Shades of Gray [Michael]

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La Femme Dame Victoria Boulstridge · Law Enforcement Posts: 36 (4/2/06 5:36 pm) Reply	Shades of Gray [Michael] The parking lot was a dark expanse of shining blackness with pools of light spotlighting gleaming cars. Jaguars, Volvos, and Mercedes were the dominant species in the lot. As she walked from the parking lot to the apartment building, she caught a glimpse of her old Jeep at the far end of a line. Though the window she was looking through was shattered, she could see it rather clearly despite the many clones that window seemed to give an illusion of just outside of the building. As she turned to head towards another apartment building she lost sight of it. The Browning Hi-Power had been tucked into the holster, the leather rubbing at her shoulders -- her white blouse managing to keep it from rubbing her flesh chafe. The white button up blouse was short sleeved. Most people didn't stare at the scars. They'll look, of course, then do the little eye slide when she caught a glimpse of them staring. It was usually a quick then a drop of gaze just so that they could have a second look. Her right harm had been sliced open twice by a knife, once before. One scar was white and old, the second one still pink and new. Her left arm was worse, a mound of whit escar tissue sitting at the bend of her arm. She'd have to stay active with that particular arm for the rest of her life or the scars would stiffen and she'd lose mobility in that particular arm, or so the physical therapist once told her. Of course she never listened half the time and for good reason. Her boss, the Chief of Police -- Pete McKinnon, had requested that she wear her blazer or a long sleeved blouse when she was working out of the office today. Most usually having questions about her occupationally acquired scars. She hadn't worn a long-sleeved blouse since Pete made that request. He'd made sure to turn up the air conditioner a little bit more every day -- which made it exceptionally cold to most. She couldnt've been more thankful to be off the clock becase it had become so cold that goosebumps began to dance along her arms, clearly visible against her flesh. It was only after she'd left the office did she manage to ease on her black blazer that matched the black knee length skirt she'd been wearing. She knew that as a cop, she could just walk around Jones City a gun clearly visible to the naked eye around her. It needed to be hid if it ever could and her blazer provided her with that much cover. The stockings that she'd been wearing caused her legs to itch, and it was in this very instance that she could not wait to get to her destination so that she could take them off. Stockings were a nuisance and she never quite understood why so many women liked to wear them. Her heels clicking along the cement pavement was very soft, yet it was a noise that'd become very repetitive. It'd taken her some time to get used to it, but she did and the noise was just like any other extra noise in her mind -- non existant. As she neared the correct building, she could see Johns conversating in the distance and their dames at their side, like the obedient little girls that they were. Her half lidded blue eyes didn't linger on them too long, for she'd directed her attention to the dim lighting she could see coming from his window. The silence filled the area around her like deep icy water. Silence in Jones City was never a good thing, and often times she just wanted to randomly clap her hands or scream to the top of her lungs just to create some kind of noise. Danger lurked behind every corner and this city radiated death and bloodshed. It was never a good thing. She was sure if she started making random noise, all that she would get would a blink and a crazy look. The night was still young, but the looming clouds of thunder and rain above served to make things a bit more dreary than they naturally would have been. Half of a cigarette had been dangling between petal soft lips, and the smoke that had been radiating towards the ceiling was a smell that she'd grown to love and had gotten very familiar with. The building on the outside was worn, chipped brick showing signs of decay in its beginning stages. Even before she opened the door to it she could feel the muggy heat that attacked her body and made her wish she had lefted her blazer in her jeep. The lights that lined the ceiling flickered and the painful anguish of flies and mosquitos seemed to teach her ears rather easily. Tugging her blazer around her slender upper body a bit more, she continued on her path down the hall towards the stairs that would take her to the third floor. That was the floor that she needed to get to. That was where he lived. Michael Summers. He was a man that'd become very close to her over the years that she'd been in the force. Though he was rudely dismissed four or five years ago, they'd kept in contact and their friendship was something special to her. While it was against the rules to see him, she often had these late night meetings with him -- wanting to inform him of what was going on around Jones City since he lost alot of his contacts when his badge was yanked out of his hands and burned almost instantly. As she moved through the hallway and finally made her way towards the stairs, she let her deep blue eyes glance up the stairwell for a second. It was ascending into even more darkness which made her eyes hang low for a bit more. She didn't live in the best places of town either, but this particular building made her home look like a mansion. As she eased up the stairs, into the darkness of the second floor, she looked about briefly. She could see old stains that lined the wall from what -- she didn't want to know. She didn't touch the railing because she didn't know what had touched it. The people of Jones City were rather nasty and while she didn't think herself too good to deal with them, she didn't want to grow ill from touching something she could have avoided. Her hair, like shards of bright sunshine being reflected through a broken glass, was the light in the darkness of this all. She'd managed to pull very golden sunkissed locks back from her face and into a slightly high messy bunn that caused a few strands to fall from that bunn rather easily. Her rather small, prescribed bifocals had been resting on the bridge of her nose, and as she continued on up the stairs pass the second floor she felt her nose flinch almost nonchalantly. Nimble fingers rose up to take a garsp of the cigarette as she took one long drawl and moved to inhale the smoke rather proficiently. As she flicked the ashes to the ground, she let the smoke exhale from her lips rather easily. Dropping the cigarette butt towards the ground, she moved to put it out with the tip of her high heeled pointed toe, before she moved to step over it now and towards the end of the third floor hall where his apartment rested. She'd used her hands to tug back a few strands of golden hair. As she approached the door she listened for anything that might have told her if she needed to leave. Whenever he had company she was never one to want ab urden. You never knew who would stop by your place and who knew where you lived in Savage. It wasn't pleasant. Vicki always slept with a gun under her pillows, and a knife under the cushions of her couch. That was just how she was and nothing would change that. As she raised her hands above her head, a few knocks had been given at his door for a moment. They were soft, and they came in threes. Knockknockknock. Knock. Knock. Knock. The sound echoed throughout the hall and it made her blue eyes travel down that very door. It was almost as if all suddenly got silent. If she listened closely she could hear the skittering of mice along the floor and it made her glance down briefly and up again. She often times wondered why she just didn't find work outside of Jones City, but she knew that the reason she remained here was behind this very door. Even now she could hear his heavy foot steps approaching. Men always walked harder than a female ever would, which gave the female gender the advantage in any fight. At least Victoria anyways. She was quick on her feet and she was ready for anything as she had been now. "Michael, it's me Vicki. Open up." Her english accent was fresh, very thick, age old and showing no signs of ever fading over time. She let her arms fall to her side now and all she could do was wait for him to open the door from the other side. Hopefully she wouldn't see him with any scars from any kind of fight he might have found himself in. Men had egos, and Michael had pride. It was a dangerous combination when one thought about it.
Michael Summers Michael Summers · Unemployed Posts: 4 (4/4/06 11:21 pm) Reply	Re: Shades of Gray [Michael] Goddamn, it was hot. And opening a window didn't seem to make it any better. Michael Summers knew from experience; he'd been forced to live in this piece of shit apartment in this piece of shit building for a few years now. He knew the ins and outs. No air conditioning, no heat, no cable. The latter he could stand, because he found most of the trash on television to be just that - trash. But air and heat were another thing entirely. The warmth from the spring and summer months were magnified what seemed like tenfold in this cramped hole, but were nowhere near as difficult as the winters. There were nights when Michael could see his breath in front of him, and he soon found out that no matter how many wool blankets you cover yourself with, it's still just not the same. But these are the kind of conditions one finds himself living in when one is unjustly terminated from his place of employment. Not that Michael is bitter or anything. And while his detective’s salary wasn’t exactly filling his bank account back then, at least it was something he could live pretty comfortably on. Plus, he wasn’t the only money-earner back then. He worked, and his wife worked. They had a house just outside Jones City, a nice little place for their daughter to grow up in. He didn’t have to worry about money back then. He didn’t have to worry about much of anything. But that all changed, as most things do. The badge was taken away, the family left, the house was sold. A man once used to waking up to the smell of pancakes cooking downstairs and the sound of his daughter laughing now woke up to the smell of urine in the building’s hallways and the sound of gunshots echoing through near-by alleyways. This wasn’t the life Michael Summers wanted to be living, nothing was clearer than that. But it’s the life he was being forced to live, the corner he’d found himself backed into. He was once a great cop, a great detective – hell, he still would be if he just had the badge to justify it. But not anymore. And losing that, losing it all, crushed him. It was bad enough finding himself dismissed from his job, to be stripped of his badge because some influent family in Sacred Oats wanted to cover up their baby boy’s misdeeds. But to watch his own wife believe the lies coming out in the local papers, to side with the fabricated version of the story rather than his own, and because of it, take their daughter and leave him… no, this was not how Summers envisioned things playing out when he submitted his application to the police academy. He’d hit his lowest point, and there had been more than one instance when he’d tasted the cold steel of his pistol. Why he hadn’t done it, well, there weren’t a lot of answers. But one of them, her name was Victoria. They’d known each other on the force, even worked together a few times. She was one of the up-and-comers, one of the brightest of the new faces in the Jones City PD. Word traveled fast through the department about what had happened to Summers, not just the dismissal but his family walking out on him. He hadn’t won any popularity contests while he was a detective, so not everyone was broken up about the bad news. But there were some, like Victoria, who were concerned about him, about what could happen to a good man when he was shafted and tossed aside by such a damned city. It was Victoria’s friendship, her caring, and her concern that had helped get Michael through some of the toughest times in his life. He could never thank her enough for it, because he knew that by coming to see him, by talking to him and interacting with him outside of the force, she was taking risks herself. The chief didn’t want anyone on his payroll associating with Summers, and for good enough reasons. The “victimized” family of Sacred Oats demanded that Summers be removed from the police department after their son had been killed; McKinnon would only be welcoming back more trouble from the upper classes if, despite being released, Summers still kept in contact with officers on duty. Victoria could be facing serious repercussions from her employers for keeping in touch with Michael. But that was likely not the worst of it. Any officer associated with Summers may in fact feel the full brunt of Sacred Oats on their shoulders. These people had enough influence to end Michael’s career. That told him they could certainly do the same to those Michael kept up with. Or worse, maybe it wasn’t a career these people wanted to end. The thought made Michael shiver a bit. That’s why he and Victoria had to maintain these secret meetings. That’s why it was necessary, for instance, to park at the far end of the lot and walk to his place. He let the edge of the curtain fall back in place as he turned away from the window, silently cursing himself for letting Victoria go to these measures just to come see him. Her company meant more to him than anything right now, but if their connection somehow caused her harm in any way… He pushed the thought from his mind as he heard footsteps up the stairwell. His hand instinctively dropped to his side, resting casually on the grip of the gun that remained strapped there. Her car was outside, but that didn’t guarantee anything. They could have followed her. They could have coerced her or threatened her. No, she was too strong to be bullied, but this was too rough of a neighborhood for Summers not to be prepared. The knocks broke the silence of his apartment and caused his thoughts to flutter away. Three knocks, always the same. His hand eased a bit, but not entirely. Michael approached the door normally, but held his breath. Finally, he heard her voice, and it allowed him to exhale in relief. He dropped his hand from his side, and reached for the latch of the door. A smile crept across his face. Not a happy smile, but one signifying his laughing at himself on the inside. Not the way he envisioned his life, indeed. He pulled the door back into the faint darkness of the apartment, and could instantly smell the sweet breezy scent of the woman standing on the other side. He smiled as he looked upon her; she was like an angel in front of a sea of gray. It was always in that first moment when he saw her that his embarrassment about his situation was at its peak. It’s one of the reasons that he tried to meet her out and about more often. A diner, a side street, someplace other than the pathetic location he calls home. ”Good to see you, Vickie,” he said in a tone between normal speech and a whisper. He sidestepped to allow her to enter into the apartment, and after eyeing the hallway once, shut the door behind her. She was familiar enough with his place already, so he didn’t need to lead her around. The front doorway would lead straight ahead to the apartment’s main room, the living room. On the way, one could cut to the right and enter the open kitchen area, open to the living room but also divided by a worn counter top. Summers had gone to the trouble of putting two barstools on the living room side of the counter. He knew he’d only ever need two. If any guest he had didn’t want to have a seat there, they could find a reasonably comfortable spot on the two-seater couch or the single recliner, both of which faced a make-shift entertainment center, Summers’ pride and joy. A 24-inch basic tube wasn’t the height of technology, but served Michael well enough. On the far side of the living room opposite of the kitchenette side was the lone bathroom and the master bedroom, each with its own door in the corner. The bedroom was large enough for Summers’ queen size bed, a luxury he refused to give up when downgrading to the Slums of Jones City. Needless to say, it wasn’t much. But he made it his own as best he could. Lucky for him, he tried not to spend too much time in it anymore. ”Can I get you something?” he asked, approaching the coffee maker in the corner of the kitchenette. He’d brewed it not too long ago – at least by his standards. Michael pulled a pair of his few coffee mugs from one of the overhead cabinets, holding them out as an offering to her, waiting for a response.
La Femme Dame Victoria Boulstridge · Law Enforcement Posts: 47 (4/6/06 2:05 pm) Reply	Re: Shades of Gray [Michael] She'd heard the locks to the door unlatching, as his strong fingers removed what needed to be removed so as to unhinge the door so she could enter. When the door was pulled back into the faint darkness of his apartment, she immediately felt the heat from the inside rush her like a wild tidel wave. A massive blow fan that managed to caused her to take a few extra breaths. She'd forgotten that his apartment hadn't had any air conditioning to it. She tried to convince him time and again to move in with her. True, her apartment wasn't the largest, but it was better than what he was living in. Vicki was not a judgemental person and as such she didn't dwell on what she had and he didn't have. What she dwelt on every day was how he had been? Did he sleep alright? Did he have breakfast, lunch, and dinner? Should she whip up something and take it to him? It was all a matter of worry with her. She was a worry wart and for good reason. If she didn't look after him, she knew that he would not look after himself. Not physically anyways, nor mentally. Victoria practically nursed him out of his depression after his wife had left, and he'd lost his job. It was a shock unto itself when it came to her, and it only fueled her need to give McKinnon that black eye she'd been wanting to give him for years now. He'd taken over the force after her father had passed, he was -ready- for her father to die -- he'd even had the nerve to show up at her fathers funeral. Sparks would ensue rather naturally. ”Good to see you, Vickie,” There was a smile which made her blink behind her bifocals. He'd stepped to the side to allow her to enter and she did. This place was like a second home to her. She'd learnt that when she came here, when she stepped inside of this apartment, she was no longer a guest as she had been her first time entering. No. She was damn near an occupant herself. Before she'd stepped in, she looked over her shoulder, blue eyes cutting back and forth for a moment to make sure no one was watching. She'd soon eased in rather lithely, body moving around his taller form as she took a few steps forward. The door shut soon after. Locks were hinged, and all was silent for the barest of moments. Vicki managed to make her way further down the hall, to make that right so thatshe could sit on one of the bar stools infront of the kitchenette. He'd made a turn into the kitchen which she expected, and her blue eyes immediately fell to him. They'd wandered along his body for the briefest moments -- though in suspection of whether he'd been harmed or not. Was he okay? He seemed to be at the current moment. She was glad. The apartment had become slightly cozy to her. While it took her some time to adjust to this building being where she would come to see him every day, she'd never adjust to the smell of urine. It made her want to take some bleach and pine sol and just throw it against every corner of the hall that she could. ”Can I get you something?” Victoria allowed herself to get a bit more comfortable on the barstool that she'd made home for her backside. She shifted her weight comfortable, right leg managing to ease over her left rather easily. Her blue eyes noticed movement from him as he made his way to the coffee maker. He knew that she liked coffee, and already she could see the blackness of it sitting there for only a brief moment. She needed a strong cup. It'd been a while since she actually had any. Managing to offer him a nod, and a small smile, she lifted her hands to remove her bifocals gently. "A cup of a coffee sounds nice right about now." She'd admitted to quite easily. Eyelids fell lazily over her blue eyes as she began to use her blouse that she had been wearing to clen the glassest hat belonged to her. Strands of wild gold hair, fell along the front of her face now, framing high set cheek bones rather brilliantly. She'd expected that by now he knew how he liked her coffee exactly. Dark, dark coffee was always the best. It kept her awake for such long hours. She didn't trust herself to sleep in a city such as Jones City for some reason and when she did it was only for three hours at max. She often remembered during her childhood that her mother would tell her that she should go to a doctor, and that they were going to go and get used to it. Victoria hated needles, and everytime she thought about a doctor she foresaw a needle. Victoria watched Michael for a few more moments. She'd managed to shift her weight once more as she began to roll her shoulders a few times. She had to get out of this blaser. It was getting to be a bit hotter than she wanted it to be. Tongue flickered along her picaune lips only briefly before she moved to ease rather slender arms out of the thick fabric of her blazer. The scars were plainly obvious now. She wasn't sure if Michael had seen them before or not. She'd often taking to McKinnons request to wear a jacket when he began to lower the temperature at the station exceptionally low. It felt as if the arctic had taken along the inside of the worn building, and yet at the same time she had the goosebumps to prove it. Laying the blazer on the second bar stool she cut her blue eyes to Michael once more before she, herself, eased off of her own barstool and began to make her way through his living room rather slowly. She wanted to go to his window. To look out of the window. A pack of cigarettes had been removed, and while it wasn't a habit that she often did, she did need one every blue moon. She needed a cigarette as often as she'd laced her coffee with a bit of whiskey. Not much, but just enough to give it that warm spice. To ease the tensions threatening to travel up her spine. Placing the cigarette from the pack, between her lips, she let it dangle there for a moment as she tossed the pack to the side on his coffee table. She wasn't quick about lighting it however. Instead she'd let it rest there for a moment, her body leaning against the window pane that she was near. As she glanced down at the street and along the parking lot that wasn't too far off, she opened her lips to speak in a very soft tone -- yet audible to even him. "I believe the Mafia has more ties with McKinnon than we think," she began. Her hair had been pulled back for the most part but she found herself using her free hand to tuck away the strands behind her ear. "I can't prove it for sure, but there are pieces of the puzzle concerning your termination that are still missing. I just know that it was someone from the inside that could have been out to get you. Someone other than McKinnon." She spoke rather softly once again, managing to finish her statement this time. She felt baffled for a moment. Her objective that she had been working on personally is to get McKinnon out. To make right the police force that is so unjust. If she could prove that McKinnon hadsome times with the Mafia, and that he terminated Michael on unjust terms, then all would be well. She had to be careful though, she knew that much. She knew that if she started snooping then she'd get herself in worlds of trouble and right now her job is something she needed. She did it right and she didn't accept bribery. She was one of the purest in the force, besides the handsome man in the kitchen that she spoke to -- if only others could follow in these same foot steps. Alas, Jones City is truly a Sin. Edited by: La Femme Dame at: 4/6/06 2:06 pm
Michael Summers Michael Summers · Unemployed Posts: 8 (4/8/06 12:05 am) Reply	Re: Shades of Gray [Michael] Summers poured both mugs about halfway to their brims, deciding not to add any spirits to the beverage just yet. He himself wasn’t much of a drinker anymore. He’d been down that road, and he’d had more than his share. He drank casually, socially even, before he’d been dismissed from the force. He’d go out and have a beer with the guys, maybe a shot or two, and then call a cab home. Nothing heavy, but he wasn’t guarded with his liquor intake. Now, things had changed. He had nearly become a full-fledged alcoholic, drinking himself into such a stupor some nights that he felt like he was never going to wake up. The woman across from him helped change a lot of that, and he’d be eternally grateful to her because of it. It was somewhat odd that, after finding himself in a fight against alcohol, he still kept it in his place. Every now and then, Summers would have a beer or a small swig of liquor. He’d built his willpower and control back up to the level required to keep his drinking at a reasonable level. But that didn’t mean he liked doing it the same way he used to, and he certainly had no intention of returning to the hell he’d known. He pushed one of the mugs across the counter for Victoria to take when she was ready for a sip. No pressure; there never was between the two of them. It was entirely ordinary for her to remove her jacket and get comfortable, and the scars on her arms were the least of Michael’s concerns – unless he found some fresh ones mixed in with her skin’s running historical record. Summers knew full well that between the two of them, she was more the caretaker than he was. She’d helped nurse him back to the semi-normal life he currently enjoyed. But that didn’t stop Summers from also caring about what was going on with Vickie – how she was doing emotionally, how the job was going, if she was okay and not putting herself in unnecessary danger. It was the very least he could do for all the help she’d given him, but he looked at it as his responsibility as her friend. She’d gone through hell to find him and bring him back to the land of the living. He’d do no less than the same for her. Michael chuckled to himself as he watched Victoria discard the pack of cigarettes on his table. ”A cigarette and cup of coffee at this hour? Either you’ve been up for the better part of a full day, or you don’t plan on going to bed any time soon.” That was how she lived her life though, and Summers could relate; it was how he lived his whenever he was on the force and didn’t have a family to share his afternoons and evenings with. Things changed when he married Rachel, and changed even further when Lindsey was born. Not just in the sense that he had less time for the job, but also because the time he spent with them had to also be spent making sure they were safe. Being a cop in Savage City wasn’t entirely a family affair; there were criminals out there who had no remorse in removing a man’s family if they didn’t like the way he did business. It was a conclusion he had hoped he’d never reach, but in a strange twisted way, that’s exactly what had happened to Michael Summers. She was standing by the window now, the unlit cigarette in her mouth, as it always was when she was engaged in fairly deep thought. Something was on her mind, that was for sure. Maybe Summers had known that since they had scheduled their meeting for tonight. Not that seeing each other was so out of the ordinary, but Vickie always had news to bring up about what was going on at the department. Usually it wasn’t the first thing out of her mouth, though. But tonight, she put it right out there. The kitchenette counter provided good enough support for Summers to lean against as he contemplated the initial conjecture that Vickie had voiced. McKinnon connected directly to the Magliozzi Mafia. It certainly wasn’t a foreign theory to Summers. He knew the second that McKinnon had fired him that he was nothing more than a puppet to the powerful few in Jones City. The strings had been pulled, and the little puppet had danced exactly how they’d wanted him to. This in itself was nothing new, but the idea that McKinnon was knowingly responding to a mafia demand and did so quite efficiently and without any resistance was a dangerous thought. Michael preferred to think of his former boss as a sniveling yes-man, someone who got their orders from the upper class and the politicians, and obeyed, but was never kept completely in the loop or was too ignorant to see how he was being used. But if McKinnon deliberately conspired and associated with the mafia, then that would suggest a number of sickening facts. For starters, the deeper Summers dug into the cocaine importing investigation, the less likely it was that the young man he’d eventually shoot dead was working alone. This kid hadn’t had the resources or the pull to do all of that himself. Sure, he had his parents’ large bank account, but it took more than a flash of green or Daddy’s gold card to initiate a regular shipment of product of significant size into a place like Jones City. No one did that without approval from the Magliozzi’s, and more than likely, they’d orchestrated and were running the entire thing. It was a part of Summers’ investigation that he would have explored after the bust-gone-bad. Interviewing the kid would have been step one, but it was rather hard to interrogate a suspect when their brain’s parietal lobe was splattered against a warehouse wall. There were other trails to follow, but the plug had been pulled soon after that. Which is really where this theory started to turn Summers’ stomach. If the kid was working for the Magliozzi’s, it likely meant the parents were as well. And since it was the parents who demanded and eventually received Summers’ dismissal, could it be concluded that the mafia themselves had directly orchestrated personnel and investigative decisions of the Savage City PD? And that McKinnon had obliged? The more he thought about it, the less far-fetched it sounded. Jones City was not the beaming lighthouse of police purity. Corruption bred in this town like rabbits in a cardboard box. It would only have been a matter of time before it reached the department, but a naïve part of Summers had always hoped it would only extend as far as a few patrolmen, maybe a detective. Never to the top. It was disappointment, but living in this city as long as he had, it was one he could swallow without much shock. If McKinnon was taking his orders from the mafia, then his reach would have been much broader than just some overseas cocaine imports. He could determine what investigations to send his personnel on. Which warehouses to hit and which to avoid, which dealers to bring in, and which areas to leave unattended. He could essentially direct traffic for the entire organization, all the while maintaining perfect cover by bringing down Magliozzi’s competition, thus creating an organized crime monopoly for Savage City’s most notorious family. The entire ordeal sent a shiver down Summers’ spine, and he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He looked over at Vickie, who was still standing near the window. ”We both know that I wasn’t exactly president of the glee club back then, Vickie,” Summers said with a bit of amusement in his tone. ”I had an enemy for every friend in the force. McKinnon and I never really got along, but were civil enough. If there were someone else in the department that wanted me out, I wouldn’t fall off my feet in surprise.” He took a slow sip of his coffee. ”This isn’t the first time we’ve explored the possibility of McKinnon being connected with the Magliozzi’s in a more substantive way than the proverbial picture at a fundraiser. I guess I’ve always underestimated him, in that regard. I never gave him enough credit to think he may actually be a player in the game instead of just a pawn, but the more we talk about it, the easier it is to see.” He set his mug down on the counter. Now it was time for a bit of the alcohol. Michael walked to one of his cupboards and pulled down a half emptied bottle of vodka, needing a bit of extra strength to twist off a cap that hadn’t been moved in weeks. He dropped a few beads into his own cup, and then offered some to Victoria. He slid the bottle gently across the counter, letting it sit open and get some air as he stirred his drink with his finger. The next sip was more relaxing than the first few, but didn’t do much to ease his mind about how that bastard McKinnon could have been playing the entire city for years now. If the vengeful fist of the Magliozzi mafia didn’t extend as far as it did, Summers would have few reserves about tracking McKinnon down himself and getting some payback. It certainly wasn’t the first time that thought had crossed his mind, though before, he’d always felt bad about taking out a guy who didn’t know any better. But it didn’t seem like that was really the case anymore. No, they needed to bring McKinnon down in a more rewarding way if they could. ”We just need the proof.”
La Femme Dame Victoria Boulstridge · Law Enforcement Posts: 50 (4/11/06 7:59 pm) Reply	Re: Shades of Gray [Michael] Thoughts traveled through her mind, her detective mind already trying to piece together rudimentary information that could work in their favor on how to get McKinnon out of his current position. Victoria worked just like that. She worked at trying to uncover alot of things as best as she could. After all one might even say it was her job. The biggest mystery she'd had on her plate right now was uncovering what McKinnon's ties with the Mafia Family had been and to exploit them for all that they were worth. ”A cigarette and cup of coffee at this hour? Either you’ve been up for the better part of a full day, or you don’t plan on going to bed any time soon.”. The words touched her ears and interrupted her thoughts. In any other situation his words would have made her smile as they had become a habit of doing as of the past few weeks. Alone, when she was in the confinements of her own home, and not around the work office or Michael himself she'd had time to reevaluate her relationship with him. There were some tha toften teased her, because she still had an old picture of him placed on the corner of her desk. She didn't care what Pete thought or anyone else for that matter. They had no ways of drawing conclusions back to her that she was the one who was still connected to him. Not in the way she would have liked to be, but they were fairly close. They had each others back as any partnership would warrant in what she believed to be the last days of Jones City. After a moment of silence and a final glance along the parking lot outside, Victoria turned around so that she could step back into the living catching Michael's eyes locked on her. Her blue ones could bore holes into him if she tried hard enough. She knew that he was in thought. There was some weird tension that she'd learned to identify with him. It rested between his own eyes, age old in nature. He was older than her, and it wasn't a bad thing. She admired that about him one might even say. It's not that such trivial things were things that she'd find herself openly admitting to. As a detective, and undercover one at that, Victoria had learned to keep her emotions tucked under her sleeve. She couldn't look at this as a bout of business and pleasure. She had to look at it as only one thing. Business. And the well being of the man before her. Victoria never thought about what her life would be like if she had a family or if she had been in love. It was just something that she couldn't see herself fitting into her schedule. Not now at least. There was so much that she felt she had to do, that she felt she had to try to accomplish to work her way up into the ranks of the Police Department. She wanted to be in McKinnon's spot. She wanted to make the force pure again and purge it of all the negative vibes that those corrupted cops bring to it. It wasn't so wrong in her eyes. It was actually just right. A few steps warranted Victoria a spot at the make shift bar, where she moved to take the coffee he'd poured for her in the cup into her hands. A sip was taken of it as she listened to him speak now, his words almost amusing to her, dare one say bearing the barest of smiles. ”We both know that I wasn’t exactly president of the glee club back then, Vickie,” Her blue eyes traveled to his own eyes as he spoke once more. ”I had an enemy for every friend in the force. McKinnon and I never really got along, but were civil enough. If there were someone else in the department that wanted me out, I wouldn’t fall off my feet in surprise.” He was not telling her anything that she didn't already know. She continued to sip at her coffee, gathering her thoughts about everything that he had been saying. She didn't want to interrupt or anything of that like. She was made to listen and when she began to listen she did just that without interruption. Listening gave one all the facts that they could possibly need. She knew this. Victoria placed the cup of coffee down to the bar now, as she let her pink tongue flicker and trail along her lower lip only briefly. She'd trailed a finger along her eyebrow for a moment as she tried to think of what her next step could possibly be in this all. She couldn't openly challenge McKinnon. She'd die. She'd lose herself. That simply meant that she would have to go undercover. Something she knew Michael would not go for. ”This isn’t the first time we’ve explored the possibility of McKinnon being connected with the Magliozzi’s in a more substantive way than the proverbial picture at a fundraiser. I guess I’ve always underestimated him, in that regard. I never gave him enough credit to think he may actually be a player in the game instead of just a pawn, but the more we talk about it, the easier it is to see.” He didn't know how right he had been. It was become clear as day. Crystal clear. A soft smile touched the corner of her lips, and she let her eyes follow him as he made his way towards the cabinet where he'd had a bottle of liquor stored. He must have known it was about that time. She hadn't exactly gotten drunk with him before but one would be surprised what a little bit of liquor would do to anyone who hasn't had it in a while. It was almost as if their body adjustd to not having it and as such they got drunk more easier than the normal. She had to wonder if this would be the case now with Michael. She hadn't exactly had a drink in a while. A week in a half at most if one would call that a while. She sur ewould of course. ”We just need the proof.” She nodded to him and she moved to take th ebottle that he had slid in her direction up in her hand as she poured the contents into her coffee. She said what he had said in her head with im though not out loud. She looked at him with a silly smile almost and set the bottle down. A little too much she'd poured. "Proof, indeed. Which is why I propose that I go undercover." She looked at him now, already hearing his answer in her head. Her voice held a bit of a serious tone to it as she shifted her weight a bit and stirred the contents of her coffee and liquor mix easily with her finger. Retracting her right index finger she moved to take it between her lips where she suckled lightly so that nothing would drip, and she watched him while doing so. She was trying tro figure out how he would react to it all. What she'd stated of course. A few wisps of blonde hair had been tugged back behind her ear, and she craned her head to the side in thought once more. "We could both go undercover. For the Magliozzi Family. We could be husband and wife, and they wouldn't know a thing about it. An assassin couple for them. The best." She thought about it fo ra bit longer. It was obvious that she was loosening up a bit. But not to the point of being careless about the things that she said. She knew full well what she was suggesting. People were dumb now a days and she knew that once she went undercover no one knew wo she was at all. Just like they wouldn't know who he was. It was a matter of him agreeing and them plotting what their next step would be.. together. Together they were damn near a puzzled equation that couldn't be figured out.
Michael Summers Michael Summers · Unemployed Posts: 10 (5/8/06 2:04 am) Reply	Re: Shades of Gray [Michael] Post is done and being Undercover. The words echoed between his ears for a long time before he thought to actually react to them, mostly because he wasn’t sure she’d even suggested it. Summers knew of people who went undercover to try and get close to the Magliozzi mafia, and he knew most of them didn’t come out of the situation alive. That’s not what he wanted to see happen to Vickie, though he knew she was probably the most talented investigator he’d ever watched. Her ability to blend into the crowd and adapt to any situation made her a valuable resource to the department, a resource he knew McKinnon wasn’t using to its full potential. Summers held back a smile at the irony of it all – the gem of McKinnon’s squad would finally be unleashed but at his own expense. Quite fitting. But Summers took a step back in the kitchenette, briefly eying Victoria as she poured some of the spirits into her own mug. Finally, he shook his head. ”It’s not an option for me, Vickie,” he spoke, his eyes now focused on something visible only to him, that bright light of danger so large that his own sense of security finally kicked in. ”These guys know me too well. I killed one of their own, for Christ’s sake. One of their kids. Sure, the little bastard didn’t give me much of a choice, but the Magliozzi’s didn’t seem to want to listen to reason about the situation.” He paused, taking a moment to put back a swig of his beverage, tasting the cool sting of alcohol through the warmth and richness of the brew. No, he didn’t like this at all. His presence would only further put them both at risk, for no matter how good Vickie was at what she did – and Goddamn she was good – there wasn’t a fake beard or set of glasses in the arsenal that would mask his mug from them. And once they got a hold of him, she would be next, and neither of them would be closer to the truth about McKinnon and his mafia ties. No, the only thing they’d be closer to would be the sea life at the bottom of the river. But if it were up to him, neither would be going undercover. The risk was apparent if Summers tagged along, but even with Vickie weaving her own web of deceit, this would be one of the toughest jobs he’d ever seen her attempt. Infiltrating the Magliozzi mafia was not an upcoming job you filled your insurance agent in on if you’re looking to upgrade your coverage. ”I don’t like it,” he said aloud, breaking the silence. He scanned over in her direction, eying the windows and the curtains before finally settling in on her frame. He shook his head again, slower this time around. He didn’t know which he liked less – the plan, or the fact that he wouldn’t be able to stop her from executing it. He just about laughed to himself as he thought about it. ”No, I don’t like it, but that’s never stopped you before.” And it never had. Summers knew Vickie was a talented officer, and he knew she was more than capable of handling herself. But that didn’t stop him from worrying and hoping she’d reconsider some of the jobs she’d agreed to take on. Where did that anxiety come from, though? Was he worried about Victoria because they were co-workers, friends, or something else? It was a strange feeling that had grown even more perplexing as they grew closer. Their relationship had been founded on respect for one another as officers of the law, but it was so much more than that now. Summers knew she was capable, yet worried for her anyways. She was close to him, no matter how he sliced it, and he hadn’t let a woman be this close to him since… well, for a damn long time. And maybe that was it. Maybe it all boiled down to not wanting to lose someone so close to him again. He’d gone through it once when Rachel took Lindsey and moved away. He didn’t want to go through that pain again, and watching Vickie put herself into the lion’s den time and time again wasn’t making this any easier on him. But this was different. She’d gone from the lion’s den to sticking her head right between its jaws. But there was no stopping her, and he knew it. Summers put his mug down on the counter and leaned on his elbows, running hands through his short hair. No, he couldn’t go along with her. They’d recognize his worn mug almost instantly, no matter how much they tried to cover it up. She’d be in on this one alone, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t contribute in other matters. ”When I was working my way up as a detective, I made a lot of contacts around this city. Some I considered closer than others. I haven’t spoken to them in years, for obvious reasons, but I can do some investigating of my own and see what I can dig up. If McKinnon is on the mafia payroll, there’s bound to be some kind of record of it somewhere in the banks. It’s not going to be easy finding a trail, though. Magliozzi didn’t just stroll into McKinnon’s office to drop off a check every week, but I know enough about what a chief should be making to recognize some inaccuracies in his records.” Summers turned to look back at Victoria, and this time walked over to the living room and took a seat across from her. His stomach was churning and tumbling, and he couldn’t tell if it was the spiked coffee or his nerves. But he reached out a hand and put it on top of her own, and looked her right in the eyes. ”I want you to know that I’m not comfortable with this, but I know you are, and I trust you. But you need to find a way to keep me in the loop. This secret meeting thing seems to be working well, but you’ll have more heat on your back as a newcomer in their ring. I don’t want to do anything that jeopardizes your cover, and I want to be sure that if it gets too hot, I can pull you out of there.” His concern was as genuine as he’d ever been with her, and he knew she could see it in his eyes. Victoria was the only thing he had left that even resembled family, and there was no way he was going to lose her.