01 | To Cry, or Not To Cry

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Covered in his own dripping sweat and wet mud, Dayvon crouched lower behind a bush that provided the perfect camouflaged hideout position, and fixated the red beam laser on his AR-15 towards his target

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Covered in his own dripping sweat and wet mud, Dayvon crouched lower behind a bush that provided the perfect camouflaged hideout position, and fixated the red beam laser on his AR-15 towards his target.

Without letting the laser linger too long, he pulled the charging handle all the way back and followed up with flipping the safety switch, then finally pulled his pointer finger back on the trigger six times.

"Banks! Perfect shot, my man!" The drill instructor gave him two thumbs up after seeing all six bullets hit the six main points on the steel practice dummy.

"That ain't nothing new for that damn show off. We gotta keep folks 'nem ass off the streets." One of his colleagues spoke into the ear comms, causing Dayvon to laugh into the mic.

"Keep talking Sauls, you gon' be 'Sir, yes sir'ing' him in a minute. The board talkin' 'bout making his ass Chief soon." Another colleague spoke.

"Yeah Sauls. Keep talkin'. Have yo' ass running drills every damn day." Dayvon told him, laughing again at the sound of Sauls sucking his teeth.

He tuned out the sound of them still joking around on the comms as he stood to his feet, carrying his rifle on his back after switching the safety lock back on. Dusting as much mud off of his clothes as possible, he started the trek back towards the station.

He didn't even go to his locker when he got there a few minutes later, instead he went straight towards the showers. He hated the smell of sweat, especially when it sat on his body too long. He blamed it on the seven miles he'd ran this morning for drills.

"Banks, heard they looking to promote you to Chief. Congratulations young blood." Axe clasped hands with him for a handshake, now near the lockers.

"Don't congratulate me yet. It ain't happened. Y'all niggas gon' jinx it." He chuckled, giving him some dap in appreciation anyway.

"Nah. Yo' work ah' beat any jinx. You deserve that shit and they know it." Axe patted his back before walking a few rows over to his locker.

Dayvon spun the keypad on his combination lock, typing in the code to get it open. He held his towel tight around his waist while grabbing a clean pair of sweats, some boxers and a t shirt out of his duffel bag to get dressed in.

When he was fully clothed, he put his dirty uniform in a plastic bag and stuffed it in the bottom of the duffel bag to take home and wash. He would've let the station's janitorial staff take care of his laundry as they did everyone's else, but he trusted his fiancé's work more than he did theirs.

"Staying over today or you heading out?" Sauls, whose first name was Jaxon, popped open the locker next to Dayvon's.

"Nah. I'm finna go home. My lil' boy got a soccer game after school, then we got church later." He responded, putting his bag over his shoulder.

"They cooking tonight, ain't it? I might swing by there."

"Goofy ass nigga only come to church when they serving food. That's crazy as hell." Dayvon shook his head in dismay before laughing with him.

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