Cole Taylor had done many things in life he was not proud of, killed many people who deserved a better chance, but on no occasion had he felt as bad as he did now. The policemen in charge of the investigation had spoken kindly to him, putting aside the vast history Cole had accumulated with the precinct. They showed him the body only briefly, and said nothing after Cole whispered confirmation of the woman's identity. They led him out and wished him a good night, but as he walked through the cold and lonely streets, emptiness filled Cole's heart in a way he never knew.

He hadn't known her for long. She came in like all the others, broken and worried about something they would rather keep to themselves. She was uneasy as Cole lad out the ground rules, telling her what he could and couldn't do with his detective license. They shared only those moments together, nothing more than a client hiring him for what he was meant for. He worked the streets at night, targeting his underground contacts in search of news. He gave her all the news over the phone, and she thanked him each time. She told him no one else would take the case. They all said it was too dangerous. A political corruption case was too risky. They turned her down, but not Cole. Not Cole. Not him. Not even if his life was on the line. Not even if he was threatened with death or worse. Not Cole. Cole saw everything through, right to the bitter end of things. For better or worse, he would see it through.

The two bodies turned up in alleyway in the heart of the city, one stacked on top of the other. Cole finished the job. She had been reunited with her husband.

Cole rubbed his eyes gently, sighing as the bartender set another beer in front of him. "On the house," the bartender said quietly. "You look like you could use it."

Cole sighed and raised the glass. "Cheers, mate," he whispered in response. He took a large gulp, liquid running down the sides of his face and neck. He wiped his brown and then used his pants to dry the beer from his hands. He ran both hands through his dark brown hair and sagged his head, letting his long bangs droop in front of his eyes. Looking more washed up than normal, Cole's collared shirt and tie were stained with dirt, accented by the wrinkled and filth covered pants. In short, he looked the part of the sleazy private eye, the stereotype everyone sees when they imagine the absolute worst of detectives.

He tried to tell himself that he was not responsible for their deaths, but it never did any good. The facts came to haunt him, even when he tried drowning the memories a midst a sea of alcohol and nicotine. If only he hadn't called her that night with the news he had found her husband. If only he hadn't accepted the payment. If only he hadn't given her the location. The husband had warned him, given him explicit instructions not to tell his wife. He told Cole that he loved her, and wanted her to be safe. He said many things to Cole that day, and no matter how many times he said it, Cole would not listen. It was a finished case with a final loose end to tie up.

Cole took another drink from the beer and wiped his mouth briskly, setting the drink back on the counter. Silently, Cole grabbed the black jacket he had set against the back of his barstool and briskly put it on.
“Take care of yourself, Cole,” the bartender said as Cole left the bar.

“I will,” Cole responded. “Just needed to work a few things out.”

Cole opened the door to the bar and stepped into the night, glancing to the stars, beginning the long walk home. Reaching into a pant pocket, Cole pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and examined it. Opening the fold, the name of his dead client was signed at the bottom of a blank check, something Cole had not received in a long time.

He still had his humanity, if that was any consolation. It had taken him three days to get over the guilt from causing that woman’s death. Normally, those things only took a booze filled weekend. He put the check back in his pocket and trudged through the night. The banks were closed at this hour. He would have to cash the check sometime in the morning.

I figured it would be about the same era as the comic, something like a "Meanwhile, in some other random place..." situation. I didn't really put much forethought into what city exactly, but I sort of just figured it'd be the capital city. Yeah, it's mammalians, Cole being one. It looks like a part of his brief description got deleted. Part of that was suppossed to say he had brown fur. Sorry about that. ))

Sorry about that  . I'll try and leave this one more open for you to hop in.))

The door to the small diner slid open without a sound, wind rushing through the crack in the doorway as Cole stepped inside. He shivered under his breath and pulled his jacket closer, chills running across the skin under his coat of brown fur. His ruffled matte of deep brown hair trembled with the final passing breeze before stepping inside.

The diner felt empty, although a few patrons remained. A golden furred waitress with shimmering blue eyes greeted Cole with a smile.

"How you doing tonight?" She asked with a bright smile.

Cole shrugged and did his best to smile back. "I've been better, but I'm alright."

The waitress nodded and gestured for Cole to follow. "Just you tonight?" She asked courteously. It was always a shame to see such women working dead end jobs. Attractive and personable, a woman like this deserved a good husband and a couple of kids. She was tired  but still cheery, obviously stuck in a hard way, but still optimistic enough to see the better side of things. She had natural curves and well kept fur, something that most waitresses tended to overlook. In his own way, Cole respected her.

"Just me, thanks," he responded quietly, giving her a quick smile. The waitress sat him at a table next to a window in front of the streets, reminding him how ugly the city had been getting. The waitress set a menu in front of him and left, leaving Cole with a few minutes to reflect. Since the election of the new president, political and social tensions had grown, an impending draft surging across the nation. The city's unrest only reflected the mood of the people, and when tension gets high, bad things happen. Cole rubbed his chin and tried to stop thinking about the state of affairs. Thoughts like that could only depress him.

The waitress soon returned. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Just water, thanks," Cole responded with another forced smile. She was pretty and happy, and Cole wanted her to stay that way.

The waitress nodded. "Do you want to order your food now, or should I come back later?"

"Later, if you'd be so kind," Cole responded with a nod.

The waitress smiled and nodded back. "Ok," she responded. Cole glanced around the room as the waitress left, eying all of the characters in the room. Reading each one was no problem for a detective of his quality. He looked them all over and thought quietly to himself as the waitress returned with his water.

So Jackson, you like to RP on IM?