The Alex Box: A Tale of Loss and Legacy

Detective Hoover

He felt deprived. 

And had become so mad and toxic that he confronted law enforcers who dared stand in his way, Ryker believed he feared no one.

And that has got him frequent forceful free rides to the police station and occasions of detention. 

Twice have he been apprehended by Mr. Fred himself who was the most lenient on him, for he did nothing other than talk, talked, and talked so much that it would bore him. 

But what Ryker found most annoying, is that he would not realize his ears no longer retain voices he didn't utter;  not that he'd tell him. 

No, he wouldn't even look at him, just sat there, staring blankly on the table that demarcated them, as he patiently waited for his departing hour to come. 

Though he had been excited when a text popped up on his screen, almost a year ago.

It was from an unknown sender, which read, "Hi, it's Jane." 

"Jane Maureen?" He had texted back... Hoping he didn't guess wrong.

"Yes, got your contact from Robert, a week ago when I was home to prepare for our Christmas trip. You weren't home." The sender had replied. 

"Wow. Cool, how are you?" And so on the chat went.  

But, Ryker was not that excited, something just didn't feel right. 

(Maybe because we're no longer those kids, she had a different life now, and maybe even understood what her mom was trying to get her to.) 

He thought within himself behind the screen.

Perhaps not so, but he felt the emptiness as if someone has wandered off with some pieces of their history

So he was quite sure she would be on the random queue now too. Why bother? 

But at least the lingering sense of friendliness  never did count her out of the few he'd regarded in their chats.

Which had borne the surreptitious meet they had planned to have this Christmas, as her parents would disapprove in the course of knowing. 

With soft multiple taps, the screen responded to his command and he was able to type his responses. 

"Hey, what's up?" Her text read.

"Not good" he texted back.

"Not surprised, you rarely are." Her text came through, in the company of laughing emojis.

He hissed, on seeing her text… 

(It's not right, if she actually believes that.)

He thought.

"I'm afraid you're quite wrong, a complicated issue we're talking about here ma'am."

"Oh really, can I help?" She texted back 

"Yes, guess what?"

"Go to the point, pls I'm not good at guessing."

She replied pronto.

"Alright then," 

"Ammunition and a full body bulletproof might just solve it all." 

He noticed he was smiling for the first time since sunrise as he reread and hit the send button. 

"Lol." 

The simple abbreviated reply didn't convey its real meaning on his end. 

He tossed the phone on the table and took the wet towel to get rid of it, as something he would consider the right thought crossed his mind. 

He sighed and said to myself, 

"I cannot do this alone, not at all. If anything, I probably would need some help and a diplomatic strategy at that." 

He admitted.

(I've been an asshole, I still am, and no one will give a shit! No one cares if now, I am trying to be some DC character trying to save a family of Joe from impending endangerment. 

Mom does care but her reactions will sure mess things up for me.) 

He mused. 

The only other person who could give him a listening ear…. 

Mr. Fred Maureen, now a Captain in the Police force.

He threw the napkin he was holding in a random direction he never minded. 

He moved swiftly across the room and to the parlor heading for his mom's scooter key, which usually lies on the glass TV stand if not in use. 

He almost bulldozed Riley out of the way as he bumped into his limbs. 

He acknowledged him with an apologetic glance and waved, 

"Hey I'm sorry man..." 

He grabbed the key, and rushed out and unto the scooter, off he went. 

Such rides need no brake pads engagement. 

....

Swirling the bike to a stop, he had arrived at the police station he had long visited, either being summoned under a warrant as a suspect or arrested and detained, later freed but mostly on probation, and now on his own. 

He felt poking glares from almost everywhere as he was quite infamous in the society, notorious he was to the enforcement agency. 

But he thought it's about time he'd vouch for myself, there are bad guys out there, far worse than he is, and rarely got arrested. 

"Captain Fred on duty?" 

He asked Detective Herbert Hoover on purpose, a lanky but sinewy light-tanned man in his early thirties whose compulsive need to rise through ranks had made him a maniac, one of the strictest officials to ever handle him.

Dismissing the thoughts of what they might have been thinking of him. 

Detective Hoover shot him his cop glare, "Have you come to report yourself this time?" 

(He should have known by now, I don't give a damn about cop scowls, moreover what the hell is this man trying to insinuate?) 

He thought, provoked.

"Well, I'm sorry I had to report to you, myself. But, I just mercilessly battered Bryan and pulped his balls, as you can see I'm drenched in his blood." 

He decisively chooses to challenge his egotistical haughty spirit with a satirical response, involving his son. 

He sprang up, shoved back his chair with such violence, it crashed.

Prompting every attention in the room to focus in their direction, 

Ryker bent forward over his desk to finesse the exertion of his auditory sleight, so that the onlookers can only imagine. 

"If I were you, I would be diplomatic right now, act like a Detective I am, and manage my outbursts," 

He said in an even tone. 

Knowing other officials are watching his mouth, no matter how hard he tried to bottle his voice, 

(Of course, I actually did not rush out of my comfort zone to further implicate myself.) 

He muttered.

Detective Hoover glowered at him,

"What are you trying to prove right here kid?"

"Got two hairs on your balls now, to disrespect an elder and even go to the extent of verbally assaulting a police officer on duty?" 

He said aloud with a precise sense of remonstration. 

(Oh My--! Now that was really upsetting. The clock is ticking, and yet this old unethical douche won't spare me of his incrimination.

I gotta curb his truculence.)

He thought, 

Habitually, he raised his right hand to support the skin dividing his nostrils with his thumb and he scraped his index finger across the tip of his nose; as it somehow aided when he's deliberating a fast critical thinking.

  "To be honest, I would not know my notoriety has granted the police officers an alibi to lash out on a dutiful citizen trying to expose a serious case of a life-threatening robbery and vandalism that is about to crop up, in a bid to get rid of him and dismissing his complaints." 

He was speaking audibly enough this time for all ears present to perceive even the most silent syllable in his words. 

Ryker didn't anticipate that he would be visiting the police headquarters as a negotiator, but it seems that the only way for him to maneuver through the complex labyrinth of skeptical and nitpicking officers is to do so himself.

Though not quite sure about interests, he sure had garnered attention like that of a Rabbi, giving a sermon to a mass of the population.

He was pleased with himself seeing that he had  thrown Mr. Hoover in a daze as he stared blankly at him and would not make more utterances. 

Majority of the people present looked askance at him, as he continued. 

"I am the only one who knows what is at stake here, and I hereby asked a question, Is Captain Fred on duty, for to him I would rather discuss the issue at hand." 

Exhales, and he turned to look at the Detective once again.

"I trust your claims must be valid boy," 

A distant voice prompted him to redirect his gaze, 

"But why should you think the best thing to do is single out a person to report to when the issue at hand is commonly concerning?" 

Sergeant Oswald Colt, a slightly overweight man in his late forties, with a classic, original moustache and a receding hairline said approaching him.

"Because he'd understand," 

He replied impatiently, 

The man gave him a puzzled look as he stared back at him. 

"We all would. Moreover,

The captain is out with the Chief, dealing with some affairs, and won't be available right now. Whatever essential information is it you've got to share; I urge you to help us so that we help you." 

He placated.

Such a sensible persuasive speech. Ryker thought, 

(But I'm skeptical, I have trusted to detail Mr. Fred on the issues with Emperor's nefarious gang in toto, then their felonious plans as follows, so that they will be subdued and I will live free of threats, but now I  think I will have to concur, anyway, but just going straight to the point will better save me from conviction. And also, it's now or never for time is swooping to the place of yesterday.) 

 Ryker Hartley conjectured.

"Umm... Okay, okay."

He shrugged, and he started with his narration.

"I'm not convinced you all know Jude?" 

At the mention of his name, he sensed all presence became reawakened, they all sat up, and those standing struck a pose triggered by curiosity, 

It was like Jude had instigated top-of-mind awareness on the community police.