WILSON’S DESTINY

First meeting. The air in the dimly lit bar hung heavy with the scent of stale beer and regret. Eric, nursing a lukewarm champagne, felt a familiar frustration bubbling within him. His superior, a man who seemed to thrive on the suffering of others, had dragged him to this godforsaken party instead of granting him the arrest warrant he desperately craved. "Those bastards!" Eric muttered, slamming his fist on the bar, the sudden noise echoing through the near-empty room. "Why?!" He took a long, desperate gulp of champagne, the icy liquid burning his throat. Some of it splashed onto his shirt, a stark contrast against the crisp white fabric. Wiping it away with a disgusted swipe of his sleeve, Eric felt a prickle of unease. He'd been keenly aware of a pair of eyes watching him since he entered. "Looks like someone's about to be the victim of my beating tonight," he growled, scanning the room for the source of the scrutiny. A low chuckle cut through the air. "Looking for me?" Andrew, perched on a stool across the room, regarded him with an infuriatingly smug smirk. Eric's gaze narrowed. The man was a walking contradiction, a whirlwind of conflicting personalities. "What do you want?" Eric demanded, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "Do you recognize me?" Andrew asked, his voice a silky drawl. "Other than your obnoxious split personalities," Eric scoffed, "I don't recognize you at all." Andrew, hands casually tucked into his pockets, leaned forward. "I mean no harm, Officer Eric." "Get lost," Eric snapped, waving a dismissive hand. "I don't want to deal with anyone tonight." He gestured to the bartender. "Another drink, please." "Aren't you going to ask why I'm here?" Andrew persisted, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Today's my day off," Eric retorted, "You're lucky it is. Otherwise, there'd be bruises all over your face." Andrew chuckled, a low, amused sound. "I'm here to tell you myself. Close the case you're working on." "It's closed," Eric said, leaning forward. "For today, at least." Andrew placed his hands on his chin, mirroring Eric's posture. "But I have other ways to ensure it remains closed," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Ways you might not enjoy." Eric's hand instinctively reached for his weapon, but he quickly suppressed the urge. "Waiter," he barked, "Tell this man to leave me alone." "This is my bar," Andrew drawled, a hint of amusement in his voice. Deflated, Eric pulled out his wallet to pay for the drinks. "Already taken care of," Andrew said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Eric scoffed, tossing a handful of cash towards Andrew. It landed with a soft thud on the bar, a few bills fluttering to the floor. "You'll never get respect from me, jerk." Andrew, seemingly unfazed, scooped up the money and, with a swift, surprising move, stuffed the bills into Eric's mouth. Eric sputtered, struggling against the unexpected assault. "Resist," Andrew urged, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Resent me. I enjoy it." Eric, furious, spat out the money, the bills landing squarely on Andrew's face. He grabbed Andrew by the hair, yanking him forward and roughly pouring the remaining champagne over his head. "Like it?" he snarled. "I love to see criminals get their own medicine." Andrew, shaking his head, wiped the champagne from his face. "This is nothing," he said, a chilling calm returning to his voice. "I've endured far worse." And with that, he grabbed Eric by the throat, their faces inches apart, their eyes locked in a silent, deadly struggle. "You think you're the only one with an ego?" Andrew hissed. "So what if I do?" Eric retorted, his voice barely a whisper. Their grip tightened, their faces growing pale, their egos fueling the escalating conflict. The bar staff, alerted by the commotion, rushed towards them, finally managing to separate the two enraged men. Andrew, his face a mask of fury, turned to leave. "I'll see you later," he said, his voice a low growl. "I wish I never see you again," Eric spat back, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. "Bastard," Andrew muttered, disappearing into the shadows. "Jerk," Eric echoed, his gaze following Andrew's retreating figure. As he left the bar, Eric felt a strange sense of unease. He knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the bone, that this was far from over. Their encounter, born from a confluence of anger, alcohol, and ego, had ignited a fire that would not easily be extinguished. Today. The harsh, metallic clang of the emergency phone shattered the quiet of the police station, jolting Eric Wilson from a daydream. He answered, his voice a low growl, "Hello. This is Officer Eric speaking from the police department . How may I help you?" A frantic, gasping voice choked out, "Mr. officer, I am in trouble." "What kind of trouble? Where are you?" Eric's voice hardened, a professional mask slipping into place. "I am in this abandoned building in California, District xxx, Street xxx. There are kidnappers here." Eric scribbled the address on his notepad, his pen flying across the page. "How many are they?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't know. There are so many. One is the leader. They are not just kidnappers. They have so many guns." "Are you alone? Or..." "I am not alone. My name is William. They are trying to find me. Please hurry." Eric frowned, his gaze hardening. "For what purpose are they kidnapping you? And if they are really kidnappers, they would snatch your phone from you. I do understand that they are high-class kidnappers from your words." "Fine! I am a debtor. they are creditors. They want money, which I don't have at the moment. I have tried to make him understand. But they have given me two options: either get killed by us or phone anybody who can help you. I am myself a criminal, too. But kidnapping a person is illegal for anybody. Right? He will kill me. I know, officer, that the government doesn't have that much money, and even if the government had it, they would not give it to a criminal. You have to help me, because I will give something in return for it." "I don't take bribes," Eric said flatly. "It is not a bribe! Officer, I will give you something that you want. Save me." Eric's patience snapped. "Wrongdoers like you will get their bitter reward sooner or later. What you have done to other people always will come back to you..." The caller sputtered, "Offi—" before the line went dead. Eric slammed the phone down, the receiver clattering against the cradle. He felt a surge of anger, a bitter taste in his mouth. He had wasted precious time on a pathetic, self-serving criminal. The door to the office burst open, and Senior Officer Jack strode in, his face creased with concern. "Another criminal?" Jack knew Eric well knew the subtle shifts in his demeanour, the way his jaw clenched, the way his eyes narrowed. "They say that the things, persons and personalities you hate the most, will always be in your destiny forever," Eric muttered, his voice a low growl. "I chose this path, and I stand with it." Jack sighed, his voice soothing. "Okay, okay, calm down. Now, tell me what happened for you to be so furious." Eric explained, his voice tight with frustration. "The usual. Some lowlife, caught in a bind, begging for help. Offering bribes, of course. Like I'd take a dime from a scumbag like him." He scoffed, the sound bitter and dry. "They think we're their personal army, their shields against the consequences of their own actions." Jack listened patiently, his gaze steady on Eric. "I believe you would not like this, but this is the bitter truth that police officers are into existence. So that they can be used for the betterment of the world and you know this very well." "What about the betterment of the police department? Of us?" Eric countered, his voice rising. Jack: "We are given money and respect for our hard work, our services, our duties, and we can't even complain. I know how you feel. I still feel it to this day. But we are protected by ourselves and, most importantly, by the people's prayers. We have to tolerate this one disadvantage, Eric." Eric slumped back in his chair, the anger draining from him, replaced by a weary resignation. "This disadvantage is tarnishing our reputation. You are, unfortunately, right. I can’t accept being used. But it is an essential part of our duty. I forget all the time. I just tolerate it. Thanks for listening and understanding me." Jack nodded, his expression softening. "I appreciate it. But I want to see you content and satisfied." A wry smile touched Eric's lips. "I am content and satisfied when I catch miserable criminals." Jack returned the smile, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "I give you permission to catch the criminal, but you will not go alone. We don't know how many criminals there are in the abandoned building. It could be dangerous or just a trap." Eric scoffed again, a touch of defiance in his tone. "I am not stupid to go alone. This is not a movie. I am not a hero. I am a police officer. Even though I am trained to overcome, to go against a group of criminals with unknown weapons on their hands, I would die with a ton of holes in every part of my body." Jack raised an eyebrow. "You are right. But, I have a feeling it could be a trap." "For your information, we have never been trapped in a trap." "That was because we knew all the information about those cases. But for this case, we have limited information about those criminals." Eric sighed, acknowledging Jack's point. "This is not a case we could put aside. You should speak about this matter with the chief executive officer. If I talk, he will see me again as a mental patient. You are his favourite Jack." Jack chuckled. "Don't forget that you are favourite of our commissioner!" Eric grimaced. "Our Commissioner is gay Jack! " Jack roared with laughter, the sound filling the small office. "Okay, I am going to call the Chief Executive Officer." Jack disappeared into his office, the sound of his voice muffled by the closing door. Eric watched him go, then turned back to the phone, a strange sense of foreboding settling over him. He picked up the receiver, the cold metal, a stark contrast to the warmth of his hand. He began to write, his pen scratching across the page, each word a testament to the danger that awaited them. "You're done talking?" Eric asked, his voice a low thrum. "Yeah, special weapons will be given to us in 30 minutes and some members of the special forces will come, not because this case is special but because others are involved in other tasks and special forces are free at this moment. Load your guns, and we will go. " "My gun is always loaded." Jack raised an eyebrow. "You can't wait to kill someone, right? Don't lose your temper." Eric nodded, a chilling smile playing on his lips. "Just following orders, Jack." But as he slipped his hand into his holster, a cold dread crept into his bones. He had a bad feeling about this. It's a very bad feeling.