Chapman took a deep breath and put his hand on the patrol car's handle. Today was the day.
"Hey Chapman!" Someone patted his shoulder. After turning around, the man with his hand on Chapman's shoulder smiled reluctantly, "Thank you. I'll make it up to you tomorrow."
Chapman buried all his emotions to the deepest level and looked at his friends with a smile, "Go quickly and leave me a piece of cake."
Today is the birthday of Barton Police Chief Colon, so the police held a surprise party. Of course not everyone will participate, the police are very busy. But many people strive for the opportunity to spend at least two hours at a party with their top boss.
Chapman was the one who gave up the opportunity and took the initiative to take over the patrol mission of his friend. He smiled and patted his friend on the shoulder, urging, "Go quickly! And don't forget to say something nice about me!"
"I won't forget it!" my friend promised with a smile.
Of course, Chapman wouldn't take it too seriously. As a police officer, he doubted whether his friend would have a chance to get close to the chief.
He opened the car door. It was a standard police car, with blue and white stripes and the words bdpd (Barton Police Department) painted on the body. As he got into the car, the relief he felt after the brief distraction disappeared. Nervousness, fear... a mess of emotions occupied his heart again.
Chapman took a deep breath, turned the key, and turned on the radio with trembling fingers. After a brief noise, the police wireless channel became clear. When Chapman drove out of the Barton Police Station, the car windows were covered with lights in the night, "Dispatch Office, Becky First Street, drunk and causing trouble...", "Lister Street, someone reported a stolen vehicle..."
Chapman went on patrol.
However, he ignored these contents and did not respond to any dispatches. He has a clear destination. After all, this is today.
The patrol car drove up Bache Street and then turned onto Route 27 south. The bustle of the night was gradually left behind, leaving Becky and Lister's range, and Chapman continued south. The lights shining on the car windows changed from colorful to dull. In the buildings on both sides of the street, there is only a warm dim color, matched with the street lights, crossing Chapman's face.
Mary's Church receded from Chapman's sight. Chapman unconsciously slowed down the car and turned his head to glance at the largest church in Barton City. He couldn't help it and stopped on the side of the road. Instead of walking towards the church, he began to search for a phone booth. He didn't find it and only saw an open convenience store.
"Do you have a phone?" Chapman walked into the convenience store. His hands rested on the belt around his waist, where hung his badge, his baton, and a police revolver with only six bullets. Of course, he wasn't trying to express anything, it was just a customary gesture for all police officers.
The young cashier sitting behind the counter put down the newspaper in his hand, smiled at the policeman in his early thirties, pointed behind him, and asked casually. "Do you need change?"
Chapman touched his pocket and smiled bitterly. He took out a five-doll note. The young man quickly handed over the five coins and pointed to the back again.
After thanking him, Chapman walked back and picked up a small bottle of whiskey as he passed the shelf. He needed a stiff drink to soothe his nerves.
Putting all five coins into the coin slot of the phone may be because he subconsciously wanted to make the call last longer.
"Hello, Pierce (Chapman's surname) home." A tired female voice came from the receiver.
"It's me, honey." Chapman tried to sound normal.
"Oh, dear. I thought you were filling in." The female voice in the receiver also temporarily got rid of fatigue, with a warm tone.
"Ah, yes. I was on patrol and they were all at the party." Chapman twirled the cap of the wine bottle he had just taken with one hand. His thumb turned pale from the inconvenient force, but he still unscrewed it with one hand, "I just want to call and hear your voice."
The bottle was raised, and Chapman suppressed the sound of swallowing.
Laughter came through the receiver, then turned to concern, "What's wrong, what happened?"
"Ah, it's nothing." The back of the hand holding the bottle was pressed against Chapman's lips. He frowned. He really shouldn't have treated the wine in his hand with the same rhythm of drinking water. Now his throat seemed to be on fire. He quickly changed the subject, "Where is our baby?"
The alcohol in the strong drink began to take effect unexpectedly quickly. Chapman unconsciously raised his voice and asked again, "Where is our baby? How is he feeling?"
"He is asleep." The mood in the receiver changed and turned into sadness, "I hope I can have a beautiful dream."
"He will." Perhaps it was the effect of alcohol, but Chapman's thinking was strangely clear. The kind of 'clarity' that only comes with the influence of alcohol. This is not good, trust me.
"Hey, honey, I want to hear his voice." Chapman began to make unreasonable demands.
"He just went to bed." There was a hint of complaint in the voice on the other end of the phone. "He has to go to the hospital tomorrow and he needs to rest. Will you go with us tomorrow?"
The topic seemed to have reached a very commonplace direction, which slightly pulled Chapman's thinking back to normal.
"I'm sorry, my fault. I just passed by the church, remembered what the priest said, and suddenly wanted to hear your voices." Chapman avoided the topic of tomorrow. Under the influence of alcohol, he was sure that he would not It's tomorrow.
"Oh." There was no obvious regret in the female voice, but she immediately changed to a relaxed tone, "Yes, the priest is right, everything will be fine, there will always be a way." There was a deep breath in the receiver. The voice used a more positive and relaxed tone, "I'm very hopeful about tomorrow's check-up. Maybe the doctor has a new treatment plan. Everything will be fine."
"Yes." Chapman raised the bottle of wine in his hand again. He had already thought of a way, "You should also have a good rest, my dear."
"Be safe, honey."
After hanging up the phone, Chapman walked to the counter. The young cashier looked at the half-drunk bottle of whiskey with some embarrassment, and kindly reminded, "I hope you don't need to drive."
"Don't worry." Chapman waved his hand casually, "My partner is in the car and we are about to get off work." This is a lie that will soon be indifferent.
The cashier pouted and paid. He glanced at the policeman and picked up the newspaper again. His mind was quickly attracted by the contents of the news. Many things have happened in Barton City recently, the biggest one being Smith's acquisition of Yuri. The first of these days The daily version is filled with details of the acquisition process.
Chapman got into the patrol car. Continue south. It didn't take long for him to enter his destination, the least popular southeastern part of the North District.
Far less prosperous than Becky's bars and clubs, everything here seems to be cast in a layer of gloom. Chapman turned off the annoying police radio and turned it on.
A hoarse and heavy voice sounded from the deep bass. Chapman frowned. It seemed that the music that had become popular recently from the west, goth, seemed to be called this name. The only reason Chapman knows this is. Some ardent fans in Barton were disturbed by neighbors calling the police when they howled in the middle of the night.
But at this time, the background music is not important. What is important is that Chapman has found his goal.
The patrol car slowly pulled to the side of the road. Chapman turned off all the lights. The wine bottle in his hand that was about to be bottomed was raised again. A group of people were walking arm-in-arm from the corner, making noisy noises.
"I heard that the 'General' people are coming out. Do you want to have some fun?"
Chapman didn't care what these people were saying. All he needs is that the other person is a disorderly scum of society; that the other person is drunk, which means he is more impulsive; and that the other person seems ready to find trouble. That Chapman is a police officer. There are enough reasons to stop it.
Pushing open the car door, Chapman walked towards the wandering crowd, "Hey! You guys! Stand there!"
"What?" Someone in the crowd looked this way, and Chapman stepped out from the shadows. "Look! What I found, a police officer!" The other person swayed. Pointing at Chapman, he waved his hand ridiculously, "Good morning! Officer! What can I do for you? Huh?"
Amid laughter, Chapman said, "It's night! You piece of trash!"
"Wow! Wow!" The man who needed support to stand upright looked around at his companions. He had nothing to fear, "Relax, officer! You can't insult us at will!"
"I just cursed!" Chapman continued to walk towards the crowd, "What can you do to me, you piece of shit!"
"Are you looking for death?" Someone had already walked out of the crowd, but he couldn't get closer because Chapman put his hand on the holster. "Wait! Relax, officer! We didn't do anything!"
Chapman stared at the speaker, "No? You hit me and attacked the police!" Chapman held the butt of the gun behind his back and hit the bridge of his nose! Amidst the bang, Chapman's steps staggered due to excessive exertion, but he immediately stabilized his steps. Under the crooked bridge of his nose, bright red stained his lips.
"Hey!" The crowd started to commotion, "What the hell are you doing! We didn't touch you at all!"
Gunshots rang out in the street and Chapman opened fire on the yelling man.
Amidst the screams, the other party fell to the ground holding his knees. Chapman opened and closed his teeth stained red with blood, "Now I'm just defensive!"
"Madman!" someone in the crowd shouted, "He's going to shoot again!"
"Are you afraid now? A bunch of rubbish!" Chapman stared at a group of people who were completely shocked and had no time to react. "Beg for mercy like a bunch of little bitches!"
"What the hell are you talking about?!" His companion was still rolling on the ground in pain. Someone glared at Chapman and reached for his lower back.
"Yes!" Chapman raised the gun with a ferocious face, "Just stand there and let me turn your disgusting faces into pumpkin pie..."
Before Chapman could finish speaking, he was kicked down. From behind, for some strange reason, the detective walked into the middle of the crowd...
The southeast streets that were not shrouded in gray soon returned to calm, leaving behind a body stained with blood on the street corner. Soon to be a corpse.
but.
Chapman now knew that the legend about seeing another version of himself when he was about to die was true, because there was now an identical person lying on the ground with him. The other person smiled and asked, "Who am I?"
"Me?" Chapman was helpless. At this last moment, he had a hallucination.
He shouldn't have answered, because right away, he was possessed by the Shadow Man.
According to the plan, Chapman was supposed to die in police custody and receive a large amount of insurance money. Now, uh, he has a few more days to live. (..)