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Post by RYLAND LOGINOV on Aug 13, 2012 1:14:05 GMT -5
The best thing about being one of the Chief's favorite officers? You can convince him to let you off medical leave. Most people would enjoy it, but Ryland hates sitting around, doing nothing. He'd rather drive around all day than just lay on his bed and stare at Mighty. So, tonight's his first night back since the stabbing, and he was feeling great. His shoulder was a bit stiff, but that's expected. Besides, he took an ibuprofen just a couple of minutes ago, so it'll take a little while for it to start working. Ryland looked at himself in the tiny mirror in the locker room, smoothed his hair back, straightened his belt, tucked in his shirt, and was ready to step out the door. His stomach churned with excitement. Something's going to happen tonight. He could feel it.
Ryland and been driving around for over three hours now, and nothing's happened except for a couple of pull overs and a call about someone shooting off fireworks. School may have started a couple of weeks ago, but it's usually busier than this, especially this shift. Ryland sighed and backed into an unused drive way, turned off his lights, and held the radar gun in his lap. Maybe if he sat here for a few minutes something would come up. And sure enough, his radio buzzed. "Unit 1713," said the dispatcher. He smirked and lifted the talkey to his mouth. "This is unit 1713."
[/size][/center][/justify] "We have a bar fight at Kryptic on West Broadway. Number of people involved unknown." "10-4."Adrenaline rushed through him as he flipped the cruiser's lights on, and turned on his siren. It felt so good to speed down the road, knowing that you're about to kick some butt. Ryland shortly arrived at Kryptic, a bar that's notorious for drug dealers, slum bags, and bar fights. He shut off the lights and the car, stepped out, and strolled into the bar. It looked like a tornado hit the place. There were broken beer bottles everywhere, thrown chairs, and flipped tables. There were a few people still there, all of which were injured. "This is Unit 1713," he spoke into his talkey. "Continue," replied the dispatcher. "I need a couple of paramedics over to Kryptic bar." Ryland walked around and examined a few of the injured, most of which were head wounds. "I've got a lot of head wounds. Most of which are bleeding noses and lips, but I've got a few that were hit by beer bottles." He frowned when he came upon a young looking girl who's face was mangled and bloody. "10-4." He sighed and looked around for a worker, someone who would have seen the whole thing. Then, he saw a girl who he sees a lot at his calls. "You aren't very good at avoiding trouble, Ryanne," he joked. Ryland smirked and walked over to the pretty blonde. [/justify][/center] [/blockquote][/blockquote] |
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Post by RYANNE SULLIVAN on Aug 14, 2012 21:28:45 GMT -5
i’ll never know which way to flow, set a course that i don’t know LAURA/RYLAND , 761 , SKIRT&TORN BLOUSE , HAHA
ryanne schedule was already messed up as she slept for the beginning part of the morning, tended classes and then proceeded to sleep until she had to depart for her shift. psychology came in handy when she had to listen to the problems at the bar but more so when she had to talk back and help give advice as though she was shrink to the regulars. of course, sitting in a leather chair and asking how the patient was feeling was not the type of work that ryanne wanted to do and it was not even the purpose for her studies as she was more interested in why people did the things that they did and how could some people feel no remorse. was it a childhood thing? forced? or did they just choke down any feelings towards someone in order to make themselves feel better? it was all a mystery to her and it was something that she wished to find out ever since she witnessed a bullet going into her father’s head in the family owned church while she hid from the men. rubbing at her shoulder after having been clocked in, ryanne walked out into the bar and grinned to a few of the familiar faces and proceeded to start her job as she began to pop open beer bottles and mix drinks together to already semi drunk people. she was amazed at how people’s behavior changed and she was not surprised when a fist was flying but what took her more by surprise was the fact that the fight escalated higher and soon, ryanne had a bat in her hand that was kept behind the bar for these kind of things. she spun it in her hand to get a good grip on the handle and proceeded to threaten anyone that dared to come near her as she literally hopped over the bartop followed by her co workers. ”lads!”
[/b] she hollered, reaching for a male’s shirt collar and pulling him off another male. things had moved quicker as she noticed that her coworkers were soon being involved in the fighting and her eyes began to roll. fists were flying and bottles were being thrown to the ground making the tiled floor into a death trap, ”fook!”[/b] she yelled at as she felt a piece of shard cut through the bottom of her shoe. she tried her best to keep her head above water and to keep the bar fight as down as possible but it was obvious that professional help was going to be needed to intervene. she was not even sure what caused the fight but she knew that she was bleeding as was many of the other people. after what seemed like hours, and was only minutes, the unconscious people dropped to the ground and the bar began to clear with the sounds of sirens. ryanne tossed the bat to her older co-worker, letting him have the protection since it seemed that his bat was taken in the middle of the scuffle. ”jesus christ…”[/b] she muttered knowing that her father was probably rolling over in his grave as his eldest daughter took the lord’s name in vain. however, ryanne was not much for religion but she was one for order and slowly began to pick up the flipped tables, watching her co-workers move across the large bar surface to throw the glass to the ground. her steps took her over bodies, but she did bend down to check that they were still breathing. ”fook you got it bad buddy..”[/b] she muttered as she attended to one male. ryanne took it upon herself to rip the bottom hem of her shirt and tie it around a wound that looked too much like a stab wound. police officers were now looking around the place and she slowly rose up off her haunches and smirked to the sight of a familiar male, ”just me damn luck lad." the girl never did have luck to avoid these kind of things, trouble just seemed to follow her, ”I’m a magnet , it's one of my many talents.”[/b], of course it was his job but that did not stop ryanne from feeling just a wee bit sorry for him. [/div][/center] |
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