It's been five years since I created the Tactical Response Team. Five years of living on these streets. We had fifteen officers when we started all those years ago. Now we're down to four. Eight were discovered and murdered and three were taken off the streets when Detective Harold Steinback; our handler at the time noticed that they were starting to look over their shoulders.
As far as the other four officers I haven't seen them. If I did I'm sure I wouldn't even recongize them. As for me well I don't even remember what it's like to be one of the good guys. I know that I've done a lot of good. I've built cases for the narcotics squad that sent some major players to prison for the rest of their lives. Even stopped a major shipment of heroin from flooding the streets but to do that I have to be one of them.
After five years I'm the Chief Enforcer. I'm in charge of every aspect of criminal activity and it's a lot. We're...no; they are into everyone. Drugs, guns, businesses, politics, prostitution. You name it they've got their hands in that cookie jar. I've done my best but after five years I don' feel like I can keep my humanity anymore. I feel like I'm falling deeper and deeper into my character.
How do I get out? How can I? If I do I know that the next morning when I open the newspaper it'll be about a couple of college kids that OD'd on the shit I was selling only twelve hours before. To get the bigger fish you have to bleed the guppies. But...I just don't know anymore. It's getting tougher too. I found local lions. I ran into other shifters and I have been neglecting him for so long. Is it really time? I just don't know. I'm going to hide this in a safe place. No one will find it.
If I'm ever killed though I will leave word with our new unit handler where this could be found. I can trust her. She seems like a good cop.
