The South Side

He had been on the beat for fifteen years.  The south side was a dirty place.  Hookers lined the corners alongside the drug dealers and murderers for hire.  Daily, bloody fights for territory were a common occurrence.  It had the look of a war zone with all of the dilapidated buildings, bullet holes in the street signs, and the local gangs and other riff-raff openly conducting their business.  Most cops would quit rather than patrol this neighborhood.  Not old Chucky, though. 

Chucky started down in the war zone, as it was affectionately known, when he was twenty-two, he was now thirty-seven but looked every day of sixty.  He had won more shootouts then the entirety of the police force combined had ever seen.  Chucky had also taken more bullets then he could count.  He found a way to survive down here though. 

At first, he did not like bending the law but now he brazenly broke the law to keep the peace.  The gun battles began to dwindle over the last two years, as Chucky's morals crumbled.  He brokered deals between rival gangs and made solo gung-ho busts on new gangs trying to encroach on the area.  He had become something like a mayor to the people of the South Side.  He also became addicted to the lifestyle. 

The Chief did not like what had happened to Chucky.  He even offered him a promotion to get him off the streets.  The promotion would have put him behind a desk making a lofty salary.  Without hesitation, Chucky turned it down and The Chief was concerned. 

Bodies had been turning up on the North Side lately.  The bodies were not just turning up though; they were placed with a purpose, almost as if to send a message.  The Chief did not want the problems of the South Side scum on his side of town.  Even more so, he did not want one of his own involved; he was afraid Chucky was in a bit too deep. 

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