This We'll Defend

"So?"

"What do you mean 'so'?" Ashley said abashed. "Sometimes, I seriously think you're some emotionless robot sometimes, but now that I know you actually feel stuff towards people, it's mindblowing. For a while, I thought my partner was Robocop."

"Oh, ha-ha. You do know you're describing yourself right?" I said sarcastically and punched her arm. "Really, it's nothing."

Ashley waved her hand in the air dismissing my statement.

"I'm pretty sure this is not nothing. She must be a whole level of special if you're feeling something towards her."

I said nothing and started the car. Our lunch break was over and our afternoon shift had just begun.

The night was colder than usual when we got off work, but at least it stopped snowing. After I worked out a little bit at the gym, I drove the patrol car in front of the police station to pick up Ashley, but noticed a piece of paper on the passenger seat. Curiously, I opened it and read the letter inside: urgent matter involving run-in at Englewood. Text if you want to meet tonight at regular diner. Sincerely, Cid Sonnik. I frowned, folded the paper and put it in my pocket.

Cid Sonnik has been my personal CI, or criminal informant, for ten months now and is affiliated with the gang called the Cobras. The Cobras weren't as big as the Black Disciples or any other gangs, but there are a handful of them. She was technically not one of the foot soldiers, but she had eyes and ears on every gang activity. How she has so much information was a mystery, but I'm glad I got to her first before anyone else did.

Actually, I didn't find her per se. She first made contact with me during an impromptu drug bust a couple of months back. During that time, we were responding to a suspected drug activity at a warehouse near Canaryville. The tip was from an anonymous source, but we took it seriously. When Ashley and I were at the scene, turns out the warehouse was filled with illegal drugs and a couple of Gangster Disciples members were found dead at the scene. We suspected that the members had some type of conflict withe the Cobras, hence the dead bodies, but what was puzzling about the whole situation was the fact that no drugs were stolen.

As soon as Ashley went outside the warehouse and radioed in to base, Cid introduced herself to me and admitted that it was her that phoned in the tip. She then further explained herself that she was very resourceful in these types of busts and would like to offer her service as a CI.

"And why shouldn't I put you in handcuffs right now and take you to the station?" I had asked as I pointed my gun towards her. She shrugged and submitted her hands to me.

"You could, but you know I could help you," she said gently. "I could be your eyes and ears and in return, you leave me alone. Simple. Do we have a deal?"

At the end of it all and through many thoughts of the matter, I decided to accept her as my unofficial CI. Time after time, she proved herself useful to me and often wondered how she got involved with the Cobras in the first place. She was a smart and loyal woman, but she didn't seem to be the type that would follow blindly nonetheless be involved in a gang.

Turns out she wasn't brought up in the gang life in the first place. A couple of years ago, she was just a regular teenage girl who lived with her stepdad at Back of the Yards, until the building where she lived and the dojang that her and her stepdad ran burnt to the ground by the notorious Red Gang. Not only that, other buildings were burnt down as well, which then pushed her to join the Cobras. She didn't explain in detail, but I got the picture: ordinary teenager wanted revenge, joined a gang to fight another gang, and now is currently trapped in gangland.

I drove the patrol car in front of the station and minutes later Ashley got in the passenger seat.

"Cid made contact," I said as soon as she put her seatbelt on. "I just now texted her. We're meeting her tonight at the diner."

She sighed. "Oh, what fun."

Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at Sunny June's Diner and cautiously went in. June made eye contact with me and smiled.

"The regular dinner special for you two, I take it?" the middle-aged waitress said gleefully.

"Yes please," I replied grinning. "Plus, a duplicate of my order. Just bring them to the same booth, June. Thanks!"

Ashley tapped my shoulder and nodded her head towards our regular corner booth. Our hooded visitor was there with a cup of coffee at one hand and a book in front of her. The diner was pretty run-down and there were only five people eating who were much older than we were. These people were probably too old to notice three girls chatting at the corner booth.

Cid took notice of our presence and pulled her black hood down. She had jet black short hair with side swept bangs and left half of her head shaved, dark make-up and lipstick. A vertical black cobra neck tattoo ran up behind her left ear and curved to the front of it. Up close, she looks like a cross between Eliza Dushku and Michelle Rodriguez.

"' To fight aloud is very brave, but gallanter, I know,'" she said eyeing me. Ashley and I slid across the seat in front of her.

"' Who charge within the bosom, the cavalry of woe,'" I finished for her. She gave me a satisfied smile, closed her book and put it beside her. Cid Sonnik was not her real name, obviously. It was an anagram for Dickinson since she reads Emily Dickinson's work from time to time. The verses we just quoted were from Emily's work called My Life Had Stood a Loaded Gun.

"So," Ashley said leaning against her seat, "Do you have news for us?"

Cid tilted her head and gave Ashley a wry smile. "Easy there, officer Cain. You guys just got here. Take a breather for a little bit."

Ashley scowled at her. She wasn't as trustful towards Cid as I was.

"Don't mind my partner," I said in a business-like manner. " We had a long day. Surely you understand why we want this meeting to be over quickly."

Cid looked at me with her dark eyes and clasped her gloved hands together.

"Fine," she finally said. "Let's get straight to the point: after your guys' incident at West Englewood a week ago, things have escalated within the Black Disciples gang. They're, what's the word," she tapped her finger against the wooden table," they've become more erratic."

"Erratic how?"

"Well, they're going out of their way to terrorise more innocent civilians, for one," she explained. "Apparently, the man that you killed was one of Cut Throat's brothers. Cut Throat is the gang's leader and obviously he was mad to find out that his right hand man was killed. So, to express his frustrations, he's spreading his gangs to different territories."

"That's bad news to everyone," Ashley murmured. "That'll mean more gang wars if they're going to other gangs' territories."

"Fucking hell," I sighed deeply as I rubbed my eyes. "Have you mapped out where they're going?"

"So-so, but I need to wait it out a bit to map out more. For now, they're still planning, but I'm sure they'll start moving slowly in the next couple of weeks."

"Okay," I said frowning. "Okay, you do that and we'll do our best at our end."

"And another thing," Cid continued then paused. "He's also looking for his niece and I'm pretty sure he'd want her back."

The blood on my face suddenly diminished and I felt my body become cold. The aura around us darkened.

"And how is he planning on doing that," Ashley hissed as she leaned over. Cid shook her head and replied that she doesn't know.

"Honestly, that's all I know for now, but I'll update you once I have something."

June came by with our food. She gave Ashley and I a polite smile and a forced one towards Cid. All three of us ate in silence, but Cid finished her food first and went out early. Ashley and I pondered in our thoughts as we finished our meals.

"Just a typical Monday," she suddenly said and laughed ironically. I joined her.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As soon as I stepped foot in the police station the next day, I talked to the chief of police regarding Cid's information. What he'll do with the information was up to him, but I hope he took it seriously. When I suggested increasing police presence around orphanages and foster homes within a twenty-mile radius, he was uncomfortable with the idea.

"We don't have a lot of manpower to actually do that, but maybe I can send in a couple more patrol cars to roam around."

The thought of Cut Throat's men roaming around different neighbourhoods and foster homes made me uneasy. It made my anxiety levels skyrocket.

On Wednesday after my duty, going home was the last thing on my mind so I decided to roam the neighbourhood on foot to find a coffeeshop near my apartment where I can read. Most of the Starbucks shops were already filled, so I settled in Annie's Coffeeshop next to Brown's Painting and Sculpting Classes once again. The thought of bumping into Luna didn't really occur to me until I settled into the corner booth with my coffee.

The odds of that happening was slim, I thought to myself and started to read. I was lost in my book for a while until something furry nudged at the side of thigh. Startled, I looked over and found myself staring at a german shepherd, whose tail wagged playfully.

"Moving into my booth, are you?" a familiar voice suddenly said. "Scoot over, Alice. I secretly like this side better."

I looked up and found myself staring at Luna, who put her cup of coffee on the middle of the table and took off her coat. Dumbstruck, I scooted in more until she sat at the edge. She was wearing a brown turtle neck, black pants and boots, but regardless what she wore she still looked mesmerising. I wonder if she dresses herself up or if someone else helps her.

"How'd you know it was me?" I asked as I grabbed her coat and put it at the opposite side of the table. "I could've been a creep."

"For one, Jasmine is only friendly to those she's familiar with," she said as she scratched her furry friend behind the ear. "Second, your perfume. I'm quite sensitive to smell and yours definitely stands out. I mean that in a good way, by the way."

I tucked my chin and smelled my hoodie. The faint smell of lemons filled my nose, but it was my detergent. I know I wasn't wearing any perfume.

"What do I smell like?" I asked curiously. Half of her face turned my way. She gave me a small smile.

"Hmm, a mixture of lemons, something musty, hint of sweat and something leathery," she laughed on how absurd she sounded. "I know, technically it's not perfume, but it's a combination of those. Everyone has a specific smell and I guess it's a little odd if I tell people they smell differently. So I tell them it's their perfume."

"Ah, okay. I get it, I think."

"You must think of me as rather odd."

"On the contrary, I think you're...extraordinary," I said smiling. She tilted her head and gave me a bigger smile.

"Do you usually give out compliments freely to people you've recently met, officer?" she asked innocently as she blew on her hot coffee. "Be careful now. People might think that's odd."

"I do if they deserve it," I replied. "What brings you to this coffee shop this evening?"

She sipped on her coffee. "I go here everyday, to be honest. I live a couple of minutes away from here, which is really convenient by the way. And I read."

I blinked and thought to myself, she's reading in braille

"What are you reading these days?"

"'Dirty Pretty Things' by Michael Faudet. Can you grab my book, please? It's in one of my coat pockets." I shuffled through her coat until I grabbed a pocket white book filled with braille. Curiously eyeing it, I handed it to her and asked how it was

"It's not bad. It's mostly composed of short poems. Here." She opened the page where she currently was on. Most of the pages in the book weren't filled with braille, but there were a couple of lines on a page.

"'Put your hands on my knees, she said,'" Luna recited as her finger glided across the page,"'and think of me as a book you've been dying to read.'" My face turned beet red.

"Wow," I stammered. "That's, er, wow."

"Sorry, I should've warned you," she giggled and closed the book after folding the corner of a page. "Faudet's poems are quite intense and has that mysterious and erotic vibe to it like Faudet himself."

"I'm not much of a poem person, to be honest," I said truthfully, trying really hard to shake off the image of Luna's creamy thighs being spread apart. "I was on a mystery streak a couple of weeks back and now I'm on a classic genre marathon."

"What are you reading now?" Her eyebrows furrowed together, turned most of her face to me and unintentionally leaned against my arm.

This is impossible, I screamed internally to myself.

"'The Picture of Dorian Grey' by Oscar Wilde," I replied and tapped my finger against my wrinkled book.

"Oooh, that's a good one. Why did you pick it?"

I shrugged.

"I'm not really sure. I was intrigued with the summary and I know I read it in high school, but I didn't take it seriously back then."

She shook her head. "You say you're not sure, but I think your subconscious made you pick up that book."

I turned my whole body to her in which she responded the same.

"Oh? Do explain?"

She paused and pursed her sultry pink lips. Her hand reached out towards my face and stopped.

"Do you mind?" she asked worriedly. Instead of asking what she was about to do, I squeaked a small no. My brain was too paralysed to say anything else. Her soft hands made contact to the opposite sides of my neck and slowly her fingertips glided to every inch of facial skin I had. I closed my eyes and shivered slightly as her fingers glided across my forehead and down my nose.

It was if she was reading me like she she did with braille. It was at that moment I felt like an open book to her and I didn't even need to speak.

I felt a connection through her fingertips.

Then, she stopped and a small whine almost erupted from my throat once I felt her hands pull away.

"You know why I sculpt, Alice?" she suddenly asked and sipped on her coffee. "It's how I mostly connect with anything and anyone even if it's just a mere fraction of a second. For everyone else, it's a stare or a look and all throughout my life, I didn't have the grand luxury to look at someone and feel the weight and emotions through their eyes. I don't have this instinct to know how a person is feeling by looking at their facial expression. Life took that opportunity from me."

"But I find ways. Changes in people's voices, the way they talk and the stress lines on their faces, that's how I connect. With sculpting, I'm an expert on faces. If you looked hard enough in my sculpting room, most of my works involve head sculptures of different expressions."

I thought back and nodded as I recalled seeing some of her complex work.

"With you," she said with intensity," I can tell by just touching you that you have some rough memories. You frown and narrow your eyebrows a lot because of the creases that I felt. You might not talk a lot, but for me you're quite transparent."

I was taken aback with her remarks and looked at the blind woman with fascination.

"Do tell," I said half-whispered.

"You subconsciously picked Oscar Wilde's book because secretly you are like Dorian in some ways, but not exactly what he was in the book, mind you. From what I can remember, Dorian was a handsome man who was influenced to explore sinful and corrupted things by another gentlemen. The more he explored that world, the more hideous and monstrous his self-portrait was, which was painted by his close friend."

"When it comes to you, your self-portrait is your soul and it manifests through dreams or even visions perhaps. You mentioned that you served in the army for a while and now currently a cop. The things you've experienced or done to you, all of those are in your 'portrait.' You're quite beautiful, Alice," she gently smiled," but I think your soul is broken in a way and I feel it mapped out subtly on your face."

My mouth felt dry. The prosthesis on my right leg felt heavier, colder and at the deepest corner of my mind, the ghosts of my pasts knocked faintly. I exhaled slowly and gave her a small chuckle.

"That's good," I said as I scratched my head. "That's pretty good and deep. Nice try, but I don't think that's it."

An eyebrow shot up. "You're deflecting and I'm sensing that I'm closer to the truth. But you don't have to tell me anything you're not comfortable with."

I shifted awkwardly in my seat and turned my face away from her. I'm not the type of person that can freely talk about feelings and thoughts to anyone unless I'm familiar with the person, but there was something about Luna that makes me want to pour my heart out. I'm not sure if it's her presence, personality or the fact that she listens instead of looking at you with judgement, but there was this aura of openness around her.

That's what support groups are for, Alice, I thought to myself. That's what veterans or other people who experienced what you experienced are for with the exception of Ashley. Partners are based on honesty and the raven-haired cop was also my close friend. Ashley knows basically almost everything about me and visa versa. Luna, on the other hand, and outsiders who don't know or hadn't experienced my kind of trauma is out of range in my trust meter.

"You're wrong," I told her confidently. "There's nothing, but I appreciate your analysis."

She gave me a doubtful smile and finished her coffee.

"Listen, I was thinking of starting a new project," she said then paused," and I was hoping, if you don't mind, if you could model for me."

My eyebrows rose and the first thing that popped in my mind was a nude model posing in front of a painting class filled with students.

"Model for you how?" I asked cautiously.

"I mean, your face," she said chuckling. "It'd be my next head sculpture project. My last one was Amy and it took me a good couple of weeks to finish, but it was worth it. If you want, we can meet at least an hour for four days per week, including Saturdays after our sculpting class. Or not, it all depends on your schedule. What do you say?"

Four days a week isn't bad, I thought to myself. I could go right after work and her place isn't that far from mine. There weren't any reasons to say no, but there was something like an invisible force pulling me. Maybe it was the fact that I'll be in close proximity with this woman and there'll be touching.

A lot of touching.

"Sure, why not," I finally said. "I'm good with any days except Mondays and I want to include Saturdays for our sessions. When and where do we start? And do I need to bring anything?" Like a defibrillator maybe, I thought to myself.

"Great," she gleefully said, her nose wrinkling. "We can do it Thursdays through Sundays? It seems more convenient. No need to bring anything. Just yourself."

Her watch buzzed and announced that it was 8 P.M. Jasmine whined beside her and suddenly stood up. Luna's mood shifted to a more worried and solemn one. She abruptly stood up, her thighs almost hitting the table.

"Sorry if we have to cut this spontaneous conversation short," she said rather quickly," but I have somewhere to be. I'll see you on Thursday, yea?"

I opened my mouth, then closed it. I was about to ask her if something was wrong, but decided against it. The sudden change of her mood was worrisome, nevertheless her business is her own and I didn't want to interfere.

"Yea, I'll see you on Thursday," I said instead and bid our goodbyes. With that, she grabbed Jasmine's leash and the german shepherd led her out of the shop.

Even after she exited, the cop and soldier inside of me scolded me for not listening to my instinct, but I pushed them away. It'd be much later on when I'll realise that I should've went with my gut feeling.