B
Broomhandle45
Guest
Brenwood was probably one of the most boring cities you could live in, unless you tried really hard to live somewhere even worse. Twenty thousand people, whose best claim to fame was having two Wal-Marts and a Chinese buffet that won best restaurant in the city for the past four years. It was, after all...one of them sleepy little places that had a police force that seemed more familiar with writing tickets than handling actual problems.
Which is why when the problems actually did start, it was a mess. Some guy at the warehouse that John worked in had gone home a few weeks ago and murdered his wife with a hammer, horrible shit. Made even worse by the fact that nobody knew until a few days later when nobody had heard from her, and she was still on the floor with her face like a crushed watermelon. That wasn't the end of it, though...not by a mile. Sexual assaults were up, something that had never happened in Brenwood before, the list went on. People were beside themselves with fear, claiming the police was doing nothing to stop the corruption. Protesting had been going on for the past few days, it was just fucking nuts. Guess they were starting to get big city problems.
John slipped out of his truck with a weary sigh, hand slipping through his close cut hair. He probably looked like hell, wasn't much of a surprise for that. He was probably handsome, somewhere. But he was currently fighting the effects of a bad shade of five o'clock shadow. But there was still a strong jawline in there, and a pair of sharp green eyes. His military figure had never honestly left, but that's what backbreaking warehouse crap will do to you. All he wanted right now was a chance to fill up his tank, get something to eat and go home and sleep. Not that gas station food was fine dining, but it was better than nothing, and he was too tired to care right now. The gas station was a little crammed today, which was a little surprising. Guess it made sense, about four blocks down put you at the police station.
Of course, he noticed as he walked in that people just seemed irritable. The whole situation had turned the entire town upside down, and nobody knew how to handle it. John had wondered why he didn't give a shit, but maybe that was just how he was. So much so, in fact...that someone moving past him had bumped into John's shoulder and the man turned on him like he had punched his child.
"Watch where the fuck you're going, you greasy fuck." the man muttered viciously, before heading to the counter.
"Excuse me," John muttered under his breath, grabbing a drink from the back racks. Jesus, everyone was acting like goddamn rabid animals. The hell was going on?
Which is why when the problems actually did start, it was a mess. Some guy at the warehouse that John worked in had gone home a few weeks ago and murdered his wife with a hammer, horrible shit. Made even worse by the fact that nobody knew until a few days later when nobody had heard from her, and she was still on the floor with her face like a crushed watermelon. That wasn't the end of it, though...not by a mile. Sexual assaults were up, something that had never happened in Brenwood before, the list went on. People were beside themselves with fear, claiming the police was doing nothing to stop the corruption. Protesting had been going on for the past few days, it was just fucking nuts. Guess they were starting to get big city problems.
John slipped out of his truck with a weary sigh, hand slipping through his close cut hair. He probably looked like hell, wasn't much of a surprise for that. He was probably handsome, somewhere. But he was currently fighting the effects of a bad shade of five o'clock shadow. But there was still a strong jawline in there, and a pair of sharp green eyes. His military figure had never honestly left, but that's what backbreaking warehouse crap will do to you. All he wanted right now was a chance to fill up his tank, get something to eat and go home and sleep. Not that gas station food was fine dining, but it was better than nothing, and he was too tired to care right now. The gas station was a little crammed today, which was a little surprising. Guess it made sense, about four blocks down put you at the police station.
Of course, he noticed as he walked in that people just seemed irritable. The whole situation had turned the entire town upside down, and nobody knew how to handle it. John had wondered why he didn't give a shit, but maybe that was just how he was. So much so, in fact...that someone moving past him had bumped into John's shoulder and the man turned on him like he had punched his child.
"Watch where the fuck you're going, you greasy fuck." the man muttered viciously, before heading to the counter.
"Excuse me," John muttered under his breath, grabbing a drink from the back racks. Jesus, everyone was acting like goddamn rabid animals. The hell was going on?