as she slipped off her baseball cap and hung it next to her coat. "I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself…"
"Well, pardon me for worrying about my roommate," Jen scoffed, spinning around and walking off into the small common area of the apartment. The woman hopped onto the old sofa, a small tray of cosmetic items spread out on the coffee table in front of her. "Your job is already crazy enough… and now you're walking around alone in the middle of the night?"
"Once again, I can take care of myself…" Roxanne yawned as she undid the top buttons of her uniform shirt.
"Oh yeah? What'll you do if some creep attacks you?" Jen scoffed as Roxanne moved to join her on the couch. "Break out the ninja moves? Some of that 'Kra Manga' you claim to know so much about?"
Before her beleaguered roommate could respond, Jen snatched a nail file from her cosmetic case and began sanding down the edges of her fingernails. A rhythmic scratching noise filled the air as the file was drawn back and forth like a saw.
"It's Krav Maga…" Roxanne groaned as she rolled her sore neck against the top of the sofa's backrest. "And I almost had to use it today…"
The filing noise abruptly stopped as Jen paused her efforts, lifting her head to give her roommate a look of shock.
"Seriously…?"
"Yeah, some guy pulled a knife on me…" Roxanne rubbed her bleary eyes. "Thankfully we were already in the hospital… security piled onto him before he had the chance to try anything…"
"Fuck… it's not right that you have to deal with shit like that…" Jen poked the still air with her file. "You're a paramedic, not a cop."
"Occupational hazards, what can you do?" Roxanne sighed as she undid the last few buttons on her blue uniform shirt. The woman gently pulled the fabric of the shirt out from underneath the belt of her pants before sliding it off of her shoulders. The green turtleneck she wore beneath wasn't any less stale than her uniform, but it felt less suffocating.
"Don't say that, it's not right and you know it."
"What am I supposed to do? Ask him not to pull a knife on me?" Roxanne narrowed her eyes. "He was higher than a kite, there's no reasoning with a person in that state…"
"Fine, whatever…" Jen huffed, turning her attention back towards her nails.
"Look…" Roxanne frowned, fighting the urge to pinch the bridge her nose out of frustration. "I'm grateful for your concern-"
"I expect you to be!" Jen lifted an eyebrow in Roxanne's direction. "You're home five hours late, your hair is a mess…"
Roxanne gently patted the top of her head. Her short dark hair, which she usually combed over one side of her forehead, was sticking up at odd angles…
"...you look like you're about to pass out, and your makeup isn't hiding those bags under your eyes," Jen sniffed. Unprompted, the brown haired woman reached towards her cosmetic tray and retrieved a cotton pad. "Here, by the way…"
Roxanne accepted the offered pad and wiped the space around her eyes. Peering down at the fabric, Roxanne frowned at the sight of smeared makeup.
"Have you eaten anything today?"
"I had some lunch-"
"What, ten hours ago?" Jen sighed before shutting her eyes in frustration. "Good lord, Rox. There's some Chinese takeout in the fridge…"
"How old?"
"Does it matter?"
"Ugh, I guess not…"
Getting up from the couch, Roxanne made a quick stop to her room before heading to the kitchen. She tossed her uniform pants and shoes onto the unmade bed and kicked off her sneakers, allowing the footwear to get lost amongst the other clutter which filled her personal space.
After slipping on some time-appropriate sweatpants, the woman made her way into the kitchenette. She pulled open the door of the ancient refrigerator and observed the interior of the space. The dull yellow lights which illuminated the interior burned Roxanne's vision, but they also helped her to locate her dinner. An unopened carton of noodles had been wedged between a half-full juice bottle and a wilting sprig of parsley.
Retrieving the noodle carton, Roxanne nuked its contents in the microwave before grabbing a fork and returning to the living space. In her absence Jen had switched on the television - an old CRT model which fit right in amongst the apartment's other ancient appliances.
Reclaiming her seat on the dusty sofa, Roxanne observed the flickering images on the television with her dark eyes.
"The tv is cutting out again…" Roxanne mumbled through her mouthful of noodles.
"It's not my turn…" Jen muttered as she clipped her nails with a small instrument.
"Yes it is."
"Okay fine…" Jen huffed. "But you've got a better throwing arm than me."
"No arguments here."
Roxanne dug around in the pillows of the sofa until she found what she was looking for. From the depths of the fabric the woman pulled a faded hardball, which she lobbed at the television set with lethal accuracy.
The CRT television hissed and displayed static when the hardball struck its plastic casing. But after a few moments the picture reoriented itself, clearer than it had been before the impact.
"Nothing like a bit of percussive maintenance…" Roxanne joked.
"Is that an understated part of your job?" Jen spoke in response.
"No," Roxanne mumbled through a mouthful of noodles. "Beating people is considered medical malpractice…"
Roxanne absentmindedly thumbed the TV remote, switching between channels. She cycled past a raunchy movie, a rom-com, and a Spanish soap-opera before finally settling on a late night news report...
"...although it remains a controversial decision, a spokesperson for CERA has announced that a limited quarantine will be put into effect in the coming weeks…"
"Another reason why I've been worried about you coming home so late," Jen gestured at the television. "Have you been keeping up with the news?"
"Is this about that new strain of flu?" Roxanne muttered. "I work in a hospital, remember?"
"It was all over the news this morning. Apparently a whole bunch of people have come down with it," Jen offered Roxanne a cautious glance. "Have you…?"
"Been in proximity…? No. And if I was I would be spending the night in quarantine," Roxanne shook her head. "I haven't heard anything about it crossing over to our end of the city…"
"... we will be providing more information as it becomes available. Please remember to exercise caution and consider the use of a facemask."
"Just what this city needed…" Jen yawned. "Garbage in the streets, creeps stumbling around at night, sky-high rent, and now a pandemic too…"
"The joys of urban living…"
"Please, like you would know anything about joyful living…"
"Huh?" Roxanne mumbled through another mouthful of noodles.
"I didn't stay up this late only to make sure that you got home safe…" Jen sighed as she set down her nail clippers. "I also wanted to talk with you…"
"Talk with me?"
"Yes, talk," Jen shot her roommate a long look. "In case you didn't know, talking is when two people verbally interact with one another and exchange information."
"Please…" Roxanne rubbed the back of her neck against the sofa again. "Just spare me the mockery and get to the point…"
"Alright, I'll cut to it. Rox, I'm worried about you…" Jen muttered.
"Worried? Why? What do you mean…?"
"I mean that your entire life has become work and sleep!" Jen huffed and crossed her arms across her chest. "It's like you just crash here and that's it."
"Work is always busy…"
"So ask for some time off."
"As if it were so easy…" Roxanne scoffed as she twirled more noodles onto her fork. "I'll send out a memo to the people of Brooklyn to not get into any emergencies for a day…"
"Interesting…" Jen slowly wagged the air with her finger.
"What is?"
"Nothing… just your use of humor to avoid stressful topics…" Jen muttered. "I have a psychology degree, remember? So I tend to pick up on little things like that…"
"What do you want from me?" Roxanne scowled at her roommate. "It's far too early in the morning for a psychoanalysis…"
"I want you to put yourself first for once!" Jen scoffed. "When's the last time you got a full night's sleep? I mean eight hours worth at least."
"Uh, I don't really remember…"
"Exactly!" Jen pushed further. "Okay, next question! When's the last time you got laid?"
Roxanne nearly choked on her noodles, her face reddening with embarrassment.
"I'm not answering that question…" The dark haired woman managed to struggle out between puffs of air.
"Not recently, I take it?" Jen mocked. "Christ, girl. You're almost thirty-"
"I'm twenty-eight!"
"Whatever," Jen rolled her eyes. Turning away from her roommate, Jen stretched out her legs and rested her heels on the coffee table. She snatched up a brush and some dye from her cosmetic tray and reached towards her feet. "You should be living it up while you're still young and hot…"
"I just don't have the time right now."
"That's the problem - time," Jen muttered as she began painting her nails. "It's almost December and you still haven't unpacked your candles."
"Do you mean my menorah?" Roxanne muttered. "It's still way too early for that…"
"Alright fine," Jen nodded. "Or how about this? Remember a few days ago when I asked if you wanted to go out to a club or bar or something and you totally blew me off?"
"I'm just not up for clubbing…"
"For the past few months you haven't been up for clubbing. You're becoming a real drag to live with, Rox."
"Maybe…"
"And not to mention all the strange excuses you've been giving me recently," Jen shot her roommate a weary look. "When you're not at work you're up to all manner of weird shit. Where did you go last week? On Wednesday I mean."
"I uh, had that new calisthenics class…"
"Okay, where was it being held?"
"Uhm, at the local Y.M.C.A?"
"Bullshit," Jen smirked and held up two fingers. "One, because you've never been interested in that kind of thing. Two, because I gave the Y.M.C.A a call and they don't run those classes at that time…"
Roxanne wilted under her roommate's stare. "I'm not lying to you-"
"Liar," Jen scoffed. "Or how about two months ago, when you said that you were going to… what was it? Oh yes, that cycling club?"
"What's so wrong about that…?"
"Oh please, you don't own a bicycle. The only thing you own that has two wheels is that piece of junk motorcycle you keep locked up downstairs."
"It's not a piece of junk, it works fine-"
"Any vehicle that you can only drive for half of the year is a waste of time in my eyes," Jen scowled. "And stop trying to change the subject."
"You changed the subject-"
"Quiet!" Jen raised a finger to her lips. "Look, my point is that you've been super weird recently. You're either at work or involved in some activity that nobody else can corroborate. We barely talk anymore, we barely hang out anymore. I miss you, Rox. The rest of the girls do too and I'm tired of having to tell them your excuses for why you can't go out with us anymore…"
"Well-"
"Wait!" Jen's eyes widened in realization. "I know! Are you seeing someone!?"
"What…?"
"Well, it would explain all the weird shit you've been into for the past few months," Jen grinned and batted her eyes. "What's his name? And why are you trying to keep things quiet? Are you afraid I'll steal him away with my better looks and charm?"
"There is no guy…" Roxanne grumbled. "Like I said earlier, I don't have time for anything like that…"
"Oh…" Jen's face fell. "So what's going on then?"
Sighing to herself, Roxanne shoved the last of the reheated noodles into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed before setting the empty takeout carton down on the coffee table.
"Alright, do you want the truth?" Roxanne cleared her throat. "About where I've been? The cycling club, the calisthenics…?"
"Did I mention the 'night classes' and 'off-hours work training seminars'?"
"No, and spare me any more of your accusations…" Roxanne shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Turning her head away from her roommate, Roxanne opened up her right eye, her fingers still pinching her nose. "Are you ready to hear the truth?"
"Desperately."
"Well, here goes…" Roxanne took a deep breath. "I'm a secret agent."
There was a long moment of silence between the two women.
"Oh for god's sake, Rox," Jen huffed. "Be serious about this please."
"No, really…"
"I'm not laughing."
"Fine, don't believe me then," Roxanne shrugged.
"Rox…"
"Look, as much as I hate to admit it, you do have a point," Roxanne muttered. "I've been so up to my ears lately… maybe I have been ignoring you…"
"This isn't about me, this is about you. I'm your friend and I notice when you're not being yourself…" Jen shook her head. "You'll run yourself into the ground at this rate."
"Tell you what, how about I make it up to you?" Roxanne offered. "Tomorrow night we'll go to the bar. We'll have some drinks, good times all around."
"You're missing the point, Rox. I don't want you to try and appease me, I want you to take better care of yourself."
"My offer expires in the next ten seconds."
"Rox…"
"Seven seconds…"
"Could you just-"
"Four seconds…"
"Fine!" Jen tossed her hands up in the air. "Deal."
"Great, tomorrow at eight then."
"And you don't get to back out on this one," Jen warned.
Roxanne thumped her hand against her chest, just over her heart. "I promise, no backsies."
"Good."
Roxanne turned her attention back towards the television. With the news report having ended, the next scheduled program had begun to play.
"Are you watching this?" Roxanne asked, gesturing to the television.
"Might as well leave it on, it's just background noise to me," Jen observed her half-painted toenails.
"Alright…" Roxanne stretched out her arms where she sat. Lifting her left forearm, she peered down at the face of her digital watch. "Well, I'm going to turn in."
"Good idea," Jen offered her roommate a small smile. "Go get some rest. Because we're totally going to trash that bar tomorrow and I need you ready and alert for that."
"It'll be just like our college days all over again," Roxanne chuckled.
Offering her roommate one last wave, Roxanne stumbled off to her room.
As she settled into her unmade bed, Roxanne tugged gently at the metal watch on her wrist. The dark haired woman traced the tip of her finger gently against the concentric metal rings of its face before pulling the blanket up to her chin.
Roxanne had never been a good liar… and she really hated having to lie to Jen. But if it was any consolation, the truth would never be believed either…