Here’s the newest part for Chance:
Chance picked his violin up from where he had laid it on the floor. As he looked at it his lips quivered and a tear dropped onto it’s shining wood. He knelt down beside the violin case and laid the violin careful inside. Another tear fell. He tried to blink them back, but he couldn’t stop them now. Shutting the instrument case, he swung it onto his back. He looked a moment at the small candle in the window. It had gone out and the cold wind had quickly carried away any heat that remained in it’s blackened wick.
Going to the corner where his violin had been, Chance picked up a small gray satchel with the mockingbird insignia on it. Leila’s grandmother had embroidered it for him when he had first joined the police force. He shrugged it over his shoulder. Another tear dripped from his chin and fell to the dusty floor. So many memories haunted his mind as he crossed the room and opened the door. Some were good memories, but others. . . Chance bit his lip hard. Stepping out of the building, he shut the door behind him.
The snow was barely falling now, but the wind had picked up and the temperature was dropping. Chance looked around him with a strange expression on his face. The dim moonlight cast eerie shadows all around him. He tried to breathe, but the air seemed to choke him as if caught in his throat.
“Come on Chance.” He whispered to himself. “You’ve gotta be brave. Leila needs you to be brave. You’re stronger than this. That’s all in the past. You’ve got to let it go.”
The shadows seemed to push him. He stepped backward, pressing his back against the door. His head spun with awful memories. His chin quivered. His fists clenched. A tear rolled from his eye and froze on his cheek. His lips parted and he gave a small gasp, as if he were in pain. Shutting his eyes, he darted forward, running blindly down the long street.
Suddenly a hand grabbed him, jerking him to a halt. All the air left his lungs, replaced with a choking terror. The next second a familiar voice pierced the air.
“Chance Future!!” It was the harsh voice of his commanding officer, in an irate tone.
Chance took a deep breath, trying to shake himself from his flashback. “Captain Stanley.”
“Yeah it’s me alright. What are you doing out here?” The man snarled his hand tightening in a vice-like grip on Chance’s arm. “What- come on Chance. You were crying?! Seriously? Aren’t you a little old for that?”
Chance’s pale cheeks flushed for an instant and his eyes flashed, but he didn’t speak.
“Answer me!! What were you doing out here?!! Why weren’t you helping with the knot house raid?”
Chance spoke quietly, but evenly, “I didn’t know there was a raid, Sir.”
The man laughed scornfully. “Of course you didn’t. You’ve been running away from the barracks to cry somewhere. If you’d been at the barracks you would have known and I wouldn’t be out here looking for you.”
“I didn’t run off to cry. Officer Daniels sent me to patrol this sector. I was-”
“Don’t mouth off to me kid.” The captain was yelling now. “You should have been at the barracks where I told you to be!!” His eyes fell on the black case on Chance’s back. His eyes filled with hatred and disgust. “Oh, so that’s what you’ve been doing; playing your stupid music.” The Captain’s hand shot out and snatched the violin case from Chance’s back.
Chance’s eyes filled with fire. “Captain Stanley-”
“What Chance?” The man taunted, swinging the case back and forth experimentally. “Don’t want anyone touching your precious instrument?”
“Sir, theft is still frowned upon in this city. You should know that. You can’t just take my personal property because you’re my commanding officer.”
Stanley’s eyes narrowed and he pushed Chance roughly against the wall of one of the buildings. “You’re questioning my authority? You know very well that I know the laws of our government, but I also know something else, Chance.” He stepped closer to Chance, taking his baton from his belt and holding it in front of Chance’s face. “This city is a place of war. Only the tough ones will survive here. We have a job to do.” His voice rose again to a yell, “And there is no place in this Police Force for a musician and his pathetic music!” Swinging back his arm, he hurled the violin case against the concrete.
Chance gasped. “What are you doing? You’re going to break it!” He started to bend over to pick up the case, but a blow to his head from the baton stopped him. He grunted and stumbled trying to catch himself on the wall as bright flashes of light dotting his vision.
“That was the idea.” Captain Stanley laughed again.
Chance slumped to the ground, pressing his hands over his pounding head. “Captain. . . You can’t just do this. . .” His voice seemed to fade in and out, echoing inside his head as he spoke.
“Who’s going to stop me?” The man jeered.
Sold souls and dead promises