Note! This is not an individual character. It is just a background story for officer Harding
The Youth gritted his teeth.
Things were getting out of control and he knew it.
Almost snarling with irritation as he stared down the barrel of his gun at the un flinching one eyed stare of
the cop who likewise had him in the sightes of his fire arm, His other eye, or at least where it used to be,
covered up by a simple black patch that almost lent him a pirate like quality in that hollow comical kind of way
that isn't even remotely funny when you think it through.
This alone would have been enough to make him feel uncomfortable but this guy was so calm. Worse still, It was
the wrong kind of calm. This was not the calm borne of confidence. Not the believe that he would win this that
he would be the victorious good guy succesfully protecting the public from one more drug corrupted youth with a
gun.
No this was the "don't care either way" kind of calm. The sad resigned look in that deep soulful eye gave him
the feeling that the instinc for survival that burned forever in the depths of every man no matter how well
burried, had indeed been snuffed right out.
And then there was the silence he had never expected that from a cop. No attempts to reason with him, No
shouting or trying to intimidate him in to giving up. Hell come to think of it, wasn't it a cops job to do that?
weren't they required by law to give some kind of warning or instructions to lie down on the floor? None of this
just that stare and the mutual aknowledgement that such roles were pre defined anyhow.
He guessed it made sense after all He was the bad guy and this emotionless rock of a man was the cop.
No not a rock that was the wrong word more of a husk. In the creepiest of ways. This was no Charlse Bronson or
clint eastwood that stood before him. This guys compusure came from being less than his opponent rather than
more.
He wasn't stronger. There was just something .........missing.
None the less the silence tugged at his nerves, his responses until his mouth began to fill with shouts and
threats just to fill the void.
"Drop it pig or i'll blow yar dam head right off".........nothing.
"Ya hear me ya one eyed fucking freak? or are you death as well as half blind?" He was hoping the insult might
have at least sparked a little anger but still the cold stare, that aweful empty stare.
"Fuck" He muttered under his breath.
He was probably starting to get twitchy, tense and he knew it.
He did not know how long he could keep this up and was not confident of the outcome of a waiting game.
So much so that he was wieghing up the risks of takeing that split second to shift his gun onto the cowering
store keep to see if that would stir him up, when it started to happen.
The lights flickered and went dim for a second, the tempurature droped sharply and something felt very wrong.
The windows of the off licence misted over from the sudden condensation.
"Dam it is there no heating in this place?" The gun man cursed. Shivering from the cold and more than a little
grateful for the sound of his own voice breaking the silence and distracting himself from things that his mind
just didn't seem to even be able to dwell on.
"There is nothing wrong with the heating boy. She is here"
He was startled by the sudden sound of the Officers voice and the drastic change in his composure.
If he had been expecting a cold echoey voice to match the face, then he was not disapointed.
However that detached, unresponsive face was gone. the one eye had widened in alarm.
"Put the gun down son. You have no idea what is at stake"
This time the voice was melting. it had an edge to it. An edge animated by urgency.
Siezing upon the crack in his adversaries inpenertrable compuser he raied his gun again at him and grined.
"you don't sound so tough now.......Harding" He read the cops name from the badge that caught his eye now from
suddenly being moved.
Officer harding had been holding the badge outstretched in his left hand and his gun in his right from the very
moment he walked into the store for a bottle of jack and straight into a robbery. but suddenly he was moving
it now.
The youth followed it's progress intently. Noticing for the first time that the fastening loop of leather at the
bottom that held in in place to the leather cover had been cut free. The thing now only secured by the top.
The reason why bacame aparent and Harding fliped it upwards to expose it's reverse face. the smooth blank
surface had been meticulously polished to the point of acting as a mirror.
Harding carefuly held the mirror backed badge out to his left to reflect the area just to his left and slowly
turned to bad until the kid chocked for breath and his eyes nearly popped out of his head and he knew that he
could see.
He jabbed his gun towards Harding and started shouting again. "What's that pig? What the fuck is that??"
"I don't know. She........follows me. Everywhere I go"
"Oh right so the copper got himself some kind of ghostly stalker now? Is that what I'm supposed to believe? I
don't know how your pulling this shit man but I'm not stupid. You'll have to do better than that you fuck"
"No. you are not stupid. The fact you are visibly panicking. The terror in your eyes. These tell me you are
sensible enough to believe the truth. I guess you could look at it as a stalker of sorts but she is more of a
scavenger really. I think of her as an Albertross. following a ship when it knows there is fish to be had. "
"back off man. Get rid of it NOW. I mean it"
"Be realistic boy. Don't you think I would get rid of it in an isntant if I knew how? No sane man would ever
have this in their life by choice"
In death she finds sustinance and I do a dangerous and violent job. By following me around and turning my life
into a living nightmare, she gets what she wants. She seems to sense the death of a person before it happens and
lies in wait like a vulture circling a dying animal. Tell me boy. I cannot see from this angle. Who is she
looking at? You? or me?
He recieved no reply from the Teenager who was now trembling all over but his startled choke and trembling lip
gave him all the answer he needed.
All agression had fled from him now. Were there once stood a violent young criminal, there was now a frightened
child. Still dangerous now though. Now more than ever and Harding knew all to well that the true gut clenching
fear that rose within him was what made him unpredictable.
"What does she want?"
"Your soul"
"Okay. okay calm down boy. I'm going to help you don't worry. Stay calm. put your trust in me and we will both
make it through this"
"Get it away from me man get it away" He screamed waving his gun around randomly"
" Stay calm man. This was just what she wants and just how she works. Playing on her targets fear and shock till
she turns them from a man to a mindless and frightened animal. Functioning on Adrenalin and instinct alone.
Trust me boy I know from experience that Adrenalin, guns and instinct are a very bad combination"
Hardings voice softened a little as he tried to talk the other man down. "Tell me son. what is your name"
"My name? Fuck you cop"
"Fair comment son. I see your point. But I want to help you and for that I need you to trust me. Now are we
calm? are we in control?"
The other man nodded slowly, forcing himself to bring his breathing back under control. "Yes" he wimpers "What
do I do"
"It's okay. Just slowly calmly put the gun on the floor and slide it over"
The youth begins to crouch and and bend towards the floor slowly doing as he is bid but his gaze is locked onto
the badge still and those bottomless eys of the thing he see's within. Such deep dark bottomless pits.
"Stay with us son. you are almost their. Yeah your doing real good just keep on going"
"She is changing. I can see her change. She looks different now. angry. so angry" he sobs as his gaze is locked
onto the badge now and he cannot tear it away. His arms suddenly locking. His face fighting for control and his
body shaking so much that it looks like he will have a siezure at any second"
"Yeah thats right. She's angry. She's angry because she knows she ain't going to get to eat today. We are taking
you off of the menu boy and she knows it........hey. HEY! boy? stay with me. stay with me boy, fight it"
But harding already knows it's to late. His voice goes unheard there is no longer anyone home.
"No" Harding screams as the youth stands up once more with slow jerky movements. His body struggling against
itself even now. But the struggles are futile. His arm lifts the gun once more. raising it up and turning it to
face his own temple.
"I won't let you do this. not anymore!" screams harding. Firing his gun.
********************
Officer Kleine drums his fingers on the dash board impatiently.
How come he allways got the shitty end of the stick like this.
His first fricking week out of training and he gets bundled in with this wako.
Sure every new cop gets gets partnered with an older expirienced officer but did he ever draw the short straw
this time or what?
This was the cop that allways had a table to himself in the croweded canteen and it didn't take a genius to
sense that this would happen wether he wanted it to or not.
The other officers voices would lower into a virtual whisper whenever his name came up in conversation. It was
said he had spent over a year in therapy and Nobody would talk about how he lost his eye.
Was this all going to rub of on him. Was he now going to be labled as the partner of the creepy cop?
"Dam it" he cursed. "What the fuck takes so long to get a pack of cigarettes?" Clambering out of the squad car
and slamming the door shut in anger behind him, he storms toward the kiosk. Glarring in through the glass
autamated doors for the focus of his frustrations. Senior officer or not, They we going to have words.
He picks up his pace, his lip curling up in contempt as his eyes find their target.
His breath catches in his chest and a moment later he is running with his gun allready in his hand.
Time passes almost in slow motion before his eyes as a shouting teenager raises a gun.
He thinks he is going to fire on the other officer but he is turning it inwards.
Towards his own temples.
He forces his leg muscles to go faster. To propel him to the scene in time to act. Against all the evidence that
He is too far away.
The young mans gun hand is reaches it's destination, disapearing behind the far side of his head.
"Noo" He yells breathlessly as if somehow His shouts could catch the youths attention and distract him away from
what he is doing.
And then the the explosion of blood. The distinct red spray of a bullet wound.
Vissible before the sound of gunshot reaches his ears.
A second later His scream echo's through the gas station and he clutches his mutilated hand.
Not loosing any of his momentum, Kleine suddenly finds himself stubling thought the doors that slide open before
him and into the shop.
Reversing his firearm in his hand so that he is holding the barrel, He ploughs unceremoniously into the man.
Clubbing him on the back of the neck and sending him to the floor.
His foot kicking his gun out of reach.
"You're under arrest you piece of shit" He screams. Kicking him in the ribs and dropping to kneel on his back
with all his weight behind the move. PUlling his cuffs from his belt and snapping them onto his unresisting
wrists.
"Easy there Kleine" Harding interjects. "Don't be to rough on the lad. I think he has suffered enough.
"suffered enough" What the fuck is that meant to mean? Thinks Kleine as he draggs the wimpering suspect to the
car and throws him in the back. Shouting a warning about not trying anything but it is clear that all the fight
has gone out of this one. He ain't going to be pulling no shit. Even a rookie cop can see that.
Now the adrenaline is fading from his system a little He is becoming more away that he doesn't really know what
to do next
He's never been part of a real arrest before. Let alone a hold up with a fire arm. He heads back into the store.
Where he finds harding scribbling a statement down in his notebook from the grey haired store keep as he fetches
a bottle of jack danniels down from the shelf. He stides back into the store suddenly feeling himself inflate
with the self righteous morals of a freshly graduated rookie. "Shit harding you can't be serious. A little in
apropriate don't you think?" Imediately regreting his outburst as that cold one eyed stare fixes him
impassively. "Don't slip in the piss now rookie" he responds in a tone that implies that this is all the
reaction that his new partner is worthy of.
Klein looks down at the puddle he is standing in and takes a swift double step back, shaking his feet to try and
clear the acrid smelling fluid from them.
"Awe shit man. What the fuck did you do to him? How do you manage to scare the shit out of everyone including
your fellow officers. There is something totaly fucking wierd about you. you know that right?"
"Hah. I guess i'm just scarry when the chips are down. It's certainly save my life more times than I care to
remember. And for what little difference that makes"
"what?... little difference? Come on man don't talk that way"
Kleine was perplexed now. Was this guy truely the psychotic manic depressive that the rumours made him out to
be?
"I think you should be a little more proud of yourself judging by how you dealt with this and the way you handle
a gun"
Kleine cringes at the way his softening tones sound almost patronising now.
He hadn't intended that. He just wanted to say something the fill the uncomfortable silence that allways seemed
to follow when harding finnished speaking. But the guy didn't seem to take offence.
"Touching. You almost sound concerned about me Kleine. I could almost feel complimented If I didn't know that
given time you will forget. Just like they all do"
"Hey store keep. Wheres the bathroom?" He turns and follows the direction of the pointing storkeep pushing open
the squeaky door. Pausing to turn his head to answer Kleines enevitable question before stepping through it
"That I'm just a man like everyone else"
Kleine gives up and turns to the storkeep suddenly more desperate for the feeling of a lung full of smoke to
sooth his nerves.
As the still trembling keeper lays the packet down on the table and raises his hands open palmed to decline the
money that Kliene proffers at him, from somewhere in the depths of the "staff only" part of the small building,
they both hear the distinctive sound of vomiting.
A strange queasyness grips the pit of Kleines stomach as realisation dawns upon Kleine. Suddenly seeing Harding
from a whole new angle. Not as the cold, hard assed shit scarry psycho that the rumors portray. But as the
victim that he in fact is.