Chapter Text

Chapter two

The club a whirlwind of chaos, it was nearly impossible for Jack to get a good grip of what had actually happened. Being shoved here and there by escaping patrons, like cattle with only one exit. Clutching his hat on his head so he wouldn’t lose it in the scuffle, he managed to press himself against the wall to wait as the crowd slowly dispersed out onto the street. All that remained in the club were half empty glasses of liquor and a few employees hiding behind the bars and tables.

Jack removed his gun from inside his jacket and moved slowly towards the bathroom, a hand resting on the door as he leaned in close to try and listen to see if there was anyone still inside. In one full movement he pushed the door open.

The scene laid out in the restroom was like straight out of a crime magazine. The door to one of the stalls was off its hinges and a body sprawled out on the tiled floor. A bullet wound letting in light on the left side of his torso. A shot straight to the heart, the man had died instantly. Upon further investigation this was the same man that had accompanied Roy. A closer inspection and Jack noticed blood on the man’s right knuckles. Unable to hide a smile, he couldn’t help but imagine this strange man punching Roy Earle straight in the face. Even if that was the strangers’ last mistake.

Jack lifted his head immediately, scanning the room for any sign of the the Vice detective, who appeared to have vanished into thin air, he couldn’t recall anyone leaving the bathroom. Or perhaps he was distracted by the mob of people streaming for the exit. Upon seeing no one else in the room, he returned his gun to his holster and leaving more confused than when he had entered.

Alfonz, the man who normally greeted people at the front doors approached Jack; one of the only workers in the club who wasn’t cowering in fear.

“Do you have a phone I could use?” Jack spoke, his question being answered with a quiet motion to a phone sitting against the wall near the entrance to the club.

“I already called the police,” he spoke cooly while folding his arms over his chest.

“You have? Good.” Flashing a backwards glance back to the washroom before returning his gaze to the Blue Room employee, “I wouldn’t go in there, mac.”

It wasn’t long before the LAPD arrived, however the few cops that showed up hardly seemed surprised that there was a murder in the Blue Room. It was the least of their concern that some drugged up coloured folks were going up and killing one another. Jack had given his statement and left.

The morning after didn’t feel so great, Los Angeles was still a cruel and merciless place and there was absolutely nothing Jack could do about it without some help. After his little escapade before Cole died he wasn’t exactly the most favourable among the police force. It was times like this is really missed Cole’s ‘can do’ attitude.

Jack didn’t live in the nicest apartment, it was good enough for him however. It was small, perfect for one person. The apartment building itself was in an okay area in Hollywood and his neighbours weren’t too loud or annoying. A sharp pain right above his eyes reminded him of just how much he had to drink the night before. Curtains were drawn in to let in that bright California sun. Jack hadn’t been able to sleep in since the military, and he certainly didn’t need an alarm clock to wake him up. Normally waking up at the same time every morning, a bright and early 6am.

Sleeping certainly didn’t come easy to him, especially after returning home. Courtney’s doctor friend called it, PTSD. Jack Kelso wasn’t entirely sure what that entailed, he was not as far gone as Ira had been. All he knew was that it’s a whole lot easier staying up all night than to close your eyes and relive those memories. Getting a good night’s rest was near impossible without being entirely exhausted.

After a long stretch and a crack of his neck he wandered to the bathroom. He found himself spending a good half hour standing motionless under scalding hot water, letting it wash away the sleepless night.



A suit and tie was proper uniform to go anywhere in L.A, to be seen without one would be near blasphemous. Pulling on a white undershirt button up, he looked at himself in the foggy mirror. A scar still etched into his cheek, a mark he was pretty sure would never fully heal.

Letting out a tired yawn, he acquired the rest of his clothing. Opting for a grey suit rather than his blue one that he had grown so fond of. After the tunnels he couldn't bare to wear it, so it sat untouched at the back of his closet. Finishing the look with a purple tie - a gift from one of his sister's. He grabbed his hat and made for the exit.

Last night he knew he didn’t get through to Leonard Peterson, but today was a new day and if there was one thing Jack was known for its not giving up.

At the very least all he wanted was help from him, take down Mickey Cohen. Way too many corpsman died at his hand and Jack would be damned if he didn't do something about it. Mickey Cohen was untouchable with the LAPD in their pocket, and Jack planned on changing that.

The outside light was blinding the moment he stepped out of the apartment building. As was the usual for ‘Sunny sunny California,’ he could already hear the radio hosts in their all too upbeat tune. The world outside was very deceiving, so mundane. Kids heading to school, husband's heading off to jobs. Wives starting their morning chores. Hell, had Jack not gotten out of Fire and Life insurance he might have shot himself in the head.

The DA’s office was a big building a few blocks away from the police station. To Jack it felt like he was walking straight into a bear trap. He hadn’t exactly made the best impression on the chief of police and spotting his car in the lot only made him sink further into his seat. He was however still the DA’s investigator so of course he had every right to be there. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone who locked eyes with him wanted him dead. Holding his head high and spirits higher, he checked in at the front desk and made his way up the steps to the new district attorney's office, where Leonard Peterson sat waiting for him.

“Good morning, Kelso. Close the door behind you,” Leonard greeted with what sounded like an exhausted sigh. Not something from lack of sleep, but something that felt a little more like Leonard found that his conversations with Jack Kelso were getting tedious.

Jack returned his greeting with a cocked eyebrow as he shut the door behind him and walked towards the desk.

“Have you come to your senses yet, Peterson” Jack asked cooly as he sat down in the seat across from Leonard’s desk,

“You’re an idealist, Jack.”



“And you’re a piece of shit, I wonder which is worse,” Jack shot back furrowing his eyebrows. Peterson was on the breaking point,

“I don’t have a choice anymore, Jack.”

“No. You’ve always had a choice,” Jack huffed out sitting back in his chair, dark eyes glaring at the man in front of him.

Peterson and Kelso were used to long silences by now. Each looking each other up and down like two animals ready to pounce. Unfortunately for Leonard, Kelso wouldn’t back down. The silence lasted for another few moments before Leonard Peterson let out a defeated sigh, plopping down in his chair across from Kelso and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Okay fine. I’ll do what I can, but listen-” Leonard started as he made hard eye contact with the D.A investigator. “I can’t do anything about the Vice cops until we have hard substantial evidence against them. It’s near impossible to break through them without help from the public. This. Goes. Deep, Jack. We need to cover all the bases.”

Leonard continued, “I can’t do much, but I’ll partner you up with a Vice detective. You don’t have to tell them why you’re there. They need all the help they can get right now so it shouldn’t be suspicious,” Peterson rose his eyebrows as he pulled out some case files to spread out in front of Jack.

Dozens of women have been turning up dead and the LA police department needed help. Grabbing the case folders and looking up to Peterson, Jack flashed a smile. “Thank you, Leonard,” in unison they stood up, Jack held out his hand and the other man reached forward to grab it in a firm handshake.

Call it what you will, retribution, revenge, heroism; but this was the beginning of an entirely new chapter in Jack’s life.

When he walked into the LAPD offices in Hollywood he expected the side eyes and cold glares from some of the officers and detectives. However when he reached the Vice office and was told by Archie Colmyer who he’d be partnered with. His heart sank. Standing at the front desk beside Archie was an all too familiar face.

Sun peaked in through parted curtains spilling onto Roy’s face. With heavy lidded eyes he rolled over to his nightstand and read the time.

7:26am

He flopped back onto his side grunting with annoyance, the alarm hadn’t even gone off yet. There were few times he could remember waking up before eight, but most of them ended with hastily getting dressed and a back door shuffle.

He sat up, scratching his face and feeling the prickle of stubble. He’d have to deal with that before showing up at the office.

Tossing the sheets to the empty side of the bed Roy stood, stretching he felt an ache in his jaw.

“Fucker really packed a punch,” Same fucker was also dead, he thought stepping over discarded clothes and into the bathroom.

In the mirror he examined his face, his bottom lip had been cut open, but there was no bruises or swelling. He’d have to count his lucky stars next time before getting into a row with some shitheel rat.

After shaving and cleaning up, he grabbed a suit and matching tie. Somewhat returning to his pristine self, he reached for his brown oxfords, but noted the blood spatter on the vamps and toe caps. “Well, black pair it is,”

The drive over was uneventful and somewhat tedious. He had to battle his way through morning traffic, laying on the horn thick when some numb skull cut him off. Perhaps he should be thankful for his early rise, otherwise he may have actually been late.

The lieutenant had consistently joked with him about how he was never tardy, and yet never showed up to the station prematurely. Somehow he always managed to get by with being ‘right on time’ and that suited him just fine.

Turning into the station he wasn’t surprised to find the parking lot packed. Typical, he thought pulling into his spot and shutting off the engine.

The department had been swamped since Vice started working closely with the Homicide detectives.

Some dames had been turning up dead, all in a similar fashion, but Roy wasn’t convinced there was any correlation. It wasn’t unusual to find a girls body dumped in an alley, ditch or empty lot; he wondered if somehow half the LAPD had forgotten this.

Nonetheless, he’d have to spend the next few weeks crammed in between full desks with a bunch of detectives that were wasting their time.

“Morning Roy,”

“Eddie,” “Give me the news.”

The tan man took a long drag of his cigarette before flicking the bud onto the concrete. “Caps got us running around like mad dogs,” “I haven’t seen the place this stuffed since that Tijuana dope made it across the border,”

Roy remembered that, it took them a solid two months to bust the drug cartel, and even longer to round up all the displaced Heroin.

“Even worse, I got partnered up with some dec from homicide,” “buddy couldn’t hit water if he fell out a fucking boat,” Eddie scowled and dug through his pockets, hoping to find relief in another cigarette, but the pack was empty. “Suppose we better get in there.”

“Suppose we should,” sighed Roy following a few others filing through the doors and up the stairs.

“Earle, Powell, how nice of you to join us,” The lieutenant’s arms were folded tightly across his chest. “Pick a binder and sit down,” his tone was short as he motioned toward the mammoth pile of files spread across his desk.

He didn’t so much as glance at the folders before swiping one up and heading for his desk.

“Hold it right there, Roy.”

“What is it Colmyer, can’t you see I’ve got work to do,” Roy waved the manila folder in the lieutenant’s face, rolling his eyes in the process.

“I want you to meet your new partner,” “Mr. Kelso you’ll be working with LA’s finest, the one and only, Roy Earle.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”