It was a lousy goddamned day. One of those days were everything went to shit, and nothing you could do would stop it.
It was on these days that Damien Tomaso rued the day he had first set foot (or rather, crashed) into District 13.
While the neighborhood was still improving, the usual gang bullshit had to be dealt with.
Thankfully, most of the gang leaders had a begrudging respect for him, so when things got out of line, they were more than happy to smooth it over.
For example, last week he had to bust a dog fighting ring that was run by members of Little Montana’s gang.
The man himself had trekked over to the commissariat and had presented him with a bottle of wine grown from “local grapes” as a gesture of goodwill.
He knew Damien wouldn’t be soft on his boys, but he figured it couldn’t hurt. Damien had to explain as politely as possible that it would be considered a bribe, but he had left it anyway.
Out of curiosity, he opened it once the little man had left. It had a distinct aroma of paint thinner and old socks. Down the drain it went.
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