Journal of Chief Irons

JULY 15, 89:What a fine and glorious day! A slight breeze carries a comfortable temperature all through the city. The sun is bright and chipper, but there's more to my happiness than weather! In addition to our blessed nature, I continue receiving amicable visitors. I don't have a moment's peace for people keep stopping by, saying hi, congratulations, so on and so forth. I might as well leave the door to my office ajar; it doesn't stay shut for long! No matter, today my schedule is free, and I welcome all who come to show their support. As for tomorrow, my new career, as Chief of police will begin!

I've finally reached my goals...there's a knock...

Mark Haneely, senior officer, been after this position since I was a kid, and I know inside it kills him to come in here and see my name written in big letters on the plaque atop my desk. All the while he's shaking my hand with that pudgy fist of his. Truly, I'm baffled at how I managed not to laugh in his face. Right into that disgusting fat face with its extra wobbling chin. It looks as if his head was smashed into a wall and didn't quite heal! I might have to tell him to get into shape if he wants to stay on the force. Not that I have to or need to bother him about his weight. But more because I want to, and I can. Sure, all in all, he's a good officer; I'm not in disagreement over his moral character, but Hanley is nowhere near the caliber deserving the lofty position of Chief like he thinks he deserves! The very idea, Ha! Neither does he hold a high enough facility for competency. At most Haneely should be given a deputies' position, at most! But he won't even make it that far because I would never dream of promoting that lout. Really, he belongs on the street, passing out tickets, and breaking up bar fights. He's no politician, and that's what this job's all about. Working with the community and city officials for the benefit of the department. A good heart could only accomplish so much. What's needed is vision!

HA! Yet another visitor. Hopefully someone I'll look forward to seeing...

In fact, itwassomeone I had looked forward to seeing, but I did not expect her to drop by so early, but I am much pleased. Stacy, my new secretary! I dare not pinch myself lest I wake. On second thought, I think I should rather give Stacy a little finger-nibbling. That skirt she was wearing was worthy of being drooled over. I think I'll have a hard time standing around her for long periods of time. Look at me! Thinking like a hard-up youngster of sixteen! Still the thoughts, the ridiculous thoughts that now soar through my mind. Oh, the murder! He-he, I delight.

Yet, everything hasn't always been fun and games. I had to work like a dog before receiving this position. To think I mustered the strength! I don't know how I did it. And it angers me that my time was wasted keeping my ideas and dreams bottled in the dark for so long before finally awakening the genie of my passion. Especially with my prestigious learning at Occidental and USC, but never mind, I won't bring myself down with frustrated ideas about the past. I'm here! I'm finally here, and nothing can take me down from this cloud. Nothing would dare. I think instead of darkening my perspective, I'll make a round of the station, let everyone know what type of Chief they'll be getting. I tolerate little foolishness if any at all...

Bunch of lollygaggers! Just because this is my first day doesn't mean I'll tolerate Tomfoolery! I'm assured that I will change the attitudes of everyone or kill them trying!

When lieutenant, I let all sorts of mischief go without so much as a dull glance. I'd see a loafer, and I'd say, "Hi," slap'em on the back or if it was agirlthan pat'em on the shoulder.You do that,everyone will love you. I've even covered certain officer's assess for gross negligence. Playing the game. That's all it's about, saying the right thing at the right time.

I can still remember some of their faces when I made my round earlier. Leaving the office, I had to walk down the hall leading to my secretary's desk.

"Hello again," I had said as I waived. My eyebrow was at a noticeable slant. I'm a fit man; I can still attract the ladies. She'd said hello back with a sensuous smile curling on her lips, what a luscious face. God I'd wished that desk wasn't blocking her legs! Maybe later, I thought, I'd have her come into my office and take a memo. I had left the small secretaries' room and moved out onto the overhead walkway of the second floor.

Beneath me, as I walked the upside down "U" shaped overhang, I looked at the employee's below. There was a female officer sitting at one of the computers among the fine wooden lobby desk talking to someone.

Only the finest materials in my station! My rules will be simple. If you have a metal desk, it's because I don't like you. Oh! The joy of being in charge, Ha, Ha! Also on the first floor below stands a large and magnificent statue of an angel with her wings spread wide in the act of covering her nakedness. Delightful! Not only do I love to look at this monument of art, but also I love to smell the aroma of heavy lacquered wood emanating from fine furniture. And the magnificent noises!

The loud clops of my shoes as I walked briskly over the impressive marbled floor. A wonder I go home at all! But there are places where I'd like to put rugs. Much of the rooms are already carpeted, mostly in a deep red with gold trim, edged with the smallest of tassels only a connoisseur, like myself, of fine decoration could appreciate and notice. Very soon though, I'll make all the changes I think fit.

Passing the middle of the upside down "U" overhang comes the emergency ladder. I absolutely dread the idea that there should ever be a fire here. I would die trying to stop it! Thank God for the sprinkler system.

One problem with it though, they are the exact polaroid of the effect of this whole station. Beautifully stained wood drilled and plugged with a tacky sprinkler head but a necessity nonetheless. Drats, the necessities of life! I try not to let it get me down. Maybe I could change the heads to another type of metal. Perhaps to a bright gold or silver, yes! It would cost a fortune, I know but nothing is impossible. Not without ingenuity. An attribute I was heavily possessed with since childhood. Even with the hideous sprinklers, the wondrous nature of this place is still not dampened much. I can continue to enjoy sliding my hand across the mahogany rails as I walk.

Wait, I digress. Back to explaining my rounds. Reaching the masterfully carved double door entrance to the Library, I opened wide one of the doors and stepped in. To my total shock and disgust, I had found three officers talking, talking in the Library of all things! The library is to enrich life, not to find camaraderie and pummel some scholarly like individual with disturbing crude laughter! I told them to talk elsewhere. They looked at me strangely, but I said nothing more. At last I was alone.

Often times, I like to go there to think and especially read. This Library carries much more than manuals on how to handle weapons or talk down a potential suicide victim. If you like Dante, it's there. If you like, Homer, Shakespeare, they're there as well. Do you read Anne Rice or Stephen King? History, theology, geography, I dare you not to find them. They're waiting patiently for a lover to come along and snatch them up for a week or two. Every time I walk in that room, I take a deep intake of breath. My nose is filled with the mixed scent of new and old paper and glued binding. I even take delight in the musty smell of dust collecting on the very tops of the shelves and in between volumes of Britannica and Funk and Wagnall. I take a secret pleasure in removing one of my favorite books off one of the shelves, sneaking up the stairs, opening the third floor door that leads out to the inside balcony, and sitting down on the marble floor to read in peace. The added pleasure to my solitude comes from hearing people below me move about with their droll lives while I furtively read my beloved book.

Strange, one might think, but I care not! I like what I like, and I like to read in peace, undisturbed totally. Just as alluring is the thought of being someplace where most people do not visit or even better don't know exists!

I've been thinking about renting an apartment someplace, a place where there's no phone and I don't receive any mail. Nobody will know when I'm there. With my new high income that fantasy will probably very soon become a reality.

Back to my story, regretfully, I'd left the Library and moved onto the adjoining police's lounge, but more so than not, the S.T.A.R.S. (Special Tactics And Rescue Squad) use that space. None of them were in there then, surprised me. They don't have enough work to keep them busy! I think I'll eliminate their little group. Perhaps I can make recommendations to some acquaintances over at the next city, get those supposed "special" officers out of my hair. That would be nice. Besides, I think they're a nosy bunch. Always walking around the station as if they owned the building. One time even out onto the third floor balcony while I was reading in peace. What a little embarrassing time for that officer and I. Hiding my anger well, I said hi and then left. Muttering under my breath the whole time about how I wished I could fire them. Now I remember! It was that idiot Meloy. Overgrown ape that one.

He-he, I have my opportunity now. Composure. I must approach such a task with discretion and under the guise of well-off intentions. But not now, today is a day to enjoy myself. I have time to deal with those fools later.

I left the S.T.A.R.S.' lounge... wait! My lounge! I left my lounge with the illuminated soda dispenser shining the Coca-Cola logo and walked into the hallway. This section is on the opposite wing from my chambers, aren't I glad to be further away from the nosy S.T.A.R.S. What a drabby hall, and nothing more than a bench and wastebasket next to the door I entered. I turned right at the corner, looked out the window at my left to look at the tall trees outside. A lovely shade of dark green I thought. The nicest thing about this hall were the large windows. I was about to pass the S.T.A.R.S.' room, as I was in the habit, when I remembered who I was. I'm the Chief! No longer do I have to hide my true emotions. Who do I have to answer to? Nobody, that's who! I twisted the knob and poked my head in.

"Hello?" I said with probably a stupid grin on my face.

Two large officers, Barry and Meloy, were sitting at their desks in front of their computers.

"Hard at work?" I let my sarcasm show but not too much.

Barry said something stupid that I can't quite remember, something like, "Yeah boss, this computer Black Jack is difficult to beat."

His ignorant comrade, Meloy, laughed at this with his usual gruff voice.

I faked an obviously forced laugh and closed the door. "I've really got to get rid of them!" I grunted to myself in the hall. I had all the time in the world to deal with the S.T.A.R.S. For now, I'd continue my little visit throughout the station.

Entering into the next hallway, I passed the statue bust of Mercury and walked down the carpeted stairs. A quick left and I had found myself in the crime lab. Metal chairs and desks, I automatically didn't like the room. Though it does carry a nice claustrophobic feel to it. I've always liked small nooks. Nobody knows of their existence. Fascinating! But the furniture is bland and it steals the vibe of the closed in phobia. Too bad. I had entered the room, not saying anything. I could here someone moving in the small darkroom adjacent.

A young man appeared. "Hi Mr. Irons!" the clean cut twenty something or other said. The young man waved at me after he had pushed the heavy dark curtains to one side. "I was just about to start on some crime-scene photos," he offered his hand.

I looked at it for a moment, relishing my new authority. I didn't have to shake this man's hand if I didn't want to. But the idea of having so much power put me in such a ripe mood, I took his hand and pumped itfor what it was worth.

"Nice to see that you'll be running the show from now on. I hope to work alongside you for a long time to come." The young man was obviously happy with my show of mistaken affection. The whole time I despised him.

"Good job," I think I said. "Keep up the good work," I left then.

Walking back out to the first floor hallway, I passed the door that would lead me to the brief room, and continued on to the next-door down, the ammunitions room. And then I walked toward the next-door, no more than ten feet away; I absorbed the exciting ambience seeping from the weapons. I was embraced by dead silence, compounded with the knowledge that hi-tech guns and ammunitions were patiently waiting inside nearby lockers. The master key to those lockers was safely tucked into my breast pocket. Again, the knock of my feet against the cement floor clamored in my head like a favorite tune. I looked up at the dim fluorescent lights not two feet above my head. Their soft buzz played along with the clatter of my shoes. I touched the brass knob to the door and felt sorry that I had to leave. I even made a pout with my face, though I quickly changed my countenance before entering the next room.

Barely having walked into the office, I was greeted with numerous congratulations and claps on the back, a silly bunch of show. I care not for glory of people so beneath me! What satisfaction could I derive by their worthless cheers? The greatest goals in their lives have probably already been met. Goals like getting married or halfway paying their pathetic mortgage payments! What a distressing sight, these bunch of men. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Wesker in his separate room. I could see between the partially opened blinds he was working on something with great interest. Bless that individual! He was made of the same thread as I. He knew better than to come out here and congratulate me with false praise. He was envious; I knew that, and so did he. I like things in the open and that's Wesker for you, an outspoken man. I do trust in him.

After accepting so many handshakes and applauds, I walked into his office and closed the door and began to laugh.

"Don't you feel odd wearing those darks shades all the time?" I said.

He didn't immediately look at me, as if molested by my very presence! I liked him even more for his rude behavior.

"These office lights are too bright." He continued writing.

"What are you jotting there?" I leaned just a bit, having not taken a seat. I still couldn't spot anything; mostly I wanted to show my curiosity.

Slightly angered, Wesker made to cover his papers. "Aprivatecorrespondence of mine." He now looked up at me.

"Everything running well, with the officeI mean?" I asked. He still covered his papers protectively.

"Of course, always have," he answered.

I shook my head and then looked towards the papers again. I could see a letterhead. Either this was Wesker's usual form of writing or he was corresponding with someone of importance. "I'll take my leave since you seemed so occupied." I hoped he would disagree and at least give me a clue to what he was up to.

Instead, he bid me good day and returned to his work.

I left, not responding to the latter calls from the sheriffs and captains. They might have taken offence; I really didn't care. I was puzzled by Wesker's secrecy.

No matter, I eventually climbed out of the small rut, forgetting the whole affair and continuing on past the main lobby of the station. But first, I said hello to the secretary at the desk, the female whom I had overlooked from the second floor balcony. I exchanged a few optimistic words with her and walked back into the east wing where upstairs, not to far, waited my new chief's office.

Opening the dark stained door, I walked past the pay phones we have the holding prisoners use. Immediately I passed the double blue doors leading to the detective's main quarters. Continuing to walk, I passed a couch and vending machine at the corner of the room. There was an officer I didn't recognize sitting at an admittance window. I didn't say hello. Further down the hall to a narrower door than usual for the station, I turned the knob and walked through. I was yet in another hall, though this one was cramped. The floorboards moaned under my heavy stature, the lights terrifically dim there. The numerous potted plants in the corners looked like large tarantulas waiting for an unsuspecting victim to walk a little too closely. I turned at the corner so that I was facing the metal plated door to the small interrogation room. Inside, mounted into the wall was a two-way mirror. I love those things. Looking in on people who don't know that you're there.

Rounding to the next hall to my left, I was faced with a dead end and two doors on opposite sides. To my right the small room we use to listen in on confessions. There're headphones and a radio hooked up to the interrogation room. The phonics makes listening easy.

I've really got a good station. I believe it's the best in the world. I'm grateful the chief before me was as crooked as he was or this place might still consist of one floor! To imagine such a thing!

I didn't bother with the listening room. There wasn't anyone there. The red light on the wall was off which meant nothing serious was happening. Instead, I went through the other door to the left. It was blue, heavily grooved, and pleasing to the eye. Inside, the room was empty, quiet, eerily dead. I loved it immediately. Red was gone. Who knows where?

I called him Red; his close acquaintances called him that for the hair on his head is like bright fire. His real name is Carl Sharp but only the lackeys call him Sergeant Sharp.

Red is one mean son of a bitch. I've watched him in the confession room. I've seen him illegally bring people in and beat admissions out of them. Sometimes, I'd watch, and I would think about how priests used to torture women into saying they were witches when they really weren't. Red would do the same. Except his victims admitted to be criminals instead of magic practicers. I wouldn't cross him unless I had too. Some of the things and people that go through this station have almost as much character as the building. But the building is my favorite. Even over Wesker and Red combined.

I left the room and its massive desk, my favorite thing in there. It was probably around three hundred pounds. Stained until it reached an almost pitch black. I could look at that desk and almost slather. Every edge and corner was engraved and the feet were carved into paws of some unknown creature. A wonder Wesker didn't take this office. He outranked Red, and I heavily doubt that Wesker feared Red even the slightest. I might ask Wesker about that someday. Personally, I'd like to have this desk, but I think Red would try to kill me. No joke intended. Well, I don't know. I'm happy with my own.

Sadly I left. I couldn't stay in this empty room and stare at the desk all day. I was beginning to feel bored with my stroll so I made for my own chambers. I walked back all the way to the payphones and through the double blue doors. Again I was greeted and shouted after. I only attempted to look happy, but I was no longer in the mood. I quickly waved and walked out into the short hall at the end. For a moment I wanted to walk left to the end of the hall and go downstairs to look over B1, but again the feeling of weariness passed through me, and I opened the back door to the station. I stood on the cement stoop surrounded with a chain link fence topped with a merry coil of razor wire.