Allen had always hated the press. The way they assumed they could be anywhere, ask anything, twist words, and ruin careers all in the name of “free speech”. He looked around the room, now full of investigators, detectives, reporters, and photographers. Hopefully they don’t know about Cain. If they find out we have someone personally related to this whole mess, the mess could get a lot messier.
He didn’t have much for Christopher Cain to do. He was a good detective; but he was old, harsh, and his style of investigation went against everything they were taught at the academy. Not to mention his strange obsession with the Dry by Night newspaper incident from a few years ago. He was assigned to that case by the old chief of police who retired shortly after the incident occurred. Cain never seemed quite right, not after his family was taken. He became irritable, paranoid, and more obsessed with the newspapers than he ever had been.
I need to get this scene under control before they start going through desks and who knows what all else.
He cleared his throat, and the room got deathly quiet.
“As—” Cameras flashed, I always forget about that part. Oh well.
“As you all know, at approximately 6:03 AM, Ethan Samson escaped from Samson Maximum Security Prison.” He explained. He knew they all knew that, but he also knew that they would take any little letter they could. Any excuse to scribble away on the notepads. He felt like he was walking on eggshells, one wrong word and the room would erupt in questions and chaos.
“We received word at 6:13, ten minutes after the escape transpired, that an inmate had escaped. Ethan Samson should be considered armed and dangerous by the public.” As he held up the most recent photo of Ethan, more cameras flashed, this time, however, he was ready.
 “If anyone sees a man in his very early twenties, around 6’2, dressed in an outfit that clearly belongs inside a prison, with blueish green eyes, and a wiry build, and black hair longer than our line of witnesses, we encourage you to call the police. Rest assured, we have, and you can quote me on this, our best investigators on the case working on figuring out his whereabouts as we speak.” With that line, every investigator in the room tried to look as busy and pensive as possible. All of course, except for Cain.
“We have a few minor leads at the moment and will be investigating them accordingly. However, for the sake of this operation, we cannot disclose what leads we do have, and which ones we are most actively pursuing. Now, with that being said, we have a lot of work to do. If you could leave us to do our jobs, which, and feel free to quote me on this once again, the prison should have but did not do, that would be greatly appreciated. Thank you.” With that, the room exploded in shouting, movement, and general mayhem.
He made his way back to his office, shut and locked the door, and sat down at his desk. Gonna be a long day, might as well start it right. He lit another cigarette, reached into the bottom drawer of his desk, and pulled out a glass and a bottle of bourbon. I’ll pop this open once they’ve all gone, I’ll get around to Cain shortly thereafter.
He looked around his office, it’s not my office. It’s never been my office. No, stop that thought before it ever begins, enjoy your cig in your office, and don’t think too hard about it all. As he looked around the office, he saw nothing new. His desk was covered in glass rings, he refused to use a coaster. Coasters are the napkins of cowards. On the face of his desk sat his name plate, which had barely been there long enough to gather dust, and a collection of Hobbes’s writings.
Allen believed Hobbes was right in most regards. He, from a young age, realized and understood the fact that humans are naturally wicked. It was a part of the reason he went into the profession he had. He loved and lived for justice. His love of justice was rivaled only by his love of money, Solstice cigarettes, and of course, bourbon. I can get all those from the place I have to be daily. This is all any man can ask for; if you ignore th- stop. He let out a sigh, and with it, enough smoke to worry a fire watchman. As he continued to look around the office, he saw bookshelves that clearly hadn’t been used not only in his time here, but looked like they hadn’t been used since they were brought in. Figures.
As he let out a puff of smoke, it began to rain outside. The soft sound of raindrops hitting his office window, which looked out into the streets of New York. He began to think about all the implications and effects this escape could have on the city he was raised in. He knew, of course, mothers would be worried sick, and fathers would be ready to defend their homes at any minute. That was standard, or at least he thought it was. In the few years he’d been chief, the only other huge crime he’d had to worry about was the DBN incident, and even that wasn’t fully his responsibility.
He figured he’d have more frequent patrols take place, letting the people see that regardless of what the papers say, the police really are doing their job. He ran his fingers through his hair, much of which had fallen out at this point, and just as he began to think he could relax, the phone rang. Great.
“New York police, Chief Bell speaking, what do you think your emergency is?”
“Put Chris on, please. It’s urgent.” Since when was secretary in my job description?
“Can I ask who this is?”
“You can.”
“Who is this?”
“Never said you’d get an answer.” Ha-ha very funny I’m currently cackling at that very smart and witty joke. Allen sighed dramatically; he hated people like this. Every time someone thinks they’re being witty, or funny, or whatever, it’s a waste of time and more often than not disrespectful. I was not elected to sit and listen to sleep worthy ‘comedy’.
“One second I’ll grab him, be right back.”
He put out his cigarette, which he thought was a waste. Solstice is such a nice brand, and I haven’t been able to make it all the way through one of their cigarettes today. He put the bottle and the glass away. A shame. As he went to open the door, he made sure to peek out first to make sure the reporters and photographers were gone. They were.
He walked over to Christopher’s desk, which was covered in old newspapers, pens, little notes with what seemed like gibberish scribbled all over them, and a photo of his wife and child. Christopher was there, working on, of course, the DBN case.
Allen knocked on the corner of his desk and asked, “didn’t I tell you to start working on figuring out Samson’s possible location, Cain?”
“No. What you told me is that we would talk later. I have other things to worry about, and you never actually told me to work on this case, sir.” Christopher said, snarkily.
“Watch your tone, Cain. And anyways there’s some guy on the phone for you who says it’s urgent. Take the call, after which I want you working on nothing other than figuring out Samson’s whereabouts.” Allen responded.
“Will do. Did the guy give you a name?” Christopher asked.
“Nope. Apparently, he thought I didn’t need to know.”
“Weird, alright. I’ll make the phone call fast, but would you mind staying out here for it? I might be able to get more out of whoever this guy is if it’s just him and I.” Christopher said.
“Fine but make it quick. I wanna be back in my office by the end of the day.” Allen responded.
As Christopher walked towards his office, Allen sat down at Christopher’s desk and looked around the main room of the station. It wasn’t often he saw every detective they had all in the same room working on the same thing. It was a beautiful sight, at least what could be seen through the thick fog of cigarette smoke that hung in the air.
He missed it. The quiet murmurings between the detectives, the smell, the way the desk felt, even the room itself. He regretted giving it up, but he also didn’t. He used to think that no amount of money could convince him to leave that side of the profession for a managerial position. However, when that first cash deposit got dropped off at his door for doing seemingly nothing outside of what a normal police chief would do, he understood the choice he had made was the right one.
It was wrong, it was immoral, dishonest, not to mention illegal, and it bothered him. Thats what alcohol is for, remember? It’s best not to dwell. His job was about to get much, much harder because of this whole situation. He needed Samson locked up as soon as possible. What he had planned was unknown, but Allen knew that a person as smart, cold, conniving, intimidating, and crazy as Ethan Samson could completely unravel all that he held dear. While all that held dear was his position, his property, and his source of income, he still worried about what could happen if Ethan was on the outside for too long. It’s bad enough Cain hasn’t stopped looking into them, but if Ethan, who doesn’t have a set of guidelines to go by figures it out, all hell could break loose.
Christopher came out of the office, looking unbothered as ever, and told Allen he could have his office back. “I’ve got work to do; you’ll know his possible whereabouts before lunch.” He said.
“Good, what was the phone call about?” Allen asked.
“Personal matter. Really could’ve waited, I’ll handle it over lunch.” Christopher replied.
“Alright, don’t come back late, though. We really need you on this case. Call up your lawyer; tell him we can talk after your lunch.”
“You’re one to talk about taking long lunches.” Christopher muttered.
“Wanna say that louder?”
“Did you know pigs have good hearing?” Christopher responded. “Strange, you must be an exception.”
“Be here by 12:15.”
“My lunch ends at 12:30.”
“Did you know jackasses have a great sense of time?” Allen asked. “I see you’re no exception. 12:30.”
With that, Allen walked back to his office, closed and locked the door, and lit yet another cigarette. He was determined to finish this one. As the first sting of smoke filled his mouth, he seemed to, once again, be able to ignore the “obligations” he should be tending to. That’s a problem for another day, a problem for another chief. With that mindset being fully implemented, one puff at a time, he felt his worries being blown away. Suddenly, he felt like calling a friend.