#orgizo

Zeke felt like a kid on his first day of school, nervous and constantly looking around as if he was going to be thrown out or something. He was a fish out of the water, literally, newly enlisted in the NYPD homicide division from a small town in West Virginia. Nothing happened there besides the occasional larceny charge or drunk and disorderly conduct. Small-time stuff. So it was like a dream come true when the sheriff informed him that there was an opening there for someone like him. Someone who could really make a difference in the world. His parents thought he had lost his mind when he said he wanted more action, something to prove himself. Especially in a city like New York, where a crime literally happened every ten seconds. This wasn't a normal beat he was going into; this was the big times, New York City's Homicide Unit. The true garbage men of human indecency. If you could even call them decent in the first place. He fidgeted in his chair, waiting in reception to be greeted by someone to escort him to his new unit. He held his box of things tightly, almost too tightly, the only things he brought here with him as he wanted to start as fresh as he could. Zeke had the spirit that most cops lacked, lacked here especially. He was fresh, clean and virtually without tarnish. That should only get him an hour in this place. Zeke didn't even touch so much as a cigarette or a blunt of marijuana in his childhood. They needed someone like him, like it or not, someone who was virtually incorruptible in all of this corruption. Now all he had to do was convince himself.