Chapter #3Wary, Intrusive Wolf by: oldshep   Originally by: H. M.  on Muscle Growth: Go Nuts Guys
You're glancing through a photo album.
An image of a young red wolf with too much hair spray and a bow tie. The days of youth, growing up in the hill country, the days of beautiful sunsets and the tang of a guitar. Mama and Papa fell to temptation, and overdosed before you really understood what drugs even were. Pappy and Grammaw took you in, God bless their souls, and raised you as their own, keeping you on the right track.
Another photo. A strapping young wolf, wearing jeans and a black tee, the shirt tight on his well-built frame, leaning against a railing with some similar looking furs. The days at State, with the bros. Gosh, it all seemed so far away now, those hedonistic days. Yet, given the offerings a large college can provide, you kept your nose relatively clean, you graduated on time and with honors.
You turn a couple pages. A photo of you with Grammaw right after graduating from the police academy. A good seven years ago now. The old gal's kissing you on the cheek, a smirk on your face and a newly minted badge on your chest.
You started in Greenbriar City, and never left. Greenbriar City was the second-largest city in the state and had seventeen precincts. Your first job was as a patrolman with the rather respectable eleventh precinct. You became a squad leader and was on the short track for sargeant. Then the scandal broke.
The captain of the eleventh precinct had secretly been taking bribes from "special interests", busted in a sting by the feds. This went beyond the standard "extra-protection" or going easy on certain violators. No, the captain went above and beyond, cutting deals to turn a blind eye completely on the drug cartels that would traffic through the main neighborhood thoroughfares in order to sell their wares in the worst parts of town, purposely leaving some streets under-staffed so they could perform their "work". No one told you this, nor were you in on it. But several of your associates were.
The punishment was swift and severe, the captain now joining some of his old enemies behind bars, with a couple of the sergeants following him in. But suddenly, the eleventh precinct became synonymous with graft. The city decided to ship in an entirely new set of officer and get rid of what was left. Some resigned on their own volition. You weren't about to throw away your life's work though. Since you held some rank and couldn't be proven guilty - well, the city decided to send you to the really rough-and-tumble fourth precinct, as a sort of atonement for your perceived sins. Oh, and to really drive the point home, you were back to grunt patrolman status, doing night shift in the run-down warehouses and tenements, trying to cover your ass and hopefully, maybe, pick up the pieces of your career.
You had a habit of being in places you weren't welcome it seems. Your eyes fall on another photo - you, standing in swim trunks at a pool somewhere, an attractive hare under your arm. Deanna. Oh yes, nothing quite makes you feel as angry and hopeless as what that bitch pulled. What did you learn from that experience? Well, for starters, be careful who you trust, or you might come home to a goodbye note and a video of your fiancee getting banged on the couch by another man. Second, she just might be enough of a crazy bitch to empty out your joint bank account and skip town. In contrast for going out of your life with such a flourish, she did a good job keeping a low profile since; which was good for her sake, because you might kill them both if the opportunity ever comes.
So what are you left with? Your career's a mess, your love life's a mess, you have no family left and most of your friends have avoided you like the plague since the captain pocketed a few Gs from the Seis Rios cartel. You might still be able to pass the physical ed for police work, but the strain and stress of these streets has taken its toll, your mind weary, your body ragged and your cinnamon-colored fur dulled from the stress and lack of care. You sigh, putting the photo album away and putting on your uniform. It was going to be a long night. It always was.
***
You're out on patrol, the cruiser you're driving as worn out as you feel. In the passenger seat, a rookie, some lynx named Murphy who still harbored dreams of changing the world for the better and standing for truth, justice, and whatever other bullshit they throw at you at academy before the bureaucracy and shady higher-ups ruin your life. Did he mean well? Maybe. Perhaps that's why he volunteered for this precinct. Was this kid probably going to get you both killed? Yes.
You finish handling a domestic dispute, some alley cat standing drunkenly in his skivvies while a skanky looking poodle demands charges be filed against him for being a "abusive, lying, no-good fuck". The cat isn't helping his cause, yelling both at her and Murphy while he tries to persuade the cat to go somewhere else for the night. You know it only takes a few seconds for this to turn into a dangerous situation, so you keep darting your eyes back and forth between the two. Finally, the poodle grabs a pair of pants off the floor, throws them onto the walk, and the cat storms off, howling and cursing. A fairly tame resolution compared to some of things you've seen.
You and Murphy wrap it up and start finishing the report in the car, you at the wheel instructing Murphy what to specifically include in the report. As you turn onto Halsey Street, something catches your attention...   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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