The Thick Blue Line, part I
Posted: Sat Jun 06, 2009 6:41 pm
John leaned against the window of a bakery. It was a sunny day and the rhododendron in the Grand Square were in full bloom. John pulled out a cigarette. He wasn't supposed to smoke while on duty, but he was having trouble kicking the habit. It is hard to stop when you've smoked since you were thirteen, he always told his girlfriend when she nagged him to stop. He looked out over the square. Even though the square certainly lived up to its name, he was the only Guard officer there. The service was still brand new and still recruiting, having just earlier that year replaced the band of thugs that made up the old County Watch. The Baroness was very strict with who served in the Guard. Only the best men and women from the military were allowed to sign up during the first year.
He looked down on his still pristine uniform. The navy blue pants with creases, his white shirt and neck-tie in the Lakhesian colors, and his white bobby helmet with the Lakhesian crest on it. He felt proud to wear the uniform, and even though he was only 21 and fresh from mandatory military service, he counted himself lucky. Despite all of this, he was a bit sorry that the Guard were unarmed. That was one of the other things the Baroness was very strict with. To gain the trust of the public after a long time of lawlessness, all officers on regular patrol duty were only armed with a bell, cuffs, whistle, pepper spray and a radio. He looked at his bell, or rather "bell". It had once been a bell on a stick used by the old Watch to attract the attention of other officers when needed, but it had now evolved into more or less a nightstick. It did however still have the funny quirk that when you "tapped" someone it jingled. It was said that the last thing many criminals heard before losing consciousness was that soft "ding-dong" from the little bell.
Suddenly, there was a large crash from the other side of the square. John jumped, he had nearly fallen asleep in the sun. He scanned the area and moved out into the crowd in the square, in the direction of the commotion. People parted to let him through, the fear of the old police force mixed with the respect for the new one. The Baroness was well liked in the capital. As he reached the other side of the square, he saw the reason for the crash. A shop window was smashed and the owner, Mr. Farhad of "Farhad's Falafel and Kebab", was eying the damage.
John flipped open his notebook and approached the apron-clad man. "Ho there, Sir. What seems to be the problem", John asked as per the regulations. "Well, effendi, someone seems to have littered the inside of my shop with small shards of glass", Mr. Farhad replied with ill concealed sarcasm. "Ah, well did you see who done it", replied John, totally ignoring the subtle insult. "No, I didn't, but I have a pretty good idea". The shop keeper continued, "We do get some problems with kids throwing stone and shouting things like 'Go home, towelheads' and suchlike". John nodded in a way he felt conveyed a feeling of sympathy and concern, but it made him look more or less constipated. "Well, you can feel certain that Mortis Mercatoria's finest are on the job", he reassured Mr. Farhad, who in turned inspected John from top to bottom. He then tried to look reassured. He failed royally...