On those rare moments that Tomika did answer her police radio, it was when she was forced onto patrol from a handwritten letter from her own mother explaining that, if she did not do her professional duties, her allowance would be cut. Fearing for the safety of her manicure and the soles of her expensive heels, she dragged herself out of the cozy confines (if one could call it that) of the Military Headquarters and responded to a distress call from an officer, who had wont to sent someone after reports of a disturbance in the belly of the Commercial District.
Tomi had ventured outside of the Inner Citadel walls in... once? She remembered only flashes when she was young, holding her mother's cold hand as they gazed over the site Ren had died. What was once a concrete building that stood proudly over its squat and run-down surrounding was reduced to rubble. When Tomi imagined her father's corpse, sleeping under those layers of dust, wire, debris and pipes, she felt sick to her stomach. She had run forward, tiny and soft hands scrabbling, trying to breach those tons of concrete in hopes that she'd feel her father's hand, and she could pull him up and he'd be alright, just covered in a layer of white chalk. He'd wash it off, they'd embrace and he'd sing to her to comfort the spill of tears that slipped down her young, rosy cheeks.
That's how Tomi imagined it. In reality, the concrete did not stir and the air was deathly quiet. Fifteen years later, she'd return, outside the Citadel gates. At first, she was apprehensive, unafraid to clutch the handle of the pistol that rested on her holster. There was an immediate difference as she stepped into the commercial district. It was louder, dirtier, smellier and in a state unlike the detritus after the explosion that killed her father. What she had thought immediate destruction seemed to be a way of life for the residents.
She looked at her tablet, to the green, 2d rendered map of the commercial district. A dot flashed where the disturbance was reported and, cautiously, she made her way over. Even with the weapon in hand, the Military badge that flashed on her clean uniform, the eyes that followed her made her skin crawl and a pit form in her stomach that beckoned her gaze to be drawn at every, subtle movement.
She heard the fight, felt it, before she saw it. A small crowd had formed, flanking the commotion happening in the middle. Tomika had to push her way through taunts and exclamations like "Kill the bitch!", which got easier as the hecklers noticed her Military badge and heard her (albeit small) voice "This is the Military. Like, break it up!" and decided foregoing the spectacle was better than facing the Military's wrath.
Tomi reached the center, pistol gripped in her slender fingers and she spoke, in a voice that sounded more authoritarian than it felt in her naturally high and fried voice, "I said break it up, losers!"
Posted 08-26-2021, 09:29 AM
This post was last modified: 08-26-2021, 09:30 AM by Tomika Pfeiffer
this your first time?
