Chapter 1: The Dawn of the Adventure

Our hero Cooper sets out on his quest to become the greatest journalist of all-time! His first story: an attack of a cop! Another criminal story? Or something much worse?

The officer spoke into his intercom. “We have a 4-13 in Woodrow Square. Send assistance please.”

“You planted that on me! No way! You crook! You low-life, you-” the man froze suddenly, then began to shake, courtesy of the taser that was engraved in the right side of his temple. He fell to the floor, still shaking.

“Suspect down. A code G-Roger.”

“10-4, we’re just out of your location.”

“Copy.”

---

Cooper was late for work again. He knew this time it wouldn’t be the same speech as it had been from his boss the past two times he’d been late.

Cooper felt through his full, black head of hair as he waited in the busy traffic standstill. He just hoped that he hadn’t struck out of opportunities with his boss. He needed this job if he was ever going to reach his goal, he thought.

Finally the traffic moved, and finally Cooper sat down at his desk. Mr. Peterson motioned through his glass windows to come over to his office. He seemed to time it perfectly, Cooper thought as he walked towards his bosses door, thinking of what excuse he’d make up this time.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be here, it was the lack of sleep he had. It was every night that Cooper spent editing a story, every night spent searching for another one, trying to find something that would propel his career. Cooper found it ironic now, on the longest walk of his life, that the things he did trying to excel at his job would be the things that left him without one.

“Cooper. Fashionably late again. Sit down.” the boss said. “This is the third time in the past two weeks that you’ve been late. Is there a problem?”

“No sir. I’ve spent nights trying to edit my stories.”

“Huh. I never see Wilson or Danny Anjes struggling to get to their jobs because of ‘editing their stories’. Maybe you can do something that they do, something different.”

Wilson? Cooper thought. He bit his tongue.

“Yes sir.”

“I don’t have a tolerance for these types of things, Cooper. If you’re not willing to get to work on time, there won’t be a job for you to be late to anymore.”

“Yes sir.”

“There aren’t as many straws left as you think, Cooper. I can assure you this is probably the next-to-last one.”

“Yes sir.”

Danny Anjes came bursting in the door, trying to gather his breath. “Mr. Peterson! There’s a breaking story downtown! A man just got stunned to death by a cop!”

“Well, let’s get a story on it quick, hurry!”

“Right on it sir.”

“Oh - oh wait, hold on,” the boss said. “I think this story should go to Cooper.”

“Cooper? Sir.”

“I’m Mr. Peterson,” he said. “And yes. Cooper.”

“Thank you sir.” Cooper said.

“Thank me when you finish. I want it done by closing tonight.”

“Yes sir.” Cooper said, taking that as his cue to leave, shutting the door behind him. He was still in awe of what just happened, walking back to his desk to grab his keys and set off to find the story.

“Hey Coop,” Danny Anjes whispered to him, only loud enough for him to hear. “You think you can just come in and steal my story. I know the boss thinks he runs the show around here, but know this is a one shot deal. Watch your back. Stay in your place.”

Anjes patted Cooper on the back playfully and laughed. “You’re a riot, Cooper!”

What an a*s, thought Cooper. What did he mean by the old man thought he ran things? Was there an underground?

“The story. The story, Cooper. He’s trying to get you off your game.” Cooper muttered to himself. He took a deep breath. “Here we go.”

---

“No one beyond this line.”

“New York Publishing press, coming through.” Cooper held up his pass, although not long enough for the guard to be able to see. Nevertheless he got through without question.

There were three police officers standing in a huddle, near an even smaller area that was blocked off. Cooper imitated what he’d seen an investigator on TV do once, taking longer strides and holding his chest out.

“Hello?” a brown-haired veteran cop, at least half a foot taller than Cooper said to him, keeping a peaceful eye contact, a smile on his face. “What can I do you for?”

“New York Publishing press, just came to ask you a few questions about what went down here.”

“Well, Mr?”

“Cooper.”

“Well, Mr. Cooper, we had an incident with a man who had a large amount of heroin on him. He refused to cooperate with police and he threatened to arm one of our officers, both verbally and by reaching for his combat gun. The officer reacted in self-defense and tased him only once.”

Cooper smiled. He held out his phone to get the recording.

“What is the NYPD prepared to take as their next course of action?”

“Due process. Fair trial. Hopefully this whole thing can be resolved without an incident.”

“Do you know the name of the suspect and officer in this case?”

“We have all of that information. Right now we’re just focused on resolving this situation, and keeping everything as calm as possible, keeping everyone safe. The information will be disclosed at a later time.”

“Thank you for your time.”

“No problem, Mr. Cooper.” the officer said.

Cooper turned around, but something caught his eye on the ground. It was a folded up piece of paper. He turned off the recorder on the phone and dropped the phone intentionally on the ground as close as he could to the paper. The officers turned to glance at him but went back to talking quickly.

Cooper bent down to pick his phone up, reaching first to pick up the folded up piece of paper, cupping it underneath his phone. He left the roped area, a different way than he came in so that he wouldn’t get any sort of glare from the security guard.

He said a black man being led towards a cop car by an officer, handcuffed.

“Hey!” Cooper called to the guard. “Is that the suspect?”

“I’m not allowed to say,” the guard said. “But yes.”

Cooper smiled. That’s odd, he said to himself. The suspect should’ve already been driven off straight to the hospital. He shouldn’t barely be leaving the scene over an hour after it happened.

Something was off here. He hadn’t done a story of this magnitude yet, but he still knew this was fishy. The piece of paper could wait, he thought. He ran quickly into his car and headed to follow the police car ahead of him now by a block.

This shouldn’t be happening, Cooper thought as he followed the police for what was blocks and endless blocks at a time. Cooper worried the cop knew he was being followed.

The car slowed suddenly, pulling right into an alleyway as quickly as Cooper had ever seen any cop car turn. Cooper knew he couldn’t follow without completely giving his following ploy away. He had a better plan, however.

Damn it, Cooper thought, I’m gonna lose valuable time finding parking. The streets of New York were packed, as they were every day, and so were the restaurants valuable parking spaces. Rarely would a spot ever be open in front of one, but there were massive parking garages to accommodate for it. But Cooper didn’t have time for that accommodation.

Then Cooper saw it. Perhaps it was fate, some sort of destiny, or just a coincidence, but the parking space second closest to the alleyway was open. Cooper slid his car quickly inside and pulled his keys and himself out of the car as quickly as could and moved over toward the alleyway, bringing only his cell phone with him.

The alleyway was pitch black, Cooper couldn’t even see his hand waving back and forth in front of his face. New York was a bustling city, yet this place seemed to not even be a part of it. It was otherworldly, it was so dark.

He heard the loud voice talking. It didn’t sound friendly. Cooper ducked down toward the ground and took a cautious step forward, trying to make as little noise as possible.

“What do you know about The Project?” he heard a strong voice say.

“Is that it? That’s what this is about?”

“What do you know?”

“I don’t know anything,” the other voice said. “I just want to go home, I don’t even know what your stupid project is. Untie me right now! You corrupt-”

There was a loud thud, the obvious sound of a punch.

“You’re gonna tell me right now what you know and what they know.”

“They?”

The punch sound rang again, this time even louder and somehow Cooper knew, with more ferocity, though he could not see to tell the difference for sure. Cooper stepped closer. He bumped into the rear of the police car. He hoped they didn’t hear him and used his hand to maneuver himself around the side of the car, using it to guide him straight.

He heard the voice a little clearer now, but he still had to use effort to make out the dialogue for sure. He could, however, feel the people’s presence in their voices.

“Don’t play stupid you little piece of trash! You know how many people would care if you just died right now? No one!”

“Are you stupid? This is my city. It wouldn’t take a day to know I was gone. This is my home. I’m a part of it.”

“There is no whole to be a part of, you b*****d! And no, in the end no one really cares about you! It’s just you and yourself and no one else to be trusted! Tell me what you know, or you get to spend the rest of your miserable life here starving to death, regretting that you didn’t tell me what you know.

“So are you gonna tell me?”
The other man spat.

“So be it.”

The sound of another punch rang out. Then that of chains clanking, and duct tape being stretched out.

“Someone help!” the other voice cried out.

Cooper heard the voice change, going from clearly audible to being muffled, it was impossible to make out what he was saying.

“Perhaps next time you’ll talk!” the first voice said.

This was horrible! The suspect had overtaken the cop and left him tied up and chained. I gotta hide, he thought. Now.

The first voice laughed, now getting closer and closer. Cooper took in air and held his breath, like he did when he would sneak back into his house late at night. Good times, Cooper thought. Wait, no. Back to the point. Cooper ducked toward the wall enclosing the alleyway. The driver’s side car door opened and the person slid in, Cooper didn’t dare look to see what he looked like, to avoid being seen.

The sound of the car jolted him, and out of shock he hit his head on the wall. Keep your lights off, keep your lights off, keep your lights off, Cooper thought.

The car pulled out and Cooper breathed a sigh of relief. Now he turned his attention back to the cop. He took still slow steps in the direction of the tied-up cop.

“Hello?!” he yelled out.

The muffled out scream came out to him. Cooper tried to follow the source.

“Officer I’m gonna find you! Keep screaming and soon I’ll be right there!”

Finally, Cooper found the police officer. He felt him to make sure he’d found the right person. Cooper pulled out his phone and turned on his flashlight to see the cop’s state.

“What the hell?!” he yelled.

---

The criminal, not the cop, was chained by his handcuffs to a pipeline running down from the building. He was beaten everywhere Cooper could see that wasn’t covered by clothing. His left eye was so swollen that it was barely open, and it was as purple as any shade of it Cooper had ever seen.

He had duct tape covering his mouth. Cooper turned around at where the car had just left. How had I been so foolish? Cooper thought. He turned back to the man, who was still squirming, more bruised red and bloodied crimson than his normal ebony shade.

“I’m gonna help you, don’t worry,” Cooper said, trying to get a grip on one of the edges of the tape. He slowly pulled the tape off, the man hollered out in pain.

“Are you alright?” Cooper asked.

“No!!!” the man yelled, but obviously not an answer to Cooper’s question. “Why would you help me? What is it you want?”

“Why would I help you? What do I want?” Cooper said. “The answer to both of those questions are the very same.”

Cooper looked at the man and smiled. “I’m gonna be the greatest journalist of all-time.”

To be continued...