Glory.

2

That case was tragic.

What I saw was hideous. The body of a young man lay desecrated before me—the sight chilled me to the bone. Half of the man's head, from his chin to the bridge of his nose, was covered with duct tape.

Someone had cut the man's eyes out and stuffed the sockets with rubble. The killer had also stuffed a brick, a soda bottle, and a potato chip bag, inside a gaping hole where the young man's genitals use to be.

At the 7-5, yes, we had murders but our murders were simple. Hit and runs, gang related, suicides that don't add up. Double O had murders—the kind you see on crime shows or slasher films.

Their estranged family wouldn't stop calling me for leads, even today, I managed to awake to numerous missed calls and I hated myself for giving them my personal number. Empathy was something I'm beginning to wish I lacked.

Today was Saturday and luckily, I only worked day shifts. I eased out of bed, showered, shaved and put on a simple shirt. Even after preparing myself for a day of relaxation, I found myself staring in the mirror with disgust. How did I get here?

I couldn't seem to decide if I missed wearing a uniform. On one hand, I'll always be a patrol officer at heart. On the other, and especially when it's 95 degrees out with 80% humidity, I was thankful I wasn't working traffic or walking a beat in a dark wool outfit like my police officer buddies in patrol had to.

My phone rung, ripping me from my thoughts. I couldn't seem to have time to think anymore-everything was moving so fast. "Yeah," I said into the iPhone.

"Hey, partner." I almost growled at the monotone voice belonging to Blu. "We're going for coffee in a few." My eyebrow quirked up. "Actually I'm outside. I'd appreciate it if you came on out."

"You're kidding," I simply stated, not trying to believe this nonsense. "You're kidding." I repeated.

"Unfortunately, I am not." He sounded genuinely offended. "Now bring your ass out here." The call ended.

Only god knew how much I'd like to ram my foot so far up Blu's ass, I'd leave a boot print on the inside of his skull.

He took me to a breakfast cafe. When we'd arrived, I could've kissed the ground—the car ride was filled with an awful awkward silence.

The place looked lovely; dim lights, soft chattering, low music playing. The odd coolness that enveloped me was sorta soothing as I paused before entering the establishment. My eyes fluttered shut as the sweet and bitter scent of brewing coffee filled my lungs and sent a comforting shiver down my tired and sweaty limbs.

"Look," Blu began after taking a sip of his coffee. "It's easy to sense that you're not fond of me." He spoke carefully. I'm not fond of too much of anything these days.

"It's not-"

"But, we have to play nice for the sake of us being partners. You put in for a transfer, you got it. My last partner was killed and Lieutenant thinks this will get me back in my 'groove' of some sort. He wants me to guide you." He said all of it one breath, probably figuring that I would interrupt him if he'd talked any slower

"Guide me?" I spat, looking as if something sour had been in my mouth. "I'm not a child, nor am I incompetent. I'm a detective who was sent here to do my damn job."

"Bullshit," He cackled. The action drew the attention of a few people from different booths. "I think just about everyone knows you didn't just put in for a transfer. You don't waltz into Double O thinking any little dirty secrets are washed away or hidden in some sacred vault. No one willingly comes to Double-fucking-O, let's be clear." His expression was filled with humor. I don't blame him. I did just make a fool of myself by thinking that my slate was clean. "We might not know why but we know you were removed and sent here." His face hardened and he folded his arms across the table. "We don't need your bullshit spilling over on our laps, you hear me?" A fresh swell of anger rose in me.

How dare he? This bastard invited me to grab a coffee with him just for him to pull this shit? Was he trying to intimidate me?

Ha! It'll take much more than a golden boy to have me running with my tail between my legs.

"Look, Yanis," he spoke softer now. He noticed my glaring and sensed the rage practically radiating from me. "I'm sure you're a standup guy but we don't need your dirty laundry affecting the way we do things. It's best you stay in your lane and act accordingly-Double O isn't a playground nor will you piss on my territory. As far as I'm concerned, you're a fucking rookie who's gonna get chewed up and spat out." A stifled laugh escaped from between my pursed lips. He retaliated with a chortle. "Good talk? Coffee's on you this time, partner.