My Story †It all started when I was driving down Bullet Avenue Free Essays

It all started when I was driving down Bullet Avenue. I was on the night shift, I work for the L.A. We will write a custom essay sample on My Story – It all started when I was driving down Bullet Avenue or any similar topic only for you Order Now P.D, and I’d been working for L.A.P.D for longer than I care to remember. I’ve seen a lot, a lot of nasty things that most people wouldn’t want to know happen or see happen for that matter; some call it the stuff of dreams, I call it the stuff of nightmares. Anyway, a familiar voice mumbled out of the radio. It was my mentor Jimmy, he had shown me the ropes when I was just a kid, we went through the good the bad and the very ugly, he was my friend if there was at least one person I could trust in this world it would be Jimmy. I remember what he said like it was yesterday ‘Hey Max, we had a report of a disturbance in some apartment block on 6th Avenue. Could you go check it out?† I naturally said yes. I took a left at 4th because of the road works ahead. When I arrived I got out of the car and there was this certain coldness in the air, a sick smell that normally told me something wasn’t right. To my right there were some tramps, or rough sleepers as they are formally called, huddling up in the ally trying to keep warm in the cold night. I looked a little closer and noticed that that wasn’t the only thing they were doing. A needle appeared in one of their hands I thought I wouldn’t intrude on their good time just in case a needle was not the only thing they were carrying. I strolled past them, without even a blink they carried on. I got to the entrance of the apartment block and opened the old double pine doors and was not surprised to see it was just like every other apartment on the block. A dirty mess of old newspapers and furniture scrolled out on the floor like a typhoon had just hit. There was stairs straight ahead of me and a couple more rough sleepers who seemed to be oblivious to the fact that I had just walked in. Both were next to each other, they were so absorbed by the drugs they didn’t even seem to look alive just a cold long dead stare out of the far window, the drug they had just injected was strange, not any drug I new of, and I knew every single one that anyone was using . I got a glimpse of the formula, a clear slime green liquid in the syringe. I decided to come back later and take a sample. But for now I would pursue the disturbance. I followed the wooden stairs up into a long corridor and then I stopped dead in my tracks as the faint sound of voices came from the door with the big dent in it. I moved closer so I could hear what the conversation was about, I couldn’t quite make out the words but the voices were clearly of a man and a woman. I had now reached the door. I moved to the side and then an ear piercing scream sunk through the walls, it lasted for a couple of seconds then everything went silent. I had already reached for my gun, but at this, with one kick, the door was down. I appeared to be in the living room. The place was a mess: books on the floor, tables knocked over, and cupboards open. I looked down and a trail of burning red blood grabbed my attention. It lead into the room opposite. The disturbance I was called to checkout had now turned into a possible murder enquiry. I was starting to think that this could get very dangerous. As I moved towards the opposite room the trail of blood got thicker and more apparent a murder had been committed. I leaned to the side and with a forward role into the room I swung my gun out and was ready to face the culprit but I was faced with something almost completely different and more horrifying. A dead women her cold dead eyes and the pail expression told me that she had been the victim of a vicious stab wound this was confirmed by the incredibly horrific gash in her side, throat and left leg. By the way she was dressed I’d say she was a prostitute but the question was who killed her and who her client was. Instead of the average everyday cops who just ask questions and sit in there cosy little office eating donuts, I think actions speak louder then words so I get out in the field, probably because I don’t have a home life, that had been taken away from me along time ago but back to the situation in hand I started to look through her possessions. I new it was her apartment because I recognized her face in the photos sprawled out on the bed-side table. I found various documents that suggested that she hung out with the wrong type of people in simple terms people who had various powers around town â€Å"gangsters†. But I was still yet to find the murder weapon. I’m not like the cops in the movies always calling for back up I could do it on my own. I eventually heard the familiar sound of sirens that usually made me uneasy but this time just made my movement quicker and more fluent. I was now determined to find the vital clues that I needed to possibly solve this mystery and make me feel like I’ve earned my pay. suddenly it hit me a white little card with the writing papa Vitto’s pizza restaurant laying in the cool, burgundy red blood I picked it up Vitto was associated with some of those people I was talking about earlier he was not a the type of man you would mess with, for example, his wife was found out to be having an affair, the guy she had the affair with was later found floating down the river in three separate suitcases and Vittos wife wasn’t found at all but the thing was if Vitto liked you it was quite an advantage he could do things for you, give you what you wanted but if you were one of the unlucky ones Vitto did not like, kind of like me then you might as well leave town. I thought I would I’d pay him a visit since he or one of his thugs was the prime suspect. Since it had been so long since I had my encounter with vitto, I decided to arrange a meeting with him first and not drop in uninvited. I new where one of his many associates hung out so I went to arrange it with a little persuading he did what I said. When I got to the pizza place if you could call it that, It was just like I remembered it a dump, it was a small building backed on to a dock with warn out and stained walls and almost shattered windows, at night it was like a haunted hell house I opened the huge double doors and approached the counter I had that strange feeling where something didn’t quite feel right I got to the counter and rang the bell it was just as bad inside than outside, tables and chairs scattered everywhere. After a while of waiting I smelt the unnatural smell of gas which numbed the reality that I had been set up I dashed for the front double doors which by this time had been somehow locked I don’t think it was a coincidence I had been lured in like a mouse to cheese. I made a dash for the back door through the kitchen it was blocked with a huge wooden cabinet there was no point moving it. it looked at least 500 pounds just when I was reflecting on my life and thinking of the shattered dreams and lost loved ones. I then caught a glimpse of a shiny object in the corner of my eye. I had been given a second chance it was an axe I grabbed it with a tough grip and saw my target I ran towards the cabinet swinging the axe about like a man possessed the axe hit with such a force that the cabinet doors shattered like glass on a concrete floor. It gave me new hope so I kept hacking and hacking the cabinet disappeared within a flash one swipe with the axe and the door was gone too. I jumped out on to the peer and made a leap for the water the cold icy feeling numbed me to my brain while I was submerged all I could hear was the almost fatal sound of the pizza place becoming a crater in the ground. After this experience the option of lying low looked good to me so I spent a bit of time sweating it out in my friend Jimmy’s apartment. Then I would be back on that case like a kid eating cake. How to cite My Story – It all started when I was driving down Bullet Avenue, Papers