3:32 pm Initiating Automated Black Box recording. Criteria(s) met: abnormally high levels of stress. abnormally high levels of anger. abnormally high levels of killing intent
"All I am saying is that you have a very important image to uphold, sheriff."
He turns his back. Side arm strapped beneath coat;
.2 seconds to draw
Silencer in top drawer of the desk;
1.5 seconds to attach
Shot to the back of the neck, assured kill, minimal blood splatter, dispose of the body-
Focus Caitlyn
Fingers twitch
He is the mayor of the uppercity; Albert H. Thompson. He is just as stiff and close minded as the rest of the uppercity; only concerned with his own being.
Disgusting
Survival of the fittest
"I do hope that you see the wisdom in my words."
He pauses, speaking still with his face to the door. He straightens his tailored coat; right hand adorned with 3 rings presses down on the knob. I am a dog to him, well groomed and well trained. He is no doubt a dog to someone else and so forth. They did the same to him as he did to me; how the world goes.
We are all masters at hiding it
"I look forward to seeing to the award ceremony with a proper suitor."
He turns, faces me, quirk of the lips under his mustache, relaxed brow, narrow eyes. Smug.
"Perhaps Jayce."
Not a suggestion, a command.
Woof
An expectation
Nails dig into my palms. Muscles tense
Side arm strapped beneath coat;
.2 seconds to draw
Silencer in top drawer of the desk;
1.5 seconds to attach
Shot to the back of the neck, assured kill, minimal blood splatter, dispose of the body-
"Good day to you sheriff."
Behave.
I bid him farewell
Voice even, do not show it. Pride, calm, collected.
A game
Mechanical. Soulless
"Like a true uppercity pig"
I can't believe the nerve of him. He assumes; perhaps even knows of my relations with Vi. He does not care, of course he does not, not of our happiness, not that crime in the lowercity has plummeted, not how more brilliant students are joining the ranks of the elite in the academies. He does not want to disappoint the "great citizens of Piltover" by letting out that their beloved sheriff is queer.
No, no, it is for his image, not mine, of course not; he does not wish to take fault for allowing me recruit Vi. They will label her as the cause of my sexuality.
What am I to do?
Do what I must every year. Swallow my pride, bow to society.
I could go against him
I would lose my job, my reputation, everything I have worked for. Not even my family name would be able to save me. Like Maya Kernich, Oscar Lemming, Thomas Ion; all those before me, now forgotten by society.
Harsh
Strict
City of Progress; a joke
I can be the change
"Do not let them strip away your voice. Do not let like extinguish your soul. Be who you wish to be. Be true to yourself; that is all that should be asked of you." - Speech of the CEO Maya Kernich the day before the YellowSap Company crumbled
"We should be teaching our youth to accept one another, no matter who they are. Ingenuity does not prefer one face over the other; we all have something wondrous to contribute to the world. This is progress; we cannot claim to be the leader of Valoran if we are destroying so many bright minds in the walls of our own city." – Speech of Oscar Lemming before being released from his position of head professor at Martin Bow Academy
"We will not stop until equality is reached. We will be tireless, no matter how much spit, insults, and threats are thrown at us. We will no longer stand with being shunned, our names torn from the history books, the credit of our works awarded to someone else; someone who meets their standards. We are the clock upon the walls; we will not stop marching forward and each time we chime, we shall call out more and more until we are heard!" – Rally cry of Thomas Ion, former Colonel of the Piltover Air Force the day he led a protest from the lowercity to the council chambers.
He was a good man. It is a shame that I was called that day. March 10; 216 unarmed civilians marching towards the council chambers, nonviolent, peaceful. A sabotage, a set-up, 62 casualties, 83 injured.
"How many people have you killed?"
"142, over the span of 17 years" I remember each one of them and their story.
A disciplined man at the age of 53, served in the Air Force since he was 18. He was there at the battle of Urnof Gulf, he flew out refugees from the Noxian invasion of Iona, and he led the supply drops for the rural yordle villages torn apart by wildfires. He personally consoled my family six months after the mugging of father; the first time father almost overdosed on catalyst.
He was there at my promotion to sheriff
He held me when the hexcane plant next to the station overloaded
I held him when he died in the middle of Progress Square
Thomas marches at the head of the sea of protestors, all of which are donned in various shades of pink. He wears his old beret, still proud to be a Piltovian even through the hell it has thrown him into. Wrinkles adorn his face, far too many for his age; a result of a stressful life in the military and the stress of such a dishonorable discharge.
The radio crackles
"Keep an eye on them, no telling what these scums are planning."
They focus on only two facts; that the protestors are from the lowercity, and that they support gay rights. To them, both are equally heinous. Ten officers stationed on the edges of each quadrant. We overlook Progress Square where the 216 protestors spill into.
We stand motionless.
Do not shoot, do not draw arms. Unless I give a command you are to stay in position no matter what.
They are trained to follow orders
I do not belong here. I belong down there, with them, fighting for what's right. It is not fair what we do to them, but it is their own damn fault for being discovered. They could have kept it a secret, been more careful, they could have continued being great.
They are the ones who ruined themselves
I cannot afford to do that
Keep a face
Thomas raises his hand, steady and strong in the warm breeze. The mass behind him halts. Quiet, everyone is holding their breath. The officers stationed in the Northeast quadrant shift.
Odd
I should radio a status report
"We will not stop until equality is reached. We will be tireless, no matter how much spit, insults, and threats are thrown at us. We will no longer stand with being shunned, our names stripped from the history books, the credit of our works awarded to someone else; someone who meets their standards. We are the clock upon the walls; we will not stop marching forward and each time we chime, we shall call out more and more until we are heard!"
A deafening cry, a roar of support. He turns, back to the cheering crowd. There is fire in his grey eyes. Military. His chest puffs out. He believes in this so much, he believes he can change everything. And he has 215 people believing just as hard.
Movement
Officers of the Northeast quadrant draw their firearms, in sync, as if commanded. They do not look confused, they do not question. As if they've been awaiting the order.
Eager
"Officer O'Neil, what the bloody hell are your officers doing?!" The radio line is static in my ear.
"Officer O'Neil!"
Something is wrong
I radio the other quadrant. Same static. Not even the officers beside me respond.
The mass has already passed the Northeast quadrant, none of them are aware that there are 10 officers training their pistols one their backs.
Movement
The Northwest quadrant follows in suit, mindlessly drawing their weapons and leveling them with the protestors. Steady. Precise. Can they not tell that I am not giving the order?
Someone has hacked the lines; using my voice. The officers are trained to follow orders. Even more so if they agree with the order.
The radio crackles
"Officers of the Southeast and Southwest quadrants draw your weapons and prepare to fire."
No.
No
Impossible
That cannot be me, but it sounds just like me. How did someone hack the comm line, how did they make it sound like my voice?
Incorrect
Irrelevant
Better question
How can I stop them?
I scream, command all officers in earshot to drop their weapons and slide them away from themselves. They hesitate, it takes me commanding them a second time before the finally comply. 15 officers, I could only stop 15 officers.
"All officers standby to fire."
There is screaming, everyone has drawn their weapons, the safeties flipped off, hammers cocked. Police standard firearms, 15 round clips. I cannot to stop all of them in time.
Powerless
"All officers fire at will."
Screaming
They disperse, throwing each other to the ground, pressing themselves flat against the pavement. Some turn to flee only to fall after a few steps. The people on the edge of the crowd begin to pile and trip.
Chaos
What can I do?
Focus Caitlyn
Solution; find a way to get back on the comm system, give the order to ceasefire.
How?
How?
Fucking damn it all, how do I fix this?!
If I send my officers to tell the others to stop, it will look like we are charging. Panic, counterproductive. The hacker may even use the opportunity to give the order to close in. It may be the only way. No other choice.
I give the order. They run slower than I would like.
Step by step, down the stairs of the council chambers, chest tightening as I near the carnage. The smell of blood, cries of the dying. Bodies.
A woman, auburn hair, hazel eyes, cradled by her lover, tears. Her eyes are still, her mouth agape. They wear matching rings.
This cannot be happening
A family, two elderly men, a child between them. They both have spots of blood on their backs. Tattered shirts. The child in unharmed, she sobs, begging for them to wake up.
I took a vow to protect
A circle of former strangers, only drawn together by their common woes. One trained as a medical responder, he keeps pressure on the abdomen of their friend. Two others are wrapping the leg of another. The sixth lays motionless on the ground.
No promises
"All officers hold your fire."
One last round of shots.
All is still
I reach the bottom of the stairs. The ground was once a cream color.
I had medical units on standby. They should have heard the gunshots. They should be on the scene helping the wounded, saving these people. No one.
Someone dismissed them
"Caity."
Weak voice, dying voice, final words.
It is Thomas, three holes to the chest. His lungs are filling fast.
Chest aches; this should not have happened. Face is warm, wet, tears. I am crying.
His hand is cold.
"Shhh, don't cry, I know it wasn't your fault. I could tell, you looked just as surprised we were."
Smart man, observant man
Good man
I should have been marching with him, it would've been different.
I would've been killed
Perhaps
"I thought it would feel different. This whole dying thing."
Humor, sad smile. He coughs blood. He has 2 minutes at most.
"Life's hard, I understand. They're gonna put you down until you can't get back up. But once you let them, that means you've already hit the ground and they never gonna let you back on your feet. You gotta fight back, just like your father always said; If you start something, you better be ready to see it until the end."
Guilt
It could have been different. If I had joined them, maybe the march would not have been fired upon; the hacker would not have been able to use my voice to give orders. I could have made a difference.
They would have used whoever was commanding to give the order.
I could have kept this from happening
I couldn't have, it would have played out the same way no matter what. The only difference is whether or not I would still be alive.
"Caity, I know you don't do promises, but tell me, just to put a dying man's mind at rest. I want to know that one day you are going to stand up to them and make them listen. If you don't; nothing's gonna change, nothing's gonna get better. Progress can't happen if there isn't a push."
I can't promise it.
I would be lying
Lying to a dying man
He was like a father
"I..."
Pause
Heartbreak
Sad smile
Wrinkles
Warm grey eyes
Warmth in a cold, fake world
He understands
Final breath, eyes are fading.
"Make me proud, Caity."
Limp
Soft smile
Pale skin
Blood stains
"I promise"
Silence
No response
Tears
Breathe
In
Out
Calm
Collected
Control
Close his eyes, set him back down gently, help those you can, medical units arriving on scene now. Four minutes late.
Restore order, find who did this.
Focus
Wipe the tears, things happen, I cannot anticipate everything.
Roll with the punches
Cogs it hurts
Try the radio again
"Officers in Charge, do you copy?"
"Loud and clear sheriff, orders?"
Fucking pieces of shit
They won't trust them with helping. I don't trust them.
"All officers report to the debriefing room at the station immediately, leave your firearms on my desk. Anyone not present will be tracked down and dealt with personally. Is that understood?"
A pause
"Yes ma'am."
They don't sound confused
They expected this
"See to it."
The radio is silent.
Desk is cold, head throbbing. When did I sit down?
Memories, too many, get caught up. Sad memories. Chest hurts.
Fight back
I can't
I promised
It's not a perfect world
Exactly
Call Jayce, he will be expecting it. Explain what must be done. We have to break the news to Vi.
She will be hurt. She will encourage me to fight back. A wall will be punched, threats will be made, she will have less respect for both Jayce and I.
But it must happen.
She will understand. Her mind is logical, hardwired to be practical. She will see why I do what I do. She will accept it.
I hope. Cogs I hope she will.
Catalyst, bottom draw of the file cabinet. 13 doses left.
No
It will help to cope
Fuck you
Caitlyn
I will not become like father
Disable Black Box A.I.
Disabling Black Box A.I. will disable automated recordings, vital sign readings, research abilities, and advice cortex. Confirm?
Confirmed
Disabling Black Box A.I.
Farewell
5:12 pm Ending Automated Black Box recording. Criteria(s) met: Black Box A.I. disabled