Cody Long sighed as he walked down a crummy Brooklyn sidewalk. This wasn't his favorite part of the city, but it wasn't his least favorite, and it seemed as good a place as any to walk off his frustrations.
He couldn't believe this was happening to him. He'd deferred his dream to join the police force for a myriad of reasons over the years: First he had tried attending college right out of high school at 18, hoping a criminology degree would aid him in his future career. He'd had to drop out at 20, though, due to his mother dying in a car accident and his dad spiraling into depression in the wake of the loss. It had taken three years for Cody's dad, Justin, to pull himself out of the hole he'd fallen into. But he'd managed it.
The next blockade to Cody's dream had been passing the physical fitness requirements. He'd never been unfit in school (whether high school or college) but the stress of dealing with his dad's depression as well as juggling all the household bills and what-not had caused his fitness routine to slide: He'd been 40 pounds overweight when Dad hugged him goodbye before moving to a town two states away, looking for a fresh start away from the memories (and, incidentally, leaving Cody scrambling to find a place to live), the rent on the house too great for him to afford on his own.
But he'd put in the work to get fit again. He'd spent two years jogging and dieting and squeezing in every moment at the gym he could spare (and some he couldn't) while working one dead-end job after another, and it had finally paid off: he'd managed to trim back down into the swimmer's build he'd had before all the drama (some might wonder why it took two years, but Cody defied anyone to not have their weight yo-yo up and down a bit when they were in such a stressful situation). And even though a wistful part of him longed for a more muscular build (trim and fit was all well and good, but Cody had always desired the kind of bulk his genetics simply wouldn't allow, mom and dad both being slight of frame and slim of build), he knew he was more than ready to pass the fitness requirements.
But when he had eagerly entered the police department to ask for an application to the academy, he'd been informed that due to police cutbacks, the department was not accepting any new recruits. Was, in fact, having to let some established officers go. And given the attitude the city's current administration had to the boys in blue, it was likely to be years before the force was back on its feet and expanding its roster.
Cody had been devastated. It had taken a lot of will to keep from crying at the disappointment, actually, but he'd managed to keep a stiff upper lip until he got back out the door.
If he'd sniffled a little while riding the subway, the other passengers had either been too kind to comment, or too apathetic to care.
He couldn't bear the thought of going back to his crappy apartment right now, so he'd hopped off the train in Brooklyn instead of Queens and started wandering aimlessly.
What was he supposed to do now? He'd been so confident he'd quit all his other jobs (which, in hindsight, had been a colossal mistake), knowing the academy would be a full time commitment. He was 25, unemployed, and likely not to be welcome back at his previous places of employment, given how fast jobs were snapped up in the lower income brackets.
He caught sight of his reflection as he passed a large window. He chuckled at the thought that at least he looked good as he wandered around depressed. With light blue denim jeans, a red tank top that showed off his lithe build to good effect, black sneakers with white zig-zag trim and treads, and his light brown hair cut in a severe undercut, stylishly spiked with bright red tips, at least he still had his looks if nothing else.
He found his eyes in his reflection, and allowed another small spark of vanity: his eyes really were, pun intended, eye-catching. He was heterochromatic, which often drew looks all on its own, but the ice blue of his left eye and the forest green of his right drew even more. Admirers of both genders had more than once called his eyes "bewitching."
But vanity couldn't distract him for long, and Cody sighed as he prepared to continue his walk of depression.
Then he spotted the "Help Wanted" sign in the window.
Hope flared in him. Any job was better than no job. Stepping back, he took a look at the building attached to the window he'd been staring at for the last few minutes.
It was a simple edifice; red brick with a wide glass window, a standard glass door to the left providing entrance and exit. A blue neon "Open" sign flickered in the upper left corner of the window's glass. The smells his nose could detect, now that he was paying attention, identified it as a restaurant of some sort, though he couldn't tell what kind due to the glare of light on the surface of the glass. He tiled his head back and looked up at the sign.
"It depicted a muscular, heavily built man kneeling as the sky poured downward to rest on his broad shoulders. A river of stars, moons, and planets rested on the left, even as the sun weighed heavily on the right. Even though the image's head was tilted down, face obscured, the figure gave off an image of quiet dignity, as though he accepted his responsibility with grace even as the weight of the burden crushed him. On either side of the man's straining torso, large old fashioned calligraphy proclaimed the name of the restaurant: "Atlas' Weight."
Cody didn't hesitate; he opened the door and strode right inside. They needed help, and he was more than willing to provide.
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