Chapter 3: Chapter 2, Simulation Part 2
Officer Finch wouldn't call himself a good cop, he was lazy on the job fifty percent of the time during his patrols since the streets in this neighborhood were quiet and peaceful, besides for the occasional troublemakers committing opportunistic crimes like theft and trespassing, Those cases never lasted long enough to be investigated, this particular neighborhood is a close community where everyone knew everyone from either the grocery store, open cookouts, local bars and work. Least to say after being around each other on a daily basis, you start memorizing faces and body types. Usually it was someone who wasn't acquainted in the community and lacked participation in the events, that narrowed it down to the average junkie looking to find a way to sate his fix. They were fairly easy to find and apprehend when the good citizens of Vernal Park, pointed them in the right direction.
Finch was glad to be apart of the New York police force, one could say overly grateful. New York has grown to be a safe place in the world, an example of what a real human society should look like, robberies were rare, kids could safely walk the dark streets at night without staying close to the streetlights, the police departments had lazy days when the only killings they had to worry about is time. Not that Finch wanted more action he would prefer the big Apple any day instead of Metropolis. Their criminal base were comprised with meta humans who could turn the average man into a puddle on the ground . He'll leave the super-human brawls to the capes and spandex that can actually handle anything those super freaks could throw at him. Metropolis wasnt all bad but New York City was better hence the lack of hero activity here. But there was one place Finch he'll never go, he'd rather let his family become homeless than face fucking Gotham City.
No one should ever step into Gotham City and expect to come back clean. Psychopaths, Killers, Mobsters, the place was like Metropolis's abusive father who got sentenced to death row after cutting his wife's throat while she slept. Yes, being a cop in the NYPD is an ingenious and safe career move for Officer Charles Finch , no superpowered criminals to endanger his easy-going life or his wonderful family.
BEEP! BEEP! A wailing alarm clock rang out as a large drowsy hand reached out to silence the piercing cries of the machine.
"That time already?" The man mumbled to himself as he opened his eyes to the darkened bedroom, before turning over in his bed.
To his great disappointment, it was indeed that time. It was nine pm, and he needed to get ready for work.
As the man took off his sparse night clothes he began the rather quick process of getting dressed, as he put on his plain white t-shirt, blue vest, black pants, plain white socks essential silver boots. He placed his NYPD Badge on his vest. As the last bit of his ensemble was complete, the man smiled at himself in the mirror.
He was a tall, middle-aged man with black hair , and blue eyes, sunkissed skin and a worn smile the displayed years of hard manual labor. As he stared into the dimly lit mirror, a smile crept over his sun kiss tan features as he regarded his Badge 'Charles Finch'
As Charles walked down the single flight of stairs in his two-story house, he noticed the light on in his kitchen and a lovely smell coming out from it. As Charles entered the homey kitchen a voice greeted him.
"Hey Dad!" His teenage daughter waved not taking her eyes off that new phone he brought her for her birthday two days ago. Tara Finch, she was beautiful just like her mother, chestnut skin and black hair tied back into a ponytail hanging on her left shoulder, and green eyes , grey denim jeans accompanied with a blue denim jacket with white undershirt.
"Morning Charlie," the stern but the affectionate voice of his loving wife Heather said as Charles felt his smile only depend as he saw his wife of two decades. She was stunning in Charle's opinion. Like him, she had brown sun-kissed skin, tall stature for a woman and was around the same age of him. Unlike him, however, she had long brown hair and piercing green eyes. She was a toned woman who Charles had loved his entire life and thanked God every day for her continued presence. He loved her more than anything, every stand of dust every drop of gold, even the stars in the sky paled when compared to the beauty he saw when he looked into his wife's eyes.
"It's good to see you up and going, I thought mom and I would have to drag you down the steps." said in a teasing tone. Oh how he loved his devious little daughter. "Wouldn't want you missing out on the game."
"Tara, your father and I don't need a reminder every five seconds." Heather rolled her eyes, placing a plate of food at his favorite chair at the table. "Our jobs are hard enough without your constant pestering or do you expect us to quit and become your humble slaves."
"Hmm...tough choice, I'll come back to you on that." Tara smirked at the young adult woman. Charlie walked to his daughter flicking her on the head as he passed and sat in his prized chair.
"My shift ends early tonight so I'll be there on time." Charlie raises his morning mug of coffee to his lips, savoring the rich taste on his tongue . The caffeine worked it's magic, recharging his battery with much-needed caffeine. "I'll even bare your shitty coaches for one night."
"Language Charlie," Heather said sternly but the grin creeping to her lips spoke differently.
"Really Mom? Because I remember a particular brown-haired woman shouting to one of them, that 'they couldn't lead a mice through a maze' before promptly throwing an empty soda can at the back of his head." Tara smirked when her mother froze up in looked away, her cheeks redder than Superman's cape.
"There's a lot of people with that hair color."
"Mom, the parents were chanting your name while patting you on the back."
"Sports bring out the passion in people." Heather argued smiling at her beloved daughter.
"Luckily, security didn't catch us-" Charles laughed. Officer Finch trailed off as the honking of a horn was heard outside. Finch's easy-going expression flipped like Two Face's coin revealing a vicious grimace. The worst part of his day had driven into his driveway.
"I suppose that's your friend, Tara. Go on don't keep him waiting." Heather said noticing the glare her overprotective husband sent at her. She sent one back and it was ten times stronger, making Charlie back down like a frightened dog, scooting his chair away. Heather turned back to her daughter her smile returning. "Shouldn't you be leaving now, honey?"
"T-Tara I can always drop you off, your school is in my direction." Charles offered, hiding the venom in his tone.
"Dad, he's already here. Can't cancel on him now." Tara got up from her seat and went upstairs for her book bag. Meanwhile Charles Finch had to put the fear of god into a certain boy who could potentially corrupt his daughter. Before his wife could get up to use herself as a human barricade, Charles put his academy training to good use and dashed pass her. His wife's protests that 'he's a good kid' were only sounds of mutiny to his ears.
There he was sat on top of his white motorcycle customized with black accents and yellow-tinted glass, and with a face that is so punchable is his rival's adopted son, Dwayne fucking Cadman. His so-called 'innocent' smiles disguising his smug arrogance which spelled. 'I want to take your daughter's innocence.'
Jacob Cadman was a good man, he did his job with pride and enjoyment, a prized agent to have on the FBI's task force. His daughter seemed to be heading in the right direction since she considers Wonder Woman a perfect remodel. She once wanted to dress as the Amazonian for Halloween last year. Although Charles knew Jacob didn't appreciate the female hero's attire, so it didn't surprise him when he coincidentally threw a bomb fire party on the same night his daughter's costume went missing. Charles can relate with him, he remembered when Tara wanted to dress as Black Canary and go to a Halloween party filled with hormonal teenage boys. Least to say Charles was happy to attend his Rival's party, he even brought some 'firewood'
Dwayne Cadman however, was a different story altogether, the kid went through dozens of foster homes. Charles personally looked into the kid's records to ensure his precious little angel would be safe being around him, least to say the Cadman's adopted son has a very interesting background. Aside from the misdemeanors the kid is streetwise. Unlike the other young hot headed delinquents out on the streets, He was no fool when it came to dealing with the law and how to dance around it. He knew what he could get away with and what small victimless crimes he would get a slap on the wrist for. Charles suspected that his old family had a hand in teaching him that, or Dwayne may have been self-taught. Why Jacob would adopt the young hoodlum was beyond the middle-age man. Dwayne may not be a criminal mastermind but he's intelligent in his own right. Many may say Charles was just paranoid but there was no such thing as paranoia in his line of work.
It took a moment for the young man to register the his presence, Dwayne grasped the sides of his helmet and pulled it off to meet the man's gaze. Charles could see the uneasiness in his eyes, which spoke a lot about his views on the law, but the friendly mask he wore hid such things and could most likely fool a normal civilian.
'Kid should've kept the helmet on'
"Morning, Mr. Finch." Dwayne tried to maintain his fragile smile but the boy obviously forgot he's dealing with a Detective of the NYPD. "Good day to be on the force isn't it, Sir."
"Its too damn hot." Was Charles's hostile reply. "And it's Detective Finch, you know what those are boy? People who can see through a facade like Superman seeing through ten layers of steel."
Charles can see the boy internally biting back a snide remark. Like Charles said Dwayne was no fool, he could tell the officer didn't like him and that was putting it mildly. Knowing this, Dwayne still played dumb to it all keeping up his false smile.
"My bad, Mr. Finch, Didn't mean any disrespect." Dwayne smirked. "Of course I know and I gotta say you people are good at what you do, I mean it's not like a certain bat-themed grown man in tights can do your job any better."
That struck a sensitive cord connecting to Charles's pride. Dwayne was fully aware of Charles's view on heroes, no doubt his traitorous daughter informing him. Heroes are a thorn in the side to hardworking cops everywhere, not that they didn't appreciate what the heroes do but they make the force appear incompetent, when civilians are held hostage by trigger happy terrorists, do they call 911 like normal people? No, they shout the name of a super-powered stripper able to rapidly deflect bullets with bracelets. Who has a faster response time than the cops? His name rhymes with Clash and he wears red spandex, Would you rather call the fire department to save civilians from a burning building or a goddamn bulletproof alien who can blow out the fire with a single breath. Why the fuck did anyone need to call 911 anymore?
Charles grinded his teeth audibly, he had a urge to reach for his baton and smack the daylights out the smug teen but he heard the door closed behind him and something soft peck him on the cheek.
"I'm gone Dad, remember it's a home game!" Tara said, hoping on the bumper of Fwayne's motorcycle.
"You sure you need a jacket honey? It's a nice day out." Charles took pleasure in Dwayne's low growl.
"I'll take it off at school, Dad." Tara said as Dwayne slowly began to move the motorcycle back into the road "Bye--" Tara had to grab on to the sides of the bumpers as the motorcycle sped off, tires screeching against the surface.
"Fucking brat." Charles groaned bitterly, walking towards his own method of transportation.
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Traffic on the Brooklyn Bridge was always bad this time of day, cars going at near snail's pace he never once felt bothered or rushed. He had a good job that paid well. A job that he had earned through hard work and a persistent never quit attitude. To Charles, he was used to grinding his way through life and downtown traffic was just another small part of it. He looked out his window, besides he liked being in traffic in the Big Apple. All it took was one look outside the window to see why, the statue of liberty stood tall and proud.
He loved New York.
His hand reached to touch the radio but a knock on his window caught his attention. Detective Charles looked up to see a younger face wearing the all too familiar NYPD badge on his uniform, it only took a glance to tell this young man was an inexperienced rookie, most likely a beat cop. Finch sighed and lowered his windshield to greet the amateur.
"Why are you outside your car in the middle of traffic while in uniform?" Charles glared sternly, the boy immediately tensed.
"S-sorry, Detective but there's a problem out here?"
"If it's just a case of Road Rage, I don't see why you couldn't handle it." Situations like that in New York wasn't uncommon, people were always in a rush to work. Officers in the precinct call it 'The Pay Race' and ninety percent of street fights in New York was because it.
"I tried to, Sir but both parties aren't cooperating." The Officer frowned. "Look, can I please have a bit of help? I really don't want to get fired over this."
"You won't get—" Detective Finch sighed feeling his years overcome him, if he was this kid he would want help too. He made a lot stupid mistakes as rookie as well, better to have this kid make none. "Show me."
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"Bud, I give zero fucks about catching a charge, don't think I won't run your ass down!" A man wearing black t-shirt and black adios sweatpants shouted at the strange man kneeling in the road with his back turned to the cars. The 'fine' citizens of New York that circled the scene sensing a fight ready to break out, kindly brought their cellphones out to record the show instead of using them to contact 911. What was with people now a days? Did they have nothing better to do with their lives? Back in his day people would attempt to break this up, but young folks now a days had no shame.
"Alright enough, enough." Finch moved himself between the two now receiving a better look at the kneeling man. Least to say Finch's skeleton almost jumped from his skin and ran off screaming down the road.
Kneeling down with his hands on his thighs, what could only be identified as a humanoid wearing with skin whiter than chalk, matching his pure white cape and helmet with strange engravings, a white longsword strapped on his back and white vambraces, there was a sash strapped around his waist and Finch could tell if the humanoid was standing it would be towering over them.
Kneeling down with his hands on his thighs, what could only be identified as a humanoid wearing with skin whiter than chalk, matching his pure white cape and helmet with strange engravings, a white longsword strapped on his back and white vambrace...
"Good! Another cop, hopefully you're not as useless as tinker bell back here." Finch didn't need to turn to the enraged man to know he was pointing at the rookie officer. "Tell whitey here that this isn't a clan's meeting and get him the fuck off the road."
"Sir, step away—rookie get him out of here." Charles kept a hand on his gun holster, didn't they see this thing wasn't human, he gave a short glance at the crowd who were remained unbelievably oblivious. Of course, this was New York. Big cities had strange people, why find a man dressed in all white bizarre? That would be fine if said man wasn't armed with a sword bigger than himself.
"Are you seriously going to negotiate with this clown?" The scruffy man growled as the rookie tried restraining him, only to be pushed aside as the man rushed at the humanoid. "If you're not going to do your job right, then get out of the way!"
Was he stupid to fight an armed man or was he drunk on testosterone? Charles tried grabbing for the man, missing him by an inch. "Sir get away—" Finch's words died an ugly death when the fist poised to strike the humanoid was now in the air, spurring blood before falling to the motionless.
The man didn't seem so angry anymore, instead he looked confused of why he felt so much pain. He looked at his stump where his hand use to be then at the bloody white sword held by the humanoid, now standing at his full height. There was also an unbearable pain around his neck, blood was flowing through the large gash. Then man's eyes rolled back as his head slid from his shoulder and fell on the floor. Charles will never forget the screams of the civilians. The rookie watching had lost his breakfast, spilling it on the road.
The humanoid held the blade in front of him, analyzing the crimson substance in curiosity. The white creature dabbed a finger, gathering a bit on his finger then raising it to his eye. Charles wasn't going to wait for the creature to finish, he withdrew his gun and fired. The creature didn't even flinch as the bullets bouncing off his chalk-white skin. That drew the creature's attention, specifically the pistol in Charles's hands. The next thing Charles knew the creature had seemingly teleported to his position and snatched his pistol right from his grip. Once again the creature of white observed the item, h tilted his head in mild confusion, feeling on the gun until it caught a good grip. Suddenly the creature turned and fired twice into the crowd, if they hadn't recovered from their initial shock of witnessing a man being dismembered, they certainly had now and started to flee trying to reach their vehicles, A few people were shot in the back as they ran collapsing dead on the floor, tripping up the other runners.
Charles wanted to tackle the creature to the ground and give time for the citizens to run or try disarming the creature. Yet his quivering legs wouldn't allow none of that. The rookie, however, took action, firing at the creature's head. The results were the same as Charles' efforts, ineffective and foolish. The creature pulled on the trigger receiving a click in return, his eyes scanned the gun then tossed it to the side possibly assuming it was broken before turning to the two men, raising a hand in their direction where a orb of bright light formed in his palm.
"Get down—" Charles's voice was drowned out by the deafening explosion as the white light consumed Brooklyn Bridge.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
BigBoss1006
BigBoss1006 If you're looking to see the character designs, check out my brother's deviantart profile https://www.deviantart.com/kingunlimited0/art/Young-Justice-Darkfall-821001214
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone