GARGOYLES: Re-Awakening

Dislocation: 3

"Are you crazy?!" Captain Maria Chavez's hands reached forward as if to shake an invisible head in front of her. "You launched a rocket at your fellow officers!"

"It wasn't exactly a rocket, Captain. And technically they were terrorists at the time. I mean, isn't that what our trainers are always telling us? 'Don't treat this like a training exercise, treat it like life and death! You've got to live the scenario Maza, or else it's just paintball!'" Elisa's impersonation did not amuse Chavez.

"This assignment is not a game," she said flatly.

Elisa sighed. "I know. I'm sorry Captain."

"Apologize to the officers whose heads you almost took off. You're already fighting an uphill battle. Freaking your team out isn't going to make things any easier. Get out there and try and smooth things over." Chavez waved her off with exasperation.

Elisa turned to go but paused just as she reached for the door handle. This assignment did feel like an uphill battle. Elisa had distinguished herself as a detective but largely through the same kind of bold, and often unorthodox approach as she'd just displayed. Her old partner had had a reputation for being dead-weight—a washed up, graying detective who was just waiting around to collect his full pension—so she'd had to be willing to take the initiative, especially when situations got rough. That made her great on the street, but not the type the upper brass usually looked for in leadership roles. And she was young, which was not something that she believed made her ineligible, but she had enough humility to recognize that a few years of seasoning would be reasonable before putting her in charge of a brand new task force. She let go of the door handle and turned around.

"What am I doing here, Maria?" she asked. Her tone was straightforward and her eyes were fixed directly on the Captain's. Chavez new the time for official answers was over. It was time for honesty. She dropped into her chair and let her hands fall loosely over the front of each armrest—a mixture of candor and exhaustion.

"You know how things have been in the city over the last eighteen months. After Grand Central racial tensions have been at an all time high. We wouldn't have this sorry excuse for a mayor if people's bigotry hadn't blown up to here and given him a chance to ride in as the great savior of law and order." Her hand was up in the air, signaling how high she judged tensions to be. Elisa stood still, patiently awaiting the punchline. Chavez let out a long sigh.

"The Commissioner is trying to do damage control. He believes we should have an Anti-Terroism Task Force and lord knows the department needs the funding, but he also doesn't want us looking like Mayor Know-nothing's version of the Gestappo. Hence, a friendly face for the public."

"Wait," Elisa said with narrowing eyes. "Are you telling me that I'm commanding this task force because of my heritage?"

"That," Chavez said like it was an old story she'd heard dozens of times, because she had, "and because you're a woman."

Elisa had to take a moment. Her first reaction was outrage. She was nobody's prop to be trotted out to smooth things over for the city. More than that, as a member of the communities the city often treated shabbily, she'd been on the receiving end of these kind of ploys and not only did they not work, they further exacerbated the issue by insulting people's intelligence. And on top of it all, they were putting her and the people she was supposed to command at risk by pushing her into a position she wasn't really the right fit for. As for the sexism, that was insult to injury.

"You need to take me off this Task Force and put me back on the street," she said finally.

"Elisa..." Chavez started.

"No, really. You know as well as I do that if they really want to have good relations with every citizen in this city then they are going to have to earn it. Using me as some kind of wrapping paper isn't going to fool anybody. And more than that, I'm not willing to sacrifice my career for their political crap. You know this isn't what I'm good at. I need to be out there on the street where I can do some actual good!"

Chavez knew this battle was over. Elisa Maza was young, but she wasn't green. She did have a feel for the streets and for the people she served. She also knew who she was and what she could do. And besides, the last few weeks of this training had pretty much been one debacle after the next. It really wasn't a great fit, and it was time to acknowledge that.

"Ok," she said. "But one more thing, between you and me. I've been at this a lot of years. I've seen things get ugly and let me tell you, I'm nervous. We've had fear-mongering, race-baiting mayors in the past but never anyone this open about it. He's gonna make sure that everybody has terrorism on the brain from now until he's out of office, which means everybody's gonna be looking at their neighbor with their fingers on the trigger. We're going to need people to build bridges, or at least to help keep people in their lanes. Whether you know it or not, a lot of officers respect you, and so do the communities you serve. Don't be a lone ranger out there. Look for the places where you can do a little bit more."

Elisa's anger faded. Chavez reminded her of her mother, who often had the same kinds of lessons for her when she was growing up. "Be your best," she would say. "Show them that they're missing out." As an adult, Elisa had learned that all too often inspirational words were just that, words. And yet, the hope and the aspirations that they conveyed was something she just couldn't let go of. She gave the Captain a nod and walked out.