Rough days

Stress has really been getting at me lately. My sleep has been rough when I get it, nightmares are becoming more common. It's getting cold here, and I still wake up in the middle of the night, sheets soaked with sweat. This weekend will be my chance to get away, maybe I'll go on a trip, maybe I'll her with me. Maybe I'll ask for her name.

Time away

Sorry about that massive gap in the posts. I got switched to the day time shift, not to mention the OT I've been pulling. There have been a massive spree of robberies and assaults this past month, hell if I know what's causing it, but we all had to take mandatory OT. Got paid OT wages for it, so it wasn't all bad, I've got a nice cushion to fall back on if I want to do something for me. But even still, I've been so beat at the end of the day, the stress had been just building and building.

I tried to keep in touch with her as much as possible, tried so hard I'm afraid I might have become too clingy. I broke down yesterday, the stress finally caught up with me, nearly begged her to come see me. I'm not sure what happened, or what led to what, it was one big haze. I woke up snuggled close to her in my bed this morning with this massive feeling of relief. I don't know how far we went, what we did, or if we just spent the night in the same bed. I think...

I think I love her.

Nothing much

My beats have just been a blur this week. This heat wave has been keeping people inside, even at night. Aside from a few parking tickets, a couple for speeding, I haven't done much. 

Dad and I had a fight yesterday, big one. About my career, and what I left behind. Dad insisted it was the family duty to take the blue, generations upon generations depended on me. I lost my cool, snapping back with how generations of dead men wouldn't care what I did, being an artist wouldn't be a disgrace to the family, stuff along those veins. Dad tried to get in a few words, but I cut him off and crossed the line, going off on how I was pressured in because of Harry's injury. He hauled off and slapped me, right across the face. The look on his face said everything I needed to know, if I hadn't been his son, I'd be a dead man. I stormed out, angry at dad, angry at myself. 

Sunday date

I met her at the park around noon today. Still no name. It was well, hot is putting it mild. An unusual summer day here, slightly cloudy, bright, hot. The park itself had lots of shaded, winding walking, perfect for strolling or just plain old lounging. I'd brought a small bouquet of lilies, hoping to at least show off my gentlemanly side. And she...well, I'll call her Silk Worm, and Silk Worm was...dressed to impress. Now, she was beautiful by the standards of a dimly lit alley at night, but in day? I had to catch a breath. 

We had a nice walk through the park and lunch after. This oriental place dad always took the family to when I was a kid. It had vastly improved from what I remember it, going from a half decent place to take the family to a regular outing for the businesses that surrounded it. I paid and winced internally. Prices had gone up with the surroundings, I could manage it, but it'd be fish sticks and tater tots for a couple weeks. Wasn't the last time my wallet would scream at me, we hit a crepe place afterwards, I had a peach crepe, she strawberry.

I chatted with her about, well, her. I tried to keep it informal and not sound cop like. Simple stuff, how she got into art, why she started tagging, etc. She turned a couple of those questions back around,  it was kind of uncomfortable going into why I became a cop. I tried to skip past the parts of my brief days in college, but...I might've let slip I wasn't exactly content with my job.

We parted after about an hour chatting on that little corner crepe shop. My heart was hammering again, I'd set it up for us to meet Saturday.

Days off

I' m lucky in that I don't have to work weekends. Saturday and Sunday are the days I can catch up sleep and pretend I'm a human being instead of a blue garbed creature scuttling through the city streets at night. Although it's mostly sleeping and sitting around my apartment. I barely spend time here as is, mostly to sleep and cook a few meals, then its back on the beat. Once I shake the whole "Rookie" thing, I should be able to get more reasonable hours (800-1400 is generally "working hours") and have some free time in the evening.

But as is, I've got that date tomorrow, middle of the day in some park downtown. I think it's a date anyway. I wonder if I should bring flowers.

Found her

Right where we first met, actually. That business man was finally completed, in all it's glory. Faceless, stiff, it was almost like the graffiti itself was watching me. It was unnerving, to say the least. But there she was, leaning against the wall, lit by the dim glow of a street lamp. She called out to me, no malice in her voice, her tone surprisingly neutral for someone I had tackled a couple days earlier.

We chatted for a long while, talking about art, her graffiti. The entire time she never removed a monogrammed bandanna that concealed the lower half of her face. I gave her my name, she gave me her pseudonym, "Silk Worm". What could I have expected, really, I'm a cop, she's a vandal. But she did promise to meet somewhere, no mask for her, no badge and gun for me.

We both went our separate ways, my heart hammering the entire time. Did I just agree to a date? Dad would kill me if he found out, the cop and the criminal. Ironic.

Absolutely nothing

Save for a bit on a "serial vandal", based on similarity in style. Makes it sound like grand larceny or something equal to it. I've taken down the addresses of the few that are near my beat, I plan on checking them out later tonight. Kinda funny, I'm doing a detective's work, and I'm a beat cop, one of the guys the detective's sic on someone they track down. It's not like I'm tracking down a serial killer, just the one that got away.

It hit me

It hit me this afternoon when I woke up and looked the mask over again. The large SW, the silk moth graffiti. Her alias is "Silk Worm". Now all I've got to do is put out some feelers, look through the database for anyone known by that alias, etc, etc. Typical police work.

I slipped up

I lost a perp last night. It was the perfect set up for me, I was walking back to my cruiser and caught her, right in the middle of tagging a building, a halfway finished man in a business suit. I didn't catch much of the details, I must've snapped a twig or stepped on something. Her head whipped to where I was, and she bolted, right for an alley. She was fast, probably used to ditching the heftier cops on the beat. But I'm a far ways from hefty,  and in peak physical condition at that. I risked it all and tackled her, we both skidded to a stop halfway down that alley. That's when I first noticed she was, well, a she, and beautiful at that. A mask tumbled down the alley, and I felt the unmistakable softness of a woman as we both fell.

I rolled off her and had my taser at the ready. Less paper work than my side arm, and this was hardly the situation where it could be justified.  That's when I noticed the mural. It was an incredibly intricate work made with spray paint, at a glance, it looked like a butterfly, but looking at it, it had more of the shape of a silk moth. I must've lost myself in it, when I looked back, she was halfway across the street, a fence with barbed wire between myself and her. No way I could catch her now. So I screwed up, but hell if I'm going to put that in the report. She did forget her mask, it had a large, white "SW" painted on it. Maybe I can get something useful out of it.

Another night, another beat

Last few nights have been pretty uneventful. Got to respond to a shoplift in progress, when I got there, the perp just gave up. Turns out the "gun" he was threatening the cashier with was one of those airsoft guns with the orange tip painted matte black. I found out the clerk actually had an automatic stashed under the counter and was waiting for him to get distracted emptying the till. Smart guy, that's very risky to confront an armed, jumpy assailant, but some of those gas station clerks get so fed up with being easy pickings that, well, you know.

Harry is on his way back, and  a good thing, too. Even though Hurricane Irene wouldn't hit where he was that hard travel would've been nigh impossible. His plane is supposed to be here pretty soon, dad's going to pick him up from the airport. If my beat takes me close to home, I'll swing by for maybe five, ten minutes. Just to make sure he's alright.

Harry's safe

Thank goodness. His car got totaled, though, some asshole freaked out and made him swerve off the road into a tree. Harry and his daughter were a bit shaken up, but they're perfectly fine, unlike the tree.

But a bit more on me. Some people might wonder why I'm posting in the middle of the day instead of late at night. Well, I'm a rookie cop, and in the cop world, that means I get the graveyard work shift. "Dusk to dawn" is what everyone calls it here, couldn't be truer on summer nights. At least my beat isn't in too bad of an area, worst I've had so far is running off a bunch of kids tagging, not some of the amazing, almost mural style graffiti I've seen around , just crude scribbles declaring their virility.

So, I'm off for graveyard. More on that later.

A personal post

My brother Harry and his daughter were in Pennsylvania visiting some small town on vacation when that earthquake hit. I hope he's alright.

Harry was shot in the line of duty when I was 19, four years ago. Left him with a permanent limp and a position off the beat, stuck behind a desk. I'd never seen dad so worried, he's a man of iron, never betraying any sense of emotion. But when Harry was shot...he was by his bedside every day until he was able to walk, stayed with him when he did his physical therapy courses. Makes me wonder if dad would do the same for me.

Most people would've tried to leave the force. Not Harry, he had too much pride, stubborn as a rock like dad. Even when he got stuck behind a desk, we never heard him complain, even though we could all see how much it hurt him, plain as day. They finally gave him a months vacation, recommended for years by his therapist.

I think I'll try calling him again.

A new blogger, a first post.

Hey all, my names Mason Goodwyn. There's not really much to tell about me, I'm a rookie cop, fresh out of the academy and ready for anything. The next in a long line of cops, stretching all the way to the constables of Medieval England. Every single male in the family is pressured to near the breaking point into joining the force, I never wanted this, but I'd never hear the end of it from dad and gramps if I went into the field that I wanted. It's a sad fate, and one that doesn't pay very well. Budget cuts and blah blah blah blah, enough politics to send the President running for the toilet.

But even with being forced to ride alone after a week, and a mountain of paper work for everything I do, this city needs people like me. Regardless of whether I like the job or not. I guess I'll either learn to love the job, or swallow my dislike for it.