Post by Jeremy Warren on Mar 7, 2017 15:54:37 GMT -6
It was just another Monday morning in the busiest airport in New York City. The usual bustle of business men and women finely dressed in expensive suits was frantically pacing inside the terminal in a constant and almost surreal flux of humanity. Amongst them, almost a foreign object in the disciplined crowd the FSW Champion Jeremy Warren, coming back from a weekend on the West Coast. His hair was a mess, shades shielding his tired eyes from the dim, and yet bothersome to him, artificial lights. He was wearing a creased grey sweatshirt that was probably warm enough for the California weather, but far from offering him an adequate protection from the cold New York wind, as he realized in the hard way as soon as he stepped through the doors. He pulled up the hood, hunched his shoulders and walked to the taxi deck, reaching inside the pocket to pick up his mobile, tapping on the screen to make a call.
"Franco... Sup bro?"
With a vexed look he took the phone away from his ear, until his best friend and co-worker Lopez finished talking.
"The hell you shouting for, dude? Yeah I'm back, just landed and waiting for a cab freezing my ass because I forgot that we are freaking below zero here. What? No..."
Rolling his eyes, he raised a hand, successfully gathering the attention of a taxi and jumping into the car.
"I ain't telling you shit..." He then whispered to the driver "Firehouse 10, 124 Liberty Street thanks."
With a light nod, he pushed the foot on the gas pedal, entering the hell on earth also known as NYC traffic.
"No, I was talking to the driver. We went to this concert, got a couple of drinks after, one or two too many maybe... It was fun, that's all you need to know!"
A brief moment of pause as Franco said something amusing on the other end of the line, making the young firefighter chuckle.
"Neither one, I swear.. Yeah Yeah I know... Look man I need a favor. On your way to the firehouse, can you stop at my place and grab my stuff?"
Another minute of silence, followed up but a sounding laughter.
"You're such a jerk... It's all packed up already, and the bag is right there after the door. See you at Ten."
A quick glance outside the window at the jammed streets.
"Traffic is a bitch, I might be a tad late. Make me some coffee please. Yeah, yeah fuck you too man! See you soon!"
He closed he call, shaking his head. Quickly scrolling his finger on the screen through the menus, he opened Spotify, browsing through the playlist and selecting Foo Fighter's "Everlong". Tilting his head to the right, he stared at he hypnotizing flow of cars on the highway, his mind wandering through the memories of his escapade on the West Coast putting a smile on his face as the guitar riff on the chorus kicked in.
Jeremy fell asleep, waking up as the taxi stopped in front of the Firehouse. His coworker and best friend Franco Lopez was waiting, all suited up already on the sidewalk, a smoking cup of coffee in his hand. Jeremy grabbed his case after paying the fare and walked toward him, snatching the coffee out of his hand.
"Damn Jay, you look horrible!"
Smirking, he took his sunglasses off. Jeremy blinked, as his eyes adjust to the pale sunlight, narrowing to slits.
"Turn off the freaking sun bro... And give me an aspirin"
"Hungover? Lack of sleep?"
"Jetlag you douche..."
Laughing they entered the Tenhouse.
Luckily enough for him, the morning was quiet enough. Until then…
"BEE-BOOP! Engine 10, Ladder 10. Stucture fire 184 Hester Street”
“Finally some action! Aren’t you happy bro?”
This was one of those times Lopez’ enthusiasm was definitely out of place. And Jeremy was making sure he realized it, frowning.
“Sure, can’t you tell?”
Getting a light punch on the shoulder for his sarcastic response, he started suiting up, and jumped into the truck. It took them less than ten minutes to reach the heart of Little Italy. A massive deployment of police units created a three blocks perimeter around the building. A police sergeant approached Lieutenant Moore as he stepped out of the truck.
“Suspect is on the loose, patrolmen are searching the area. He set his apartment on fire, according to the neighbors the wife is still in.”
Moore nodded, before shouting instructions to his men.
“Morrison, Lopez, ready a line and keep that fire under control. Newport, make sure the rest of the building is cleared out. Candidate, bring out the woman.”
Warren rushed into the building, quickly climbing the stairs three at a time, and reaching the third floor. The door was obviously locked, but he easily kicked it down, entering the apartment engulfed in flames. After a quick analysis, it became pretty clear to him that the point of origin was inside the bedroom. A scene he will never forget opened up before his eyes as soon as he stepped through the door. Behind the courtain of smoke, both arms tied to the bed was the charred body of, presumably, a woman. Blood froze in Jeremy’s veins, the surrounding sounds muffled as he stood on the spot, unable to move and almost paralyzed from the dreadful sight. That’s probably why he couldn’t hear Lopez’ screaming.
“JEREMY! STEP BACK!!!”
It was too late already. Part of the roof collapsed on the candidate’s helmet.
Blackout.
When he finally came back to his senses, he was laying on the ambulance. Right above his head, the concerned, yet still beautiful face of Brooklyn, the bobbed hair perfectly framing the visage and higlighting the pale blue eyes.
Her eyes…
“Welcome back Jeremy.”
A sigh of relief echoed those words, pronounced with an infinite sweetness by the young paramedic, who just happened to be a long time friend of the FSW Champion. As he slowly pulled himself back up to a sitting position, he noticed the comforted smiles on his colleagues’ faces. The Lieutenant took word.
“What happened back there Warren? Morrison said you were petrified.”
Someone, he couldn’t really tell who, handed him a bottle of water. He hopped down from the ambulance while the small crowd of firefighters split in two sides, giving him some space to take a few steps and breath some fresh air before taking a long sip and emptying what’s left inside the bottle over his head.
“I can’t really tell sir. That woman… He tied her on the bed and set the damn house on fire… What kind of beast can leave the woman he’s supposed to love dying like that?”
With a perfect timing, two police officer dragged a handcuffed man, visibly intoxicated, in front of the Sergeant.
“We found him sir.”
Before anyone could realize what was going on, or do anything to prevent it, Jeremy was already standing on top of the now grounded arsonist, hitting him with a hard fist to the jaw, while yelling the worst insults, almost literally foaming at the mouth. Morrison pulled him off before he could land a second punch, while the surprised officers picked up the man in custody.
“I will sue you! I will sue the entire department and the whole fucking city! I’ll make you all my bitches!”
“You have the right to remain silent. Everything you say may and will be used against you in a court of law. Now tell me, do you really think that any judge will believe a single word coming out from the mouth of a drunk arsonist who just torched his house with his wife in? Besides, all those gentlemen…”
The Sergeant raised the already authoritative tone of his voice to be sure that every single one of the residents, still gathered outside the building despite the fire being now under control, could hear him.
“...Clearly saw you tripping and falling face first on street, am I right?”
No one dared say a word, most of them actually nodded, possibly endorsing Jeremy’s action.
“Good. Load him in guys!”
The arsonist kept squirming, trying to get free before they tossed him in the back of the car, closing the door. Before leaving, the sergeant gave a scolding glance at Warren, who seemed now finally calm, before looking straight into Moore’s eyes.
“I’m letting this one slide Lieutenant. The bastard had it coming. But you better keep your men in check. Next time the kid might not be this lucky.”
“Yes sir.”
As the sound of the police siren faded in the distance, Moore turned back to Jeremy. The look on his face was telling more than any word could ever do.
“Sir, I…”
“Shut up candidate, I’ll tell you what you do now. Go back in that ambulance, get that head checked and take the rest of the shift off, because you clearly are not fit for duty today. I’ll call for a replacement and let the Chief now that you will be working tomorrow’s shift.”
“I…”
“Which part of SHUT THE FUCK UP you didn’t get kid? Honestly, I saw this coming from a long time. Being a firefighter, a wrestler and a party animal… You’re young, not invincible. You should start considering your priorities.
Dismissed.”
Any reply would have been pointless, Jeremy knew that. And besides, Moore was right. His head was already killing him before the shift started, he was clearly feeling fuzzy from the coast to coast flight, and the lack of sleep consequence of the night flight. With his head lowered, humbled and upset, he walked back into the ambulance, welcomed by Brooklyn’s compassionate smile. The backdoor closed.
“Lay down Jem, The Presbyterain is a ten minutes ride from here.”
She moved her hand between his wet hair, caressing him gently while flaunting that pefect smile that could melt any heart. And then, of course, they locked eyes.
Her eyes.
“It’s been a long time since you last called me Jem, Brooke. Since high school when...”
“I guess some things never change…”
“Nobody calls me that way, not anymore.”
The blonde girl giggled.
“Does it make me special, Jem?”
Instinctively, he grabbed her hand, holding it between his. He could feel her heart racing.a bit faster.
“You always were Brooke, and will forever be.”
Her smile slowly faded, the look on her face growing more and more worried, almost scared.
“Stop, Jem… Don’t do this to me, please... Not again…”
She retracted her hand with a swift movement, as the Ambulance finally started moving, heading to the nearest hospital.