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About Varied / Hobbyist TJMale/Canada Group :iconduskeria: Duskeria
 
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Deviant for 5 Years
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random skull by teejayspook random skull :iconteejayspook:teejayspook 1 0 left behind... by teejayspook left behind... :iconteejayspook:teejayspook 1 0 baby baru by teejayspook baby baru :iconteejayspook:teejayspook 0 0 the showdown by teejayspook the showdown :iconteejayspook:teejayspook 1 0 Mamu comforts her pride by teejayspook
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Mamu comforts her pride :iconteejayspook:teejayspook 0 0
Abbas tries to pin Altair....again by teejayspook Abbas tries to pin Altair....again :iconteejayspook:teejayspook 0 0 Altair returns home by teejayspook Altair returns home :iconteejayspook:teejayspook 3 7 Altair by teejayspook Altair :iconteejayspook:teejayspook 3 6 Come Save Me Tonight.... by teejayspook Come Save Me Tonight.... :iconteejayspook:teejayspook 0 0 Sometimes knowing........ by teejayspook Sometimes knowing........ :iconteejayspook:teejayspook 0 10 Templars last sight by teejayspook
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Templars last sight :iconteejayspook:teejayspook 0 0
Bakari finds Baruti by teejayspook Bakari finds Baruti :iconteejayspook:teejayspook 0 1 Razak by teejayspook Razak :iconteejayspook:teejayspook 0 10 Altair is chosen to be the crown prince. by teejayspook Altair is chosen to be the crown prince. :iconteejayspook:teejayspook 0 5 Altair pins Abbas by teejayspook Altair pins Abbas :iconteejayspook:teejayspook 1 3 Abbas, just after he was captured by teejayspook Abbas, just after he was captured :iconteejayspook:teejayspook 0 3

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Happy Halloween guys! by Iceofthearctic Happy Halloween guys! :iconiceofthearctic:Iceofthearctic 1 2 Hokutosei Hooks Up by DragRacingOtaku Hokutosei Hooks Up :icondragracingotaku:DragRacingOtaku 1 0 Black Oil by rah-bop Black Oil :iconrah-bop:rah-bop 6,006 320 Night of the Hunt... by R0X7 Night of the Hunt... :iconr0x7:R0X7 32 20 .:Sumi flight:. by ZIODYNES .:Sumi flight:. :iconziodynes:ZIODYNES 35 23 Screenshot by Rwanlink Screenshot :iconrwanlink:Rwanlink 72 37 I ANIMATED!! by Iceofthearctic I ANIMATED!! :iconiceofthearctic:Iceofthearctic 3 11 I belong to this forest by Rwanlink I belong to this forest :iconrwanlink:Rwanlink 93 41 The passion of friendship by Rwanlink The passion of friendship :iconrwanlink:Rwanlink 165 40 Young link by Rwanlink Young link :iconrwanlink:Rwanlink 328 66 Mystery the Darkness by Bilashakala Mystery the Darkness :iconbilashakala:Bilashakala 10 20 mystery trade by hibbary mystery trade :iconhibbary:hibbary 235 80 2003: Mystery by HollowRaevin 2003: Mystery :iconhollowraevin:HollowRaevin 8 9 Happy Easter by Iceofthearctic Happy Easter :iconiceofthearctic:Iceofthearctic 1 3

Activity


  • Listening to: Music
  • Reading: Nothing
  • Watching: Yuri on Ice
  • Playing: Nothing
  • Eating: Food
  • Drinking: Nothing you need to know...
    The once empty, weed covered storage lot, that belonged to the long abandoned neighboring steel factory that occupied an entire block of the now heavily shelled out industrial sector of Pharaohs Keep, was now buzzing with a level of activity it hasn't seen in years. Not since the day the emergency crews where valiantly battling to contain the roaring fires that tore rampant through the industrial and poor districts, when the invaders sent dozens of heavy mortar rounds over the top of the ancient, and once believed impregnable barbicans that surrounded the beleaguered metropolis. 
    Even as their battered and exhausted forces mounted a last ditch defense. An all out headlong charge, with whatever strength remained to them. Right into the teeth of the invading army as they tore through the small outlying village that rested in the shadows of the Keeps massive walls, in the vain hope of keeping the invaders off those same, rapidly crumbling barbicans. 
    The invaders shelling claimed thousands lives that day, both civilian, first responder and soldier alike. 
    Now a days, when the shells come screaming over the walls, the fires are just left to burn themselves out. In all honesty, there is nothing out beyond the circular safe-zone, marked by the high, rough limestone walls of the once opulent market and middle district. Few buildings, a few homeless or ownerless slaves. Not really a damn thing worth saving.
    Today, is a good day out there. The shelling occurred early this morning, a rude awaking for some, albeit that did not mean they were out of danger yet. The invading rebels could sent more shells into the city at anythime. Hence the obvious anxious undertone to the movements of the uniformed police officers as they hurried to secure the scene and to the movements of the criminal investigators as they scurried about, cameras flashing, as they rushed to collect any valuable evidence from the site. Eyes constantly flickering skyward as if expecting, at any moment, for the heavens to open up with their deadly, explosive rain.
    Mikhael watches all this with an air of indifference from where she leans against the sun warmed hood of their black, unmarked patrol unit.
    Feeling the car shift beneath her, as her partner opens the car door, she turns and watches him struggle to lever his large frame from the small vehicle. A large part of her wanted to rush forward and help him, but her sense of outrage prevented her as it mercilessly recalls the events of just moments ago.
    "Bint-il kalb!" He roars....
    
Deep down, a part of her knew that the so far gentle giant had not meant to speak to her in such a way, but still. It hurt.
    She remains where she stood. Turning her head away from him and wipes away a single silent tear as he limps past, not even sparing her a glance. Ducking in behind his hobbling form and using his broad back for cover, she quickly wipes away all traces of her salty tears from her slender cheeks as she pads along silently behind him.
    Pausing at the perimeter of the scene, Mikhael moves up to stand at her partners left shoulder and gaze out over the chaotic scene before them. Glancing up towards his leonine face, she notices him squint beneath his dark shades. His thin lips working silently beneath his thick, scruffy, salted beard before releasing a heavy sigh.
    "Alright kid. What do you see?" He rumbles as he gazes across the scene. Resting his left hand atop his right as he leans forward heavily on his cane in an attempt to take some of the weight off his leg.
    Sighing, a snarky reply flashes across her mind as she briefly entertains the idea of telling him off before fading to the background. Released upon a heavy sigh of her own and disappearing on the barely felt, gentle breeze.
    "Okay..." She says as she takes a slightly shaky breath. Buying herself time to not only control her off balance emotions, but to also switch gears into a more professional mode. 
    'Just like at the academy...' She thinks to herself as she glances about quickly. Taking in all she sees and readying herself to transcribe it into words for the test.
    "As you can see," She breaks the cardinal rule of the test, intentionally, just to be an ass. Earning her a silent, yet thunderous frown from her partner. Smiling at her ability to get under his skin, she continues confidently. "It is a gravel and weed covered lot. Obviously it was used as a storage lot for that old burned out steel factory there."
    She points out across the lot with her left hand to the aforementioned factory. Earning her a silent nod as he turns his head, ever so slightly, but in the wrong direction.
    It is her turn to frown as she wonders just what it was he was looking at. Breaking off her transcription, she poses this question aloud.
    "Huh? Oh, nothing." He replies. Sheepishly ducking his head before turning his gaze towards the factories shell.
    Shaking her head with a slight roll of her hazel eyes, she once again scans her surroundings from left to right and takes up her description again. But not after ribbing her partner for his lack of attention.
    "If you want me to do this, then you have to pay attention."
    "I am now." He growls, although she notices the corners of his beard twitching slightly in the beginnings of a faint smile before being secreted away beneath his large left hand as he rubs at his beard.
    "Good."
    Scanning her surroundings from left to right, she continues.
    "The lot must be, oh I don't know, 25,000 square feet. Thing takes up the whole block."
    Hearing a heavy sigh from her right, Mikhael turns to see her partner pinching the crooked bridge of his nose. She questions what is wrong.
    "Mikhael," He sighs as he slowly lowers his arm. "please try to keep the sarcasm out of your description?"
    "Well if you don't like it. Why don't you describe it to me, then?" She snaps back as she crosses her arms tightly over her chest, cocking a hip.
    "I...." Her partner starts before raising his hand and massaging his temples with his thumb and forefinger. With a sigh he pinches the bridge of his nose again and rubs the back of his neck as he growls. "Just get on with it."
    "Like I said, the lots about 25,000 square feet. The whole thing was enclosed by a chain-link fence, but the mortars took care of that pretty good. It looks like it was used for storage for the factory."
    "What does the terrain look like?"
    "Well the whole thing is covered with gravel and weeds." She shrugs, earning herself another disapproving frown from her partner as he glares down at her.
    Rolling her eyes at him with a sigh, she shifts her weight to her right foot and tries again.
    "Left side of the lot has a lot of sheets of plywood that stacked up. Six rows across, three rows deep. Behind those are just stacks of empty pallets as tall as the fence, so that would make them about eight feet high." She says.
     "North corner, that's closest to us,"
    "I know my directions Ms. Uruvian." 
    "Oh, you do? I didn't know that." She replies in mock shock. Earning herself a growl as her repeated snarky replies are beginning to really  get under his skin.
    "anyway, the North corner has a dumpster in it. Lots of scrap wood and broken pallets in from what I can see. There's a couple of CI's going through it. Do you want to check it out?"
    "No," Her partner replies with a shake of his head as they watch the pair of CI's work. One is inside the dumpster, photographing objects within before handing the object down to the second CI for the 'bag and tag'. "we'll leave the dumpster diving to them. What's next?"
    "Well, we've got a half loaded tractor trailer and a forklift right in front of us. Both heavily damaged from mortars. It looks like they where in the middle of making a load when the shells started falling. Anyway, the trailers a standard length." She says, once again being cut off by her grizzled companion. 
    "What do you mean by a standard length flat bed? What does it look like?"
    "It's a long flat trailer with steel on it." She says as if it where the most obvious thing in the world.
    "Mikhael, there are many different types of flat-bed trailers. Now tell me. Is this trailer a step-deck? A double drop-deck?"
    "Would it make any difference?" She questions.
    "Yes, it would. Each type of trailer has a different standard length." He explains patiently. "A step-deck trailer usually has a well length of thirty-seven feet with an eleven-foot 'step' at the front. A double drop-deck has a bottom well length of twenty-seven feet with both a front and back step that measure eleven-feet, and a standard flatbed has a total length of forty-eight feet with no steps. Now, what kind of flat trailer is it?"
    "It's the last one. just a long, flat trailer."
    "Okay, is there a tractor attached?"
    "No." she says with a shake of her head. "The poor bastards loading the trailer probably used to escape the mortars."
    "Never assume anything Ms. Uruvian. Perhaps the killer used it to make their escape?"
    "Yeah, what ever...."
    "What else is out there?" He partner says with a deep sigh as he shifts his weight, leaning even heavier on his cane.
    "Not much." She says with another shrug. "The rest of the lot is filled with bales of rebar, steel girders, guard rails and all kinds of steel pipes. Oh, and there is some concrete dividers over there in the Northeast corner." She says pointing.
    "Alright, where is the body?"
    "Over there where the medical examiner is?" she replies, smiling at her partners exasperated sigh and shake of his head. Having had her fun, she decides to let up on him a little. 
    "I was just teasing. The body is thirty yards to our right. There is a row of one-hundred and forty-four inch diameter steel pipes in that corner. That's where the M.E is heading and I can see a bare foot sticking out from the mouth of the pipe from here."
    Turning, Mikhael watches as her partner takes in her amended description while stroking his beard with his unoccupied left hand. She releases a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding when finally, he nods his approval.
    "Was that so hard?" He teases as a bright smile crinkles the crows feet about his hidden eyes.
    "No, I just had to make it hard for you."
    His deep chuckle sounds pleasant to Mikhael as he reaches out and lifts the yellow tape to his shoulder before dipping his head in a slight bow.
    "Ladies first." 
    She nods her thanks and walks beneath the tape, surprised to find herself smiling as well. Still smiling she turns and waits for her partner to duck beneath the tape and lead the way to where the medical examiner was crouched next to the body. 
    As she trails behind him, she watches her partner stumble multiple times on the uneven ground. After hearing his pained cursing, for the fifth time. Mikhael trots forward and, without a word, gently takes her elder partner by the arm. Guiding him to more obstruction free and even footing as they make their way across the lot.

     

    
  • Listening to: Music
  • Reading: Nothing
  • Watching: Yuri on Ice
  • Playing: Nothing
  • Eating: Food
  • Drinking: Nothing you need to know...
    Sound, faint and undecipherable, seemed to wash over him. Sounding distant to Baruti, almost as if he where being held deep underwater. His very world seemed to be tossed about as if he where a tiny boat caught on savage, stormy seas which left him shivering. Chilled to the bone as if he where trapped in ice, while at the same time he was sweating profusely. Like a man lost out in the desert wastelands to the South.
    Swallowing thickly, the aging detective struggles to quell the tide of rising nausea that threatens to choke him as he sits insensate in the passengers seat of their unmarked cruiser. His stomach, empty save for the hand full of 30mg Oxycodone Hydrochloride tablets he swallowed back in the locker room at HQ, burns as if on fire. Leaving him panting heavily through clenched teeth as these feeling assaulted him again and again in crashing waves.
    Wait, what was that sound?
    No, a voice! Seemed to be breaking through the barrier of his stupor just as his spiraling mind faintly registers that there is in fact a small, slender hand resting on his left shoulder. Whoever the owner of the hand was, they where roughly shaking him in his seat. Unintentionally worsening the nausea and dizziness that swamped his senses.
    "H....y, ....e, ....ey, Hey!" The soft, worried voice echoes faintly in his ears. Somewhere, his lagging mind sluggishly recalls an echo of a recent memory. A brief clip, a vocal flash, of the events of this morning. 
    "Hey, sorry about that...."
    Was that only this morning? He thinks to himself, struggling with a titanic effort to latch onto the voice that he now recognizes as belonging to his new partner as she shakes him again.
    "Naak!" He hears her swear as they roughly pull over to the side of the road, where she brings them to a screeching halt, causing him to moan softly as they bounce over the ruts that litter the rapidly deteriorating roadways. With all able bodies needed to defend the walls against the Jackals, there was no one left to maintain the infrastructure.
    Baruti faintly hears the distant thunk of the cruisers transmission as Mikhael throws the Crown Victoria into park before roughly grabbing him by the shoulders with both hands and proceeds to shake the shit out of him.
    "Ugh....wha?...ugh.." He groans as he slowly begins to come around. "..M-Mikhael?"
    "Thank the Gods!" He hears her sigh as he slowly lays his head back against his seat and closes his eyes. Fighting hard against another crushing wave of nausea, only to ultimately loose the battle. His eyes pop open as he scrambles to throw open the passengers side door. Once open, he promptly leans over in his seat and empties the meager contents of his stomach, mostly bile and a few undissolved pills, onto the crumbling pavement and sidewalk. 
    "Hey, are you okay?" Mikhael asks him, rubbing slow circles between his shoulders and holding his hair back, as he continues to dry heave.
    The wave passes after a few minutes leaving Baruti visibly shaking as he slowly leans back in his seat, panting and exhausted, as he wipes his mouth with the back of his unsteady hand.
    "Mr. Ibn-La-Ahkbar?" She asks again.
    "Huh? Uh, yeah....what do you want?" Baruti answers shakily, pulling away from his partners warm, soft hand as she attempts to lay it across his fevered brow.
    Mikhael worries her bottom lip between her teeth, even as his confusion seems to clear with each passing minute.
    "I asked if you where feeling alright." She repeats.
    "I'm fine..." He answers after a moment as he fights through another wave of nausea as his world spins erratically.
    "Are you sure?"
    "What? Yes I'm sure!" He snaps testily, annoyed by her constant questioning.
    "You don't look so good...." She says as she again tries to gauge his temperature with her slender hand. Only to have him pull away again sharply as he begins to dry heave as he leans out the passengers door.
    "That's it. I'm taking you to the hospital." Mikhael announces as she depresses the brake. Tugging on the gear shifter, she shifts the car from 'park' and into 'drive' and turns on her signal light.
    "Huh? No...NO!" Baruti shouts angrily and seizes the steering wheel as he feels the vehicle begin to slowly move forward beneath him. Preventing Mikhael from merging back into the flow of traffic he insists. 
    "I'm fine. Really."
    Startled, Mikhael slowly eases them back to the side of the road as they where parked precariously in the middle of the road. The front of their car partially blocking the left hand driving lane of the 8-lane road that ran through the heart of Pharaoh's Keep.
    Taking a shaking breath to ease her frazzled nerves and compose her thoughts Mikhael finally turns to Baruti and says.
    "Well then, if you won't let me take you to the hospital. Then could you, at least, explain to me what the hell just happened?!"
    Her sharp tones grate harshly within Baruti's overly sensitive ears, causing him to wince as Mikhael continues.
    "One second you're just fine, telling me what streets to take, where to turn, change lanes and then....Bang!" She exclaims as she claps her hands together sharply for emphasis.
    "The nest you're unresponsive, hyperventilating and throwing up all over the place!"
    They sit in uncomfortable silence as Baruti struggles to come up with something, other then the truth, that will placate Mikhael. Nervously clenching and unclenching his crippled leg with his right hand as Mikhael sits stone faced, staring blankly at the view through the cruisers windshield. With a heavy sight, she breaks the oppressing silence with a softly spoken confession. Barely audible even to Baruti's hypersensitive ears.
    "Osiris take you! You scared the hell out of me Mr. Ibn-La-Ahkbar...."
    Dumbstruck, Baruti opens his mouth but finds that he has no words to say. He repeats this process a few times before he is finally able to find his voice.
    "Mikhael, it's....I.." He stutters, continuing his nervous actions as he turns his gaze from her direction to that of his lap. Still struggling to come up with something that she would believe.
    The Gods must have been with him in that moment as Mikhael suddenly comes up with a viable solution to his current conundrum on her own with her next statement as she has turned her gaze from the window to look at him as she awaits his explanation.
    'It's your leg. Isn't it?" She says, believing his nervous actions to be something else entirely as she takes in the sight of his long legs crammed into the small space below the dashboard for the first time.
    Unable to come up with a better excuse himself, he finally nods slowly. Clenching his leg with a wince as he quickly sends a silent prayer to the Gods, his first in quite some time, hoping that she would believe the half-truth. In all honesty, his leg was throbbing. Come on, why else would he have taken so many of the potent pain-killers back at Headquarters.
    Luckily for hi, she did.
    "Oh, I should have known...By the Gods why didn't you say anything Mr. Ibn-La-Ahkbar? Do you need to get out? Stretch your leg? I know we've been stuck in traffic for awhile and, well from what you told me, we still have a long way to go..." She rambles, almost without breath, as she begins to fuss over him. 
    "No." Baruti says with a shake of his head. Frowning in annoyance as she continues to insist that he step out of the cramped confines of the car for awhile.
    "I'll be alright." He continues to insist. "Just get us to the crime scene alright?"
    "Alright...." Mikhael finally acquiesces.
    "Good, the sooner we get there. The sooner I can get off."
    Once again, Mikhael turns on her blinker as she signals her intent to remerge with the flow of traffic. This time with no objections from Baruti. They sit in silence for a few minutes. Baruti nervously smoking a cigarette, casually flicking his ashes out of the open passengers side window as Mikhael continues to wait for the traffic to thin enough to allow them to continue their journey. Finally, an opening appears between a battered and dirty white cab over delivery truck and a matte taupe military troop transport, heading for the heavily fortified walls of the city located beyond the safe zone.
    Mikhael floors it.
    With tires squealing, they rocket forward. Bouncing over the ruts in the road and just barely squeezing in front of the oncoming troop transport. Baruti groans as his crippled leg viciously smashes off the inside of the door panel and dash, not once, but twice as they careen into their driving lane, only to have to slam on their brakes as the street light directly ahead flashes red, which elicits the angry blaring of the transports horn as its driver has to stand on the large trucks brakes to avoid rear-ending the much smaller police cruiser that has come to another screeching halt directly in it's path.
    Baruti, who is clutching his leg in agony, takes the time to wave his left hand dismissively and reassures his young partner through gritted teeth as she apologies profusely for having caused him more pain as they sit waiting for the light to change. Once her rambled apologies quiet and he is fairly sure her anxieties have been soothed. He quietly lays his head back against the head rest, his eyes squeezed shut beneath his dark shades, and breaths in deeply through his crooked nose.   
    Trying to lighten the mood some as the light changes and they begin to move forward again. Baruti smiles despite the pain he is in, although it looks more like a grimace of pain to his partner rather then a true smile, and attempts a joke.
    "Take it easy the bumps will you?" He says with a soft, grunted chuckle.
    Glancing at him from the corner of her bright green eyes, as she guiltily worries her bottom lip between her perfect white teeth, Mikhael nods sheepishly. The action going unnoticed by the aging male but he can sense her affirmation but still, she keeps her eyes on him.
    Feeling her concerned gaze like the heat of the burning desert sun. Baruti points to the windshield with his heavily bearded chin.
    "Eyes on the road kid."
    "Oh!" Mikhael gasps. Turning her gaze back to the road just in time to catch the rude gesture of the troop-transport driver as he roars past them in the other. Distracted by the other driver, she does not notice Baruti plunge his right hand into the pocket of his sports coat and withdraw a solid black bottle of pills. She also does not see him open the bottle, withdraw the tissue stuffed within, and pop two of those large, round, white pills into his mouth and swallow them dry as she is to distracted by her driving. Intent on avoiding any and all ruts, potholes or other deteriorated patch of road.
    A heavy silence descends within the vehicle, the only sound being the occasion murmured apology that comes directly on the heels of a soft hiss when Mikhael is unable to avoid a deteriorated patch of road. Either because of the press of traffic or simply because the road is just that bad.
    Reassuring her once more that she is not at fault. Baruti once again leans back and rests in his seat. Absent mindedly fingering the lid to the pills that he has secreted back into his pocket. He'd have to find a way to get ahold of his dealer later...he was almost out.
    His musings are interrupted by Mikhael as she asks for directions. She was having a hard time navigating around the war-torn city. 
    Having been born and raised in Pharaohs Keep, it was easy for Baruti to keep a running mental map within his minds eye. Even as he rested his own against the rapidly building pressure of the blazing migraine that was building behind his eyes. Unfortunately, one of the main chemical ingredients in the Oxycodone's was also just one of many triggers for his chronic migraines.
    "Take a left up here at the next set of stop lights." He grunts as they bounce over another bump in the road. 
    Having found out the address from the Commissioner back at HQ, Baruti knows that the scene is located in the abandoned Industrial sector just beyond the safe-zone. This next left would put them on a direct course for that sector of the city. He was running out of time...
    Gingerly Baruti shifts his long frame in his seat, so as not to aggravate his leg as they sit, waiting for the advanced turn signal so they turn onto the street that would take them to the check-point at the border to the safe-zone and beyond.  Reaching into the left-hand pocket of his rumpled trousers, he withdraws his half pack of cigarettes and his lighter.
    He pulls a cigarette from the pack, takes it between his scared lips and sparks a light. Just as he is about to touch the burning flame of his lighter to the unlit end of his smoke he belatedly turns to Mikhael.
    "Do you mind?" He questions as he shields the flame of his lighter with his hand.
    "Uh, go ahead I guess..." She shrugs in response. The action going unnoticed as Baruti closes his eyes and takes a long first pull on his cigarette before exhaling a cloud of bluish second-hand smoke with a deep, satisfied sigh.
    "Ahhh!"
    Baruti can feel the deoxidizing effect of the cigarette as he takes another long pull on the butt of the cigarette and exhales. Already his nerves where beginning to relax, making it a little easier as he continues to think of a way to explain what he needs to Mikhael. He knows he has to tell her but...he just doesn't know how!
    Another long pull on the cigarette soon has Baruti rolling down his window so he flick his ash. It is then, as he hears the familiar call to prayer of the local religion, that he also catches the faint hint of smoke on the wind and he realizes that they where in fact closer to the edge of the safe-zone then he originally thought. Swallowing hard as he feels the car begin to slow and the faint, distinct sound of police radio chatter reaches his sensitive ears from across the street, does he take a deep breath and decides to just simply tell her.
   He begins as he exhales a spent drag. His heart, hammering in his chest as he prepares to reveal something that has ostracized him and made him the butt-end of jokes made by his fellow officers and citizens for the past seven years.
    "Mikhael?"
    "Yes?" She responds, frowning as she subtly catches the underlying anxiety coursing through his normally smooth, rumbling baritone cadence.
    "I need to tell you something."
    "Sure, you can tell me anything Mr. Ibn-La-Ahkabar."
    "When uh...when we get to the scene," He says as he takes and then exhales another drag. "I need you to do something for me."
    "What did you need?" She says a little suspiciously as she watches him flick his butt out the window through a haze of smoke.
    "I need you to describe to me, everything you see. In detail."
    "Okay, this whole senior officers privilege thing is getting a bit ridiculous isn't it?" She exclaims a little indignantly.  "Isn't it bad enough that you made me drive here? Now you want me to orally describe everything to you?"
    "Yes, that is exactly what I want."
    "Why?" She asks, momentarily taking her eyes off the road as they prepare to enter the gates of the abandoned factory that is now surrounded by emergency response vehicles. 
    He knew it was coming, the massive bump as they bounced up the curb and into the factories drive. He even braced himself for it, but still, Baruti cannot help but snap at her unintentionally as white hot pain lances up his leg as his heel rebounds off the floor boards which in turn causes his temper to flare.
    "Ahha! Just do it!" He snarls through teeth, clenched so hard that he can feel one of his back molars crack under the strain. His knuckles are white as he clutches at his thrice-damned leg, groaning as he doubles over in the passengers seat in agony until his iron streaked head comes to rest against the dashboard. 
    "Bint-il kalb!" He swears in bastard Egyptian. Immediately guilt comes crashing over him as he hears her shocked gasp. His overtaxed mind forgetting, momentarily, that she could understand his language despite her Russian descent. 
    He knows he had no right to call her what he did and that it truly was not her intention to cause him pain. Seven hells, she apologized every time she hit a pothole on the way over. Intending to apologize, Baruti opens his mouth to speak. Turning his head towards her from where it rests against the dash, but as he draws a breath, he is surprised as Mikhael suddenly throws open her door and storms from the vehicle. Making him wince as she violently slams her door.
    "Argh!" Baruti exclaims in frustration as he angrily punches the dash next to his head with his dominate right-hand. 
    A lesson, imparted by a well loved instructor during his youth, comes to mind as he struggles to reign in his galloping temper and soon his is taking deep breaths through his nose and releasing them through his mouth. A meditation of sorts that is supposed to cleanse him of his negativity with each breath. Soon, after a few minutes of this light meditation, does he in fact feel himself begin to calm.
    Slowly, he sits up in his seat with a heavy sigh. Could this day possibly get any worse? He wonders to himself only to shake his head. Scratch that, he didn't want to know.
    Following his new partners lead, albeit in a much more docile manner, Baruti momentarily gropes for the door handle before finding it and pushing open his door. 
    A blast of dry desert heat wafts into the vehicle as he gingerly grasps his aching leg and eases it through the door. With a final heavy sigh as he grabs his cane from where it lay, tucked under his seat, and groans under his breath as he slowly levers himself from the car. His leg and back protesting mightily as he forces himself to stand.
    Taking a moment to gather his bearings, the detective inhales a deep breath of the heavy air before slowly turning himself towards the bright yellow crime scene tape that is flapping gently in the light breeze that funnels through the once tall structures and warehouses that made up this sector of the city.
    
    
    
    
  • Listening to: Pick Your Poison by Twisted Insane
  • Reading: Nothing
  • Watching: Yuri on Ice
  • Playing: Nothing
  • Eating: Fries
  • Drinking: Nothing you need to know...
    Police Constable 4th Class Mikhael Uruvian stifles yet another yawn as she pushes aside a stray piece of auburn hair. Sitting in a hard backed, black plastic chair across from her new boss. Police Commissioner Jasmine Sehkmet.
    A fresh graduate from the Police Academy in Thebes. Mikhael had not expected her first day on the forces to begin with her with a harrowing midnight ride from Thebes to Pharaoh's Keep on a military helicopter as it raced low along the banks of the Nile, that roused her from her bed after a long night spent partying with her fellow graduates. Only to be met on the tarmac, still bleary-eyed and slightly nauseous, at her destination by a stone faced officer in plain clothes who then escorted her in his cruiser here, to the Pharaoh's Keep Police Headquarters whereupon entering the Commissioners office she caught the tail-end of what seemed to be a heated conversation.
    After a brief exchange of greetings and names with the Commissioner, Mikhael was then instructed to be seated and await the arrival of her new partner, and senior officer, who should be arriving shortly.
    'That was over an hour ago...'  She muses to herself as she turns her attention to the open bay window located behind the Commissioner and watches over her shoulder as Jackal artillery shells explode in brilliant fiery mushroom clouds of destruction, lighting up the pre-dawn sky as the boom of the explosions shaking the ground, as the shells come screaming over the walls of the city.
    She jumps with a silent gasp and turns in her seat. Startled by the unexpected knock upon the Commissioners door. Tucking a piece of hair, that fell across her face when she jumped, she watches as the tall, lithe form of a well dressed aging, bearded male with shoulder length graying hair fills the doorway.
    His voice, a deep rumbling baritone, she found to be quite pleasant as he offers an apology to the Commissioners short, clipped greeting.
    "You're late."
    "My apologies Commissioner Sehkmet."
    Pushing her glasses up her nose. Mikhael stands, smoothing the front of her skirt as she watches the tall man with the nice voice duck beneath the door and limp further into the office with the help of the hand-crafted wooden cane at his left side, closing the door behind him.
    "Constable Mikhael." The sound of the Commissioners voice prompting Mikhael to turn about and face her as the tall new comer moves to stand beside her. His cane lightly bumping the leg of the chair next to hers. She can't help but notice how the backrest of the chair barely reaches his waist.
    "This is Senior Homicide Detective Baruti Ibn-La-Ahkbar,"
    Mikhael turns and politely holds out her hand for the detective to shake. Chewing her bottom lip, she awkwardly clasps both hands before her when the detective does not return the offered hand shake. Choosing instead to continue to gaze down at her through eyes hidden behind a pair of dark-tinted sunglasses before turning back to the Commissioner as she continues.
    "he is to be your partner." The Commissioner says, her emerald eyes blazing like the inferno's beyond the safe-zones as she leans both hands flat across the top of her desk and leans towards them to glare them down. Causing Mikhael to swallow nervously but as she glances at her new partner through the corner of her eye she notices that he is unfazed by the Commissioners intense stare.
    Mikhael continues to size up the lanky detective as the Commissioner paces in the periphery. 
    "From here on out," The Commissioner says as she continues to pace.
"you're to work as a team. Something new for you, eh Ibn-La-Ahkbar?" she sneers.
"I want you to watch each others backs out there both on a case or off. In case either of you forgot, we're in the middle of a war here. There's a lot of trigger happy lunatics out there. Fear is a disease that has this city in it's clutches so people will be unpredictable."
    The Commissioner stops pacing as she turns to grab a file folder from the top of the neat pile stacked to the left of her desk, next to her computer. Leaning across her desk, showing off her ample bossom with the action, the Commissioner hands the file to Baruti. Discreetly, she brushes the file against his hand, the action going unnoticed by Mikhael, who then takes the file in his free hand.
    "As the senior officer. It's your job to show this rookie the ropes. Is that clear Ibn-La-Ahkbar?" The Commissioner says, her fingers gently brushing against those of the detective as she withdraws back behind her desk.
    "Crystal." The tall detective rumbles beside Mikhael.
    "Good." The Commissioner says with a sharp nod that sends the tight bun that held back her curtain of curly, fiery red hair out of her face, bobbing forward as she takes a seat. Turning her attention to her computer she continues. 
    "Get her set up downstairs. Then it's off on your first case. Details are in the folder." She says, gesturing absently at the folder in Baruti's hand.
    Clearly dismissed. Mikhael follows her partner as he limps from the CO's office, with the help of his cane, down the hall and to the elevator at the end of the hall. As she trails behind him, she can't help but notice a few things she missed on her initial observation of the tall detective.
    He was tall yes, clearly a six-footer as he dwarfed her measly five-foot-two-inch frame, but he appeared taller with the way he held his shoulders back and chin up in excellent posture despite having to lean heavily on his cane. 
    Obviously the cane and limp where evidence of a bad leg. His right, she guessed, by how stiffly he held that leg as he walked.
    His long, graying hair, while pulled back, was still tangled in places and sticking out in 'speed bumps' in others. His beard, equally graying like his hair, was unkempt and she could see faint traces of past meals tangled in the coarse hairs around his mouth and chin, and although he was well dressed. His clothes were wrinkled and hung loosely from his thin frame, and as she stood next to him as the descended to the basement of the HQ in the rickety elevator car, she spied a few stains on the front of his shirt and jacket suggesting that it had been some time since either had been washed.
    Her overall opinion of him was that he was a lazy, chauvinistic, self-righteous, and discriminatory pig who didn't give two shits about how he looked, who never washed his clothes but yet somehow thought that he was better then her.
    'What a pig..' She thinks, remembering how he refused to shake her hand, as the elevator dings and the door opens with an unhealthy groan as it disgorges them deep within the bowels of the Pharaoh's Keep Police Department.
    Yawning widely behind the broad back of her thus far silent companion, she follows him as he leaves the car and turns left down a long corridor. His cane tap-tapping their progress along the hall, the only sound echoing off the walls around them.
    It is that tap-tapping which rouses a sweaty, balding Sergeant from where he dozed at his station. Behind bullet-proof glass, with a sign that read Distribution which hung from the ceiling above on thin chain.
    The portly Sergeant doesn't notice Mikhael standing just behind Baruti as he saunters up to the counter from behind his desk, leaving her free to watch the interaction, as he approaches carrying a large black plastic binder in his hands.
    "Whad'ya loose this time Ahkbar?" The Sergeant drawls lazily through a sigh as he wipes sweat from his beady brow with a strip of cloth that he pulled from the breast pocket of his uniform.
    "Was it you badge? Your cuffs?" the Sergeant lowers his head and covers his smirking lips with his hand as he begins to snicker, nearly choking as he continues with a snort. "Your gun?"
    "God's be merciful!" He exclaims, doubling over with laughter as tears of mirth stream down his cheeks from the corners of his rheumy, hazel eyes. "Please tell me it wasn't your gun?!"
    Frowning. Mikhael watches her partners reaction in the bullet-proof glass with confusion as, quick as lightning, furious indignation blazes across his features. She swears she could even hear him growling under his breath as his lips pull back in flash of a snarl. However, in the same breath, just as quickly as his rage appeared, she watches as it is replaced by a look of utter defeat as he shakes his head with a heavy sigh.
    "No," He sighs as he juts his thumb sharply over his shoulder, taking a hobbled step to his left and exposing Mikhael behind him to the Sergeant for the first time.
    "I got a rook here who needs to get her shit together."
    "Whoa, whoa, wait. You mean to say that the CO trusted YOU with a rookie?!" The Sergeant squeaks incredulously as he shakes his head with another snort and ambles away from the counter in search Mikhaels gear.
    "Yeah....imagine that..." Mikhael hears Baruti murmur with a humorless chuckle. Her heart aching in silent sympathy for her new partner as she catches a momentary glimpse of the tired, mirthless smile that half-heartedly pulls at the corner of his bearded lips as he hangs his head with a dejected sigh.
    She jumps back a step in surprise as Baruti unexpectedly turns to her. Takng a breath, he says.
    "Wait here. He should be back with your shit in a minute. If his dumbass can find it that is...."
    "Wait! Where are you going?" She calls after him as her partner shoves past her and begins to limp back the way they came.
    "None of your fucking business." He growls back over his shoulder making Mikhael angery.
    "I think is partner." She snarls back at his retreating form.
    Pausing just outside a door along the corridor that read Mens Locker room, which Mikhael had observed as they traveled to the distribution center, Baruti calls back to her.
    "Since you need to know so badly, I need to grab some shit from my locker. Is that ok?"
    Not waiting for her response, Baruti shoves his way through the door and disappears, leaving Mikhael alone to simmer in her own indignation at her partners attitude towards her concern.
    Glancing about her surroundings in the deserted corridor uncertainly. She listens to the sounds of the portly Sergeant banging about and cursing, just out of sight, behind a row of shelves only to reemerge a few moments later, arms loaded with a standard set of equipment that she was familiar with from the academy that included: a badge, a set of handcuffs, and a department issue Glock complete with gun belt and extra clips of ammunition.
    Laying the load on the counter on his side of the glass the Sergeant then lets instructs Mikhael to follow him to the far side of the counter to an awaiting camera. There, he takes her picture and after having her fill out and sign the required paperwork for issuing her the gear, he then prints out her new picture and credentials and slips them into the clear plastic envelope located within the leather wallet that also held her badge and then slips it onto a chain much like the one she saw peeking out from beneath her partners collar. 
    That done, he quickly checks her weapon and the holster that housed it for defects before slipping everything to her through the recessed opening under the bullet-proof glass.
    His hand lingers on the holster of the gun as he pushes it through to her, making her pause as she attempts to grab the whole lot and leave. Looking first one way, then the other, he leans so close to the glass that his breath fogs it as he whispers conspiratorially.
    "Remember, if you ever find yourself in a firefight. Just stay behind the big guy alright? You'll be safer there, sweetie."
    "Huh? Tozz Fiik!" She grunts in confusion before her anger takes hold and she yanks her gear free from the Sergeants grip before turning away.
    'What the hell is that supposed to mean?' She wonders as she makes her careful way back up the corridor to her partner, who is waiting for her by the elevators. Struggling to juggle her armload of gear as she never bothered to put any of it on in her haste to get away from the strange Sergeant behind the glass.
    As she nears her partner, Mikhael begins to clear her throat, trying to get his attention only to find herself becoming more and more pissed off as he continues to simply ignore her and continue to stare off into space. Making her final few steps a silent as possible, so as not to alert him, she quietly makes her way to Baruti's side and smiles wickedly as a plan crosses her mind. She waits a few moments before pouncing.
    "Uh, excuse me?!" She exclaims loudly, and in her most bitchiest tone, from where she stands at his elbow and making him jump she notes smugly. Her ire is only momentarily satisfied by his slight fright only to be replaced with guilt as no sooner does he start in fright does she watch as a grimace of pain darkens his features.
    'Shit, I never meant to hurt him...' She thinks guiltily as her partner turns away from her, hunched over. Wanting to distract him from his pain, Mikhael continues in a more conserved tone.
    "Hey, sorry about that but uh...think I can get a little help here? Eh, partner?"
    "Forgive me." She hears him grunt. Ducking her head as he slowly turns to face her, hissing in pain with the motion before reaching out with free arm and, after a moment, takes the pile of gear from her arms with an apologetic smile only to frown as a stray clip of ammunition clatters to the floor between them which teases a questioning raise of a brow out of Baruti as he gazes at Mikhael from over the top of his armload.
    "What?" She chuckles as she carefully takes her gun belt from her arm and struggles to put it on.
    "You mean to tell me that you didn't gear up back there?" Teases Baruti as he helps Mikhael into her belt, oblivious to how close they are standing to each other.
    "Hey, that guy was a creep!" She stuffs her clips of ammunition into her belt, blowing that elusive loose strand of hair from her face yet again.
    "You mean Sergeant Makalani?" Baruti questions as he holds out her badge to her. His large hand holding the chain open so that she can easily duck her head into it. Taking the badge from him with her hands Mikhael nods, the action going unnoticed by Baruti as he continues. "Asim is a good man. Kind hearted and he means well."
    With a snort of disbelief she whirls on Baruti, crossing her arms over her flat chest while glaring up at him.
    "How can you do that?"
    "Do what?!" Baruti asks with a bewildered shrug of his shoulders.
    "How can you honestly defend someone who was making fun of you not even twenty-minutes ago?!"
    "Defend someone who was making fun of..." He says with a frown as he mentally replays his exchange with the Portly Sergeant in his head. Comprehension dawning on him like a lead curtain as he realizes what she was talking about.
    "Wait, are you talking that gaff he made about me loosing my gun?" He says as he slowly massages his temples with the thumb and forefinger of his left-hand.
    "Yeah." She says with a small nod. Watching him closely as he slowly lowers his hand with a sigh and dejected shake of his head that causes his ponytail to fall over his shoulder.
    "Bint il-ahbal.." He says with a chuckle as he brushes his ponytail back over his shoulder. Turning, he begins to limp away from her, past the elevator.
    "That is just a running joke from my rookie days." He says sadly.
    "Oh..." She calls out, a little breathlessly, to his retreating back as she jogs after him. Her short auburn ponytail swinging behind her as she finally catches up to him, just as he pauses to wait for her outside a set of wide double doors marked Garage. "Well, it wasn't very funny..."
    "To them it is..." Baruti murmurs quietly as he holds open the door for Mikhael to pass through ahead of him before passing through himself. Nearly bumping into her as she had stopped to wait for him just beyond the door.
   "So, where to next?" Mikhael asks curiously. Moving her foot as his cane lightly bumps into the side of her foot as he moves through the door.
    Baruti holds up the cream coloured case file, that he has been carrying under his arm this whole time, and waves it before Mikhael with a soft smile.
    "In case you forgot... We still got a case to work."
    A smile as bright, as the new golden capstone atop Seti VIII's grand pyramid, lights up Mikhaels heart-shaped face as she trots along ahead of her partner. Momentarily forgetting that he cannot move as quickly, only to turn around and trot back to his side like a silently scolded child. She tentatively reaches out a shy hand to tug impatiently on the sleeve of his sports coat, only to think better of it and dart off ahead again instead.
    Unbeknownst to Mikhael, her antics have caused the faintest ghost of a smile to flit across Baruti's gaunt, leonine features as he struggles to limp after her, Just a little faster then before.
 


    
    
    
So, I'm back....got a few new chapters to my book. Other then that, yeah...just trying to stay alive

Peace out!
  • Listening to: Same Same Old Story by From Ashes to New
  • Reading: Nothing
  • Watching: nothing
  • Playing: Nothing
  • Eating: Nothing
  • Drinking: Nothing you need to know...
    With a groan Senior Homicide Detective Baruti Ibn-La-Ahkbar-Bakari reaches out into darkness. His right hand groping along the scared top of his nightstand, searching. Searching for that annoying piece of technology, that has so rudely pulled him from the blessed realm of dreams back into the harsh reality of consciousness, as it repeats the phrase 'Incoming Call' in its horrendously mechanized, overly happy rendition of the female voice, while it's incessant vibrating creates a buzzing background that, in addition to the voice, only serves to irritate his overly sensitive ears further.
    His hand finally locating the source of his ire, he roughly depresses the volume button, located along the side of the cell phone, before allowing it to slip from his lax, reverse grip with a clatter and a huff.
    Whoever it was, could wait.
    With a cavernous yawn, the detective shifts gingerly upon the nest of pillows that support his supine form in a semi-reclined position upon his king sized bed. The shift easing the ever present throb in his lower back, just enough so that he could feel himself beginning to slip back into the warm, welcome embrace of sleep. Teetering on the razors edge of consciousness, just as he lets himself slip over the edge and allows himself to plunge headlong into the abyss, he is once again yanked back to awareness by the sudden and unexpected announcement of 'Incoming Call' and buzz of his phone.
    Once again, he silences the call. Sending the unknown caller directly to his voicemail box, but no sooner does his hand leave the device does it start to ring again.
    Cursing in bastard Egyptian, he once again sends the call to voicemail, and once again, they call right back.
    By the Gods they were persistent!
    He lets the phone ring this time from where it rests in his open right palm, atop his coverlet, and sighs in exasperation as he drapes his left arm over his eyes. Once again, no sooner does the phone stop ringing, does it start again with its announcement 'Incoming Call'.
    Suddenly he gasps as a stray, foggy thought crosses his exhausted mind, which sends him sitting bolt upright and  scrambling to locate the accursed phone as it had slipped from his fingers in his excitement.
    'Please, please....' He thinks to him self as his fingers tangle among the coverlet and sheet over his lap and legs only to let loose a string of curses that would have the priestesses blushing clear down to their toes as the phone signals a missed call, just as the side of his left hand connects with something solid on the empty half of his bed.
    His lips move in a silent prayer as he lowers his head to the phone clasped tightly in both hands, begging the Gods for it to ring, just one more time, as he can think of only one person who would be so insistent on reaching him. Especially at this hour.
    "Ra be praised!" He exclaims to himself as the muffled announcement sounds just as the phone begins to vibrate in his hand.
    Taking a breath to calm himself. He quickly flips open the phone, unable to keep the hope from rising in his chest as he brings it to his ear and greets the caller with a breathless exclamation. "Altair! By the Gods plea-"
    "The Gods curse you Ibn-La-Ahkbar!" Roars the irate voice on the other end of the line, causing him to pull the phone away from his ear with a wince as his hopes deflate within in his chest faster then the balloons he once saw rising high above the palace walls as a child.
    'Haven't they enough already...' He thinks to himself as he lays back down, dejected, and continues to hold the phone away from his ear. Still able to clearly hear their shouted tirade as they continue.
    "When I call you, I expect to be answered on the first ring! Not be made to wait like some bill collector!"
    Returning the phone to his ear, he clears his throat. Buying himself the time he needs to reign in his own lashing temper and respond with a more courteous reply then the one currently sitting on the tip of his tongue, begging for release at being scolded like some witless child.
    "Ah, good morning Commissioner Sehkmet." He says through his teeth.
   "I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused with having to call multiple times. You see, my medication -"
    "Save your bullshit Ibn-La-Ahkbar." the Commissioner snarls. Her heavy, angry breathing echoing across the receiver.
"Report to my office at HQ in one hour."
    "An hour?!" He questions as he eases himself upright into a sitting position, his back resting against the headboard he continues.
"Commissioner, Surely you must understand. I cannot hope to reach HQ from my place in only an hour.!"
    "Well then, I guess you should have answered the first time." She sneers before hanging up.
    Baruti closes his phone with a heavy sigh as he returns it to his nightstand before gliding his hand along its top. Past his wallet, gun, badge, alarm clock, glass of water, and the lone picture frame that reside there to the base of  the black shaded lamp centered at its rear.
    Sliding his hand up the polished gun metal trunk of the lamp, he finds the switch and pushes it in with a 'click'. Flooding the room with weak light, not that it helped any but old habits and all...
    Throwing the covers off. He then grasps either side of the titanium brace that ran the length of his right leg and eases it to the floor with a grimace before swinging his left leg after the right and turning, using his momentum, so that he now sat at the edge of the bed. Facing the heavily blanketed window.
    He takes a moment to gather himself as he removes his well-worn, hand crafted cane, from where it rested against the wall in the hollow between his bed and the nightstand. Clamping his bottom lip between his teeth, he hauls himself to his feet with a stifled cry in one swift and agonizing motion.
    He could taste the copper tang of blood in his mouth as he breathes through the worst of the pain. Then, with slow, careful, shuffling steps he turns to his left and hobbles the length of the room to the spacious walk-in closet. His right leg protesting painfully with every step.
    Pushing aside the mirrored sliding door. He ignores the empty half of the closet to his left and turns right. He quickly grabs a fresh set of boxers, socks, as well as a clean undershirt and stuffs them under his arm before trailing his hand along the top of the clothes rack and the five hangers, holding an equal amount of button down shirts, located there.
    Finding only one shirt still on it hanger he grabs it, and the matching pair of pants sitting folded on the shelf below, and drapes them over his arm with his underclothes and hobbles from the room and down the hall to the bathroom.
    There, he lays his clean clothes on the vanity top and strips. His habit of sleeping in only his underwear making the process quicker. Leaning his cane against the vanity and using the wall for support he hobbles into the walk-in shower and turns it on. Adjusting the temperature of the water to as hot as he could tolerate.
    He showers quickly, thanks to his past, but lingers beneath the rhythmic pulse of the shower head for a few minutes as the pounding water and heat eased the worst of the stiffness and ache from his joints and the muscles in his body.
    Knowing he could ill afford to waste time, Baruti reluctantly turns off the shower with a heavy sigh and steps out, sitting upon the closed toilet lid, he quickly towels off and dresses his lower half.
    Standing and leaning against the vanity for support, he leaves the waist of his loose fitting trousers unfastened as he slips his arms into the full-length sleeves of the pinstriped charcoal gray dress shirt. His long, slender fingers moving with practiced ease to fasten first the left sleeve, then the right before pulling his mane of shoulder length, iron streaked, ebony hair from under his shirt. Sending up a spray of pregnant water drops sailing across the room, from the slightly curled ends of his hair, as he pops the collar of his shirt to straighten it.
    His hands now dance down the front of his shirt, leaving the top button open, and in no time he is stuffing his shirt tails into the waist of his trousers and fastening them before cinching the plain black leather belt where it is snug but not uncomfortable.
    Snatching a hairbrush off the countertop, he pulls his long hair over his left shoulder and with a series of short, sharp strokes has yanked the worst of the tangles from his damp hair before throwing it back over his shoulder. Tossing the brush back onto the countertop, he then grabs the thin leather strip laying next to it and quickly ties his hair back out of his face in a loose ponytail at the base of his neck.
    Leaving his dirty clothes where they lay. He grabs his cane and, popping his toothbrush into his mouth, he begins to aggressively brush his teeth as he limps from the bathroom. Pausing briefly to scratch an itch along his bearded jawline as he re-enters his bedroom.
    With a harsh hawk to clear the back of his throat, he launches his mouthful of toothpaste across the room to land with a heavy splat on the floor amid a cluster of older stains, of similar varieties, that surround a lone and overflowing trash bin nestled in the opposite corner of the room from his bed.
    Quickly the items laid out upon his nightstand are tucked away on his person. His wallet into the right, rear pocket of his trousers. His badge dangling from its length of chain about his neck.
    Taking the heavy leather gun belt in his free left hand, the right occupied by his cane, he unrolls it and pulls his standard issue Glock from the holster and ensures that it is loaded before re-securing the weapon in its holster.
    Switching the cane from his right hand to his left he then takes the gun belt and swings the heavy belt around behind his back, trapping the other end against his side with his elbow as it swings around.
    He adjusts where his weapon rests against his right hip, searching for that perfect spot where it is both comfortable and easy to draw. Satisfied with where it hung, he pulls tight the reinforced cinch and fastens the heavy duty, dual pronged buckle before securing the excess length of belt with the Velcro anchor. Finally, he snaps in place the leather sheath that housed his Karambit tactical knife at his back as well as the heavy leather sheath that protected the buckle of the gun belt.
    The sheath over the buckle served a dual purpose as it both protected the buckle from damage as well as to make it difficult for a suspect to unfasten the belt and disarm the detective should he be involved in a physical altercation or a take down.
    Now ready for work he has only one thing to take care of before leaving the house.
    Reaching out with his long arm. He takes a hold of a smooth, black, rectangular eye glasses case from where it lay on the shelf of his head board and, upon opening it, withdraws a curious collection of items.
    The first item he withdraws a spoon, its head bent so that it will lay flat, and places it on the nightstand. 
    The next item to be withdrawn from the case is a 8-mm, 100 unit insulin syringe. Identifiable only by the orange cap that covers the hypodermic needle at its head. The fine black lines and bold black numbers along its clear length, used to accurately measure the amount of insulin being drawn into the syringe, are nearly all gone, having been rubbed off by the oil of the detectives fingers. A clear sign that the syringe has been used for purposes other then what it was intended for. He sets the syringe next to the spoon.
    The final two items to be withdrawn from the case are first a tiny, clear plastic baggie containing a white crystalized substance, the crystals varying in size from a fine powder and small shards to rocks as large as a finger nail. As well as a piece of a white and red striped drinking straw that has been cut at an angle on one end.
    Setting the now empty case aside. Baruti then carefully opens the baggie and, using the angled part of the cut straw as a makeshift scoop, removes enough of its contents to fill the head of the spoon.
    Next he takes the syringe and, after removing the cap to expose the needle, draws up a small amount of water, about 10 units, from the half-empty glass on the night stand and adds it to the spoon.
    The powder and smaller crystal shards of the substance in the spoon dissolve, almost instantly, on contact with the water but the larger rocks he crushes with the flat plunger of the syringe. He then gives the clear liquid mixture a good stir to make sure that everything has dissolved, then licks the plunger to test its strength, pulling a face as he presses the back of his hand to his mouth, gagging on the taste, as the contents of the spoon continue to burn the part of his tongue that came in contact with it.
     Giving his head a strong shake, inserts the needle of the syringe into the middle of the mixture in the spoon, and draws it up into the syringe. The draw back is enough to fill the 100 unit syringe, despite how little water he added to it.
        Holding the syringe between his teeth, Baruti quickly rolls up the right sleeve of his shirt and squeezes his right bicep tightly with his left hand, like a makeshift tourniquet, while clenching and unclenching his fist so that the veins in his arm stand out sharply beneath his skin.
    He then takes the syringe in his left hand and, taking a steadying breath, pushes the point of the needle beneath the skin at the crook of his elbow, feeling for the tell-tale pop which indicates that he has hit his vein. Then, using his thumb, he draws back on the syringe and pulls a bit of blood into it. Then in one swift motion, injects the now crimson contents of the syringe into his vein by depressing the plunger.
    He can feel the effects of the shot almost instantly as it races to his heart as he pulls the needle from his arm and licks the small bead of blood from the inside of his elbow. His heart begins to pound as a feeling, like that of eating a strong mint while taking a deep breath of cold air, comes rushing up his esophagus from deep within his chest and all traces of his previous exhaustion are chased from his mind as the methamphetamine courses through his system.
    His hand shake uncontrollably with the rush of the drug and adrenalin as he quickly recaps the syringe, nearly poking himself in the process, before shoving everything back into the case and replacing it on the shelf of his headboard. Grabbing a pair of dark-tinted sunglasses from where they lay next to where he dumps the case, he slips them on as he limps from the bedroom.
    Grabbing a long sleeved black sports coat from where it lay, discarded from the previous day, on the back of the couch in the living room and slips it on before exiting into the chilly, early morning winter air. Lighting a cigarette as he locks the door behind him, he begins the long trek to work as explosions light up the pre-dawn sky and echo in the air behind him to the north. 
  • Listening to: Music
  • Reading: Nothing
  • Watching: Yuri on Ice
  • Playing: Nothing
  • Eating: Food
  • Drinking: Nothing you need to know...
    The once empty, weed covered storage lot, that belonged to the long abandoned neighboring steel factory that occupied an entire block of the now heavily shelled out industrial sector of Pharaohs Keep, was now buzzing with a level of activity it hasn't seen in years. Not since the day the emergency crews where valiantly battling to contain the roaring fires that tore rampant through the industrial and poor districts, when the invaders sent dozens of heavy mortar rounds over the top of the ancient, and once believed impregnable barbicans that surrounded the beleaguered metropolis. 
    Even as their battered and exhausted forces mounted a last ditch defense. An all out headlong charge, with whatever strength remained to them. Right into the teeth of the invading army as they tore through the small outlying village that rested in the shadows of the Keeps massive walls, in the vain hope of keeping the invaders off those same, rapidly crumbling barbicans. 
    The invaders shelling claimed thousands lives that day, both civilian, first responder and soldier alike. 
    Now a days, when the shells come screaming over the walls, the fires are just left to burn themselves out. In all honesty, there is nothing out beyond the circular safe-zone, marked by the high, rough limestone walls of the once opulent market and middle district. Few buildings, a few homeless or ownerless slaves. Not really a damn thing worth saving.
    Today, is a good day out there. The shelling occurred early this morning, a rude awaking for some, albeit that did not mean they were out of danger yet. The invading rebels could sent more shells into the city at anythime. Hence the obvious anxious undertone to the movements of the uniformed police officers as they hurried to secure the scene and to the movements of the criminal investigators as they scurried about, cameras flashing, as they rushed to collect any valuable evidence from the site. Eyes constantly flickering skyward as if expecting, at any moment, for the heavens to open up with their deadly, explosive rain.
    Mikhael watches all this with an air of indifference from where she leans against the sun warmed hood of their black, unmarked patrol unit.
    Feeling the car shift beneath her, as her partner opens the car door, she turns and watches him struggle to lever his large frame from the small vehicle. A large part of her wanted to rush forward and help him, but her sense of outrage prevented her as it mercilessly recalls the events of just moments ago.
    "Bint-il kalb!" He roars....
    
Deep down, a part of her knew that the so far gentle giant had not meant to speak to her in such a way, but still. It hurt.
    She remains where she stood. Turning her head away from him and wipes away a single silent tear as he limps past, not even sparing her a glance. Ducking in behind his hobbling form and using his broad back for cover, she quickly wipes away all traces of her salty tears from her slender cheeks as she pads along silently behind him.
    Pausing at the perimeter of the scene, Mikhael moves up to stand at her partners left shoulder and gaze out over the chaotic scene before them. Glancing up towards his leonine face, she notices him squint beneath his dark shades. His thin lips working silently beneath his thick, scruffy, salted beard before releasing a heavy sigh.
    "Alright kid. What do you see?" He rumbles as he gazes across the scene. Resting his left hand atop his right as he leans forward heavily on his cane in an attempt to take some of the weight off his leg.
    Sighing, a snarky reply flashes across her mind as she briefly entertains the idea of telling him off before fading to the background. Released upon a heavy sigh of her own and disappearing on the barely felt, gentle breeze.
    "Okay..." She says as she takes a slightly shaky breath. Buying herself time to not only control her off balance emotions, but to also switch gears into a more professional mode. 
    'Just like at the academy...' She thinks to herself as she glances about quickly. Taking in all she sees and readying herself to transcribe it into words for the test.
    "As you can see," She breaks the cardinal rule of the test, intentionally, just to be an ass. Earning her a silent, yet thunderous frown from her partner. Smiling at her ability to get under his skin, she continues confidently. "It is a gravel and weed covered lot. Obviously it was used as a storage lot for that old burned out steel factory there."
    She points out across the lot with her left hand to the aforementioned factory. Earning her a silent nod as he turns his head, ever so slightly, but in the wrong direction.
    It is her turn to frown as she wonders just what it was he was looking at. Breaking off her transcription, she poses this question aloud.
    "Huh? Oh, nothing." He replies. Sheepishly ducking his head before turning his gaze towards the factories shell.
    Shaking her head with a slight roll of her hazel eyes, she once again scans her surroundings from left to right and takes up her description again. But not after ribbing her partner for his lack of attention.
    "If you want me to do this, then you have to pay attention."
    "I am now." He growls, although she notices the corners of his beard twitching slightly in the beginnings of a faint smile before being secreted away beneath his large left hand as he rubs at his beard.
    "Good."
    Scanning her surroundings from left to right, she continues.
    "The lot must be, oh I don't know, 25,000 square feet. Thing takes up the whole block."
    Hearing a heavy sigh from her right, Mikhael turns to see her partner pinching the crooked bridge of his nose. She questions what is wrong.
    "Mikhael," He sighs as he slowly lowers his arm. "please try to keep the sarcasm out of your description?"
    "Well if you don't like it. Why don't you describe it to me, then?" She snaps back as she crosses her arms tightly over her chest, cocking a hip.
    "I...." Her partner starts before raising his hand and massaging his temples with his thumb and forefinger. With a sigh he pinches the bridge of his nose again and rubs the back of his neck as he growls. "Just get on with it."
    "Like I said, the lots about 25,000 square feet. The whole thing was enclosed by a chain-link fence, but the mortars took care of that pretty good. It looks like it was used for storage for the factory."
    "What does the terrain look like?"
    "Well the whole thing is covered with gravel and weeds." She shrugs, earning herself another disapproving frown from her partner as he glares down at her.
    Rolling her eyes at him with a sigh, she shifts her weight to her right foot and tries again.
    "Left side of the lot has a lot of sheets of plywood that stacked up. Six rows across, three rows deep. Behind those are just stacks of empty pallets as tall as the fence, so that would make them about eight feet high." She says.
     "North corner, that's closest to us,"
    "I know my directions Ms. Uruvian." 
    "Oh, you do? I didn't know that." She replies in mock shock. Earning herself a growl as her repeated snarky replies are beginning to really  get under his skin.
    "anyway, the North corner has a dumpster in it. Lots of scrap wood and broken pallets in from what I can see. There's a couple of CI's going through it. Do you want to check it out?"
    "No," Her partner replies with a shake of his head as they watch the pair of CI's work. One is inside the dumpster, photographing objects within before handing the object down to the second CI for the 'bag and tag'. "we'll leave the dumpster diving to them. What's next?"
    "Well, we've got a half loaded tractor trailer and a forklift right in front of us. Both heavily damaged from mortars. It looks like they where in the middle of making a load when the shells started falling. Anyway, the trailers a standard length." She says, once again being cut off by her grizzled companion. 
    "What do you mean by a standard length flat bed? What does it look like?"
    "It's a long flat trailer with steel on it." She says as if it where the most obvious thing in the world.
    "Mikhael, there are many different types of flat-bed trailers. Now tell me. Is this trailer a step-deck? A double drop-deck?"
    "Would it make any difference?" She questions.
    "Yes, it would. Each type of trailer has a different standard length." He explains patiently. "A step-deck trailer usually has a well length of thirty-seven feet with an eleven-foot 'step' at the front. A double drop-deck has a bottom well length of twenty-seven feet with both a front and back step that measure eleven-feet, and a standard flatbed has a total length of forty-eight feet with no steps. Now, what kind of flat trailer is it?"
    "It's the last one. just a long, flat trailer."
    "Okay, is there a tractor attached?"
    "No." she says with a shake of her head. "The poor bastards loading the trailer probably used to escape the mortars."
    "Never assume anything Ms. Uruvian. Perhaps the killer used it to make their escape?"
    "Yeah, what ever...."
    "What else is out there?" He partner says with a deep sigh as he shifts his weight, leaning even heavier on his cane.
    "Not much." She says with another shrug. "The rest of the lot is filled with bales of rebar, steel girders, guard rails and all kinds of steel pipes. Oh, and there is some concrete dividers over there in the Northeast corner." She says pointing.
    "Alright, where is the body?"
    "Over there where the medical examiner is?" she replies, smiling at her partners exasperated sigh and shake of his head. Having had her fun, she decides to let up on him a little. 
    "I was just teasing. The body is thirty yards to our right. There is a row of one-hundred and forty-four inch diameter steel pipes in that corner. That's where the M.E is heading and I can see a bare foot sticking out from the mouth of the pipe from here."
    Turning, Mikhael watches as her partner takes in her amended description while stroking his beard with his unoccupied left hand. She releases a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding when finally, he nods his approval.
    "Was that so hard?" He teases as a bright smile crinkles the crows feet about his hidden eyes.
    "No, I just had to make it hard for you."
    His deep chuckle sounds pleasant to Mikhael as he reaches out and lifts the yellow tape to his shoulder before dipping his head in a slight bow.
    "Ladies first." 
    She nods her thanks and walks beneath the tape, surprised to find herself smiling as well. Still smiling she turns and waits for her partner to duck beneath the tape and lead the way to where the medical examiner was crouched next to the body. 
    As she trails behind him, she watches her partner stumble multiple times on the uneven ground. After hearing his pained cursing, for the fifth time. Mikhael trots forward and, without a word, gently takes her elder partner by the arm. Guiding him to more obstruction free and even footing as they make their way across the lot.

     

    

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teejayspook
TJ
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
Canada
I'm Fisrt Nations. I'm from Canada but right now I'm living in Sidney Montana
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:iconiceofthearctic:
Iceofthearctic Featured By Owner Dec 16, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
You have been Hugged by Iceofthearctic!!!! *Hug* Spread the DA love around! (you can copy and paste this message on their userpage!) 

RULES:
1- You can hug the PERSON who hugged you!
2- You -MUST- hug 10 other people, at least!
3- You should hug them IN PUBLIC! Paste it on their page!
4- Random hugs are perfectly okay! (and sweet)
5- You should most definitely GET STARTED hugging right away!

^w^ Sweet hug~Hug
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:iconteejayspook:
teejayspook Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
O///O uh...-hugs back-Man Hug 
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:iconteejayspook:
teejayspook Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
-////- uh
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:iconteejayspook:
teejayspook Featured By Owner Jan 8, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
D-uh.......

I don't have ten people to hug so.....you get ten hugs tahila!

:)
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:icondragracingotaku:
DragRacingOtaku Featured By Owner Feb 18, 2013
Cheers for the fave. :)
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:iconxxflamingrcxx:
xXFlamingRCXx Featured By Owner Jan 22, 2013
OMFG! it's you the all famous Altair! I remember you! You bred with your "slave" mhm yes yes...I remember you. You abandoned everyone just to fuck a wolf. How did them children come out bud?
~Flare
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:iconteejayspook:
teejayspook Featured By Owner Feb 14, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
o.o uh......
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:iconxxflamingrcxx:
xXFlamingRCXx Featured By Owner Feb 16, 2013
^3^
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:iconwirelesskae:
WirelessKae Featured By Owner Nov 9, 2012
Hey ^^ [link] you might like it ;3; I did my best on it.
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:iconiceofthearctic:
Iceofthearctic Featured By Owner Oct 27, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
First Duskeria group rp today! [link]
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