Chapter Text
The heat is all consuming, it is an inescapable, destructive force. The sound of crackling wood and the rush of flames is deafening. He watches the farm he once knew crumble at his feet. Apathetic to the sizzling flames lapping at his skin. Sauntering farther in, he takes in his handiwork. Any fear he once felt is gone, now replaced with a sense of satisfaction. He has recreated the image of hell that they created for him. Flashing blue and red lights emanate from down the road. The sirens, once faint, are now blaring and he knows that they are here for him. He knows they will take him, but this doesn’t bother him. He is hypnotized by the destruction that was built by his hands. Taking a breath, he does something he hasn’t done in a long time… he smiles.
Traffic blares and leaves crunch under the cars. Rook shivers, pulling her jacket closer towards her face; it’s getting colder. Not cold enough for her to see her breath, but chilly enough that it bites through her uniform. Her fingers hover over the ignition keys as she considers turning on the engine. Wasting gas is not something she enjoys, but neither is the autumn chill.
“Ah, fuck it.”
The engine roars and she slumps into her seat. Rook gets two seconds of peace before she gets a call.
“Scccchhhh Ro- scchhhhh caf-“
“Uh 10-1, please repeat?”
“We got a call of a confrontation at Haven’s Café.”
“10-4, I’m en route,” she says as she pulls out into traffic.
Rain collects on her windshield as she takes the quick drive to the café. Entering the coffee shop she immediately knows who the call was about. Two men are in an argument; one scared shitless. The man is a barista of the coffee shop; he is young and shaking. The other, who seems to be the aggressor, is a mountain of a man and clearly homeless. She takes note of his appearance. Beneath the beard and shaggy hair is a man covered in scars. Wincing, she wonders how he must have got them. Time goes by and she realizes that she has just been staring, completely mesmerized by the man. Taken aback, she wonders why that is since nothing seems to faze her anymore. She shakes it off and strides towards the two in question.
“So, what’s the problem, gentlemen?”
The man turns towards her, his gaze is intense and she feels her temperature rise.
His presence is overwhelming. She feels small while taking him in. She is trained to see danger and this man...is dangerous. But as much as he is a threat she doesn't feel threatened. She feels a deeper pull to something, something important.
“There’s no problem, officer, I was just drinking coffee like everyone else.” His voice is tight like he’s biting something back.
“M-my manager s-says you’re loitering,” the young kid stutters out.
Bile rises up in Rook’s throat as she figures out what is going on here. Unfortunately, some businesses think they can kick out anyone who doesn’t look presentable . So basically, the homeless. As much as he doesn’t look like the victim here, he is.
“Okay…did he purchase a coffee?”
“Yes,” the men say in unison.
They both look at each other. One glowering, the other shrinking down.
Rook wants to laugh but knows it will not be well received so she holds it in.
“Then he is allowed to be here.”
“B-but my manager-“
“Your manager is a cunt,” the man growls.
“Woah okay! No need for that! Look, he is legally allowed to drink his coffee here.”
She doesn’t really appreciate the word usage here even if the manager is in the wrong. Rook chews her lip and goes to speak when he interrupts.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m leaving; I know when I’m not welcome.”
With that the man tosses his empty coffee cup on the ground and storms out. Honestly, Rook is surprised it went as well as it did. The man is clearly someone to be taken seriously so she’s glad it didn’t escalate further. Rook decides to chase after the man; she wants to talk to him privately.
“Wait!”
Glaring her down, he turns around; suddenly she is sweating despite the chill.
“I just want to say that, that was bullshit back there.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, obviously.”
She shifts back and forth; it’s suddenly hard to keep his gaze, it’s suddenly hard to talk.
“Things would probably go better though if you didn’t call people cunts,” she blurts out.
He laughs, “Yes. Officer,” he is completely sarcastic.
Rook is annoyed. She could have walked away but here she is basically apologizing for something she didn’t even do.
“Hey, I’m on your side!”
Scoffing, the man turns and walks away without responding.
“What a dick! I’m trying to be nice!,” she huffs.
The encounter makes her feel sorry for him, but honestly, not too sorry because of his attitude. Getting mad at the barista is one thing, but at her? She was on his side! She stomps back to her car and lets out a sigh. Skin itching like he somehow wormed his way under her skin. She needs to just forget about it. Oh well, it’s not like she’ll ever see him again, she thinks.
“Rook 10-37 on James Street,” her radio chimes in, bringing her out of her head and back to the day at hand.
“10-4,” She sighs. Today is going to be a long day.