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 cross, weston adam

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weston cross


Female Capricorn Horse
število prispevkov : 62
cash : 565
street reputation : 39
tvoja starost : 27
starost lika : 34
group : wallace crime family
kraj rojstva : new york

ObjavljaNaslov sporočila: cross, weston adam   Pet Mar 21, 2014 9:29 pm



// weston adam cross
// thirty-five years old
// new york. usa
// dirty cop, wallace crime family
// michael fassbender

“sir? sir, you can go in.”
my lips curl up at her hesitant tone and i unclasp my palms, rubbing it over my legs.
“i think you’ll find that’s lieutenant. or at least detective cross, sugar.” her cheeks redden at my remark but i don’t wait to see if she apologizes. to be honest i couldn’t give a fuck how she says my name, it’s not who i am. sure, i worked hard to get to this point, to earn my detective shield, to climb up the ranks to lieutenant. and what do i have to show for it? how do they thank me for my hours of hard work, sleepless nights on stakeouts, blood i shed for them? they put me in this room, they interrogate me. well, fuck them i didn’t do anything wrong, not in my book. but i know the drill, i know the ecstatic look on his face when i sit down in from of them. looking at my file, i know the internal affairs will have a field day with me. the gun strapped to my hip and my badge are burning a hole through me and i wonder if i’ll be leaving this room without them.
“so... detective lieutenant cross,” his lips snarl and i wonder if he heard my earlier remark. “why don’t we get started?”
“sure, i’m an open book. what would you like to know?”
“everything.”
so i tell them. i want it to be as tedious as it is for me, so i start at the beginning. i was born not far from here, in the belly of the beast. atlantic city. my mother, adrianna cross married joseph simones in a lavish ceremony – what else could you expect from a wealthy socialite and old money like him? i see their eyebrows raise at this and i don’t judge them. i don’t look wealthy, because i’m not. but i sure was. best private schools, tutors, i had my life all planned out. parties, women, booze before i was even old enough to drive. but then my mom dies, and things changed. dad started gambling more, i started partying more. and we knew we couldn’t live under the same roof. i don’t know what put me on the straight and narrow, but one day i was just tired of it. i saw my dad come home with another bimbo, drunk off his face and i would think, screw this. it wasn’t going to be my life. dad was free to gamble his money away, he couldn’t touch my trust fund so i took off. i almost feel like i joined the academy to piss dad off. his son, a cop? instead of a wealthy senator in Italian suits he got a nobody in dress blues. but he learned to live with it, especially once i started to make a name for myself. when i got promoted to detective he even started bragging about it to his friends. now, other cops basically had two opinions about me – they either loved working with me, or hated my guts. but the bottom line was i got things done. i had one of the highest arrest rate in the precinct, but unfortunately that meant i sometimes got some heat for it. me and my partner were... let’s say dedicated. we took whatever means necessary to get the bad guys behind bars, and it pissed me to no end when i saw paper pushers and idiot judges set them free. it just didn’t sit right with me. so i kept tabs on them, earned myself a restraining order or two, maybe an excessive force violation on the way, but eventually they screwed up. they always did. and i was there, waiting. and that time i made sure they didn’t walk. i didn’t tell them all of that, of course. i was smart enough to leave things out, but still i think they got the picture.
my dad got remarried, which in itself i couldn’t care less about, unless it was to her. she was a goddess, i think was my first reaction when i saw her. shame she was such a gold digger. half his age, with a kid but man... man was she a looker. i did my best to hate her, or at least ignore her but it took a lot of work. things got easier when i met alice. she was, well she was anything but.  sweet, patient, innocent. i don’t know if i loved her, i’m not even sure i’m capable of it but she came the closest to it. i put a ring on her finger and i was going to marry that girl and maybe one day she’d make me whole. but i made a mistake. i put this son of a bitch gang banger behind bars, simon tyrell, and he walked. improper procedure and shit. so i hauled him in for interrogation, busted a few of his friends to make it look like he ratted them out then deposited him in his old neighbourhood. needless to say he was dead in a few hours. justice, as far as i was concerned was served. but when i got a call a few days later, telling me alice was shot in a drive by, that i had to come down to the morgue to identify her body, i knew who was to blame. i also knew the police, the so called good guys weren’t going to do anything. ‘our hands are tied cross, i’m sorry.’ was what my captain said to me. they put me on paid leave, traumatic experience they told me. so i took a drive to atlantic city, clear my head. because if there was anyone that knew about dirty business, it was my dad. turns out, he was in more than one shady business himself, owing money people left and right, not that i cared. but he pointed me to the right man – dom wallace. i’ve heard of him alright and met with him a few days later. he promised me justice would be served, and in return i’d move back down, transfer to the acpd and work for him. the way i saw it, i could do hell of a lot more with a man like dom wallace behind me. i trusted the system and it betrayed me, i trusted the system and all i had to show for it was this interview.
no, don’t be worried. i stopped with my story for them long ago. i’m a lot of things, but i’m not stupid. and i know internal affairs have nothing on me – i was nowhere near the gang bangers that died, in fact i was just about done burying my father. the guy left me a hell of a mess to clean, including his widow and her son, but as far as i’m concerned that’s where my debt ends. i’m not a simones, i’m a cross and the only debt i’d be repaying is to dom wallace and the people of atlantic city.
so i raise my head, a small resting on my face. “is that all?”
i can see the battle raging inside him, the fury they couldn’t pin this on me, strip me of my badge and had to approve of my transfer. “yes, detective, that’s all.” he doesn’t acknowledge my rank and that’s just fine with me, because it’s no longer who i am. the badge represents nothing. it’s just another empty reminder of who i was, and who i can never go back to.

thanks joanne!
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število prispevkov : 1181
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street reputation : 65
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ObjavljaNaslov sporočila: Re: cross, weston adam   Sob Mar 22, 2014 3:36 pm

YOU HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED TO CHASING SHADOWS

i love you app! užitek mi ga je blo brat - šibej poclaimat teme && uživaj v pisanju. :3 aja, pa dobiš seveda še $100 na račun!

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and we'll never be royals, royals,
it don't run in our blood.
that kind of luxe just ain't for us,
we crave a different kind of buzz.
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