One-Shots [Boboiboy]

Protect Those Who Protect

Maybe life wasn't so fair after all. It never was, nor it will ever be, but being the rebel he was, he was going to stand up for himself and his team, even if it means destroying everything he ever knew.

Blaze knew what everyone was up about. After every mission, after everything they'd seen, none of them had made an effort to talk about what they actually saw behind those curtains. It was difficult being police officer when you have a short fuse, but it's harder when your friends don't even want to bring the topic up.

The crime scenes, the corpses, the carnage, the stand-offs, the hostage situations... all of it.

He'd spend his childhood relatively innocently. He enrolled in the police academy with his best friend Cyclone and Quake. Cyclone joined because he wanted to help people. Quake joined because of personal reasons. And Blaze? He joined because he wanted to follow in his brother's footsteps.

It was so disturbing—having being exposed to so many gruesome images and scenes, and expected to keep it in the dark like it didn't matter. He wanted to make things better, but crimes just keep happening. One person couldn't change anything. He realized this too late.

He just didn't know why they could be so calm after all of it. Cyclone still had that damn smile on his face, and Quake talked to children gently like he hadn't seen their parents get shot in the head.

They were sick. All of this is sick. Fire may have sacrificed himself for the police, but that didn't mean Blaze would like his options. The pay was already on the verge of collapsing, and the hazards remained the same.

And of course, no one notices his struggles. Not even his childhood friend Ice and her sister Water.

It's so sickening.

Maybe he wasn't cut out to be a cop.

* * *

"I know it's upset for you," Lightning started, pouring black coffee from the coffee machine into his black mug. If Blaze didn't know any better (Lightning puts ungodly amount of sugar in whatever he drinks), he would say that the coffee was as dark as Lightning's soul. He took a sip of the coffee. "It comes with the job. If it's too much to handle, you can always resign and look for another line of work."

Blaze groaned in response, folding his arms over his chest as he slumps on the couch. Lightning wasn't the best person to consult regarding problems such as this caliber, but he was disturbingly the sanest person he ever knew, since he's in a detective agency that tracks lost people, and they hardly ever come in contact with blood and grime.

"It's not upsetting." Blaze's tone took a harsh turn. "It's horrifying."

Lightning glances at him and wordlessly sat himself on the couch across Blaze, still sipping the damn coffee like this was some a kettle that has drama boiling with piping hot tea. After he finishes half of the latter, he sets the cup down onto the table in front of him.

"You did say you came into this work because of Fire, correct?" Lightning recalled. Fire was once an accomplice of his, and he attended his funeral even if they were thousands of miles apart. They used to be in the same team when they were younger.

Blaze nodded, a breath protruding his cheeks in irritation. "Yeah, so what? I came because I wanted to see why he would choose work over me, and so far, all I've gotten I minimum paychecks and emotional trauma!"

"I don't need to be a psychiatrist to know that you hate police work, and I've worked with plenty," Lightning stated. "Quake and Cyclone probably feel the same way, but they need to keep up appearances, no? They need to comfort the surviving victims—especially children. Police isn't about yourself. It's about giving your own soul to the country and protecting those who are powerless to defend themselves."