DreamingofRoses
Rosa Indomitus
May 3rd, 9:30 PM
Lights lit up the houses along the quiet street that the police cruiser drove down, sirens off. The two uniformed police officers that sat in the front, a man and a woman, were responding to a call about a public nuisance filed by the neighbors of a particularly small white-painted house. It had a little front lawn closely trimmed and surrounded by sidewalk with a fence in the back. There was also a driveway with a car parked in it. The cruiser parked on the edge of the street and the two officers emerged from the car, confirming with dispatch that they had arrived at the location.
The shriek of the smoke alarm in the house could be heard from well outside the door. Williams traveled the short path and climbed the three concrete steps to the porch. He knocked on the front door, loudly, "This is the police, is anyone in there? We received a complaint about screaming and a smoke alarm. Is everything alright?" He waited for a moment for a response before knocking again, "Hello?!"
"Williams," Patterson tapped her partner on the shoulder and pointed to a window on the side of the house that was slightly cracked. A thin line of smoke curled lazily upwards. Patterson went for her radio as Williams checked for other signs of fire before cautiously attempting to open the door. It was unlocked and swung open easily, "Dispatch, this is 58a, smoke observed at location, but no other signs of fire. Possible person in distress in the house."
They entered the house, flashlights in hand while Williams kept one hand on the butt of his pistol. "Hello, is anyone in here? We saw smoke and need you to come outside. We're police officers," the fire alarm offset the silence that followed this statement, jangling shrilly as they cleared each room after the other before getting to the door of the room where they had seen smoke emerging. Carefully, Patterson opened the door. There was no sign of actual fire, but a horrid stench filled the room and Williams swore, "Christ. Look in the chair."
Patterson did, and saw the still-smouldering corpse in its burned remains. For a few minutes all that could be heard was running steps out of the house and the unmistakable sound of someone vomiting.
Williams pressed the button on his radio, "Dispatch, this is unit 58b. Location is 1008 Redbird St. We have a DOA, possible homicide, and possible arson, but no fire. Need a bus and some more units to help seal off the scene."
The radio crackled for a moment before a woman responded, "Copy, 58b. This is dispatch. ETA of back-up approximately 15 minutes."
"Copy and out, dispatch," Williams left the bedroom and headed outside to his partner, who was panting, half bent over. "Out of your system? C'mon, let's start sealing off the house."
Megalopolis never truly sleeps, and why would it want to? Most of the fun comes out at night.
At 9:00, with the sun barely down for the day, the true partiers emerge from whatever jobs or homes tie them down to hit the clubs. Those expecting less innocent diversions are up as well, preparing for when it gets later, cars lining up by sidewalks where pretty men and women are preening and flaunting their bodies and their prices. And then there are those preparing for the really bad stuff, like what was supposedly going down in the warehouse district later on, a gang jumping-in and an execution.
Of course there are those just looking for a quiet evening, heading to or from work or already at home, wrapped up snugly in blankets and lulled by the flicker of the TV or the computer into a feeling of comfort and safety. There are many ways to spend an evening in Megalopolis.
Essentially: What is your character up to this fine evening?/Where are they?