The Line of the Day--NO CRITTING

"Here's a tip: Don't piss off the lady with a gun."

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"These are the most important lessons you will ever learn. Pay close attention, my child, for there is no greater sin than ignorance. I trust in you, my dearest Liu. I trust that you will grow into a wonderful young woman. Everything I have done takes that goal into mind." Her father said. He was also her Sifu, the teacher of ancient martial wisdom. His diminutive form was hunched over by the weight of a lifetime of hard living. His body language sought to exude strength, but his body was already failing him. He had to act fast.

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"They feed off the dying and desperate," she declared. "I am to think better of them because they don't have to hide in the shadows anymore? No, dear boy, they have not changed. And they will not, as long as there is profit to be made."

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The glass became a waterfall, a cascade of fragments the wind thrust into the vestibule to attack them like a shroud of stinging flies.

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Cordoned cities complied with enough Union laws to survive, but mass obedience would never come from citizens the government had abandoned. Yet that government was here, in this house, and if Max waited long enough, one of its representatives would walk downstairs and sit across from him at the kitchen table. She'd tell him lies, or be disarmingly honest, implacably reasonable. Max would think of perfectly legitimate reasons to bow out, and he'd ignore each one.

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"It could've been her. Remember that." I said. Empathy should be universal. Unfortunately, it is not.I was forced to remind myself, constantly keeping that thought in the forefront of my mind. If I didn't, I would have ended up like the bigoted, prejudicial police force, only spurred to action when the 'right' victim was selected.

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Larsen looked down at his monitor, then back at Kelli. “It’s going to take a lot more than just the two of us,” he said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I kind of figured that. Of course, there is the fact that I’m still on suspension, so I can’t exactly call in the cavalry. And you may still have a mole problem,” she said and took a sip of from her coffee, eyeing him.

He took a deep breath, let it out slowly and shook his head. “In other words, we’re screwed,” he said and looked at her. “Unless you can come up with something. Isn’t there anyone on the NYPD you can trust?”

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Morality is a manifestation of man, and can easily be disregarded. Civility is not compulsory, and is often an illusion. The true nature of man is far too scary.

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“So the American Civil War wasn’t about slavery? That why did they fight?” Ito wasn’t prepared to accept Otake-sensei’s revelations.


“Well, it was in a way, but that wasn’t the only reason. For the North, the Union, the institution of slavery was an economic as well as a social concern. The North had begun to industrialize, that is, the economic power was beginning to concentrate in the cities. In the South, the confederate states still relied on free labor to sustain their agricultural base. Despite the North implying that moral considerations pushed them to action, the true determinant of the war’s direction was economic. That’s why the North turned a blind eye to the blacks after Lincoln was assassinated. The military victory was worthless. The blacks in the South won their freedom on paper, while remaining slaves to the system.” Otake-sensei said, solemnly. He seemed embarrassed to have not told Ito sooner.

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It was hardly by the book, but she recalled her Father saying once that desperate times called for desperate measures, and this was one of those times. She had wanted Javier to take Hernandez in and book him for possession, but Larsen had overruled her, insisting they bring him to their office.

Larsen had Ramon handcuffed to a chair along the back wall, standing over him, demanding answers. Kelli was waiting for him to break out the gloves and start knocking the man around, trying to beat the information out of him.

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As James entered, he heard the receptionist greeting Sel.
"Good afternoon -- hold on, you can't go in there --"
Sel had already called the lift. "I damn well can. I'm the police."
The receptionist made a face like she'd swallowed an egg, then scrabbled to the phone, presumably to warn her employers that they were on the way down.

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“I already know that it doesn’t matter what I say, or what your boss says, you’re going to do it anyway,” he said, shaking his head. “Just do me one favor.”

“What’s that?”

“Just make sure you suit up in body armor before you go in.”

She started to laugh, and then caught herself, noting the solemn expression on his face. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“As a heart attack.”

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"If I have to fire this, I'll have a ream of paperwork to fill in and a month of debriefings with the super. And if I have to go through all that, I'm going to make sure I get you right between the eyes. That way, when I'm repeating this story to internal affairs for the fifteenth time, I can take some pleasure in reliving the stupid smirk on your face when you hit the ground."

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