Nick Burkhardt (
detectivetroll) wrote2013-08-16 08:47 pm
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IC Contact

You've reached Detective Nick Burkhardt. If this is an emergency, please call 911. Otherwise leave a message and I'll get back to you ASAP.
[Calls, texts, and emails are a-okay! He has both a work email and personal email, and an office phone and cell phone. Just specify which one.]
text;
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It's me, man, let me in.
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[But a text pops up.]
u have a key
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Then he's at his side immediately.]
What's wrong?
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[But he doesn't look sick.]
[Oops.]
What you said. About the police. It... stuck in the head.
[Oh, and his accent is so thick you could cut it with a knife. That's never a good sign.]
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Nick sits down on the bed next to him, making himself at home. He has a feeling he's not going to be going anywhere for a long time.]
What part?
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[He pulls his pillow up over his head.]
Wasn't what I wanted. Dore mo nai.
[None of it.]
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I know. It isn't what any of us wanted.
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[His hand closes tight around his partner's.]
Supposed to help. To make things right. None of this is right.
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[He squeezes his partner's hand.]
We've always dealt with what isn't right, man. To a normal person, looking in on what we deal with as homicide detectives, they'd think none of it is right, even the stuff we're used to. Maybe we're finally figuring out how they feel.
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But that -- we help then. We solve cases then. Make things better.
What can be made better... with this?
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[He shakes his head, because he know how that sounds.]
I wish I had the answers for you. But I don't.
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[He repeats them, drawing the words out skeptically. He's still lying curled in bed, his face downcast.]
I don't know if... I can do this. Much more is too much.
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Tell me about it?
[For once, it's actual question, not just a phrase.]
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I became police... to help. To fix problems. Stop criminal. You know.
[Nick knows the whole deal with his dad and all -- so he doesn't bother going into it.]
Be good man. A good man. These are not good men.
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He's on a little bit firmer ground with the last part, anyway, at least as far as he thinks.]
No. They're not. That's why we're going to stop them. We stop the bad guys - sometimes, those are other cops.
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It should not be that way.
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[But it's not like he has to tell Yuji that. Yuji's the one who was partnered for years with a guy who always thought the law was black and white, that cops were automatically to be trusted far above anyone else.
Part of him still does, even after all this, and it makes him reluctant to admit the next part.]
I was wrong. Internal affairs exists for a reason, after all, even if it feels like they're usually the enemy.
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[Part of him feels the same -- most of him does, actually. He doesn't want to accept this. He doesn't want to think people he'd always thought were inherently good and decent ... aren't.]
[He makes a quiet scoffing sound.]
I don't think they will help this one.
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[He's angry about this, and that's obvious, but... it's a quiet kind of anger.
Then he echoes that sound, a soft huff.]
Someone suggested that. I didn't know how to explain how unlikely it was.
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[It feels seriously hopeless right now. He'd be more upbeat, normally, but... the memories aren't helping anything. They're just making it worse.]
[Dragging everything down.]
Use analogy.
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[Pulse memories make shit really difficult, man, Nick gets that.
He is firmly in the Land of Denial about his, so for now, Nick can be the upbeat one.
Except he really does believe it.]
I was pretending to be Kotetsu at the time.
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[English is hard when you're in a mood like this one, okay.]
[He really wishes he could go back to the land of denial. That would be a lovely place to be right now. As he buries himself a little more under his pile of blankets.]
So? Use smaller words.
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[There's confidence in his words, and it's only partially bravado. Right now, he really believes they can do it.
And then there's the by now way too familiar heartbeat sensation, the brief hollow feeling, and suddenly he remembers: standing back to back with Monroe, medieval weapons in hand and facing off against an army of Wesen, telling them to 'bring it on.']
...apparently other me has experience, in being two versus an army.
[He sounds kind of dazed - because pulses, what the hell - but he shakes it off.]
Anyway, it's not just the two of us anymore. We have a lot of people on our side.
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[Don't you even try. He hears that bravado.]
[... unfortunately, he also hears that pause. He looks up slowly, a little hollowly. He hates that. Why the hell does this always seem to happen around him?]
[He always seems to trigger peoples' memories. And damn if he isn't sick of it.]
Then lucky for him.
Not a lot of cops.
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