Befriending the Criminal

I Think I Need a Little Change

[[EDIT]] Above is a visual/digital drawing I drew of [a part of] Cole's records.

A chapter on Thursday instead of Friday, woah - well, I really liked this chapter so I wanted to share it early (haha yes that chapter is a Steven Universe reference) - and mostly because I'm going to be packed with making holiday cards for my teachers and friends :))

Hope you all enjoy!

***

December 15th. Six years ago.

"I'm Gayle, coming to you live from the corner of Palace Way where a very violent event has appeared to have gone down. The masked criminal has been caught but the life of twelve-year old, Cole Brookstone, was severely injured in the fight, the criminal, slicing the young boy's right arm off clean. Medics are pulling him away as we speak while it looks like our very own, Chief Garmadon, has appeared to be left frantic and in tears..."

A burning window store sent sparks of ash and fire into the air, smog covering a decent part of the city. Police cars were crowded around the location, as were fire trucks and many ambulances.

"Hurry! We need to get him back stat."

The woman's eyes drifted to the bloody patch to the right of Cole where his arm should've been. "He's losing a lot of blood, Sir!"

The man on the opposite side hovered over Cole saying, "Listen to me; stay with us, buddy. We're going to get you to a hospital, you understand? You're going to be fine."

Pain.

Pain.

That was all he could feel.

He couldn't even tell where he was with all the blood loss.

One minute, he was face to face with a man so much more older than him, a mask over his face and a gun and a blade securely fastened along his belt.

And the next, he was lying on the ground, staring into the sky like some lifeless soul, his right arm sliced right off.

The 12-year old boy - tears streaming down his face - cocked his head on the pillow to the woman on his left. "Mom?" He croaked, his voice shaky with every breath he took.

The woman felt a pang in her chest and she cooed, tears glistening in her eyes. "Oh, sweetie, no, but you're going to be okay, okay? You understand me?"

Cole groaned in response, his eyes squeezing together in pain. "... I can't feel my arm..."

A hand firmly gripped the shoulder of the man who was in charge. "Please, let me ride to the hospital with him," a voice pleaded.

The lead of the medical unit turned around at the sudden touch. "Chief Garmadon, of course-"

"Chief Garmadon, we need you back at the station immediately." One of his men told him, coming up beside them.

"Have someone else take over for me. Please. Cole needs someone he knows and he knows me. He needs me."

The policeman stood firm and nodded.

The moment Garmadon hopped into the back of the medical truck, he leaned forward, observing the young boy on the stretcher. A giant gauze was covering the open wound where Cole's right shoulder used to be, the blood seeping through fast, turning the majority of the cloth into a pinkish red. How it pained him to see the boy this way, especially when he blamed himself for all of this tragedy. Garmadon felt the tears starting to mess with his vision and he hurriedly wiped them away using his sleeve.