The bums and the tweakers, the ones with GRID and the child prostitute runaways, they'll eventually come back to the tunnels. They always do. It can have them, for all I care. Nobody wants them around. Except maybe that thing. And I tell you what; I hope to God it never gets tired of 'em.
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Officer Joseph Renz, 37, Sterling Police Department.
Male pronouns only. Normal- I'm not gay or nuthin.
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Foreword : This character is intended to hold bigoted beliefs. As such, he is an ableist, classist, homophobe, and misogynist. Any usage of offensive language will be tagged.
#smoke break — ooc
#loitering — prompt post
#comms — sent asks
#ten four — received asks
#loud and clear — reblog
#in pursuit — interaction
I designed these two after watching The Ring. I'm feeling tired right now. It's kind of weird and I don't know if I like this.
Regardless, these two both have canon endings, and Renz is very tied to getting his neck broken at the bottom of a well. Michels, I haven't a clue. I think it would be funny if he was dragged down and slowly died next to the corpse of his best friend. But who's to say. all i have fleshed out is thay he dies second and slowly loses his mind.
Every single time someone mentions police role-playing in a sexual context I think of this tinder interaction and I instantly become absolutely stricken with laughter
After a little over forty minutes (John had miscalculated the time it took, mostly because now he wasn't sprinting and was dealing with the consequences of running on his poorly leg) the Priest finally arrived back at his house.
he was sweating now, just a bit, enough to have his hair sticking a little bit wilder and hands wet.
”Uhm. Officer Renz?”
he called, trying not to startle the man too much. The whole situation was startling. He didn’t want to make it worse.
(@agunwithonebullet)
He’s sat out front, idly sitting in the doorstep he cleaned. No more traces of blood or various different fluids. It smells more of chemicals than it does blood now.
He’s doodling on a notepad, but when he looks up at John, his face is familiar. Especially in how he scans John’s face first, looking for something. It was guilt, that night, but it’s unclear what it is now.
All that’s certain is that he goes red in the face and quickly looks back down at his sketch pad, scribbling a little faster.
One eye. That’s new. That’s real new. Gives him an air of mystery. A
“ Hey-o, Ward. Long time, no see.” He tries to look unbothered, but it’s easily not the case. “ Check it. Good as new, huh? Maybe even better? Hard to say, ain’t it?”
he said, face twisting into a little smile. It was awkward, jerky. The last time he’d seen this man was… fuzzy, distant, but he knew it was from his arrest. With Amy. his teeth showed, smiling submissively, like a Dog. (Showing that he wouldn’t fight. He was better now.)
he even huffed a little at his red face and the sketching. he hoped it wasn’t evidence. that it wasn’t something that could hurt him.
he pushed his hair out of his face again.
”Thanks again. For all of this. I.. I didn’t know what I would’ve done with everything.”
John stared over at his door, the deep scratches still there, of course, with drips of blood stuck within them, but the claw was gone. It was all gone. he let out a heavy sigh of relief.
“And… long time no see, too?”
he held out a shaky hand, waiting for a handshake.
He takes John’s hand with a grin. It’s shaky and unsure, but his smile is there all the same. His grip is firm, but not painful. Trying to make sure he’s really there.
“ Hey, ’m a public servant. I’m here for you. What I’m meant to do. Well… maybe not all this, yeah, but. You’ve had it hard enough.”
What a pitiful sort of man. He’s been sweating. Running? Could be. Weak. Not that far at all and he’s falling apart at the seams. Guess that’s why he’s a preacher instead of anything useful.
“ Let’s get you inside, yeah? Did a little housekeepin’ while you were out, just t’ make sure nothin’ snuck in while I was busy. Back door’s locked nice ‘nd tight. Sink’s empty, garbage out… just wanted t’ make your life easier, ya know? Get you a nice weekend.”
He stands up and stretches a bit, beer bottles sitting behind him on the step. He picks those up, showing off one to John.
“ … And, hey. I don’t figure you drink, but if you wanna get into the habit at all- heheh, pun unintended- it’s not bad to start with company. Or… uh, don’t make a habit of it, actually, historically bad. But if y’want a one-off… these are gettin drank anyways, can’t hurt to share them.”
It’s selfish, but he wants the man to unwind, even if he won’t. He’s got sad eyes and hair in his face makes him look like some movie girl who just escaped something terrible. Every man’s dream to brush it aside and soothe the sucker. Terrible luck John happens to be a man. Guess he’ll stick to trying to bribe him with drinks.
his hands were cold. Very, very cold. Much like a corpses hand. The deep scars covering the middle of the front and back seemed to be the sturdiest thing, and for how grotesque they looked they were… strangely soft.
he even blushed a bit at the words. Smiled a little wider, a little more genuine. Sounded even stranger now that they were face-to-face, the expressions in contrast to the monotonous voice. he… nobody had done. Anything like that for him in… years. And years. (And years.)
“That’s.. really nice?”
he sounded almost confused. Unsure. Didn’t know why a man who saw him at his almost-worst would want to help him.
(Probably charity work.)
“S. Sure, come in. Or well, I guess you already have, but. Uhm. Yeah.”
his eye contact was weak at best and non existent at worse. Flickering all around up until he took the beer and limped (heavily) to the door and opened it, holding it open for the officer.
“And. I… normally I’d say no, but I think I’d appreciate a drink. ‘S been… a hard time for me.”
He turns away to cough, and does an unseen fist pump. One isn’t enough to get either of them drunk, maybe a touch tipsy. Enough to relax. Ah, who knows, maybe the priest goes psycho when under the influence. Probably a little more susceptible to the alcohol. But too high strung to be an idiot, that’s for sure.
Now invited into the house, he doesn’t feel so weird about being there. He still waits for John’s move- it’s probably to the living room or the kitchen, or maybe-?
“ Yeah. Let me tell you, it’s a strange view as an outsider. Just can’t catch a break, can you? Figured you wanna enjoy the few you got.”
He’s much more confident in himself now and the bottle isn’t even open. He’s the man in the room anyway, he’s the most competent of the two. Course, talking about how bad the preacher has it can only work as a topic for so long.
“ And to think it was warm out there but you’re chilled! Some people are natural heat sinks, but damn. Would suggest to sit by a fire and heat yourself up, but looks like you already did.” The officer gestures to the scars. “ Well- not burns, sure, but you get it. Makes you mysterious, like one of those saints of yours..”
He lets his eyes glide past the room with all the crosses, like it isn’t there.. He went inside, why wouldn’t he? Just curious how close he keeps his files guarded…
“ The uniform really that comfy? It’s, uh…” He carries a bottle opener on his keys. He pops open his drink, and gestures for John to pass his own. “ It’s a cassock, or something. I mean- wow, if you’re wearing it for fun, havfta be something soft and easy. Truly the man’s dress…”
John smiles, leading the Officer into his living room. The furniture seems basically unused, throw pillows a little dusty, but the room itself wasn’t ugly. Just a little bare.
he looks back over, a little embarrassed at the comment Renz made.
“I. I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you about my Stigmata before I shook your hand. And… the cold. I’ve always ran cold, even as a kid. I think.”
he sits down on the couch, politely crossing his ankles and gestures for Renz to meet him there, handing over his bottle (and kind of obviously avoiding touching his fingers to the other man’s.)
The soft fizz of the bottle seemed to draw him to it, looking down at where the officer was holding it till Renz started speaking again.
“Oh! Yes, it’s very comfortable. I have quite a few of them. Honestly, I’m so used to wearing one casual clothes feel a little foreign.”
he laughs, choosing pointedly to ignore the last part of the sentence. Sure, it was… technically true, sure, but it felt awkward at best to think that he was wearing a dress. Because,,, it. It was, but it wasn’t a woman’s dress.
Nobody’d ever said that to his face. Sure he’d heard whispers when he started. Basically only wearing them. But it wasn’t a whole different thing to have a more.. (objectively) masculine man say that to him.
It kind of showed on his face. A little bit pinker around his nose and his cheekbones. Still. he’d ignore it. he took his beer back and took a swig.
That fizz makes him feel a little more settled, like this isn’t weird. It’s stupid, but this is where he feels like a man the most. Performing as he’s meant to.
He sits on the couch with John, crossing one leg over a knee casually. What a blessing that their hands don’t touch. He might’ve fumbled, just for a second, and he doesn’t want to lose what composure he’s given himself. John himself doesn’t seem too put together, but that’s hardly news. His nose looks a little rosier, though, so Renz pauses to take in the sight. How should he draw that?
“ Stigmata… fancy words, thought that meant nuance, or whatever. Wish my uniform could be as cosy as yours, hah…”
He takes a drink himself and lets out a small hum. Talking about himself isn’t a strong suit, but he won’t shy away from it. Should he ask about John? The priest stuff is clearly sensitive. Would that set him off?
“ Got into the academy, ‘cause my old man was in the military. Lost him sooner than I shoulda cause it made him lose his mind, war and stuff. Figured I still wanted to serve the community, but… didn’t wanna go insane seeing shit couldn’t bear.”
A half shrug. The loss is more bitter than sad. He doesn’t mind talking about it. It was a weakness he’s just not got, so why would he care? Shellshock is a nasty thing. John kinda looks like he’s got it, but he saw those files. Just mild anxiety, apparently. As fucking if.
“ You always plan to be a preacher? Can’t imagine a kid lookin’ up and saying they’d wanna be in church for the rest of their life.”
he nodded, taking another sip, looking pointedly at his tie, and buttons, and sleeves. Definitely uncomfortable.
“I— I mean scars. They’re the wounds of Christ, you know. A few saints, priests, have had them show up. It’s a religious miracle, sort of like possessions?”
Ward explains, lifting up his empty hand to show it to Renz.
“I. Have the other ones too. My feet, my,”
he pressed into his side, between his ribs.
“Side. The proof of my devotion, I guess.”
after showing where it was sort of vaguely, he let his hand rest on the couch cushions.
“I definitely see where you’re coming from, ha. Though I do think chasing after criminals would be harder in a…” he cringed, “dress?”
John then paused to listen, diverting his full attention to Renz.
“That. Makes sense. Th’ fear of losing your mind is a strong push towards anything. There’s a lot of shit that happens to you there. Sometimes we’ll get them in church. It.. was probably a good choice that you became an officer instead.”
(It was a little ironic, talking about avoiding losing it with a lunatic. Still, John seemed more centred than he was while getting arrested. Anyone would have been wrecked seeing the things that he’d seen.)
“Actually. I, uhm, kind of always did? I was raised in the church. And my mother, mother-figure, I mean, Sister Miriam, was a nun. So it just made sense for me to follow… in her path, even though I can’t remember it very well. Church was always nice for me. So was the Bible. Just… a release from my day-to-day life. Even as a child.”
“ … Religious miracle, huh? Some scars? Honestly, you… a religious miracle. I can believe it.”
He says it fairly genuinely too- bit too much? He glances away so that it isn’t entirely obvious his face burns. Fucking idiot, do that, yeah, encourage the man’s delusion. Talk about how scared you are about going insane with the insane guy. Leave your gun in the car. See where that gets you.
“ That’s neat, though. Never thought someone would have such a defined path in life. Hardly anyone ever does. But you’re real determined.”
Over the bottle, he keeps glancing to where John gestured on his body. It’s that one thing, psycho… psychossoma… ? Psychosomnia… psycho. Thing. Where they’re just… it’s all in their head and they do it because they think they have to, not aware. That fake shit. He did it to himself, clearly. Sick guy. He pities John more.
“ … Truthfully, I’d rather run around in a dress than these stupid tight pants.” Too tight. He crosses his legs a bit more. “ Hey, what do I know, only ever worn this shit most my life. Maybe a... cassock wouldn’t be too bad to try out, one of these d- wait- I. That’s not allowed, is it. Some kinda… sacrilege? Nevermind that, hah.”
God, he’s not looking for the offer anyways, that’s for sure. A priest is allowed to, but that shit would just make him a queer to do. He winces just at the thought. Just needs to shut up and drink, he’s always overthinking stupid shit…
he took another sip, a larger one this time. his Adams Apple bobbed as he swallowed, just a couple times before he took it from his mouth.
he turns to Renz, looking a little melancholy.
(coming to the realisation that he sounded insane.)
“Don’t. Worry, if I were you, I wouldn’t believe me either.”
It was… more similar to the look he’d had on that night. Distant and vague, a non-smile but not a frown. Just empty. The reminder that he’d never be believed by anyone other than… Well. The witnesses. Father Garcia, Isaac, …Amy. Gary.
he looked a little embarassed at how the officer kept glancing at the scar. Felt like the glances hurt, were burning under his skin, digging between his ribs like a blade. he shifted his arm minutely to block the look, pulling it closer to his body, leaning harder onto it.
“Yeah. Look’s uncomfortable. You. Your uniform, I mean.”
he gestures, face returning back to normal, the moment passed.
(he really did look crazy.)
“Wearing the cassock would be… sacrilegious, per se, but. You definitely shouldn’t. Especially not with my Collar.”
he laughs, lightly tugging on it.
“Though, Officer, if you wanted, I’m sure just the dress wouldn’t be that bad.”
(…it was strange. Feeling so comfortable with a man while not even knowing his first name.)
… What a thought that would be. Loose black fabric instead of the uniform that made his body ache. No stupid hat, no flashy badge, no unnecessary tie. Just.. the cloth.
It’s brief, but he lets his eyes shut to imagine it. It’s that soft fabric, in his mind, the kind he used to wear when he was younger and had free time. Black, soft. Not shiny or overtly fuzzy. Just soft. Breathable. Loose, breathable, gently swaying, if he just spun… how would that feel? To be free, loose, a carefree dr
Fuck! Fuck, no, no. Pansy ass shit, why the fuck is he even thinking about this? He never thinks this gay shit. It’s the fucking company. It’s the fucking priest, that’s all. Back to the conversation, back like this thought never happened, like he didn’t lean back and let his eyes shut, smile, imagine something.
… What was it, that they were taking about?
“ Hey- hey, hey, Ward, look.” He uncrosses to sit a bit more seriously. “ I know you saw right through that- I might not believe in most religious stuffs, but. I sure believe in miracles. Happen every now and then in my line of work, run of the mill miracles. I can’t tell you when, and I sure as hell can’t tell you how, but… I can tell you had one.”
He laughs, despite himself.
“ Hell, maybe you are one. Wouldn’t know for who, but you can’t ever rule it out.”
he takes a longer drink, the bottle draining faster than either of them thought it would. he hadn’t had a beer in a long time, clearly, but he took it like a champ. his face continues to flush and he leans back against the couch cushions, looking to Renz and then up to the ceiling. (a splotch of red stains the spot directly above them.) he isn’t sure if it’s real.
”Uhm.”
he swallows, pushing his hair back again. He wasn’t sweating anymore, the cool air pumping through the house bringing him back to his normal (corpse-like) temperature.
“Fuck. Sorry, this is stupid.”
he blinks at the ceiling and the red stain is gone. No blood dripping from his bedroom and onto them. he lets out a breath.
“What… what’s your name? I know that you’re Officer Renz but it hardly feels like you’re on the clock right now. Feels too professional. ‘Nless you want to call me Father, of course.”
... What was that? He glances up to the ceiling, expecting some kind of bug he accidentally might've let in. Nope, nothing at all. Ah, what the hell, it's the priest, 50/50 it's some bullshit he's not gonna get.
" Oh, no, yeah, I agree. This isn't going up in a report or nothin', so it doesn't really matter..."
A half shrug before he answers.
" 'Ts Joseph Renz. Pretty sure Joseph's a biblical name, but nothing the guy did really stuck with me whenever my parents tried telling me. Call me whatever you want though, I'm hardly your boss. I won't be calling you Father, though, that's for certain..."
Priest seemed to hold his alcohol well. Thank god, he didn't really want to deal with John if he couldn't. Nothing more embarrassing than having to play babysitter for another man out of his mind, and who knows what shit he'd be rattling off. Or maybe just cry about his ex-wife.
" Ah- should I call you John? I've been defaultin' to Ward, you'll have to forgive me, hah. Habit that's hard to break. Sure willin' to give it a rest, though. And, hey, much better than preacher, that's for sure."
John said softly, leaning into the couch a little bit more.
“S’ a good name.”
another sip. his eyes seemed to go half-lidded, blinking slowly before shaking his head to. Bring himself back. Didn’t want to get too drunk. He’d have to drink a lot of water before sleeping, didn’t want to be too hungover the next day.
or maybe he did want to be hungover. An excuse to stay at home crying. Or puking. Or just in his bed. he deserved it for the day he’d been having.
he hoped he wouldn’t have any nightmares.
(he knew he would. The eyes on his porch looking through the window. Deers staring at him with the eyes of people. The squelching of guts below his feet. A man cloaked in red smiling at him.)
hnn. The red seemed to be piercing him more. he rubbed his eyes.
”You can call me Ward. Or John. Never minded either. I never really get called that. Or any other nicknames. I’ve never been called anything I particularly minded. It doesn’t matter much to me anymore. You,”
he turned back over at Joseph.
“You stop minding when people call you a Lunatic. Or a psycho. Don’t think I’ve ever been called something particularly nice. While I was in the ward, they used to read all the newspapers at me— if I could hear it or not. Ward ‘s much better than that, I think.”
… Guilty. He steers his gaze low, briefly trying not to be seen. He’s certainly used those exact words and lots more. He could think up some now. He takes a long drink so he doesn’t.
“ That’s some fuckshit- sorry ‘bout the language. That’s just… you don’t do that to a guy! Absolute bullshit to say that to someone you’re tryna help.”
He actually gets a little animated at the thought. Harder to hide feelings with each sip. You’d think nurses would know better!
“ Guess I’ll do either, then. Ought to call you your name, after all. Seriously! God, they couldn’t have just- that’s illegal, it’s got to be, that’s just mental harm and interference, then theyve got the gall to act surprised when you knew that girl was there because they fuckin’ read it out to you!”
He stops his rant and tries to settle. Not his to be mad about, but damn it! Assholes! These foul people, just because John..
John, yeah. He looks almost kind of tired the way he rubs at his eyes, and it makes Renz grin. Sure, he knew he’d be the more sober of the two, but he can be smug in his head.
“ Oh, I must be a terrible influence if this is actually workin’… y’good there?”
Honestly, he found the whole process exhausting. Going into a store, (ignoring the stares,) picking out clothing, (ignoring the stares,) trying them on, (ignoring the stares,) and inevitably walking out with nothing in his hands out of either sheer embarrassment or a hatred for the feeling of non-religious wear against his soft(sacred) skin.
he’s standing awkwardly outside of a mall, either half-closed or half-opened, unsure if it had just been built or it was being shut down. he didn’t particularly care for places where many people gather. (he was never sure if there would be a corpse there. never sure if he’d be lead down into the back rooms of the building and see piles of bodies and gore. he swallowed bile.)
When he looks at you, he looks almost relieved.
“Uhm. Do you think you could help me. Maybe. Pick out some clothes? I. Hate shopping.”
Off duty is a rare sight, rarer yet in decent clothes. Poor John, he hasn’t a clue what he just asked. Or, who.
“ Hey, yeah. You’re not much a shopper, more a buyer? Trust me, I know fashion, I’ll hook you up with something that isn’t terrible and doesn’t feel so bad.”
Entirely unassuming in his plain shirt and jeans. He nudges John in a friendly manner, entirely confident in himself.
John— bless his soul— Genuinely seems to relax seeing Renz. Something about how they met. Somehow. Seemed to leave a good enough impressions that a small smile even shows up on his face. his eyes seem to squint a little with the expression. he leans a little bit on Renz as he bumps against his shoulder, still not accustom to . Casual touch.
“Really? Th. Thank you. Thank you so much. I’ve been really needing new things to wear besides the. Cassocks.”
he twists a strand of hair that was hanging in his face before pushing it back.
He starts off confidently as if on an imaginary path, waving John to follow.
“ The Men’s stuff here can be pretty scarce if you’re not lookin’ in the right place. But trust me, I know this place like th- woah, when did they open that up? Contempt’s… Contempo Casuals…”
He comes to a screeching halt outside of the store. It’s not actually anything new, he’s just been too busy with other chains. JC Penny’s and Sears and Chess King move aside!
Renz is confident enough in the looks of this store to try to pull John in.
“ This looks real modern, might be able to find some REAL style.”
That being said, he immediately starts evaluating the ladies clothing.
he blinks a couple times, looking at Renz a . Little more hesitantly.
… the women’s section?
but . Well. he was . he’d never worn women’s clothes before. he knew that Joseph saw the cassock as somewhat of a dress, so maybe that was the reason, but glancing around at . Frilly shirts and jean skirts made his stomach twist.
Renz. Probably wasn’t expecting him to wear something like those. he was a man. They both were men.
(he has to wipe his hands on his jeans to stop them from sweating.)
It takes him a second to even realize what John could be opposed to, but he quickly spins around and holds his hands up in defense.
“ Well! I was just! Seeing if there was something unisex! Clearly not! I mean, if you out those on, it would be your fault, not mine, so…”
Shit, how can he wash this from his mind? Maybe John wouldn’t look terrible in some short skirt but that’s hardly something he can dwell on. He grabs the nearest thing he can and presents it and thank god it’s just some jacket.
“ I mean, this isn’t girls exclusive, don’t you think?”
True enough, it’s probably unisex. A leather jacket, but the sleeves have bright patterns sewn in. They look great from a distance, and kind of ugly up close.
Either he doesn’t realize the fact or he’s just trying to save his skin.
Honestly, he found the whole process exhausting. Going into a store, (ignoring the stares,) picking out clothing, (ignoring the stares,) trying them on, (ignoring the stares,) and inevitably walking out with nothing in his hands out of either sheer embarrassment or a hatred for the feeling of non-religious wear against his soft(sacred) skin.
he’s standing awkwardly outside of a mall, either half-closed or half-opened, unsure if it had just been built or it was being shut down. he didn’t particularly care for places where many people gather. (he was never sure if there would be a corpse there. never sure if he’d be lead down into the back rooms of the building and see piles of bodies and gore. he swallowed bile.)
When he looks at you, he looks almost relieved.
“Uhm. Do you think you could help me. Maybe. Pick out some clothes? I. Hate shopping.”
Off duty is a rare sight, rarer yet in decent clothes. Poor John, he hasn’t a clue what he just asked. Or, who.
“ Hey, yeah. You’re not much a shopper, more a buyer? Trust me, I know fashion, I’ll hook you up with something that isn’t terrible and doesn’t feel so bad.”
Entirely unassuming in his plain shirt and jeans. He nudges John in a friendly manner, entirely confident in himself.
John— bless his soul— Genuinely seems to relax seeing Renz. Something about how they met. Somehow. Seemed to leave a good enough impressions that a small smile even shows up on his face. his eyes seem to squint a little with the expression. he leans a little bit on Renz as he bumps against his shoulder, still not accustom to . Casual touch.
“Really? Th. Thank you. Thank you so much. I’ve been really needing new things to wear besides the. Cassocks.”
he twists a strand of hair that was hanging in his face before pushing it back.
He starts off confidently as if on an imaginary path, waving John to follow.
“ The Men’s stuff here can be pretty scarce if you’re not lookin’ in the right place. But trust me, I know this place like th- woah, when did they open that up? Contempt’s… Contempo Casuals…”
He comes to a screeching halt outside of the store. It’s not actually anything new, he’s just been too busy with other chains. JC Penny’s and Sears and Chess King move aside!
Renz is confident enough in the looks of this store to try to pull John in.
“ This looks real modern, might be able to find some REAL style.”
That being said, he immediately starts evaluating the ladies clothing.
//Renz the type of bitch to call a cig a fag (I need to kill him)
THE THING IS THAT HES FROM THE SOUTHERN STATES HE SHOULDNT EVEN BE CALLING THEM THAT but he gets away with it
… i got carried away under the cut.
The chatter of the station was getting too loud. Michels muttered something about a break to the guy manning the front desk and wandered out the back door, into the alley.
It was relatively empty- fliers and graffiti that was half the station’s own and a dumpster. From behind it came a whisper, and he stepped out further to check.
Renz squatted with his back against the wall, refusing to sit down and let his pants touch the filth of the ground. He waved the man over with a grin, and only when he was close enough for his liking did he speak.
“ Hey, fag?”
Michel’s face quickly went red, a mix of frustration and horror at the nickname.
“ Sorry?”
Renz laughed, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offering them out. Michels relaxed instantly, flicking it open and taking one with a grumble.
“ What, is that what they call you?”
“ Hardly. You can’t be saying things like that, you know.”
Renz only rolled his eyes, taking out his own and gesturing the man closer. Michels squatted down to his level and placed the cigarette between his lips as Renz did the same. Renz flicked open his lighter and they both leaned into the flame, the tips almost touching.
It’s how Renz always liked to light up. Michels only ever started doing it the same way because he liked watching the man squirm as he pulled away, conscious of how close they would get.
“ Oh, what the hell. They call it that in the UK, it’s not like I’m slingin’ words I don’t know.”
“ That why you only call them that around m, t’ keep out of fights?”
Michels stood back up straight and reclined against the wall himself.
“ Oh, please, I can take on any pansy faggot who gets mad at me for tellin’ them what they are. I get a good punch in and they go down for assaulting an officer, win-win.”
“ You and your smart mouth. You know that’ll get you killed, hotshot?”
“ By what, some homosexual? Captain’ll announce he’s a lady before that happens.”
“ He’s got the curves for it.”
“ Hey, shut up!” Renz kicked at him, snickering to himself as he imagined it.
The two fell into a nice silence, listening to cars pass by and the briefest scraps of conversation from inside the building.
“ I mean it though, quit calling them that.”
“ Drop dead, snowflake.”
“ Don’t say I didn’t warn you…”
Somebody inside the building yelled, the both of them flinching. Sounds like somebody wanted to know where the hell Renz was, and NOW.
The officer stood up and stretched before bumming his cigarette out on the wall and flicking it at the closed dumpster.
“ Yeah, whatever. Anyone with a brain calls it a pack of smokes anyways.”
He chucked the box at Michels before turning and stumbling through the door with a half apology.
Michels stood in the alley, alone. He was starting to miss the chatter of the station.
I get an officer dropping shit at my desk and he goes “Just so you know we got a John Ward” missing. And I go yeah like fuck we do.
So I ask him “You mean the same John Ward whose house I’ve been patrolling because of the vandalism.” And he goes “What? No.”
So I ask “The John Ward we had to release from jail and whose house I’ve BEEN PATROLLING because he’s a threat to the public?” And he goes “Absolutely not.”
SO I ASK “ WHO THE FUCK IS MISSING?”
And he says “ John Ward? The only John Ward we have in town, the fucking priest?”
LIKE GEE THANKS BUDDY I HADNT CONSIDERED WE WERE TALKING ABOUT HIM!
IF THESE NEW RECRUITS KEEP PULLING THIS SHIT IM BREAKING A CHAIR OVER THEIR HEADS
I would like to know if you have any public information you are willing to share on one John Thomas Ward of Sterling. I am a priest, we worked together prior.
I fear he has gotten himself into bad things as of late. I figured this would be the place to check if he has.
Tráeme buenas noticias,
@fathergarcia1987
Jesus, would it kill you to speak English in an official letter? This is Connecticut, for god’s sake, nobody knows that crap up here.
John Ward has been through a bit in the past few weeks. Got a complaint filed at his house because somebody had left some mutilated animals at his door. And then got arrested over a murder case- He was released on a technicality, but the public is aware of the threat he poses to them.
Keep prying into these things and I’ll get in trouble for telling you. Next time, ask the man yourself.
