Clang! The cold metal case hit the large rusted blue crate, sore, dragging himself backwards shuffling he got his share of the transpired chaos, but he had it better than the other two. One lay there, unconscious, his face disfigured from launched raining fists, his skull had cracked and slight blood tinkled drop by drop, he had it worse than all them, the chaos came at him hard! The third, leaned back, nursing his not one but now two bullet wounds, one through his arm another below his gut near his left upper thigh. He was fading, he tried as he could but it was flowing, the second bullet cut through a vein, and boy! He the blood continuously flowed gulp by gulp. He kept pressure on it which reduced this critical condition temporarily, but the more blood kept coming out the lesser conscious he became and slowly his head lowered, his eyes fading, his breathing was reducing and with gravity, bam! He collapsed heavily on the brick floor, blood mapped from below, soaking his cotton clot

Blinding lights, fidgeting on a stretcher, “Help me!” He screams turning from side to side, blood leaks like an unplugged filled sink, “Shots now!” The head doctor shouts worriedly, nurses rush him in the intensive care in the far room of the 50 floor hospital, his in pain, a lot of pain but still within the pain ripping his nerves, the agony eating up his veins, he was not finished yet, they will pay all of them but till then five shots of painkillers lights out imposter. Masked, green gloves, stitching kits on the side, bundles of cotton cool, red every where, he lost a lot of blood if they didn’t close it up soon he may be gone, this daunted the doctors and nurses. One hour, two… they finally came out, gloves soaked red, sweat on their temples, overalls dispatched in the dirty laundry container, the head doctor neared whom he thought were the closest relatives to the patient after all they wore worried faces and waited eagerly. “His safe, we have covered up the wound. Give him a

One batch wore the A class uniform, dark woolen navy shirt with several adornments, blending dark navy khaki trousers, some varied military creases, while others had theirs in the more 5 pocket design. The second batch wore the B class uniform which was more casual, home Lauderdale, and of the more crisp military style, button front shirts with slight varying military creases, with khaki trousers and some in jeans, others added the touch with a leather black duty belt around. Sooner than later they were dressed in their respective police uniforms, and as graduates of the law enforcement they all had their metal badges, insignias, and some preferred to tie the knot with their signature black, tactical, style boots. They were yet to armor themselves since this was a sudden run up call, the head inspector had blown the whistle three times consecutively each blow louder and heavier than the last, signaling their sudden meeting. He was locked in his encased cardboard office, it was ten

His fist thumped impatiently the middle sized table, every second he would glare at the clock nailed on the wall near the inspector’s office, a guard would pass gladly he would wear the fake smile to prompt them to move on, he saw Mist leave without a word presuming he went to get the money and just any second he would walk in those open rusted brown doors and slap the officers at the reception with their bail cheque and bam! His free. But it was now ten minutes and his eyes glued those doors, a mother with a child, a father with faded clothes and tattered laptop bag, an average teen with swollen lips and black swelling eyes, he presumed that the one who followed afterwards was he, but no it was just a normal citizen coming to seek justice, some to frame others, who cares Mist wasn’t coming back. He was in disbelief, when the guard roughly cuffed him and shook him up as he dragged him to his cell, he still was in shock, “My lawyer is coming back!” He would scream as he became more re

Frustrated, disappointment drew his face, no one talked to him, not the guards not his own men no one did, if anyone had an issue they were told to come back later, or that he was sick, some who kept persisting were told the matter as it is, the inspector isn’t in a mood to talk at the moment so if you are hungry for insults and emotional torture be my guest his office is straight ahead. This turned many, they all sighed out disappointed, even the law gets angry they wondered as they ought to take their problem elsewhere or bury it till he was in a welcoming talkative mood. In the truck they hiked a ride in, he bit his lower lip, gazed on the jungle, the leaves of the dense canopy, the sweet sound of nature, soothed him from erupting his anger on the slightest issue, but when he step foot in the noisy busy city, he clicked in disappointment and cursed under his breath as he insulted the air for being filled with industrial fumes as he coughed slightly, he cursed the cars for having n