Chương 92: Chapter 92
Officer Troy Thompson had spent his entire life wanting to make a difference. He'd signed up to be a cop at 18, barely out of high school, eager to fix the broken system he'd seen rotting all around him. By 27, he knew the truth: no matter how hard he tried, the world always worked against him.
He had stayed on the job, worked tirelessly, made the right choices, even when it meant being alone. But it was always a battle. A battle that, today, would cost him everything.
Troy had been standing in the cold, biting air outside the station for a long time, his face covered in the grime of exhaustion. He wiped his brow.
The station was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that made him uneasy. Most of the officers had already left for the night. He stood alone on the concrete steps, staring out at the alley behind the station where the sound of distant cars grew louder, then faded again.
He felt the eyes on him. He'd felt them before. They never let up. It was always someone watching, someone waiting. The others in the station had started to grow impatient with him. They'd stopped hiding their contempt, stopped pretending that his idealism didn't disgust them. He was the outcast—the one who didn't know the rules.
Tonight felt different, though. There was a heaviness in the air. Like something was about to snap. Something was wrong.
The doors of the station creaked open behind him. Troy didn't turn around. He already knew who it was. Captain Hicks. The man who had run the station with an iron fist for over twenty years. Everyone feared him. Everyone except Troy.
"You still here, Thompson?" Hicks's voice echoed out, a rasping sound that made Troy's skin crawl.
"I'm finishing up some paperwork," Troy replied, trying to keep his voice neutral, his hands gripped tight around the pen in front of him. He hated how calm he sounded. He hated that Hicks thought he could still intimidate him.
"You're too damn idealistic for this job, kid. You really think you're gonna change anything?" Hicks stepped closer, his boots making no sound on the concrete.
"I'm doing my job," Troy said, not looking up. His heart beat a little faster. Something wasn't right.
"You don't even know what your job is anymore." Hicks leaned in, his breath hot on Troy's neck.
Troy stood up suddenly, too fast, his chair scraping against the floor. He looked Hicks in the eye, the anger bubbling up inside him. "I know what I'm doing."
Hicks chuckled. "No, you don't. You'll never know."
Troy stared at him. "What does that mean?"
The older man smirked. "It means you don't belong here, Thompson. You never did."
Before Troy could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed through the halls of the station. Loud, deliberate steps. Two of them. Another officer. One he hadn't seen in a while. Officer Carla Mendez. She wasn't a part of the corruption like the others, but she was quiet. Too quiet. He couldn't tell what side she was on anymore.
Mendez stopped in front of them, her eyes narrow, a half-smile on her lips. "What's this? A little chat?"
Hicks straightened up, wiping the smirk off his face. "Just making sure Thompson knows where he stands. Maybe you should give him a little reminder too."
Troy clenched his fists. "I'm not going anywhere. Not for you, not for anyone."
Mendez looked between the two men, then leaned against the doorframe. "You're wasting your time. This place is already gone, Thompson. You don't want to be the last idiot trying to save it."
Troy turned his back on them and walked down the hall. He didn't care what they thought anymore. They could do what they wanted, but he wasn't going to let them destroy what little good there was left in the system.
When he reached the elevator, he felt it again. That cold pressure, creeping up his spine. Someone was behind him.
The door to the elevator opened, but it wasn't the usual sound of the bell he expected. This time it was heavier. A groaning sound, like something was off. Troy stepped in, looking over his shoulder one last time, but no one was there. He pressed the button for the basement.
The elevator moved slowly, grinding as it descended. It wasn't supposed to sound like that. His hand tightened around the railing, his breath quickening. The deeper it went, the colder it became. Something wasn't right.
The elevator came to a sudden halt, the jolt throwing Troy off balance. The lights flickered, casting long shadows along the walls of the dimly lit corridor ahead. The hallway was deserted, but Troy could feel the tension building. The hairs on his neck stood up.
He stepped out cautiously. The basement was where the evidence lockers were kept. It was also where the worst things happened—things people didn't want anyone to see. He knew he should've left, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen. Something terrible.
He walked down the long hallway. The fluorescent lights buzzed above him, casting an eerie hum throughout the space. He heard the sound of a door creaking open behind him, but when he turned around, nothing was there. The cold was unbearable, sinking into his skin, creeping into his bones.
It wasn't until he reached the end of the hall that he saw it.
A body. A man he recognized. Officer Harris. His eyes were wide open, his mouth stretched in a scream. Blood pooled around him. But it wasn't just the blood that stopped Troy in his tracks. It was the way he had died.
His face was twisted in agony, his body contorted at an unnatural angle, as if someone had snapped his spine. His uniform was torn, his fingers clenched so tightly into the floor that they had left deep indentations in the concrete.
Troy stepped forward, unable to stop himself, his mind telling him to run, but his feet betraying him. He knelt beside Harris's body, his hands shaking. What had happened here?
A whisper. A low, guttural sound. Troy's breath caught in his throat. He spun around.
"Hello, Thompson," Hicks's voice rang out behind him. "You wanted to know the truth, didn't you?"
The lights flickered again, plunging him into darkness. Troy reached for his flashlight, but it was gone. His hands trembled, heart pounding in his chest.
The floor creaked beneath his feet. He wasn't alone.
The sound of footsteps behind him was unmistakable. Slow, deliberate.
Troy turned just in time to see Hicks and Mendez step into the room. The same smirks on their faces. The same cold eyes. But there was something different. Their expressions had changed, their eyes dark and empty, like hollow shells.
"You wanted to do good," Hicks said, his voice hollow, "but it was always a lie, wasn't it? You were never going to win."
Mendez stepped closer. "You should've known your place."
Before Troy could react, his body stiffened. He felt the cold metal of a gun press against the back of his head.
Then there was the sound of a single shot.
The lights came back on. The room was silent.
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