2Morals and Heroes
Chapter 1
Author's Note
What's this? Morals and Heroes has been re-uploaded?!
Yes. Yes it has.
I have spent time regretting the fact I deleted my stories on Fanfiction. I wanted to write more original and serious works but I could never really find an edge with them. I could never really get a foot in the door with them, as it were. I find that with fanfiction I write better and it's more stress relief than anything serious. So, yeah. I'm back and probably here to stay. As such I'm going to finish my baby before I do anything else.
But in the time between now and when I stopped writing I found my first adult job at an adult special needs center as a training instructor that really strains and drains my will to do anything when I get home. Basically, I am very tired when I come home and find nothing to do but my modding work (P.S. my modding project releases for New Vegas on Christmas Day) so I am gonna pick up writing fanfiction again so I not only can possess a nice stress relief but also write for something I really enjoy.
By the way, did I mention I am terrible at coming up with original worlds to write about? Fanfiction is easier to write in general as well.
Well, that's my bit. Enjoy the prologue that just keeps dragging on. XD
I always believed in justice.
I always believed in doing what was right.
I always did my duty, and at times would question my orders.
If I had to arrest a suspect for the actions of another, I would at times think on it.
If I had to put down a rampaging Omnic, I would not hesitate.
If I had to give my life in defense of another - be it a comrade or a complete stranger - I would gladly jump in front of the bullet.
Morals and duty often have no place besides one another. But in the end, your morals are all that matter. "Did you do the right thing in end?" is the question you should always ask yourself. That person you arrested for a crime that he possibly did not commit? Was it the right thing to do? Did you follow your orders or would you look for the real perpetrator? That Omnic who is on the fritz? Is it killing because it wants to, or because it was forced to? Would you risk hundreds of innocents dying for the chance to help build a bridge of peace?
If your worst enemy lay in front of a mass shooter, and you had a chance, would you save them or yourself? Be a selfish coward, or a heroic martyr? A man who died a hero, or a man who died a coward in a hundred lives?
Morals are a virtue. Not a vice. A man who forsakes morals for anything else is himself a monster, and no monster is more frightening than your fellow mankind.
No Omnic. No animal. No cryptid. No dreams. Only man.
A man without morals is a monster indeed.
But it is by morals that I serve my fellow humanity. It is by virtue and justice that I wake up every morning with a fresh cup of coffee and a biscuit from the trolley. It is by my own will that I risk my life for all others; be it Omnic or human. And as I walk by the defunct recruitment station everyday, I always smile and stop to gander at the decrepit posters of Overwatch.
And at times when my faith in humanity dwindles, when I see a grisly murder scene perforated by blood and severed limbs, when I bear witness to a mass shooting with bodies everywhere and people and omnics screaming in sheer terror, I always remember that the world is not just inhabited by monsters. But also by heroes born to combat this insanity.
And I always believed that those who put their lives on the line everyday were themselves a hero.
But morals? A true hero had morals. Without? They were nothing more than a pretender...
Because a hero cared not for themselves. A hero risked it all for good and the lives of their fellows. A hero would not arrest the wrong man. A hero would put down the raging Omnic. A hero would save their worst enemy no matter the expense to themselves.
A hero had morals.
"Rrrrrriiiise and shiiiiiine, you beautiful people! Rise and shine!" a young, cheerful voice spoke above the dim light of closed eyelids and the deafening sound of nothingness.
"This is your host, Randy Offordson, and I would like to wish you all a Merry Monday from us here at 205.7! It is currently thirty degrees outside and no end to the snow today seems in sight! Be sure to get your coats before trotting out that door, hahah!"
I only groaned, and shuffled further underneath the covers.
"...with heavy snow. I would also like to remind you that a blizzard watch is in effect for the areas of Cape Cod and Boston. This watch will continue onto next week, where the temperature will lighten up - THANKFULLY - and we'll be trading in those worn out coats for some less cumbersome hoodies and jackets. So look forward to that."
With an exasperated grunt, I slid myself out of the warm embrace of the blankets and into the sharp cold air around me. My feet reacted rather negatively at first to the floor's bite, but the cold did not fare well against the warmth of my socks. I stood there a moment, looking for the light switch.
"...but that's what they said, of course! Now, eh, into further news. I'm sure all of you have heard - and possibly been preparing for - Boston's special guests today! The British Prime Minister and our proud President will be visiting our great city to rally support for our two nations to grow into a more unified force against the omnic threat. Additionally, later today, they will be discussing a new defensive treaty designed consolidate our status as brothers, not just neighbors across a vast ocean…. Now, we here at station 205.7 harbor no ill-will towards our Omnic listeners, but let's be real for a second…."
"That's not the switch… where is it?" I thought as I felt around. A loud crash in the dark sounded off, and I only looked at where I thought it came from. But I could see nothing. "Damn!"
"...nd we can only overcome our differences through peace and unity. But, for you Omnics wanting otherwise? Heh, well. These unity-talks have been a long time coming."
"That's not it either… where is it?" my thoughts echoed. Another loud crack in the otherwise somewhat quiet room. "Oh Goddamnit."
"Police will have certain roads blocked off today in preparation for the President and Prime Minister's arrival and it is likely we'll be seeing the most active police force in Boston that we ever have seen since that attack that happened a long time ag-err….anyone remember what it was called? No seriously…. I'm actually drawing blank..."
"There it is…."
With a swift motion, the lights came on. Revealing the once dark room's contents and enveloping everything with a low, comforting orange light. The windows were still shuttered close, and the bed was raggled all to Hell and back. I could hear the heater working its wonderful magic, but I moved to turn it off. It had been on all night and posed a major fire hazard.
"So you boys in blue get up and smell the roses, will ya? Don them blue uniforms and grab some donuts! You all got a big day ahead of ya! I-Hmm….perhaps this song will help you out?"
And so the speaker on the radio faded from a cheerful young man's voice to the beginning of trumpets and drums. I glanced over to the radio and smirked, happy about my choice of an alarm to wake up to. 205.7 was a great radio station. Tolerant. Apolitical. No religious talk. Only current events, funny skits, and great music. A lot of it came from the old 21st century. Plenty of it was modern however, and every night the national anthem would play with an Omnic singing the chorus.
How delightful.
I stood there, rubbing my eyes as a shed of sleepy tears slid down my cheeks. My weary windows saw only blurs, as each green-pupiled, bloodshot ball existed in a moment of faux agony in an early morning. Some people were morning people, but I was not, and I felt an existential amount of exhaustion as my will to sleep grew and grew by the minute. But I powered through and made for the shower - the only thing that would possibly even succeed in awaking me - and in a cold morning such as this it would work well as a makeshift sauna.
Undressing, not even bothering to shut my bathroom door, I turned the faucet and only stood there moment; listening to the sounds of water berating the shower floor. It sounded like rain, beautiful, beautiful rain. I stepped inside, and for a good half hour I enjoyed myself and my own company. Lost in my thoughts, the warmth of the water cascading down my flesh, the soap and shampoo destroying the collected grime of the days past and the sensation of a clean body at the end of it.
Of course, I winced when it was all over. The curtain being drawn back and the cold air of the damnable morning assaulting my every sense in a manner of painful reconciliation. Condensation was still sticking defiantly to the mirror, and as I brought my hand across the wet and dripping mess, I smiled as it revealed the tired brown-haired man underneath. I could see still that despite my best efforts to dry it, my rather cropped hair would still be soaked through and through for a time after. My eyes, a green reflection of an exhausted dreamer, were bloodshot to a good extent. But was normal for nervousness was all I had felt the day prior. I slept unwell, and only caught the sandman's spell at around one in the morning. But I wasn't ready to allow my own shortcomings to impact my work, not even in a less profound event. I casted my eyes downward to my deodorant went to work preparing for the day ahead. The radio still played in the other room, and I could hear it well the song it played.
At times, it could be annoying. At some times, if I knew I had a day off, I would sleep through the alarm. I would wake at noon to old Green Day originals - instead of Green Day remixes - playing. My neighbor was always good at making sure I didn't sleep all day though, bless her heart. An old woman at the age of ninety-two who lived all alone in an apartment across from mine. She was a sweet thing, if a bit off-putting at times. But one could hardly blame her. Her children and grandchildren never called and I was as close to company as she could find these days.
"Perhaps I should pay her a visit before I leave…"
I gasped, a sudden and shocking realization befalling me. I turned to stare at the broken mess of glass at my feet and nearly shouted with the frustration of a golden god. Those breaks in the silent dark were in fact a bunch of picture frames I had clumsily knocked over as I fumbled blindly for the switch. I bent down and looked over the shattered remains. The pictures were intact, but the glass frames were totaled and scattered. I was lucky not to have stepped onto a stray shard. Still, frustration surged within me as I recovered the pictures; one of me with my late father who had died in The Omnic Crisis, and one with me and my hick half-sisters from the southern states. I had gone to visit them some years back and we all went fishing. I was not an avid fisherman, however, and caught nothing. But them? Bass and catfish on every cast.
It's a sweet memory. But as I glanced over the pictures, a solemn want came from out of the blue. Not for my sisters, but for my father. The picture I held was the last ever taken of him before his deployment and the last time I had ever laid my eyes on him in a physical sense. We were close, and it saddens me every time I look at the picture. His unit was deployed in Germany to help beat back an Omnic force at Castle Eichenwalde. He was one of the first boots to the hit ground, and one of the first men to fall. Though his body was recovered, no one in the family wanted to see it. It was so mangled and defiled that even burial didn't seem right.
We cremated him, on a monday in the month of February. The only time in history that the Crouse family was all together in one place.
All my life I looked up to him, and all my life I wanted to be a hero, like him. He was selfless, upstanding, and intrepid in every sense. All my life, from my childhood to adulthood, I had respected him and wanted to be like him. Him - a soldier fighting in a war nearly lost - and me a cop doing nothing but patrols and the occasional foot chase. He had always wanted me to be in the military, moreso the Marines or perhaps just the Army. He always told me to, as he put it, "Pursue your wants no matter what, and I will always be proud.". Well, at the time I saw an advertisement for police work in Boston, and I had made up my mind believing I was gonna be a hero. He was disappointed, I remember it in his voice. But he never voiced his opinions OR his concerns and had let me be me.
Looking back on it, I regret it. The job was good but boring work. The pay was decent. But there was no excitement. Desk work, foot patrols, the occasional foot chase. I always wanted to be a hero, but I forked over that chance long ago at graduation...
And I know that I won't be getting that chance again any time soon.
"Stop dwelling on it. You need to get ready to go."
I sat the pictures down on my dresser and turned away. The room was still dark, and the light switch - bright as it was - was not enough to light it up in its entirety. I moved to open the shutters, and the dim dawn of the coming morning greeted me with both its benevolence and beauty.
It was time to greet the new day.
My morning passed slow. With a hot shower, lukewarm coffee, and more morning radio talk. It was boring, and moreso coupled with the long day ahead. I had my uniform situated on the bed and slowly made an effort to dress myself from sleepy boxer guy to police officer. The tie was always a hit-or-miss but this morning it was a hit. I was able to perfectly tie it and had placed my badge next to it. I was all but ready to go, but then I remembered that my breath was still foul and so crept into the bathroom to brush my fetid-smelling teeth.
At this time, it was seven in the morning. The sun was out, and I could hear my neighbors waking up. The outside was already starting to become a bustle. Civilians, tourists, and police officers going to and fro. Traffic backing up and curses being slung here and there. A few hot dog vendors preparing and moving to find a good spot to set up. I even saw a few military men in full battle dress walking the streets. Of course, in another world, this would seem like a police state under total martial law with the people acting as nothing more than cattle being milked for money and control. But on this day it was fully warranted. Boston was due for two very special guests today and the government, both city and federal, were taking all precautions into account in order to ensure the safety of our visiting dignitary and president. Of course, none of us were worried. Not only would the military, Secret Service, and local police be involved but a few British Royal Guards were also to be accompanying the Prime Minister under orders from the Royal Family.
Or so the rumors said. I knew I would find out soon. But I smiled in the way a fanboy would smile at the prospect of working alongside such fine and brave men and women.
I could already hear my neighbors moving about in their apartments. Walls devoid of the ability to block sound, and thin enough that you could knock and receive one in turn. It wasn't often a problem however as my neighbors often weren't home. They would wake, eat, go to work, come home and sleep. Rinse and repeat.
They were kindly too. Everyone in the building knew each other and respected one anothers privacy and traditions; just like a small town.
But annoyingly, the noise existed. Even when one could try and be quiet, noise would prevail.
The bathroom was still steamed, and the mirror thick with condensation that clung with tiny nonexistent fingers unto the parallel universe's glass barrier. With a swipe of my hand, I greeted both warmly and wearily, the young man underneath. I smiled as I noted my still soaked hair - a brown clump of cropped DNA - and that it dripped ever so obviously. I took hold a nearby towel and rubbed and shook, and soon it dripped no more. My bloodshot eyes conveyed distrust of the morning and hatred of its biting cold. Yet it welcomed all the same the duty my weekdays brought me. And it welcomed the grateful glances from the passersby all.
The windows in my sockets portrayed however a tired man. Racked with exhaustion, and controlled by a terrible nervousness.
Not the kind of nervousness one gets when they speak to their crush in the halls of high school, either.
It was anxiety that came from a day like this. From falling asleep with the knowledge that anything could go wrong on important matters, and as a police officer it was my duty to protect our visitors and our people. But anxiety was an understatement for how much I overthunk the whole situation.
Would that something go wrong, who do I protect in the end? Jump in front of the dignitary or shield my fellow officer? Drag the kid to safety or cover the dignitary's escape? Carry the dignitary out of the fire, or carry the Omnic away from the flames?
What if, should the worst occur, the Royal Family blames our country? What if the public sentiment turned against us? War between our fellows is the last thing we need now, and it would defeat the purpose totally of this political move.
Or, Hell… What if the President is killed?
I froze and only stared ahead, and for a moment I went completely quiet. Not even daring to move in my moment of realization. I quickly recovered and quietly snickered with a shy tone, for I knew I overanalyzed this.
And I still am.
My morning saw me out the door no later than eight thirty. I had my teeth cleaned and my coat pulled over. I had decided to remove my tie and replace my symbol of authority. As a final touch, my blue cap and my toolbelt. A cup of coffee in my gut, my wallet and keys in my pockets.
I had examined myself in the mirror one last time to ensure I looked professional. Nothing out of place. My cap wasn't crooked.. My smile plastered firmly on my face. I was ready to face this day, and in all honesty was excited to a good degree.
But I still felt a heavy pang of undesirable anxiety. But could that be helped? I do not think so. In the end, I believed it was natural to be nervous on a day like this. But dwelling on it would only make it worse. With a turn of a key, my apartment room looked shut firmly behind me. And I was greeted by a familiar voice.
"Mr. Crouse! How are you?" a cheery elderly voice spoke up. I turned to look at its source and smiled when I realized exactly who it was. Ms. Cremshaw, a neighbor who lives right across from me, was standing there. Outside her door, her cane and her purse in hand, and a ring of keys in the lock. I chuckled and turned to face her fully and spoke with a warm inflection one would give to a good friend.
"Devin. I trust you had a great night?" I asked. She sighed, as pitiful one an old woman can muster in a cold and boring morning coupled with that of a possible sleepless night. Much like the one I had suffered, really.
"Not really. Mr. Stripp - y-you know Mr. Stripp, right? - he kept me up all night talking to his ex-girlfriend on that loud phone of his." She complained with a roll of her tiny eyes. "It was fairly annoying."
I laughed.
"Catch anything juicy?" I gossiped with a sarcastic teenager tone. I even rose my eyebrows to add in some hilarity. This made her smile and laugh more so than I, and with a slight gasp of air she replied heartily.
"Hahah, oh my no deary." she laughed in turn. "I only heard the vocals."
"It's called hearing aids." I waved her off with a chuckle. I glanced at my watch and glanced back at her. I had left a little early and decided it was alright to stop for a conversation. But she surprised me when she stepped away towards the stairs. "Need any help, Devin?"
Devin Cremshaw was a sweet old lady. She had been living on the apartment block for as long as I can remember. Longer than I have even. She always kept to herself and never caused waves with the neighbors. She lived alone, the landlord not allowing animals and her husband had died nearly ten years ago. Her children don't call, according to her, and her grandchildren don't even acknowledge her existence in this world. At times, she finds the ability to leave the apartment to run errands and the like. It's how we first met, and I just couldn't for the life of me leave her to her own devices at her age. Often times I help bring up the burlap bags of veggies and meats, and I would house-sit for her when she goes out of town. I would pick up her mail for her when it came around, and I would in general just keep her company when she began to feel alone.
I do not envy her, of course. Her life as a loner at a ripe old age does not sound pleasant. All the more added in when the only one who seems to acknowledge you is the cop across the way.
So it is only fair I ask to assist. But her mere reply that she had nothing important to do was a good answer enough for me. The cold was bitter, and she had her own car in the parking lot. I was the one left to my own devices there...
"Ah, are you going to the Unity Rally?" I asked with a curious intent. Of course, I already knew the answer but part of me wanting a conversation with a friend spoke in my stead. The old woman replied with a happy smile.
"Of course! Who in this city isn't?" She asked.
"True, true."
"Are you going to be there?" She asked with a brow raised. I pointed to my uniform and smirked with tired eyes.
"I have to. Every cop in the city is being called in today to ensure the safety of the dignitary and our President." I replied. "...there isn't enough coffee in the world…" I added in a mumble under my slight, cold breath.
"Oh, you poor things. Standing for hours in the cold for a simple speech…." She stopped in her descent, turning to fully look at me. "I'm sorry."
"To serve and protect, ma'am."
She smiled and continued down the brownish snowtracked stairs. Another tenant passed by her, a dark coated woman of Asian descent fumbling with her keys. She stopped in front of me and mumbled something in her native tongue before realizing she stood in my way. A slight pause of inconvenience and she moved aside, adding in a "I'm sorry, sir. It's just one of those days…"
I smiled and agreed before silently moving by her. Following Ms. Cremshaw, I took my steps down the stairs until I found myself in the lobby, where the old woman was already devoid. I saw the receptionist at her desk, playing a card game on her computer while an Omnic was reading a newspaper in the corner nearest to the door. The lobby, unlike the stairs, was cleaner. A red, brown, and green mess of tiles decorating the floor in a pattern beyond me. Pictures of heroes long past like the founder of our country and the emblems of multiple military branches decorated the walls and newspaper stands, chairs, and bookshelves lay at the edges of the somewhat large room.
I saw the elevator, devoid of any contact.
The receptionist noted my presence and smiled, and I returned her gesture. She knew who I was and where I was going. The Omnic was uncaring, and frankly, I didn't know him. But I passed by them both without issue, but I turned back once more to see if the lady of asian descent was returning to the lobby. She was not, obviously caught up in an issue that found her back to her room originally. But these people tolerated one another well, and no one had given any other a sign of trouble.
I smiled, knowing of the long day ahead of me, and the fine people of this city I am going to meet.
"To serve and protect.." I muttered once again.
Traffic was at a complete standstill. Hovercars and hoverbikes littered the streets as people, Boston-natives and not, attempted to pass one another. Insults were being hurled, cars were honking, and people were generally just being people. Impatient and inconsiderate.
At least, that is how people are on the roads.
On the sidewalks, it is a somewhat different story. People passing one another and sharing their hellos as well as their fair share of hateful comments.
"Hey, I'm walkin' here!" Was one such comment.
"Watch where ya goin'!" Was another.
But aside from the general angry nonsense of the everyday man, you had others and their charmful words.
"Morning, officer!" Was one such warm greeting.
"Hey hey, boy in blue! Hey, be careful out there!" Was another.
Truly, I found it quite funny. At one moment you have a man yelling at a driver about how bad his driving was, or the fact he was holding up traffic but later all became cheery and warm to a complete stranger such as I. Sometimes I wonder if it was the uniform and respect it commands, but then I see how said man treats others he barely knows and I realize it's just luck of the draw. You either get spat on, or you get a hug. But with a figurative hug or loogie out of the way both parties would inevitably part ways onto work. It was nearing nine in the morning and most people would be going to, or already be at, their places of work by now. But some people, such as I, had no vehicular transport. However I go without not from a lack of funds, but from the unwillingness to sit in traffic for hours upon hours on end. Not all hovercars were restricted to near-ground level. There were plenty of models and types that flew through the sky but they were more affordable by the rich and powerful. I was neither of those things.
I glanced at the road, and noticed a driver sitting on their phone. Traffic was backed up on all sides of him, and I shook my head. Traffic had not moved for the entire time I passed by, and even when after I stopped to alert the man of his discrepancy, no one moved. No one.
I often get looks from my fellow officers for choosing to be a foot cop. Not many would like to do so, as it in of itself involved nothing more than walking. If you were called into a crime then you would run and tire yourself. A patrolman in a vehicle would not only get there faster, but also be fresh and ready to go as soon as they arrived.
Assuming they got through traffic, of course.
But the higher tier officers - namely S.W.A.T. and certain federal bureaus - had their flying cars on standby and ready for deployment. The patrolmen were jealous, obviously.
But not me. I was fine being on foot. I would have it no other way.
I soon found myself a few blocks away already from my apartment complex, lost in my thoughts. I lived near the harbor and every morning I would stop and glance into the water, and toss a penny for good fortune. I was never prepared to break my tradition and I saw no reason to start now. Reaching into my pocket, I took hold of a loose penny I grabbed from my dresser before I departed and closed my eyes.
Let there be no issues today.
The sound of a small object slamming into liquid sounded off, and even with the sounds of the city being so loud and busy I was still able to hear it. I opened my eyes with a slow glance downwards, and it was gone. My wish made. A man walked past me, patting me on the shoulder.
"Hey, good luck on that wish, fella!" He said.
I smiled and thanked him and continued on my way. I was still more early than I needed to be so I was in no rush. I kept my pace to a comfy minimum, and passed all sorts of people. Natives, foreigners, Omnics, cops, and even soldiers. They didn't spare a glance my way and they were always in duos. They looked like Marines, and were even wearing their woodland MCCUUs with state-of-the-art combat plating paired with helmets, garrison covers, and boonie caps. They were utilizing the standard issue of the Marine Corps - the M4A18. It was a beautiful rifle available only to the military; owning one was considered illegal due to the devastating nature of the weapon. A weapon with holographic sighting, a heartbeat monitor, a drum magazine of fifty rounds all for the caliber of five point fifty-six. I've heard stories of the weapon being used by the Marines back in the Omnic Crisis. It tore through Bastion units like tissue paper due to the fire rate it possessed.
I always wanted to fire one, but I knew these Marines would not even let me dare poke it. I was left to speculate on how strong the recoil was, but I knew for a fact the fire rate was enough to tear a normal man into pieces in only two seconds.
Marvelous…
"Morning, Officer!" One of the Marines spoke up as I passed. I stopped and glanced at him. He stopped his buddy and looked my way with a smile. "You ready for today?" He asked.
"Bleh, no. Not really." I admitted. "I didn't get my morning biscuit." I smiled. They both laughed, and his partner chimed in.
"Remedy that shit right quick, now. Otherwise you might fall asleep in the crowd." His bigger battle-buddy chuckled. I shared in his laughter for a moment and glanced him over. A corporal. Corporal Palaski. The other smaller Marine was a Private Flora. They both looked tired as well but they certainly weren't showing it.
"Fuck that, man. I'm counting on it!" I spat back, laughing at the end. The Marines joined me and a few passersby glanced our way in a look that conveyed really nothing but slight interest. "Who knows? Maybe the crowd of people will be a better pillow than that lump I got at home."
"How do you think we feel? Our bunks got some shitty pillows." Private Flora, the smaller Marine, chipped in. He elbowed his buddy and snickered as the taller Marine confirmed his claim with a high degree of chagrin in his voice. But he also added: "Hold on Flora, don't forget we got ourselves some bomb ass breakfast. Every. Morning."
"Hah, yeah! Totally forgot that. But it's kinda overshadowed by the rock of a pillow we all have." Flora responded, glancing over at a passing Omnic. The Omnic, although emotionless on the outside, showed considerable respect as he passed by - bowing his head to all three of us before moving on without another word - And Palaski took note on the Omnic's presence.
"There are a lot of Omnics out this morning…" He chimed dryly. I noted how he looked very distrustful to the passing automaton, and how his stance changed to a subtle defensive one when he stopped in front of us. His comrade, Flora, only bumped his shoulder with a sarcastic remark.
"Heh, maybe they're after you in particular." He joked. "Ooooh, the Omnics know what you did last friday night. They're coming for you, oooooh." He continued. But Palaski only jabbed him in the shoulder, the force of which actually sent the smaller Marine staggering but he looked no worse for wear. He only laughed at the end of it.
"Cut it out, asshole." Palaski taunted. Flora turned and glanced at me and quickly realized the weight of confusion that surrounded me. My eyebrows were raised farther than probably possible, and my eyes spoke volumes of what I did not know. He stopped his guffawing and answered the unspoken question which floated around in my mind.
"Ah, yeah. Sorry, Officer…." He paused, glancing at my nametag. "...Crouse. Officer Crouse. Sorry. Palaski here fought in the Omnic Crisis and… well. Let's just say he doesn't really trust them all that much." He explained.
"Well then don't become a cop in Boston then. Our chief is an Omnic." I replied as a matter of fact. Palaski's eyes went from anger to surprise. But before I allowed another question to be asked I glanced at my watch and noted the time. "Listen fellas it was an interesting conversation but I gotta get going. I want to stop at the gas station and grab a smoke before I get on duty."
"Ah, yeah. I understand. Hey, the gas station right around the corner on Fifteenth Avenue is handing out free coffee and biscuits to officers and military men today. You should hurry before they run out!" Flora mentioned. My eyes perked up at this and I felt my lips widen into a small but giddy grin. Palaski nodded to confirm his buddy's words and I moved to shake their hands.
"Well listen fellas, thank you for your service. Good luck on these streets and…" I looked to Palaski. "...show an open mind, Corporal. Not all Omincs are bad."
Palaski just remained indifferent.
"Nah, thank you officer. Y'all the ones protecting my kids while I'm deployed." Flora responded. "Have a good one Officer Crouse."
I smiled and bid them the same and we quickly parted ways. As I took my steps away from them I dared to stop and glance back at them, but they didn't do the same. I rose a brow in confusion and asked myself a simple question: Who were those guys?
I settled on the answer I preferred. Friendly Marines tired and wanting an excuse to stop their foot patrol.
I knew where Fifteenth Avenue was. Only a block away from the harbor and where I met those Marines. I stopped by it every sunday for a new pack of cigarettes and the cashier was a nice Omnic who often gave me a discount due to my being a police officer. Sometimes I would stop and buy myself a coffee in addition to my morning homebrew and sometimes, if I had a lot of time to kill and the trolley was not rolling, I would snag up a breakfast pizza or biscuit and sit down on the one of the benches located outside. Often times the place would be packed in the mornings by all sorts of people. Omnics, police, tourists, residents, and the list could go on. Compared to most gas stations across the city, the prices here were fair and not overbearing. It was also owned by the cashier. He set his own prices and treated every customer fair - whether they hated Omnics or not.
The road to the gas station, however, was blocked off indeed by a roadblock by a combined effort of police and military. They let me pass when I showed them my identification and soon I found myself standing inside the gas station. I was surprised by how empty the building was but accepted the fact rather easily knowing the main road was blocked off. Thereby halting traffic flow into this building. Sure, the other way had pedestrians moving to and fro but everyone seemed keen on getting out of here as fast as possible. The only occupants of the gas station were the Omnic cashier and a woman standing alone by the magazine rack nearest the frozen goods aisle. The interior was fairly simple, a single frozen section, a candy section for the little ones, and various aisles for other needs whether they be fast meals or cooking supplies. All fairly priced, of course.
"Good morning Officer Crouse!" The Omnic cheered in his metallic voice. He waved me over and the woman glanced my way. Obviously just instinct to see who had walked in. "Here for the coffee and biscuits?" The Omnic asked, leaning on the counter as I approached.
"Yeah, I am. Got a slab of bacon to throw on there?" I asked with genuine glee for I loved bacon biscuits. The Omnic chuckled and pointed over near the woman, towards a carousel where the biscuits were kept.
"Always for the boys in blue." He responded. "You know where they are."
Indeed I did. Approaching the carousel, I glanced the woman over as she unintentionally blocked my path. She was a small thing, reaching to about my neck in height and was wearing a thick looking black parka alongside a gray beanie which worked to shield her scalp against the cold weather of Boston. She had her head down, intent on reading through whatever magazine it was that enraptured her attention.
So much so she didn't even notice my presence.
Tapping her on the shoulder, she spun her head around fast like a swivel, as if I startled her to a grand extent. It was then I noticed her sunglasses. They looked huge compared to her stature, and they were dark. Much more so than any pair of shades I've ever seen.
I couldn't even see the outline of her eyes, just a face of slightly pale skin and freckles. I thought it strange, of course, to be wearing shades in this weather but I didn't question it. For frankly it was a free country and she was free to wear what she pleased.
But in all honesty, the getup made her look rather attractive in my eyes.
She stared up at me, with me being a head taller than her and it was obvious she was confused. I tried my best to reassure her she was in no trouble by offering a warm smile and pointing past her.
"Excuse me, ma'am. I need to get by you." I said. She looked to where I had been pointing, following my arm to the point and giving a surprised "Oh!" when the realization set in.
"Pardon me, luv." She offered as she backed away, holding close to her chest the magazine she had been wrapped up in. I was surprised to hear her accent - very British sounding - but I tried my best to hide my surprise. After all, it would be expected that many British citizens would attend the rally today.
After all, it is their Prime Minister who is speaking. The Pride of England some call of him.
I snook a glance and nearly snickered at the title of her magazine: The Adventures of Robolad. Issue number one hundred and fifty two.
A classic.
Moving by her, I glanced over the breakfast items and soon found what I was looking for. The most delectable biscuit to ever have graced the face of Boston. Bacon, egg, and cheese. Internally, I marveled at the delicious treat, and knew well how great this Omnic's cooking was. I quickly glanced over the rest of biscuits before grabbing hold on my dear favorite and quickly glanced it over once more before returning my gaze to the woman. She was back at it in her comic.
"Read Heresy Upon Midnight. Has to do with those German Crusader guys. Real awesome comic, that one." I offered her. She glanced up at me, then to the rack. Sure enough, there was an issue of it there but the number I could not make it out. An artist's rendition of the main protagonist, Heresy, was decorating the front as she smashed the Bastions around her with her mighty hammer. As usual, the cover was a dark purple, and only her eyes were colored. She smiled at me and nodded in thanks for my suggestion and I went to check out, knowing that the Omnic already had my coffee ready for me.
Stepping up to the counter, I glanced behind him as he rung my choices up. I spied around for my favorite cigarette brand: Montana's Pride. It was just my luck, however, that they only had one pack left. I had run out only days ago and today my stress felt through the roof. I pointed behind the Omnic, and he glanced up at me.
"Pack of Montana's Pride please." I asked. The Omnic nodded and handed me the glorious tasting pack. I heard footsteps behind me - the sound of boots hitting the tile floor - yet I payed it no mind. Most likely the woman was ready to check out, obviously realizing she shouldn't waste her day reading a comic in a gas station.
"That'll come up to five dollars." The Omnic stated, not bothering to even check for ID. I've been coming to his gas station for almost a year now and he knew me well. "Biscuits and coffee are free today for you boys."
"I know. I'm glad to hear it, Echelon." I replied. Echelon was, of course, the Omnic's name. "Didn't eat breakfast this morning." I added as I reached for my wallet.
"That's not healthy…" The Omnic remarked with a sign of sarcasm in his voice. His remark gave me cause to give a sly glance his way, then to my pack of cigarettes.
"Yeah. Unhealthy." I joked. Handing him the five dollars and change for the tax, I took possession of my breakfast and the unhealthy sticks of cloth and herb. I placed the biscuit in my coat pocket and made for the door, bidding the Omnic a great day. And as I stepped outside I heard the lady being rung up.
"Heresy….Adventures…..And a nutty bar…. Anything else ma'am?"
The door closed before I could hear her response.
But I did not care. It was none of my business. Stepping away from the door I glanced down the street and back to the roadblock. Traffic was still bad on the other side and only a few pedestrians were being allowed through. Mainly soldiers, foot cops, and those who knew the man in charge of said blockade. A soldier and his buddy passed me, and my eyes tracked them down the sidewalk, all the while I had sat down my coffee and harvested a cigarette from the pack I had just purchased.
A flick of my thumb, and the cold air bent back in fear of the new existence of fire.
Soon enough, the ecstasy of the nicotine had begun its work on my mind. The quiet, if interrupted every now and again by someone honking, worked well in conjunction with the cigarette. Each puff of smoke that left my lips was a joy like no other, and I found my thoughts being separated from the anxiety.
Another puff.
The soldiers were long out of sight, and down the way I noticed another group of pedestrians crossing the street, wary of being caught in between the next roadblock currently set up and the one being constructed at the end of the street.
Another puff.
And I sighed with a very content smile.
I heard behind me the door to the store open, and I heard the sound of her boots stepping past me onto the snow-covered concrete. She looked out of place with those sunglasses, yet all the same looked right at home in her parka. Her jeans looked brand new, and her boots seemed to do their job well. I could only hope they were waterproof. But all the same, my attention was brought back to the sunglasses and each time my eyes landed on them I would cringe internally. She was definitely not a native, and it showed rather obnoxiously. I had hoped she knew this but I wasn't going to tell her what she could and could not wear. It was not my job, after all. I wasn't the fashion police.
Another puff.
I heard her movement no more and turned to look at her, and to my surprise I saw her standing there staring at me. She was frowning, obviously in reference to the product I was enjoying. I did not care. Her judgement was none of my concern. But still she stared, and still she frowned. Disapproving in an obvious manner. But I chose to ignore it and smiled at her, asking her if something was wrong.
"That junk's not good for ya, luv." She piped up, still frowning at my cigarette. Her bright and cheerful voice coupled with her accent was a true change in scenery for me, and a rather enjoyable-sounding one at that. Most people I've talked with today had the same old same old accent and same old same old tones. While I was not terrible upset at that fact, it was a true change of pace to bear witness to a British accent despite the fact that she was voicing her disapproval for my actions.
Another puff, but I chose to exhale in the opposite direction as to not inflict secondhand.
"Yeah, I know." I admitted, glancing down at the addictive substance. Yes, she was right. Cigarettes were bad. I knew this as well as the next man. But even so I smoked them still. I was an anxiety ridden mess and this day really didn't help it. The nicotine really helped reduce my stress and calmed me rather effectively. Up until this moment scenario after scenario had played up in my head of what could go wrong. My worries had increased ten-fold. All up until this moment I felt so much anxiety.
Now there is bliss standing in its weary place.
"But I got anxiety. I don't really see any other way to cope at this moment. I mean after all, today is a huge day for us." I continued, being honest with both myself and her. She seemed to appreciate the honesty but it did not dissuade her as she turned to fully face me.
"There are more healthy ways than to light up a fag…." She replied. "...Gum is a pretty good way. Tasty too!" She said that last bit with the biggest smile I've ever seen. But I only sighed with a growing frustration. I've had this conversation a hundred and one times and I'm not willing to have it again today.
Another puff.
"You know, ma'am….." I started, casting a glance to my shoes. I quickly brought it to the cloudy sky and then down to her. I could really find no polite way to say this so I just decided to say it: "I don't recall asking for your opinion." I added with a squint at the end.
She only stood there a moment, either shocked at my tone or unsure of how to proceed from there. The glasses hid her reaction well. But she eventually huffed and stiffened her stance.
"I was only trying to help, ya pillock." With that said, she marched past me without even daring to glance back at me. I only watched her go, pausing to glance back at the new roadblock being set up.
I sighed and turned my eyes back at the cigarette in my grasp, taking another puff.
Was I unreasonably harsh there? Part of me wanted to believe so but at the same time I also knew it wasn't her business. But she was right. She was only trying to help.
Another puff.
I turned to look at her, but she was already gone. Surprising even myself with her speed. Did I really piss her off that bad? I didn't mean to. I was just so tired of people telling me what I should and should not do. I was fully aware of the negative effects of nicotine but at the same time I didn't care. It was calming. It made nightmares into calm days. It saved me from blowing up at my comrades at the station, and from the idiots that I would often deal with on my patrols.
I sighed. I knew that if this was a precursor to what the day in store, then it would be just another one of those days.
Another puff. The cigarette was nearing its end.
I stopped and looked in the direction she had walked off in, then glanced at my coffee cup. An eyebrow risen, and a confused air surrounding me. I voiced my thoughts.
"What the hell is a "pillock"?"
