prompt: POV - inanimate object / Police officer / unprofessional
I remember the first day with him. The feel of his stiff cotton shirt, his heart pounding. I could tell he was nervous but also excited. I felt the same way. I had been looking forward to this for several days. The anticipation was overwhelming. Preparing for him, making myself shiny and clean. I gleamed, proudly from his breast, as cheers erupted all around us. I saw all kinds of people, young old of all different colors, shapes, sizes but they all shared the same look of pride and joy. Maybe for Tim Vercaro, maybe for one of the others, but the pride was palpable in the small cramped auditorium. This was a big day for Tim, along with all the other men and women in the room who finally answered the call of the shield. That was me, a symbol of protection and justice. What a joke. But I was young, naive and ready to believe the good in Tim. I was ready to believe that we would take on the world together.... but that was before.
The beginning of the end was a horrible day. It was raining, not a cool refreshing rain, but a hot muggy rain that gave everything a slight smell and made you feel like you had taken a sticky sweat bath. Tim and I were working our regular beat the south end of downtown Detroit. This was his neighborhood, he grew up on these streets. He checked in on Andy, the owner of one of the only family owned corner stores still left in the area. Time liked to check in make his presence know, so thugs wouldn't give Andy so much shit. Today wasn't a normal day, Andy was anxious. I could feel his heart racing underneath his dark navy uniform, but his voice and demeanor were calm. This was not his usual behavior. Normally his heart raced like this during an especially difficult interrogation or when he was chasing down a perp. Honestly, it was starting to worry me.
We walked down a south east alley I had never seen before and Tim ducked into a low doorway. Tim was by no means a tall guy and he still very nearly missed slamming his head into the ceiling.
"Jesus, Fuck" He shouted, "Why can't you assholes find a normal sized hovel for your secret butt fuck sessions."
A small man sitting on a stool glanced up from the paper he was reading.
"Hey fuck you man. The rest of this world is made for large people it's your turn to duck and accommodate to our size. Sizest piece of shit."
"Whatever." Tim's detest for Marvin was apparent in the disgusted way he sneered the term in his direction. Marvin rolled his gaze back to his paper.
Tim entered a large clearing at the end of a hallway with doors along each wall. He slammed his fist on the desk "Alright asshole, I did what you wanted I joined the force. I'm officially a gun carrying decent member of society. Now where the fuck is my money?"
The back of a cracked leather chair faced off with Tim, whose heart rate increased at an alarming rate. Staggered breath was the only sound in the large room. Then there were hands, large thick sausage fingers wrapped around Tim's arms and pulled him back from the desk. A loud squeak pierced the sounds of a slight struggle as the chair and its occupant turned to face a very upset red faced cop who was struggling against the grip of two meat headed cronies. I could feel the fabric of his shirt stretch taunt as he pushed against their grip. The clasp at my back was feeling the pressure.
"Timmy my boy, you make me so proud." A very deep voice that did not match the mouth it was coming from echoed across the room. Smaller than the man in the hallway this guy looked like he should be painted orange singing "oompa loompa do-ba-dee-do". The deep heavy voice was extremely off putting from someone whose feet couldn't touch the floor. He scooted forward and put his elbows on the large desk. "Boys, boys calm down."
I felt the tension loosen and breathed a sigh at the relief of pressure. Tim was standing there clenching his fists angrily glaring. In the few months we had been together I had never seen him like this. Or gotten any indication that Tim knew a man like this. That's when I knew. The man who was my comrade, who made a vow "to protect and to serve" was nothing more than a thug. A pawn in the game of a man child.
After that day Tim made evidence disappear, he let suspects slip through his fingers. He didn't even seem remorseful. It sickened me watching him put on the clean cut guy who wanted to protect people act. But I couldn't do anything. I was just a symbol, forced to live next to a heart filled with greed and hate. Now that I knew his true intentions it made me feel tarnished and wrong. As If I had four points instead of five. He was a phony and he forced me to be a phony every time he used me to commit a crime. Fortunately for me his double life didn't last forever. Someone smart and clever and worthy of a better shield than me caught on.
That's how I ended up here. In a sealed box with traces of dried blood caked into my grooves.
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