|I Moderate (i_moderate) wrote in we_archive,|
@ 2006-07-27 01:24:00
|Entry tags:||john constantine|
i_beatthedevil Place and Time and How Wrong They Can Go: a Study (narrative, for Midnite)
Just because there are heroes, don't mean there isn't crime.
And not all crime is garish and threatening. Some of it is simple, the broken window of a storefront, jewelry missing. Some of it is pedestrian, a parking ticket on an expensive windshield. Other crime is just cheap and easy.
It doesn't take a cape or superpowers to spot that kind, just find a darker corner of the night, a loud bar, a broken down home. This is the routne stuff that the supertypes don't mess with, it's not their place. Even the uniformed officers stare sidelong on dirtieer streets, as if they didn't want to be there either.
Neither did the perps. There were the stupid types, those who walked the line, others who had no other choice but all came to the same end on the other side of the law.
Then again, there were those in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"FUCK YOU!," John shouted, the officer grabing him roughly into cuffs linked behind his back. "Jus'- jus' FUCK OFF! I wasn' doin' shite, man! This is abso-fucking-lutely mad!"
Ushered from the doorway, glowing neon from the beer light in the window, the officer pulled his head away and continued to pull him towards the squad car. A woman stood on the curb, looking greatly concerned but doing nothing to stop the scene. A man looked on from a distant alleyway. He had a huge bruise across his face and he wasn't wearing any pants. A shattered chair spread out on the concrete.
John Constantine smelled of scotch for blocks.
"Get- get off! What th' hell's this then, huh? Where's my bloody rights? Get off!"
It was the worst possible way for someone to pass by. But, as drunk as he was, as livid for nothing as he was, John still saw.
:Jus' ge- hey. 'EY! HEY HEY!," he said in sudden and inarticulate alarm as the dark slick man enters his field of vision in ways of familiarity that should be here. No one knows him here, it's all new... "What in the holy fuck is- aagh!"
A hand pushed down on his head and compacts him into the back of the squad car. The door is slammed on any words left from John as the policeman walks to the driver's side. John presses himself to the glass, trying to get a closer look, trying to will himself into being wrong, that HE wouldn't be here. By the time the police car pulls away from the curb, he knows it's true.
And hit his head hard against the window as the car sped away.