Swing Shift (CH1) (Patreon)

Cold Coffee

Groaning, Gus rubbed at his eyes. No matter how much he ground his fingers in though, it wouldn’t change the view.

Sighing, he leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling above him.

The view there wasn’t much better honestly. Unless you liked the stucco perfect squares you found in office buildings.

Getting to his feet Gus went over to the coffee machine and wrapped it with a knuckle. The glass was cold through and through.

Which means that damn coffee is like ice.

Muttering under his breath Gus fished his mug out of the sink next to him, filled it with some of that black nastiness, and put it in the microwave.

Flicking the popcorn button Gus sighed and stared blankly into the appliance.

Rotating slowly the “Pancakes!” porcelain cup was his whole world.

When the timer ended, he found himself staring back at him in the darkened glass.

His reddish-brown hair reflected oddly in the poor reflection. Reaching up with one hand he fingered the two inches of length. Letting go he ran a hand over his face, staring into his dark-brown eyes.

Looking pretty tired there, bud.

Opening the micro-wave Gus grabbed his cup and went back to his desk. Sitting down he was treated to the lovely login screen that loved to immediately pop up after a single minute of inattention.

Setting the cup down to one side, Gus immediately typed in his credentials.

With a chime, the screen flashed back to the home-screen for the Paranormal Investigations Department.

Gus smirked as he opened the file he was filling in with information from the hard-copy report.

Not quite like it is in the stories.

Kinda hard to keep all that shit under wraps with cameras on every corner, and in every person’s hand.

Then again, I suppose that makes it more surprising that the majority of everyone out there doesn’t know.

Filling in the box for “number of citizens aware” with a single digit, Gus shook his head.

Or is it people don’t want to know. They see something, then write it off, or explain it away themselves.

Finalizing the report with a tap of the enter key, Gus leaned back in his chair and looked around.

He was alone of course. There was never anyone around during his shift. Technically it was the swing shift for the department. What was normally called graveyard in other places.

Except it was the middle of the day.

Glancing at the clock, Gus saw it was about noon.

“Fuck it, lunch it is,” he grumbled, getting to his feet. Opening the drawer to his desk, Gus pulled out his sig and the magazine for it.

It wasn’t a personal favorite of his, but it was department issue. Department issued, modified, and made to handle the various ammunition they used.

With a fluid motion, Gus had the weapon loaded, and chambered a round. Flipping the safety on, he slid it into his shoulder holster, then went to get his coat.

***

Sitting on a bench outside the Rit Memorial Hospital, Gus was trying to enjoy his lunch break.

Thankfully the entry to the emergency room and ambulance entry was nearby, but not directly in front of him.

It made eating easy, as well as keeping him well away from prying eyes.

Feeding off the fear of others was awkward when they were watching. Quite doable, but uncomfortable.

Taking in a deep inhalation as the fear of the emergency room pulsed brightly as someone was wheeled through the doors. It filled him, gave him strength, and made him feel infinitely better.

Being a Boogieman wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. But at least the meal requirements were significantly easier to come by.

I mean really. All things considered, it could be worse.

I don’t even have to bother anyone to eat.

Hospitals, dentist offices, and normal police departments were great places to eat.

The greater the fear, the intensity of it, the quicker Gus fed. The better he fed.

Getting to his feet, he felt quite a bit better.

Full and satiated.

If things went well he wouldn’t have to feed again for several days. Even though it was easy, and he didn’t actually cause anyone distress in his feeding, it still felt weird.

Hi, I’m Gus, the Boogieman. I sup on your fear and worst thoughts. Don’t worry, it’s harmless, just… really fucking ooky-spooky, yeah?

Shaking his head, Gus strolled toward the front of the hospital without much of a care of a worry. Being part of an almost extinct species wasn’t particularly fun.

Though it did make hiding easy. Especially with how easy it was for a Boogieman to live as a human would. Gus’s life was a fairly easy life in the world of paranormals.

Stepping out into the sidewalk, he was almost run over by a woman in a blazer and slacks. She had dark brown hair, light brown eyes, and a slightly brown skin tone.

She was also half a foot shorter than he was at five-foot six, but she looked feisty. Feisty and angry.

There was also an undercurrent of fear in her.

Her left hand hand lashed out and grabbed Gus’s right wrist, locking it to his side.

“Why the hell do you have a gun?” she growled, her other hand reaching for his side arm.

Gus’s first response was to floor her to the ground. Floor her and stomp her head flat against the curb.

Thankfully he’d learned to curb those instincts since returning to civilian life. He wasn’t running around in the desert with a rifle anymore.

Instead, he grabbed her wrist with his free hand, holding her in the same way she was him.

“Because I’m a cop,” Gus said in a low voice. “Now how about you tell me who you are, before I decide I want to take you in for assaulting a police officer.”

The woman glared up at him, looking annoyed and angry at being stopped in her tracks.

“I’m a detective. Out of precinct forty-two,” she said in a hiss, trying to jerk her hand out of his grasp.

Snorting, Gus let go of her, then gave his right hand a wriggle.

“Bit young to be a detective, eh?” Gus asked. He wasn’t in the mood to be polite. His question wasn’t purely a jab either though. She looked as if she were just old enough to have barely graduated the academy.

Which meant she was either a rising star in her precinct. Or something much worse.

Glaring up at him, the woman seemed to be considering her options.

“What, you angry that you failed the test? Didn’t have enough support?” she growled. “Don’t blame me for your own miss-steps. I earned mine through the normal channels, thank you.”

Releasing his hand, she gave him a once over.

“And what exa-”

There was a soft crackle on Gus’s portable radio. Being part of the PID he always carried one with him.

“Code eight,” said a calm voice without Gus’s prompting. The hair on his neck rose up, and he felt his skin go cold. “Cat-one disturbance and E-break in public. Officer needs assistance. Rawlin High School.”

Turning away from the detective, Gus set off at a fast run for his car. Pulling the radio off his belt he held it up to his mouth.

“Received code eight. This is Hellström, en route,” Gus said.

Code eight was an iron-clad rule in the PID. If you heard it and didn’t have a collar, you went.

Getting into the driver’s seat Gus turned to the display screen and tapped in Rawlin High School while pulling his seat belt over his shoulder.

Beeping, the display populated the fastest route assuming no traffic.

I’m only two minutes out. That’ll make me practically the first backup unit.

Category one means I need my rifle.

The passenger door opened and the detective got in. Gus briefly considered arguing with her, but realized there was no point.

He needed to go. Now.

Someone from the federal office would wipe her mind of the incident by tomorrow anyways.

Toggling the emergency lights and siren on, Gus pulled out of the parking lot at full speed.

“So… what’s a cat-one E-break?” asked the detective.

Gus glanced over at the detective, then looked back to the road ahead as he slipped passed a stop sign.

“If you stop here and now, you won’t get your memories wiped. You won’t get a red rubber stamp next to your name in the personnel files,” Gus said. “Going any further will get you a whole laundry list of things that’ll fuck up your life.”

“My memories wiped?” asked the detective, sounding confused and… unfortunately… interested.

“Yeah,” Gus said, sliding through an intersection after making sure everyone was respecting the emergency lights. “Wiped. They usually do a good job of only taking what they need to. But that isn’t a guarantee. They also tend to peek around to see if you’ve been up to anything you shouldn’t have.”

There was a brief silence in his car.

“Cat-one and e-break?” she prompted.

“Right, whatever. Category one disturbance, enchantment break,” Gus said pulling the wheel sharply to the left through another intersection.

Should be up ahead on the left.

Killing the siren and lights, Gus weaved his way through traffic, looking more like a crazy person rather than a cop.

“The list of things that could mean is kinda short. Troll, ogre, warlock with a broken contract, something like that,” Gus said looking to his left.

Then he saw it. Or what he assumed it was. There was a mass of teenagers all standing outside of a large set of buildings.

“Question time’s over,” he said.

Pulling into a side street that ran parallel next to the school he drove down as quickly as he dared. The wall was replaced with a chain link fence. He could see up ahead where it opened, but it was locked shut with a padlock.

Wedging the corner of his car against the point that it opened, Gus gassed the engine once.

There was a strange pinging noise, and then the locking mechanism sheared off from the gate. Pulling the car back several feet, Gus popped the trunk, turned off the car, and got out.

Grabbing his SCAR-H he grabbed several magazines as well.

“What the hell is that?” the detective asked.

“Department issued cat-one rifle. I’m personally not a fan of it, but they won the contract so… here we are,” Gus muttered, loading the weapon with a mag. With a negligent pull of his fingers, he racked the slide. “Grab the shotgun, fill your pockets with shells. Need to go.”

“This is insane,” said the detective.

“Not really. It’s definitely a bit abnormal I guess, but it’s not the first cat-one this month,” Gus pulled off his jacket and flicked it into the trunk. Glancing at the detective who was stuffing her jacket pockets with shells. “Close the trunk when you’re done.”

“This is Hellström, moving to scene. Last known position of cat-one?” he asked into his radio.

“Code eight is main building agent. Proceed with caution. Reported as Troll,” came back the dispatcher.

Gus pulled the rifle up into his shoulder and held the weapon.

It felt right.

He felt right. Holding a rifle, adrenaline pumping in his veins, heading into danger.

Not in the sandbox anymore, idiot.

Moving at a jog Gus was heading toward the main building of the school. It was a large three story building that looked like a giant rectangle made of bricks and windows.

“Your name is Hellström?” asked the detective, moving along beside him.

“Yeah. I go by Gus. You?” he asked.

“Vanessa,” said the detective.

“Fine, Vanessa,” Gus said reaching the door. Flinging it open he was momentarily stuck when Vanessa rushed in first, the shotgun fetched up in her shoulder.

“It’s a Troll,” Gus said, following her in. “You can expect it to be big, green and very-”

There was a roar from down the hall. It was followed a wall literally being knocked down. Stepping over the rubble was a massive monstrosity of a creature. It’s head was bumping the ceiling and it was partially hunched over. It’s shoulders practically went from wall to wall.

It looked like a moving green wall.

“Loud,” Gus finished. Lifting his rifle he pointed it at the Troll, slipping his finger up against the trigger.

“Sir,” Gus called out, getting the Troll’s attention. Trolls always responded best to respect. “Please put your hands up, and don’t move. A-”

Roaring at the top of its lungs, the Troll started moving forward toward the two police officers.

There was no fear in the Troll. None at all.

After tapping into his other inherited ability, telepathy, Gus knew where this was going. There wasn’t a single rational thought in any way shape or form, in the Troll’s head. Just rage.

Unrestrained, animistic, rage.

Gus waited as long as he could, hoping the man would snap out of his berserker rush. Except it didn’t happen.

Gus realized that the Troll wasn’t stopping. That there was no going back from this point.

Then he pulled the trigger, centering the muzzle at the charging Troll’s center.

It wouldn’t be hard to aim, Trolls were big. But center-mass was center-mass.

Set to full auto, the assault rifle emptied it’s magazine in the blink of an eye. The rapid fire booms of the shotgun followed the retort of the rifle.

It was all absolutely deafening.

Explosions of green blood and flesh went in every direction as the Troll was hit repeatedly. As if it were hit with actual explosives, giant craters in it’s flesh became visible.

Tapping the mag release, Gus reloaded his rifle as quickly as he could, and brought it back up.

The Troll was staggering to one side, slumping against the wall. Black blood pumped out of its gaping wounds.

Dropping to it’s face, it laid there unmoving.

Gus pulled out his radio.

“Suspect is down, in need of immediate emergency medical attention,” Gus said. “Gonna need Enchanters on site.”

“Received,” replied the radio.

Setting his rifle down to one side he immediately went over to the downed Troll and started doing what he could for him.

“What the hell did I just fire? My hands are aching and my shoulder feels like it’s broken,” Vanessa said.

“Uh… basically it shoots small rockets filled with blessed materials, and silver,” Gus said, trying to find a pulse in the Troll. “Works for most things.”

It was weak. Almost not there at all. Holding his fingers there, Gus literally felt it stop, and cease to exist.

Shit.

Gus grabbed his radio again.

“I need a doc who can work on Trolls. No pulse here and I don’t have the tools to work on a Troll,” Gus said.

“Affirmative. Medical en route,” reported back the dispatcher.

“I don’t… I don’t even know…” Vanessa’s voice trailed off.

“Yeah, well, you won’t real soon. Those Enchanters are gonna pop your memory. Don’t fret it,” Gus said.

Trying to turn the Troll over, Gus had no luck with it.

Damn it!

There wasn’t anything he could do about this one. Not a damn thing. Trolls were almost impossible to help without being in the right place at the right time.

Sighing Gus went to press a hand to his head and stopped. It was covered in black blood.

Staying put, as that was the doctrine for the situation, Gus waited. Feeling helpless.

Going to have to do a walk-through by the watch-commander, get interviewed, and probably… probably have more counseling sessions later.

Great.

***

Four hours later, and with another report to file and fill out, Gus was staring at his computer screen again.

He needed to get this bit of work done because he already knew he’d be put on administrative leave for the next few days.

It was standard practice and procedure, even for the PID.

Most of the report would be standard. Especially since he wasn’t the first responding officer. That’d been someone from another precinct. Someone who’d had their head pulled off by a very angry Troll.

Shaking his head at the thought, Gus focused on his screen.

He filled it out as best as he could, right up to the point where he got to the list of impacted citizens. Those who would now be classified in the “know” and get flagged accordingly.

He typed in the detective’s first name, and realized he didn’t know her last name.

Not that it matters. She’ll get her day wiped and that’ll be the end of that. With any luck she’ll get a bonus for her assistance.

Finalizing the report, Gus leaned back in his chair as the file was submitted.

The cleaning lady was emptying a trash-can across the way. She was always here at the end of his shift.

Being the swing shift meant that the best time for cleaning was during the day, right before the “day shift” came on duty.

Adjusting her cap, the woman dumped another small trash bin into her much larger one.

Reaching under his desk Gus fished out his own trash can and held it out to her.

“Here,” he said. It was something they did almost every day. He saw no reason to make her work around him while he was here.

“Thank you,” she said, emptying the trash bin, and setting it down next to his desk rather than hand it back. Without another word, she was moving on to the next desk.

As was the normal case, she had a flash of fear whenever she got close to him.

He figured it was just the aura he put off. There were a number of people that seemed to inherently have a negative reaction to him.

Picking up his coffee cup, Gus took a sip, and immediately spat it back out into the cup.

It was cold.

Again.

Except the day was over now. It was the end of his watch.

Setting the mug back down he tried not to think about his day. Except he kept coming back to the fact that he’d killed an unarmed Troll today. A Troll in a rage that he’d not seen before.

Something out of history books that simply didn’t happen anymore.

Then his computer blanked out and the screen locked.

Rolling his eyes, Gus got up, and ended his day.

“Have a good night,” Gus said to the cleaning, lady, heading for the door.