Number 7

"Excuse us. Coming through."

Flashing his badge, George's partner was able to force his way through the line with a smile on his face.

Everyone seemed to step out of the way, fear in their expressions as they avoided the man for the sole fact that he was a police officer.

'I suppose nobody wants to get in the way of our business.', George thought.

"Ah, good evening officer Bentley. And who is this young gentleman with you? I haven't seen this one before."

"My new partner. He's going to be helping me out quite a bit, so treat him nicely, will you?"

"Haha... of course. Please. Come on in."

The bouncer seemed to know George's partner quite well, and the two were allowed inside without a fuss.

"You come here often?"

"Well of course I do. This is a hub. Follow me."

His partner shuffled his way through the night club, eventually finding his way to the bar.

Some people were sloshed over themselves, speaking in an incomprehensible manner. There were a couple of men who quietly pushed more drinks toward the women that they were with, their intentions obvious.

'But that isn't any of my business, so long as they aren't disobeying any laws.'

George looked around, watching the people with discomfort, however he quickly focused on his task.

'Even if these people are out partying and getting drunk, they are still citizens. And it is exactly my duty to protect these citizens.'

Resolving himself once more, the man instilled his sense of duty within himself.

"Heyyyyy... aren't you looking good tonight? The usual?"

"Two of them. Give my new partner a little extra kick, will you?"

A woman who was working at the bar called out to George's partner, who responded in kind.

"Hm? What are you talking about?", George asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Ah, sorry about him. He's new, so he has yet to learn the ropes. Give me just a sec."

Placing his arm around George, his partner led him off quietly as he whispered to him.

"Listen up, rookie. When you wear the badge, there are a lot of benefits that come with it. This happens to be one of them. It would be rude to just refuse those benefits, wouldn't it?"

"Are you telling me that you're going to drink on the job just because you can get some free drinks?"

"Don't be so loud about it."

Gazing around him, the man ensured that nobody was staring before whispering to George once more.

"If you're so tight about everything then you won't-"

"Then I won't what? I won't get anywhere? I won't rise up in the rankings? I highly doubt that drinking on the job will get me anywhere except a dumpster, wasted and wondering what happened."

Shoving the man off him, George began to walk off.

"I have a duty to perform. And if you intend to sit around wasting yourself when we could be helping people, then you've got the wrong idea of what it means to wear the badge."

"You... you're a cocky one. Acting like you're my senior when you're just a rookie who doesn't understand shit about this job..."

"I don't need to understand shit to know that I shouldn't be drinking on duty. If that's all you've come here for, then I want no part of it."

"Rookie."

Suddenly, George's partner spoke up, his voice tense as he took a serious tone.

"You're going to regret taking that stance. I'll forgive you for tonight since you don't know how things work, but if you were with some of the other officers then you'd probably have your face bashed in at this point. If you don't change your mindset about what it means to be a cop, then you had better leave this force."

With these final words, the man turned around as he headed back to the bar.

'Is this really how all the other officers are?', George wondered. 'No... that doesn't matter. I should be-'

Suddenly, a popping sound was heard.

The music was blasting his ears, so it was just loud enough to overcome the rave, however without a doubt George heard the sound.

'A gunshot!?'

Turning quickly, the man gripped the pistol at his side as he rushed in the direction of the sound.

"Excuse me, coming through!"

The people moved reluctantly, giving him nasty glares all the while, but George ignored such a thing as he rushed outside into a parking lot.

It was there that he saw it.

Laying on the ground in a pool of blood was a woman.

Her head had a hole in it, and her expression was that of shock - as if she had died instantly without even being able to react or scream.

Standing above her with a gun in hand was a large man who wore a white suit, his arms folded as he glared down on the body with disgust.

"Damn woman... she just had to go and resist, didn't she?"

"Freeze! Put your hands up! Drop the weapon!"

Pistol in hand, George shouted these words as he aimed it at the man, anger evident in his expression.

However the reaction of the gangster was completely unpredictable.

"Hm? Who are you? Ah... you must be a newbie. I've never seen you around here before. Where's the other one? Bring him here, he'll let you know the situation."

The man didn't even bother to drop his weapon as he spoke completely calmly, not making any movement of surrender.

"The situation? I can see the situation with my own two eyes. Now drop your weapon, or I WILL shoot."

With coldness in his tone, George spoke these threatening words to the man, who stood up, now irritated.

"You will, will you? Well guess what? If you don't back the hell down, I will too."

And just like that, the two entered a faceoff.

Perhaps George should have fired before things had come to this point, but he couldn't just kill a man so easily.

He faltered.

He hesitated.

And because of that hesitation, he now had a gun pointed at him.

"Now you drop the gun, or it will be my bullet in your head - and you'll be laying beside this woman."

What should he do?

What could he do?

Should he shoot?

Should he finish this standoff here and now?

'Shit!'

Throwing his weapon to the side, George found his own hands in the air.

"Ah!!! I'm so sorry about this!!! My new partner hasn't learned anything yet, so please forgive him, will you? He doesn't understand whose turf this is, and I haven't had a chance to teach him that there are some people who just shouldn't be touched."

Rushing outside was George's partner, speaking with an apologetic tone as he spoke up to the gangster.

"Haha... is that so? Well, I guess I am feeling pretty generous today. Just this once I'll let him live. But..."

Thinning his eyes, the man looked upon George with an expression of disgust.

"There won't be a second time. If any of my boys give even the slightest word that this rookie is interfering in our business, then we won't stop until he's dead."

Aiming his words straight past George, the man spoke directly to his partner instead.

"Is that understood?"

"Of course. We wouldn't even hope to betray our contract. I'll make sure that he learns everything before he steps foot outside again."

Coming behind George, the man grabbed the back of his head as he forced George to bow.

"Say thank you to the kind man that he spared you.", George's partner ordered.

"You..."

"What? Are you not going to thank me, boy?"

Suddenly, the gangster became arrogant as he said these words with a grin.

"Thank... you."

"That didn't feel sincere enough. But whatever. As I said, I'm in a good mood today. So I'll let you off JUST THIS ONCE."

Turning around, the man got in his car - a luxurious sports car that was decked out with all sorts of fancy decals.

Revving the engine loudly, the man drove away quickly, heading off without another word.

"We've got to chase after him and take down his group.", George stated, rushing to grab his pistol.

"No."

However he was stopped by his partner, who held a gun to the back of his head.

"You're not going to be doing anything like that. George... it looks like I took you out on patrol a bit too early. You don't understand how the world works yet, and you're endangering not only yourself - but all of us."

Freezing in place as the man pressed the barrel to the back of his head, George could do nothing but listen.

"This incident didn't happen. This woman died today of a drug overdose. You never met that man. Neither did I. Is that understood?"

"How can you-"

"Did you think that your useless justice was going to save your life just now?"

Reading into George like a book, his partner spat out these words with clear disgust in his voice.

"You almost got yourself killed. Pride... naivety... optimism... sense of duty... all of those things are going to get you killed. And soon."

Then, with his next words, George felt as if his own heart was being gripped.

"If you think that you joined this force because you wanted to enforce justice, then you had best change your definition of justice - or you WILL find yourself dead."

----

"He got away."

"No, he didn't get away. Criminals get away. A citizen doesn't need to escape from us in the first place."

George and his partner were in the locker room later that night, having returned to the station after the incident.

As soon as backup had arrived at the scene, George was taken off by his partner under the pretense that he needed to cool his head.

"A citizen? He killed that woman. I don't know who she was, or why he killed her - but he's a MURDERER."

"George."

Suddenly calling out to him from behind, George immediately turned around as his partner called his name.

"You joined this force because you thought you could enforce your sense of justice on others."

Suddenly, the two found themselves staring one another down, inches from each other's face.

"You were disillusioned by some false sense of honor, and you joined this force. You thought that everything you did would be in line with your own morals."

Suddenly, the man grabbed George's throat as his head was slammed into the locker behind him.

"Yet you refuse to understand that the law doesn't follow your personal definition of right and wrong."

Tightening his grip on George's neck, his partner didn't show any signs of letting loose.

"You might be thinking to yourself that you're going to report me to the chief. That if the higher ups knew what I had done, what I was doing, that they would take care of it. Isn't that right?"

"Is that wrong?", George crackled - his own expression stiff.

"Yes. That's wrong.", the man said as he loosened his grip, dropping George to the ground. "After all, it was the chief who ordered me to do such a thing."

"So you're telling me that because the chief ordered you to, we have to protect that gangster and whatever boss is backing him? That people like that who have power are allowed to run free, and the ones who represent the law are powerless to stop them?"

His tone lowering to a whisper, George was calmer than ever - though his words cut through the silent locker room like a knife through butter.

"George. The police are a business. The government is a business. It's all just a big business. When you run a business, if someone pays you to do something, you do it. The more difficult the task, the more it costs. Sometimes the task is so difficult that no cost will cover it."

"And you're telling me that allowing murderers to run free is a task worth the money?"

"Yes."

Without hesitation the man replied to George's question, who was taken aback at the immediate response.

"Organized crime is controllable. It's something that we can predict, calculate, negotiate - and it's something that won't ever harm us so long as we stay on the right side of the checkbook. If you want to be a hero, then find a psychopath to arrest - someone who doesn't have the financial power to be worth the risk of letting him run free."

With these cold words, George found himself trembling at the deep seated corruption.

'Do I have to overcome all this myself?', he thought.

"How can you live with yourself?", he spat.

"How can I live with myself? George, where is that sudden question coming from? Do you think we're just sitting around all day greasing our pockets with dirty money? Do you think it's easy to cover up incidents like these? Do you even understand the struggles that we experience trying to maintain a facade of peace when this entire damn city is rotten from the inside out!?"

Suddenly, the man began to shout at George as he lost his temper, sweat forming at his forehead.

"No. You don't know a thing. The only thing you know is living in that small cocoon of yours that you've just broken out of."

Pressing his finger to the chest of George, his partner seemed to calm himself as he continued to speak.

"Is it evil? Is it evil that we don't start a gang war between the police and powerful gangs? Is it evil that we prevent our streets from becoming a warzone by accepting a bit of extra cash? Or is it really you who are evil - who would cling so desperately to your justice that you would allow such a thing to happen without any thought for the repercussions."

Turning around, the man left George speechless as he walked off, irritation filling his words.

"Yes, we're corrupt. Yes, it's wrong. Yes. It would probably be the right thing to do if we were to bust our asses to get rid of every last criminal organization in our City."

Suddenly, the man stopped, his tone lowering as he spoke his final words.

"But being right doesn't win you anything in a world where everything else is wrong."

----

George had been banned from going out on patrol for the next month, instead working at the station under the strict instruction of the chief where he was taught everything.

He learned about the gangs present in the City, those who the police had contracts with, those who he wasn't allowed to touch, and the reasons why he wasn't allowed to do such things.

He learned everything that he wasn't allowed to do, and with every new piece of information he learned, he came to hate the system all the more.

However, he stayed.

He stayed a police officer for a single reason.

It wasn't that he thought he was strong enough to change the entire system. It wasn't that he felt like he could change it from the inside, or anything of the likes.

He wanted to do what he could - even within the rules that the police had set for him.

'If I can just find a psychopath... someone who is absolutely uncontrollable... someone who is without question, a threat to society - someone who shouldn't be protected no matter what the situation is... then...'

The words of his former partner stuck deep in his mind as George had found a new goal.

'Then I will be able to perform my duty... and protect the citizens.'

However this was easier said than done.

George had spent months as a detective, investigating incidents which were quickly thrown under the rug due to the involvement of the rich and powerful.

Time after time he found himself sweeping up the messes of those who could afford the cleaning service that he had become, and with every well paying client George felt himself hating his job all the more.

The people around him didn't make things any better - money grubbing officers who wouldn't blink an eye if a murder happened right next to them, so long as the bills were slid in their direction.

George was ostracized. At first, he was invited to dinner parties and events, but as he attended such things his disgust for the elite only grew. He would sit hand in hand, clinking glasses with someone that he had pardoned the day before for crimes so heinous that even bars shouldn't keep such a person contained.

There was one particular politician - a man named Larry Pertan who he had been unable to arrest following a series of murders of young girls - and even when he began to kidnap and contain these girls one after another, George found himself unable to do anything but watch as his crimes were swept under the rug.

With every passing day, there was a new case, and with every case there was a new excuse. At some point, George didn't even know why he kept on going.

'To pay my bills?'

'Is that all I'm here for?'

'To help these criminals and take my cut?'

He didn't know.

George continued searching each day, however the only cases he was able to solve were minor infractions - ones that made no real significance.

If there was a lone drug dealer, he could make an arrest - but only if said person wasn't backed by any major players. Individual murders and rapes appeared occasionally, but not often. The majority of such cases were linked to groups that he had soon come to know as the untouchables.

'Speeding tickets... minor traffic violations... homeless people loitering where they aren't welcome... VIP security details...'

Why was he even there?

Did he even serve a purpose?

No - rather - was his purpose even one worth serving?

Wouldn't this world have been better if George didn't exist?

Would more children have been spared of the violence if he hadn't helped in hiding the crimes of certain individuals?

'Yes.'

The answer - was a resounding yes.

George's existence in this world had not been a positive one - it had been a negative one.

It would have been better for society if he had never been born.

'But perhaps that is exactly why... I need to make up for it.'

As George walked alongside a man who had a monster within him, he prepared himself as the two approached a particular pair who were hiding out of sight as they scouted a large shopping center from afar.

'If my existence in this world has been a negative one... then I only have one goal left in this ruined place.'

From the top of an interstate on ramp, George found himself looking down upon a man and a woman - two people who he knew to be working for the very mafia organizations that he had never been allowed to fight.

And with eyes focused on these people, the man gripped the pistol at his side as he hardened his resolve.

'To repay the debt that I've fallen into... and die.'