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Post by niku on May 31, 2013 2:10:45 GMT -8
[[Tuesday, April 29th
13:07]]
It didn't take as long as he'd thought to find the Wright Law Offices, although the biggest delay he'd had so far was navigating like a tourist. If he'd been trying to find Chinatown he could have just followed the crowd to the north east. The offices themselves were certainly destroyed, and given the time frame the odds of finding any evidence was certainly pretty slim. Zack found himself frowning. He hadn't kept track of the days in his head... today was a Tuesday wasn't it? He should probably have been in school, this could have waited for the weekend. He could hear the bustle of people moving around him, though he didn't pay it much heed. LA was certainly a lot busier than small town Ohio. He got as close to the law offices as he could and gently started scratching his chin as he looked at what damage had been done. He didn't want to just wander in in broad daylight, he should have come here at night when there were less people about. Trying his best to look inconspicuous, Zack tried to get closer to the building but managed to jostle the wrong person. The overweight man in a suit stumbled, dropping the coffee held in his hand to splash over the floor and narrowly avoiding his expensive shoes. With a scowl he turned to the teenager who'd knocked him and grabbed the kid's shoulder. To the man's eyes he didn't look all that troubling, a teenage kid with black hair, sides shaved short, average build (although he could feel through the shoulder he now held that the kid wasn't lightweight at all) and not tall enough for the man to admit he should probably have been looking where he was going. If Zack wasn't wearing a plain t-shirt and the loose kind of jeans that managed to fit your legs perfectly while simultaneously looking like they didn't, maybe the older gentlemen would have thought better. Maybe he would have fought that trying to push around a kid was a bad idea but at this point he was too absorbed in his own wealth to say much. " Aren't you going to apologise kid? You made me drop my coffee, you idiot!" some people were slowing and looking, that was pretty much the worst thing for Zack's plan of sneaking into the building, the easiest thing to do would be to apologise and slink away while the big guy could gloat on his successfully intimidating a- " Who are you callin' an idiot?! How is it my fault you can't hold a cup of coffee, lardass!" oh right, it's Zack, controlling your impulses is difficult when you aren't the most restrained person normally. " W-what did you say to me, you..." " You heard me, tubby. You want some coffee go buy another one, maybe don't pour 5 or 6 sugars in this time" Zack scowled sufficiently that the overweight man lost his cool and lunged for him, held back by a few bystanders who weren't about to watch a teenager get beaten up by a full grown man, although at least two old ladies were shooting daggers at Zack now for his sheer rudeness. Realising he was now the centre of attention, Zack bowed out as gracefully as he could, shoving his hands into his pockets and walking around the corner to the outraged cries of the man in the suit who was crying for him to come back like a man. Ignoring him, Zack made his way around the block trying to think of the best way to sneak back to those offices. Could he go from the back? He wasn't sure, as he walked he tried to keep an eye open to avoid jostling more people.. |
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Jun 2, 2013 21:46:45 GMT -8
tagged: zack. day and time: april 29th, 1pm. notes: notes. Moose made his way across town almost every day. He needed work, and finding work meant travelling. He'd never really understood work during his time in prison, and his understanding of how it went was new and still being shaped. He knew work wouldn't come to him, but for most people, the way he treated work was quite odd. All things considered, he worked like an illegal immigrant--getting one off jobs that were under the table and paid in cash. He couldn't get a real job with his history. No one was going to hire him, and even if they did, he didn't exactly had a bank account. Hell, he didn't have much at all--maybe thirty dollars in cash, most of it an emergency fund, and the clothes on his back.
The clothes on his back weren't even very good. They were badly fitting, dirty, and far too tight on his frame. When you were six foot eight, getting clothes to fit you was a task in itself. Getting clothes that fit when you had no money? Downright impossible. His pants were a bit too short, his shirt was a bit too tight, and both looked extremely worn out.
Even so, he was fit. He was brawny and muscular, and that was the one thing that had kept him alive. People didn't bother him. More importantly, it got him work. He was a good hard worker, and when push come to shove and someone needed boxes moved, it was going to be Moose they picked. It had served him well all things considered.
But not that day. That day there had been no work, and his stomach was grumbling, hungry and tired. There would be no work, which meant a long walk through downtown core, back to skid row. That was his home, and while he was early enough to go to a shelter, he had no desire to. Shelters offered little for him. The cots were too small, and they attracted the worst kind of people. Better to sleep in the park, dirty but safe.
He was cutting through a back alley, entirely content to be on his way, when someone got in his way. There was really no other way to describe it. The alley behind the law office was thin, and Moose was a particularly large man--wide shouldered and massive, taking up a good amount of the alley. He wasn't even that far from the end of it, but there was really no way they'd just walk side by side--someone was going to have to turn to the side.
Moose paused, staring down the kid, and caring very little about his appearance. He had no real experience with those who were young, and the boy in front of him was simply a small adult in Moose's mind, rather then some child in need of coddling. |
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Post by ELENA J. ANDERSON on Jun 2, 2013 22:52:20 GMT -8
Elena reached a hand out and ruffled the fur on Brooklyn’s dark head, her gray blue eyes darkening like thunderheads as she glanced out her car window, following the german shepherd’s gaze across the street. An ugly, uncomfortable tension settled in her shoulders as a growl reverberated up her canine partner’s throat. It was a short, low sound, but a fair enough warning. Brooklyn’s ears were perked forward, an intense focus in his dark gaze and a tightness around his jaw that suggested the dog saw something he didn’t like. As Elena’s hand drifted down toward the back of his neck, she felt his hackles bristle, and she dug her fingers carefully under his leather collar and tugged gently as a warning—a reminder for him to stay put. “Easy boy,” she mumbled, more for herself than to him, but she too, felt something like electricity crackle its way down her spine.
Until now, Elena’s shift in this area had been relatively uneventful. There were no emergency calls on her radio; patrols these days were either a hit or a miss, never really an in between with all the crazy shit that been going down lately. She was relieved, and maybe a little lucky, that after the hit this area took not too long back, the day had been quiet and tolerable. The last thing she wanted was trouble in a part of the city that had already strained its inhabitants nerves to a breaking point. It was bad enough that on most nights people in L.A. crowded their television and drowned out the world through reality shows and comedy skits in an attempt to laugh at something other than their own misfortune. She didn’t want to add to their growing apprehension while on patrol, she wanted to alleviate it. So Elena found herself sighing under her breath, an irritable, cloudy look in her eye as she tilted her head and watched some latent stress and aggression manifest in front of her.
A kid had accidentally bumped a guy, and that man had said something nasty, to which the teenager promptly responded with more venomous insults until it just about reminded her of two tomcats hissing and spitting at each other from afar. It was both pitiable and sad from an observer standpoint. Back then she had been reclining in her seat, hat tipped down but observing quietly out of the corner of her eye. But now—now that the kid had taken down the alleyway and the confrontation had ended without any major consequences—she was uneasy again. Mostly because such a volatile teen was bound to find trouble elsewhere, and elsewhere had inadvertently lumbered right down the same alleyway. She couldn’t see too much from here, but the guy that blocked the other alleyway might as well have been a wall.
A ridiculously tall wall made of nothing but intimidating muscle. That or maybe he was a bear. Yeah, that made sense.
Elena found herself rising out of her patrol car, another, longer sigh parting from her chest. Even Brooklyn was growling—his animal instincts maybe picking up on a burgeoning confrontation. She came around to the other side of the car and opened his door, quickly snatching the back of his harness so that he didn’t walk off without her. It took mere seconds to double wrap her leash around her hand and hook it to a part of the harness, and then she had closed the door, stuffed her jingling car keys into her pocket, and began to calmly cross to the other side of the street.
Needless to say, she still made sure she had her gun at her side. Just in case. You could never tell with people.
She stopped near the entrance of the alleyway, one hand still wrapped tightly around Brooklyn’s leash. The german shepherd was alert, but not pulling or too tense—perfection, really. All it took was one command and he’d leap into action. But up close Elena paused. The bear—uh, guy—looming behind this kid was much, much bigger than her when she was this close and that scar didn’t help him look any less intimidating. She had dealt with this type before…and it was hard not rein in the immediate stiffness that straightened her back, or the wariness that tugged on her mind. She managed to hide it through confidence and a slight, smile.
She just hoped that the bear—dammit, man—wouldn’t maul this kid within an inch of his life.
“You gentlemen look lost. Anything I can help you with? Officer Anderson,” she offered in a way of greeting. WORDS!: 777 TAG!: Moose, Zack NOTES!: April 29th 1PM |
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Post by niku on Jun 3, 2013 1:25:20 GMT -8
Zack's effort to avoid trouble had gone about as well as it usually did as he strolled down the alleyway and almost walked right into the big man. The huge guy looked intimidating but Zack's already muted fear response afforded him little reaction other than vague respect. Seeing a huge towering muscle man with a facial scar not all that dissimilar to his own made Zack just that little bit more relaxed around him. Just as Moose didn't seem to afford him special treatment for being younger, Zack didn't cowtow to him just for being older, maintaining eye contact while he considered his course of action, displaying very little tension.
While the big man and him couldn't walk side by side, if Zack just walked back a bit the big man could probably get past and Zack'd just go after him. Assuming there wasn't a line of behemoths behind him that ought to work fine. It was conceding ground, but for some reason Zack had taken a liking to the big guy solely based on the scar on his face. It was a stupid, arbitrary reason but he was self conscious about his own scar it was probably just projecting onto him. And unfortunately, his plan to resolve the conflict was ruined by the arrival of the police officer. The sensible reaction would be to be pleased, happy even, that a kid wouldn't have to be dealing with this. Instead, Zack's look of resigned calm changed to one of vague annoyance as he eyed up the police officer currently blocking his best plan of escape. He shoved his hands firmly in his pockets and tried to think what to do.
She looked like a nice person, were it not for the uniform. The dog was a different story, sleek and obviously well trained, the dark furred canine was a pressing concern if this went badly (and he was already imagining the policewoman pepper spraying them or something). Zack's usually observant nature kicked in, not being used earlier as he glossed over the tall man (though he had noticed he was homeless). Checking the woman over, (Officer Anderson, she'd introduced herself. He should call her Officer, but he wasn't given the pigs any extra power over him). She was slight, not built for rough housing, the dog meant she was presumably part of the K9 unit (so if she were to stitch them up it'd be easiest to plant drugs, make sure you keep your distance from her hands, Zack noted) and the introduction as officer meant she was giving them courtesy rather than pulling the gun she was definitely carrying and demanding things. Of course, police rarely pulled their guns on people but Zack's personal view of the police often colored how he imagined their operation.
"Zack Dawkins. I was about to back up and make some space for this gentleman to come through, and then I'm heading towards the Wright Law Offices. Is that enough of an answer? Anderson?" the thinly veiled hostility was nothing personal but Zack'd be damned if he was straight up polite to a police officer, even one who was probably ten years older than him (maybe 9, it was just a guess from looking her up and down). He looked back to the big guy, hoping for some solidarity that the police woman was being a pain in the posterior. Though her concern was completely justified given he blew up at that fat guy from earlier, and no matter how you look at it she was in the right to get involved given it was her sworn duty to keep the peace.
Didn't help, Zack was just an aggressive little dude.
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Jun 3, 2013 22:01:48 GMT -8
tagged: zack. day and time: april 29th, 1pm. notes: notes. Most former criminals did not have a particularly good view of the law, but Moose had never felt any particular desire to hate them. Sure, their were guards who were rotten, but he'd found the same to be largely true of the prison population as well. By and large the guards had let him be, content to let him go his own way without feeling the need to shove their noses in it. Part of that was certainly his size, because if you were going to make an example of someone, it wasn't going to be the six foot eight tank. Some, though, had been downright supportive--letting him know when there were new classes, and skirting around the edges of the rules.
So really, he just thought of guards like people and went from there. He had less experience with cops, but in his mind they were largely one and the same, similar enough to be treated identically.
So he really wasn't all that alarmed when he glanced over his shoulder, spotting one behind him. While plenty of homeless had been bothered by the police before, skid row was largely a safezone, and no one bothered to harass people sleeping within it.
The dog was a whole other story. Animals weren't something he'd gotten much of any real experience with, and he was skittish around something like a german shepard. It was big enough to do some damage, and he really didn't have any idea of how a dog could be expected to behave.
If the boy was looking for solidarity, he wasn't going to get it, and as Zack glanced back, Moose gave him a blank look, even if it looked particularly scowly. He wasn't actually scowling, but his face seemed to perpetually be caught in a frown without any real effort at all. Really, he wasn't following--why the hell was the kid being all confrontational?
Gentleman, though. The kid sure was laying it on thick, something Moose really didn't bother with.
"Just goin' back to San Julian." Which could have meant the street, only anyone who's been raised in LA would know exactly what he meant--San Julian park in the heart of skid row. Not a terrible looking park by any means, but there was a certain amount of draw for the homeless population.
He really didn't see the need for pleasantries. |
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Post by ELENA J. ANDERSON on Jun 4, 2013 3:15:44 GMT -8
She was beginning to remember why she veered away from work with juveniles as much as possible; the punk attitudes were common, and tiring, and unfortunately for her, Zack was no exception. Elena felt a familiar indifference blanket her; his disdain was not as subtle as he might have thought, but she supposed it was easier to deal with because it was such a familiar reaction from a kid. Any well trained cop knew how to handle this kind of capricious personality profile—some better than others. Her immediate reaction however, was to blatantly ignore his passive aggressive tone and the assuming way his gaze seemed to look her up and down. Let the teenager think what he wanted. She was well trained, well intentioned, and far, far more concerned with the hulking figure over Zack's shoulder than with Zack himself.
He was just so. Damn. Big.
Elena reached up and adjusted her hat, brow rising slowly. Beside her, Brooklyn stood at attention, refusing to relax as easily as his officer had. He was still tight lipped around the jaw, tail boldly erect. “Wright Law Offices?” she parroted flatly. Elena flexed her hand still wrapped up in Brooklyn’s leash. “I’m afraid if you’re looking for counsel—” she doubted it, “—you might find that difficult. Sections of the building are still cordoned off for repairs; only officers and approved individuals can enter. Due to…the nature of the incident,” she said, wisely avoiding the rumor mill specifics that surrounded the events of that day, “it’s not only still under investigation, but many of the employees have been transferred. If I may, Mr. Dawkins, what exactly are you looking for? I could redirect you to a place where they might be more willing—and capable—to help you.”
She refused to add that most of the police activity and guards stationed at the company had all but vanished by now. The case was still open however, and even though repairs were nearly done, common sense dictated that the owners of the building did not want people snooping about where they weren’t wanted. As such, the police were on call and interested in any individual that breached those cordoned off areas. As for the big guy—
Elena hesitated. Her diplomatic side wanted to make peace, but her natural survival instincts took one look at him and felt as if she should keep her distance, just in case. Even so, she bit back her concern. “...San Julian as in skid row,” she said thoughtfully. That area of town was infamous for its homeless population—and now that she really looked at the guy, Elena thought he might fit that description. Bear or not, his clothes hardly fit and he had that…drifter atmosphere about him. It was unfortunate—this part of town might take one look at his type and want to scapegoat their problems off him after what happened at Wright Law Offices. Hell, she took one look at him and felt naturally wary. The scar alone was a sign that there'd been intense violence in his past. Her grip tightened around the leash again. She hoped there wasn't some record for this guy. “There are a few shelters out that way,” she said tactfully, before sighing. “But I would recommend others,” she added, “that are better equipped. If that is, in fact, what you’re looking for,” she said. “Trouble is really the only other thing that you’ll find in that direction.”
WORDS!:558 TAG!: Moose, Zack NOTES!:April 29th 1PM |
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Post by niku on Jun 4, 2013 5:37:40 GMT -8
Well, the big guy didn't seem interested in a unified front going by that scowl, though it didn't seem to have a great deal of malice in it. Zack assumed it was just because of how his face looked, the scar probably meant his expressions always assumed a default state. He sometimes had a slightly raised eyebrow if he completely relaxed his face so he empathized somewhat with the big guy's position, even if he still didn't know his name. He was probably putting too much faith in the guy, he was likely indifferent to the rude teenager. And likewise, he was being far too rude to the police officer as he was about to spit more vitriol at her responses to his question until he began paying better attention to her choice of words and facial expression.
She cracked a joke about finding counsel (not a joke, but she didn't think it likely. Sensible enough, he was a 16 year old which made it seem outlandish but given his attitude he did give off the vibe of a young offender), Zack didn't smile, remaining stoney faced and preparing a few choice bon mots in his mind to unleash on the poor police woman when she described the circumstances of the office. Still being repaired (checks out. He'd done some research, a second incident had been reported so repairs going on this late made sense), only authorized officers and staff (not a bad idea, especially if something suspect had occurred as Zack was convinced) but then she paused. The circumstances. Zack took a quick note of her facial expression, Anderson seemed to be trying to avoid describing the circumstances. Were she just a faceless police drone she would have launched the official spiel about gang wars but she didn't...
Conceding that it might not be the answer she was meant to give... made him do a brief about face. Zack's logic had one major fault, he nearly always gave in to his prejudice and it skewed any deductions he had. He was young but if he mellowed in his older age he'd make a fine detective (assuming he'd work with the cops). His face visibly changed, briefly flashing through confusion with a furrowed brow before changing into cautious optimism. He'd ignored most of what she'd said after that, inquiring about what he was after and offering ways to obtain it that wouldn't involve going to the site (protocol, not personal, keep your temper in check). Zack listened as she gave the big guy advice, he knew that he was homeless before he knew what San Julian meant. He'd actually assumed it was a prison or something from the name but then he was still new to LA. Technically. He didn't really live straight in LA... He did feel kinda sorry for him though, it must be rough living homeless...
Before the big fella could reply, Zack decided to answer the police woman's question from before. He was gritting his teeth slightly because they weren't words he really wanted to have to say and he was keeping his usual rambunctious back-chatting self held back, coming in as soon as Anderson finished saying the word trouble
"Sorry to interrupt but to answer your question... My aunt was injured in the attack and going by how she described it, I'm afraid I don't trust the p-olice's story" he'd very nearly said pigs, it was just a split second, hopefully she wouldn't notice "I don't see how the situation they described fits the alleged damage. I would have rather lied to you here Anderson, but since you seem genuinely concerned, I'm taking a leap of faith and telling you why I want to see the building. I don't trust whatever records happen to be available to the public and I'm not going to be satisfied until I look at the building. If it's still being repaired then that just means there might still be evidence so I have to go now if you don't mind An... Officer Anderson" he gave it a shot, try and be polite, it might get you somewhere. Plus if she really was on the level like he was hoping then maybe showing a bare minimum of manners would make her feel like helping him (hey, guy can dream right?)
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Jun 4, 2013 7:35:56 GMT -8
tagged: zack. day and time: april 29th, 1pm. notes: notes. It took Moose all of twenty seconds to recognize that no, the officer had never been homeless. It was not all that surprising, but it still had a place in his mind. She didn't know how things went--that shelters were not particularly good, and were the last resort for the desperate. Plenty of people mistakenly believed that shelters were the better option, but those people were entirely wrong. Shelters were crammed with people, and it was far better to be comfortable on the streets then in a shelter that would only kick you out by morning. All things considered, she seemed to know very little about the homeless population of LA, and he was fairly sure she'd never had to patrol it, certainly.
"I know." He answered instinctively. He knew all the advice she'd give, the standard 'oh there's this resource and this resource'. He knew them all, and he'd picked through to determine which ones were and weren't going to be helpful to him. Very few were. Most had long waits and limited options. Some wouldn't help him at all, being as he was a work-capable male. "I'll be just fine." Because he'd spent the majority of the last month there, in and out looking for work, but still spending most of his nights in the one area in the city where the police didn't bother sleepers.
Really, he didn't know fuck-all about the law office. He hadn't heard anything about anything, and paid zero attention to the news. Unless it was in his particular part of town or a really major incident, he didn't hear anything. Certainly, homeless people could be a good source of news, but Moose had never felt the need. Pretty much the entire conversation was going over his head--something about records and the official story, and blah blah blah.
Moose just stood there, not moving to go around. That was an old instinct--to stand still when a guard was talking to you. If you moved around while they were, some of them got downright nasty. Security and all that. |
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Post by ELENA J. ANDERSON on Jun 4, 2013 13:12:12 GMT -8
Clipped answers like that usually meant, I hear what you’re saying, but I don’t care—or I’m not going there. Elena dropped her gaze for an instant, breathing out a soft, irritated sigh. She could understand why. It had nothing to do with this guy in particular, but the shelters here on the west coast were much different than the ones she had grown up knowing about on the east coast, likely because of the overabundance of homeless and the stagnant growth caused by poverty. There had been great programs back home that would house men or women, help them with home investments, set them up with jobs and spending plans while providing sustenance—as long as the individual attempted to work with them. But out here? On skid row?
Ha ha, that was funny. Short of cramming everybody together like anchovies and booting them out the next day, there wasn’t much the shelters out here could do. This state had better places to go, Elena was sure, but given his reaction, he preferred to go about his own business without any assistance from anyone else.
“What did you say your name was?” she asked. She knew he hadn’t given it—but something told her she might want to remember it.
Elena’s gaze jerked back to Zack. That subtle skip in the way he addressed her did not go unnoticed, but she said nothing about it. In her line of work, misplaced animosity might as well be a reward for existing. He seemed to be calming down, but she still couldn’t help but feel he fit the profile of a petulant adolescent almost too perfectly. In some ways it was amusing. Elena finally pulled to the side to allow one—if not both—of the gentlemen to leave the alley if they chose to do so, but she kept her tone level when addressing them. As a result of waiting so long for something to happen, Brooklyn finally seemed to be relaxing. The shepherd sat back on his haunches, his fur no longer bunched around his shoulders. She could tell from the way the dog snorted softly that he still didn’t trust the two men very much, but then, that was just Brooklyn, and at least he wasn’t rigid anymore.
“If there were evidence left,” she began, “it’s not the type to be found by human eyes alone. You have no analysis equipment, you’re young—do you think the owners of the property would allow you to look into the matter with no credentials, no paperwork, no experience? Condolences for what happened with your family Mr. Dawkins, but there are many others that suffered that day as well, and irrational anger, much less action, will not entitle you to special treatment if you were to storm your way in and investigate on your own. I understand,” she said, “but your eagerness and distrust blinds you—you misjudge not only your own capabilities, but the intentions of all law enforcement involved with truth.” She reached down and rested her hand on Brooklyn’s head, a quiet calm in her eyes. “You do the victims of the incident a great disservice by behaving so rashly, and you insult those who have run themselves ragged in an attempt to give you answers. There are a few, believe it or not, Mr. Dawkins, who actually cared, and attempted to investigate the matter thoroughly.”
She snapped her gaze to his. “What little information is available exists because of them. You may not believe records—the stories, as you called them—but if you can believe this, there are some things that no one will ever know the answers to.” She paused and rubbed one of Brooklyn’s ears while quietly adding, “That said, I understand the sentiment. Your impatience notwithstanding, I may be able to offer some assistance.”
WORDS!:641 TAG!: Moose, Zack NOTES!:April 29th, 1PM |
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Post by niku on Jun 5, 2013 4:16:19 GMT -8
It was to Zack's benefit that the big homeless guy was sticking around. Something about having him around gave Zack enough pause that he didn't leap to the quickest or loudest response to things no matter how badly he might want to. His definitive replies about his awareness, that he knew all about the homeless situation in LA, while also not saying exactly WHAT he knew made Zack wonder if he'd said too much before hearing it darn near confirmed. As Elena made space, Zack stepped out of the alleyway and with a slightly awkward nod of apology gave room for the big guy to pass if he so desired.
Now, from an impartial perspective, Officer Anderson's reply was both justified and responsible.
In every regard she was correct.
Which didn't mean Zack could keep his hands from clenching up even as his mind dissected everything she said as rationally as the angry haze of hormones would allow.
(How exactly do you know what type evidence is left? Do you even know what it is I'm going to be looking for?) Zack kept his eyes level and did his best not to betray any emotion, a fools errand for someone as volatile as him but he kept it under wraps, (I'm not doing this just because I'm angry, I took some time to think about this and I don't believe the official statement so I wish to confirm some evidence. It's an entirely rational chain of thought) if you ignored the fact he had no authority to support him on this. He also had no response to the comment on the owners, he begrudgingly had to admit his original plan had consisted of breaking and entering. The big problem for him keeping his cool was her statement that a few had tried to investigate it properly.
Now, what the hell did that imply?
Maybe just an unfortunate choice of words but did that mean the rest hadn't? It had all been written off with the most convenient solution? Then what part of that was supposed to make him drop this! In the eyes of a distrustful teenager authority never looks great but following it up by saying there are some things you'll never know the truth about?
Zack was about to make an enormous mistake. His temper had finally snapped and he was already calmly and with the usual detached haze thinking about taking a swing at Elena. It wasn't visible, he looked almost defeated even as his muscles tensed, when her next words managed to snap him back.
She was still willing to help?
He didn't understand at all. He could understand imperious decrees about how someone like him (a kid, unqualified, not one of us) wouldn't be allowed at the scene, how he was no good to them. But to say that and still be willing to help? This was a weird cop alright...
As far as Zack could see the situation with the Wright Law Offices seemed to be implausible to the point of ridiculousness but he needed to confirm information that he could only really obtain through the police or the Law Offices records, which he doubted he'd be able to obtain. Taking a shuddering breath to calm the adrenaline that had flooded his system, he made eye contact once more
"So I have to just trust you? That's... harder than you might think." there was a pause. Should he just tell her what he thought? Last time she'd used it to attack him could he just? Oh, what the hell, worst case scenario he'd just have to grit his teeth and deal with more ridicule for being a kid, it wasn't like at 16 he'd have flawless logic
"The Law Offices make no sense to be caught in the crossfire between the Russian and Italian mafia. As a prominent producer of high quality defence lawyers, something both sides would need, you would expect them to fight anywhere else first. And given Downtown's proximity to other venues which would make more sense to fight it out in, I can't understand what would draw them here. More than that, my aunt said the majority of the repairs were meant to have been internal, not that I could check that now they're complete. But unless they were firing through the building, as in standing on different streets crowded around doors and windows, the external should be more damaged, surely? Add to that the fact a second major incident was reported, alongside however many smaller ones may have gone unnoticed, and it begins to look less like an unfortunate accident and more a symptom of something else. Once can be co-incidence, twice... it feels wrong" he scratched his head, temporarily embarrassed by admitting he was working on gut feelings
"So all I was planning to look for was where, from the ground floor, the shooting could have occurred if it was just a crossfire and failing that where the incident could have begun because the idea of a group of mafioso suddenly opening fire in the lobby of a legal office is too comical to be likely. I'd also like to check and see how many of the clients they defended have been accused of mafia related crimes and... damnit, I don't... I don't normally explain my train of thought, sorry, I'm struggling here" why was he so embarrassed!? It was simple, there was no logical reason he could see for the mafia to be fighting in this area. He half expected a shrug and a "what logic is there to criminals" style response, but the key to organized crime is rigourous organization, he couldn't believe two borderline secret societies started a fight in the middle of the day and then let everyone say it was them.
Although, even if he was right, he still had no clue who would want to destroy the law offices...
((OOC: Messy teenage logic >_> gotta love it))
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Jun 5, 2013 14:34:37 GMT -8
tagged: zack. day and time: april 29th, 1pm. notes: notes. He certainly hadn't given his name, but he really didn't have any issues with giving it. It wasn't as if 'Moose' was going to lead someone to a lot of info, and he really didn't go by anything else. Among the homeless, he was Moose. Among those who thought of him as 'Darrin', he had essentially no records after his release. He didn't live anywhere, and aside from his parole officer, no one official spoke to him.
"Moose." Which was all she was getting. It wasn't his legal name, but it was his real name as far as he was concerned. If she was going to have an issue with it...
Well, he never quite got to figure out what he was going to do if she had issue with it, because he was thoroughly distracted by Zack's response.
Now, Moose was well aware he was not the smartest person. In fact, he was borderline mentally retarded. The brain damage had left him struggling with things that most people took for granted. Graduating from high school had been a goddamn task in itself. He couldn't remember things, he forgot words, and he had terrible anger issues.
Even with all that, he was still taken aback by Zack's attempt at an explanation. He couldn't even call it a real explanation, because it was wrong. All of it. So wrong that even he realized it. He straightened up a bit, then jabbed a finger towards Zack, still enough of a distance away that the cop wouldn't think he was attacking him.
"Now, let me explain something to ya, because if you seriously believe that load of shit, you're fucking dumb as a goddamn post." He started, trying to keep track mentally of the arguments. He just knew he was going to forget something.
"Mafias work like fuckin' gangs. They don't give a shit who's involved, so it's not like they're going to be all 'oh lets just fuckin' stroll over to a parking lot to shoot each other'. The fight matters, nothing else. Nevermind, what the fuck is that logic? You never heard of a Mafia lawyer? I mean, fuckin' hell, you don't think they could be pissed if they found out they were defending the other ones? 'Cuz they would be."
He took a moment to take a breath before carrying right the hell on. "And what is that internal-external bullshit? If the fighting was inside, the damage was inside. Fuckin' damage all over the place. You never heard of a grenade?" Technically, he'd never seen a grenade, but he knew about them certainly.
"But that last bit is the dumbest of all. You think criminals fuckin' label their shit? You think you're going to find some file that says 'I'm working for the mob'? Because you ain't. People who have criminal shit going on, don't tell you that shit. That shit's buried and hidden and no one gets to know. No kid is going to fuckin' find that shit. The cops will be lucky if they can work it out, let alone find some proof."
And that was that. Moose rarely spoke as much as he did then, but then, he rarely was confronted with that level of wrong. |
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Post by ELENA J. ANDERSON on Jun 5, 2013 20:14:08 GMT -8
Moose. What a name. The kind that definitely wouldn’t help her pull up any case files if it became necessary to do so—but at least it fit. His replies might as well have been the blunt grunts of a large, lumbering animal anyway—they were so terse and low—but then something shifted in his demeanor and the similarities between the animal and the man grew even stronger. Elena’s brows rose, intrigued; though he might not be bellowing, the small alleyway, Moose’s size, and the raw brusque style of his speech was similar to a great bull addressing a younger, possibly arrogant animal that had encroached upon his personal space.
She found herself smiling, a small gesture. In some ways she was jealous of the flat, piercing way Moose spoke, each word exactly what it was meant to be—no eloquence, no weighty, diplomatic vocabulary to dance around conflict or erect a barrier between the speaker and the one being spoken to. No, it was what it was. And frankly, what it was, was right.
Her amusement mellowed when he finally finished, but Brooklyn’s ears swiveled once, as if uncertain by the sudden change in Moose, before the dog realized it was over; the man was quiet again and Brooklyn cracked his jaw open in a bored yawn. All was apparently well with the world. Elena shifted her gaze back to Zack. “More or less,” she said coolly, agreeing with every word Moose had said but inclined to show a bit more tact. It was unfortunate that Zack could not voice himself more properly. His thoughts—his assumptions—were a mess, and untangling exactly what his point was exasperated her. She sighed. His inexperience was showing. Selfish teenage logic, especially misguided logic, often led young people to believe that they alone could make a difference, that only they could do something the right way. This was wrong.
“Mr. Dawkins, I think you misunderstand. The crime scene itself has been picked clean—there is nothing physically left to find, though if you’d like, there are people left that you can ask questions of. Within reason, of course. This is not a case of laziness on the part of law enforcement; I was not on the team that headed the investigation into the Wright Law Offices, but I can tell you that what little was found on scene was barebones and a constant annoyance for the officers that are still working the investigation. Sadly, this wasn’t even a case of sloppy seconds. There was so little evidence available to us after the incident that in all honesty, there is a good possibility we will never know the full truth.” She paused. “When I say that there are some things we can never know the answers to, I say it because there is nothing left to piece together an answer with. Even witness testimony is unreliable at best. In short…your plan won’t work.”
WORDS!:491 TAG!: Moose, Zack NOTES!:April 29th, 1PM |
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Post by niku on Jun 5, 2013 21:12:48 GMT -8
It was frustrating for the poor kid, but Moose and Elena were both right. The way he conveyed himself did little to help his case. He was keeping his temper in check (barely) but he was visibly frustrated by Moose's reply to his theories and was clearly struggling to vocalise exactly why he didn't think the reply made sense. If they were fighting inside the building then how had they assembled inside with such ease? He couldn't imagine an easy scenario for two warring groups to assemble in the same law office, assuming the Wright Law Offices were indeed mob lawyers, they would surely organise that better so it wouldn't happen. He bit his cheek when Moose mentioned grenades, because the idea of a random brawl that both involved grenades and using them in an enclosed space struck him as an insane idea. If you were planning an encounter explosives made sense but surely it was spur of the moment? Moose's theory seemed to be that one group attacked the other in the law offices lobby for revenge on behalf of defending the rival gang. The part where he finally lost what small amount of cool he had was when Moose was talking about how the criminals wouldn't keep records
"I'm not looking for the criminals personal records, I wanted to see what the Law Offices clients were accused of! Because if they never defended anyone with an Italian or Russian surname then any reason for ANYONE to BE there evaporates! Yeah, gangs don't give a shit about collateral damage but they care about being seen, so why would they start trouble in the very middle of downtown!" Before Zack could get himself into any more trouble, Elena stepped in with the voice of reason explaining how even first response had very little to go on. Zack's warped teenage logic immediately made that a conspiracy, someone must have got there first and wiped it clean so that they wouldn't (stop and think, that doesn't make sense) pausing as the gears grinded in his head, Zack realised with a sad kind of inevitability that Elena was right. Not that he could never find the truth, he refused to believe that and because he was only 16 Zack's opinion of himself was more than a little unrealistic (like he wasn't scared of Moose because he wasn't aware just how badly the ex-con would beat him in a fight), but the fact he wouldn't be able to get at the evidence he wanted was obvious. It would have been destroyed long before he got there if it ever existed and the incident was weeks ago now. He'd need another tactic... the first one that leapt to mind was probably obvious but man was THAT going down a bad road.
He took a few deep breaths to cool his jets somewhat before he replied to Elena
"You're right. It isn't going to work. If the evidence was even there it was probably destroyed in the second incident" attempting some vague subtlety, Zack was insinuating that the odds of their being a second 'co-incidental' attack was unlikely but given his earlier attempt it doubtless came off wrong.
"I can't... I can't explain what it is, but it doesn't feel right. You know what I mean? From the look on my aunt's face. I know, I'm a kid, what the hell do I know, but I can tell the difference between a genuine tragedy we don't understand and something that's wrong." Zack felt a familiar adolescent rage brewing, why the hell was he so helpless? He couldn't even explain what was wrong... "Sorry. This was probably just a waste of time for you two" Zack looked almost defeated, if he couldn't even explain with words what he thought was wrong how was he ever going to prove it without evidence? He didn't even have a theory to work off for crying out loud...
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Jun 6, 2013 12:42:54 GMT -8
tagged: zack. day and time: april 29th, 1pm. notes: notes. Moose was actually expecting the cop to contradict him in some way. He'd actually forgotten her name, it having completely escaped him in his distraction. She didn't contradict him though--she agreed, more or less, with everything he'd said. Well, that was good, if a tiny bit surprising. He hadn't though she would, and he seemed content to settle back after that, no longer as tense as he'd been.
All things considered, Zack was actually wrong. Moose didn't have any theory. He hadn't come up with any theory. He was just shoving ideas out there. He really didn't know anything about the incident. He didn't know where the fight had been, or what damage had come from it. He didn't know if anyone died, or what had happened to those involved. He was really just shoving things right out there.
"Ya know you just admitted to intending to break the law? Because digging through that stuff, through people's personal files... Well, I'm not a pro or anything, but I'm pretty sure that's illegal as shit."
And from that came the closest Moose was ever going to get to emotionally manipulating anyone. "You're damn lucky the miss here's a good person, because if not, she could probably charge you for that shit." Really, it was fairly subtle--but it worked most of the time. Unless the guard was a complete asshole, being told that not doing the things they might do would make them a good guy tended to lean their perception on things. If she did get him into trouble over it, it was just admitting she was an asshole, and most people tried to avoid that. |
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Post by ELENA J. ANDERSON on Jun 7, 2013 5:31:52 GMT -8
No kidding, Elena thought dryly, her expression melting into one of indifference again. Just about any step Zack had planned to implement before she came along would not only have been ineffective, but also highly illegal. She couldn’t peg his age—exactly—but he was likely close enough to actual adulthood that the courts might not have been so lenient either. Elena suspected that his original plan also included breaking and entering, another nail in his coffin. She contemplated this carefully, both amused and wary of Moose’s statements and aware that Zack’s temper, along with his impatience, might only lead to further problems in the future. He needed to learn to get a grip, really, but she shouldn’t have to point that out. Moose had done that for them both, practically cutting down every irrational part of his original plan.
If that didn’t instill at least a little more caution in the future, he was a hopeless case.
Finally, she shrugged. “To be honest, I’m not the throw-everybody-in-prison type,” Elena explained. “I’d rather save space for the people that really deserve to be there than toss another well intentioned, if misguided, kid in. Waste of good tax payer money.” She paused. “Kid like you wouldn’t come out the same anyway,” she said. “Prison’s no joke. If I were you I’d take a day or two to reconsider what’s happened and what you’ll do to act all the wiser in the future. He’s right,” she said, nodding to Moose. “Some officers don’t tolerate much. Your heart might be in the right place but it doesn’t mean anything if you can’t think straight. My advice? …Stay away from Wright Law Offices until you’re able to think about the situation objectively. You’re too emotional, too tense. That temper of yours will land you in a place you won’t want to be, and if you think that’s going to lead you to answers in the future, you’re wrong again.”
She hoped he'd take the advice to heart. At this rate he'd either end up killing somebody or spiking his blood pressure to dangerous levels. Granted, what help she could offer into the matter was limited. But Zack would also have to learn to deal with that, as his age, his inexperience, and his personality, were natural barriers in matters of detective work.
WORDS!:388 TAG!: Moose, Zack NOTES!:April 29th, 1PM |
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Post by niku on Jun 8, 2013 5:53:30 GMT -8
Zack's defeat was quickly enhanced by Moose's blunt outlining that his plan was illegal, the genuine bafflement on the kid's face probably showed he was unaware of that little fact. He assumed the law offices court records would be available to the public if he asked someone, or they would be at the courthouse in any case, the fact it was illegal seemed odd to him but he couldn't really fault it (since as far as he knew it was indeed the case) and instead let this hint about the police officer go over his head. He chalked it up, not unreasonably, to Moose trying to stay on the good side of the police woman in case they met later. It wasn't unlikely for a homeless person he supposed, but from what little Zack knew of the law he was pretty sure saying you intended to do something was a far cry from actually doing it, in the same way he probably wouldn't be spontaneously arrested if he said he intended to karate chop the president.
Thankfully, Anderson was indeed a decent sort and admitted she'd rather not throw him in jail (Zack's first thought was that at 16 he'd probably have to be in a young offenders for the bulk of whatever sentence he got) but he was still a little prickled by her accusation of him being emotional. It wasn't an unfair observation he was a pretty passionate person but he still felt a spark of annoyance, he wasn't being emotional in his deductions! The Law Offices wasn't the only story that sounded strange to him, there were a few across LA which he had no personal investment in that just didn't seem right. He kept his temper in check because if he listed off a bunch of places he was thinking of going and then someone was found breaking and entering them he'd be in a bit of a pickle. And whatever annoyance he felt was tempered by the fact she seemed to be a genuinely good cop, not at all like the usual police (or at least what Zack thought of as the usual police). Keeping his face calm, or at the very least not snarling like he normally would when being lectured by a police officer, he nodded, not trusting his mouth to listen to his brain about not arguing back.
"Maybe I'll do that. Nice meeting you Anderson. Moose."
Zack turned to leave before noticing Brooklyn, still sitting very patiently and with an admirable temperment. Were he of the self observant type Zack might note the humor in an animal being far more in control of it's baser instincts than he was but as it was he simply smiled at the dog's impressive training and felt at least somewhat more relaxed. He was going to just leave Moose and Anderson to talk about whatever they were going to discuss (her giving Moose suggestions and him grunting replies seemed likely), but he felt compelled now to at least ask about the dog
"Out of curiousity; Your dog seems very well trained, what breed is he?"
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Jun 9, 2013 17:16:51 GMT -8
tagged: zack. day and time: april 29th, 1pm. notes: sorry for short post. Oh boy. Moose really had to wonder if Elena knew. Most people could take a guess, to be fair, but she didn't seem to have even guessed where Moose had spent the last fifteen years of his life. He knew all about prison. He knew how it changed people, how it broke people. How it ruined a lot of people's ability to ever live a normal life. Getting back to 'real life' was hard, if not impossible. Those that managed did so with support structures, and those without them inevitably ended up behind bars once again. Moose had no illusions about that, and no one knew that sad truth better than him. He had no support structure--it was only his desperation to stay out that was keeping him on the straight and narrow.
Moose didn't want to talk about the dog. He didn't want to look at it. He didn't really know the name of the breed, but that didn't matter--he knew the kind, had seen them before. He didn't really give a crap about dog breeds, and he sincerely doubted he'd ever have a pet of his own. His priorities were more organized than that. He wasn't one of those people who was going to pick up something he couldn't feed--not when he couldn't feed himself. He had no real memory of having a pet of his own, so he didn't feel any particular attachment to the idea. Not at all. |
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Post by ELENA J. ANDERSON on Jun 9, 2013 18:55:33 GMT -8
”German shepherd,” Elena answered automatically. She had grown up around dogs, could recognize many breeds, but she was a little surprised Zack had never seen one before. Brooklyn might have had dark, mottled fur, but the body shape, or silhouette of the breed, was unmistakable. They were a fairly common canine breed, popular in military units, police work and as general guard dogs for family households. “Any dog’s trainable if you work with them,” she added, smiling as she placed her hand on Brooklyn’s head. “Canine units are different though. As you can imagine, I need bite more than bark. If you’re looking for a good dog though, check the local shelters. They’re full to bursting, and any dog’s a good dog if you’re willing to take the time to train them appropriately. No matter the breed.”
Elena sighed. She was feeling remarkably more relaxed now, though she might not entirely trust Zack to drop the matter. It was sad, but if he didn’t learn to pursue things within reasonable parameters than he would never get anywhere with the case. She simply had to hope for the best—hope that he learned something this day—and that she wouldn’t be answering a call in the future about a temperamental teen that had done something he couldn’t take back. There was only so much she could do the help him out if that were the case, and pending upon what he had done, she might not be inclined to help him at all.
“Well gentlemen,” she began again, “I believe we may be done here. Sorry for stopping you…Moose.” She had almost thrown “Mr.” in front of his name but had thought better of it. Mr. Moose was just awkward. “I wish you the best and appreciate your patience.” She was still amused by his blunt style of speech, and admittedly grateful for the help that he inadvertently offered by speaking up. As for Zack. “About your investigation. Do your best to stay out of trouble—common sense is your best friend—but should you require serious assistance in the matter, call the department. If you don’t trust them, have them send a dispatch to Officer Elena Anderson of the Canine Unit. I might be able to help you, but don’t bite off more than you can chew.” She nodded, her eyes flashing before she began to turn away. “That’ll be all gentlemen. Take care, and let’s hope the next time we meet it won’t involve any criminal activity, hm?”
Here’s to hoping, she thought as she walked away.
WORDS!:428 TAG!: Moose, Zack NOTES!:April 29th, 1PM. Elena Anderson over and out. :D |
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Post by niku on Jun 11, 2013 2:20:19 GMT -8
German Shepherd, huh? Zack's mind was still picking at solutions to the Wright Law Offices deal but at the moment he was forcing himself to chill by paying attention to the dog. Brooklyn had kept his cool the entire time, Zack's adult part of his brain was chipping in that maybe he should consider learning a thing or two from the dog about that. Nodding to himself, he turned to listen to Officer Anderson's parting remarks and surprised himself by not getting that familiar surge of anger or annoyance. Instead he took her words somewhat to heart.
He was in the wrong here, he couldn't investigate just by saying the police were wrong and he could come up with a better theory, he needed a better theory first to prove. He could come up with whatever based on the evidence, it'd be better to work it out based on what the evidence was but the cops had no reason to want to give him it. He could ask Elena for help apparently (a gesture that didn't go un-noticed, with the exception of his mother and even then only when she could he had very few people who would help him, so this random COP of all people offering him help was... surprising). He looked sort of suspicious of it all to be honest, eyebrows raised but he kept his cool and when she said she was going held a hand up somewhat awkwardly and said
"Bye... Anderson" he wished he knew her first name in a way, he wasn't going to call her officer since he almost considered it an insult, but he didn't want her to think he still didn't like her. Fortunately for him, his face was naturally expressive and his voice didn't hide much. She probably got the message.
Turning to Moose, Zack was unsure what to make of him. It was harrowing but he was probably unknowingly looking at his future. Unless something changed, he was very likely to wind up in Moose's place before long... but he wasn't even thinking of it. Instead he raised a hand in salute, said with a slight tilt to his voice
"I hope you get somewhere warm to sleep, dude. Sorry for... well, being a pain" he shrugged, unsure what else to say and with a turn on his heel made for home. Silently thanking the gods that neither Anderson nor Moose realised he was skipping school.
((OOC: Zack leaves the thread! I think we're nearly finished?))
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Post by F A T E on Jun 22, 2013 23:26:34 GMT -8
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