Gonna be honest with y'all. When I first created the character of Darren McKinley, well over a decade ago now, I had a certain set of beliefs. Now, at the back half of my thirties, I no longer hold quite a lot of those beliefs. I don't see a reason to go into details; suffice it to say that, if I was gonna make a character like Darren now …
He wouldn't be a cop.
All that eventually culminated in this.
.
They had a bench, where they would sit whenever they needed to talk about something important. Usually this involved Seto coming to Darren about some aspect of his personal life that he'd never been taught to handle, or else Darren asking Seto to help him come up with some way to reach out to his daughter. Sometimes they would just sit at the bench and watch the other people go on walks through the park.
Today, Seto sat and waited. He could tell that Darren had something to say, something he needed to say, but hadn't worked out how to say it yet. The best thing to do, in cases like that, was just to wait.
Eventually, Darren said: ". . . You always think it's not gonna happen. Not to you."
Seto didn't reply. Not yet.
"I don't—I don't know how I can go home."
There was something about the way Darren's voice cracked. The way he stared down at his shoes and saw . . . nothing. Seto knew that thousand-yard stare. He knew it as well as he knew his own face. He'd worn it too many times.
"What happened?" Seto asked, voice low and solemn, but firm.
Solid.
Darren sighed, threw himself back, and stared up at the sky. He said: "Fucking . . . fentanyl. Because of course it is. Why wouldn't it be?" He shook his head and ran both hands through his hair. "A guy I've dealt with . . . about as rarely as I could. Name's Vince. Vince Tanner. Had an incident with an informant, or some shit. I don't know. The story's half-cocked and changes every couple hours; how am I supposed to know? One day it's an informant. Next day, he's never heard of the guy. Next day it's a second cousin."
"Incident," Seto repeated.
"All you need to know," Darren muttered, "is some jackass in my orbit got caught up in a drug sting, and it ended with a corpse. And he's blaming every fucking person on God's green earth but himself. He's blaming the guy he shot, saying he was hiding fentanyl in his trunk, or his . . . pants, or. Whatever. I don't care."
"Mm," said Seto. "And . . . you are expected to back him up."
"Of course." Darren laughed, breathlessly. "Thin Blue Line, y'know? One of my brothers. I'm supposed to have his back. That's what I signed up for." There was a pause, and yet again Seto elected not to fill it with any words of his own. "Except it's not what I signed up for. That's not what's on the side of my fucking car, is it? Protect Your Brothers. I signed up to protect and serve the fucking public, and this son of a bitch hauls off and attacks the public and I'm supposed to just nod along?"
"So it would seem," Seto murmured. "What will you do?"
"Nothing. Goddamn . . . nothing. What can I do?"
"I think you'll find there is always something you can do."
Darren shook his head. "I've been on thin ice for a while now. Remember the whole cavalcade of fuckery surrounding that kid with the revolver?" Seto nodded. "Yeah. Well. When I told my captain I wasn't gonna lie to protect Tanner, and that included lying by omission . . . you know what I got told?"
"Tell me," Seto said, after a moment.
"I could either find my loyalty or hand over my badge."
Seto's eyes narrowed. "I see," he said. "So you are being forced to lie to protect your job."
"No," Darren said. "No, that would be an easy thing to deal with. I looked him straight in the eye and told him I knew precisely where my loyalty was, and if he wanted it I had plenty of ideas on where I'd shove it."
Seto smirked. "I'm sure that went over well."
Darren held out his hands. "I spent my entire childhood, every waking moment, training for this job. I ignored all the signs, all the news stories, all the bullshit. I told myself Domino was different. I told myself even if it wasn't, even if Domino's PD had all the problems that other departments had, I'd do what I could to change it. I'd dedicate my whole fucking life to it, because that's what the people of this city deserve."
Seto crossed his arms over his chest. "And now . . ."
"And now . . . what? I have to tell my family that the career I sacrificed so much for, the work I set them aside for, the work that damn near ripped us apart . . . just tossed me on the street. I'm out. I've got nothing. I'm . . . I'm fucked."
Darren held his head in his hands.
Seto waited.
It wasn't until his friend started shaking with quiet sobs that he finally reached out and put a hand on the man's shoulder. "Darren," he said, softly this time, gently. "I am going to tell you exactly what you're going to say to your family. Okay? Listen to me, remember, and repeat it back to them."
Darren didn't respond with words, but he nodded.
"You are going to tell your family that you were asked by the Domino City Police Department to ruin your integrity. To protect someone unfit for their position. You are going to tell your family that you refused, and that it's cost you your job. You are going to tell your family that you were betrayed, that you gave everything to this city and were tossed aside the moment it wasn't enough. And then you're going to tell your family that you are taking this time to train for a new path. A new life. Where you will be appreciated, where you will make a difference for the people you swore an oath to protect, and where you will never be asked to lie."
Darren looked up at Seto, tears running silently down his face, a thousand questions in his eyes.
Seto handed his friend a business card.
"I can't use you as you are now. The training offered by the Domino PD is, frankly, pathetic. If you want to learn how to actually protect people, how to properly handle yourself in a crisis, how to be the man your former colleagues had no use for . . . call Roland. In two years, you will be everything you ever dreamed of being."
Darren took the card, stared at it.
Looked back up at Seto. "Are you . . . are you serious?"
Seto's face was cast in stone. "I'm a Kaiba. I take care of my own. Let me know if the department tries to find excuses to not pay your severance."
"Oh, I've already been told I won't see a dime."
Seto smirked. "Do you know," he said, "what Domino's finest like to call me?"
Darren wiped his face. Chuckled. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. They call you King Crybaby. Say you hitch a fit and throw shit until you get your way."
"If they're going to call me a king," Seto said, "I think it's high time I make them kneel."
"You know that's just gonna make them feel justified, right?"
"They already feel justified. I'm going to make them pay for it."
