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Post by Elliot Mackie on Mar 31, 2016 7:41:37 GMT 2
Elliot didn't like hospitals. In spite of being a so-called (read: self-proclaimed) tough guy, they gave him the creeps. Cold, dry places, too pristine and filled with the intermittent beeping of unfeeling machines somehow meant to make people feel better. He took to the halls of the ward, doing his best to avoid as much attention as possible before reaching the nurses' station. The sound of some medical apparatus' wheels squeaked over the linoleum somewhere down the hall. He stopped at the inpatient reception desk, quickly gave his name and the name of the officer he was there to see. Gunshot wounds were fairly routine (he'd been shot more than once himself). They were becoming more common at the present with the city's current state. This one must have been especially nasty, from what he had heard. You had to take care of your own. The nurse led him to a room just across from the desk, a dimly-lit room with a single bed. There were two smallish armchairs near the far window, but despite the attempt at a homey look they offered no appeal, no distraction from the fact that he was in a hospital, and hospitals were far from his favorite places. He did not sit in either of the chairs, simply stood with his arms crossed, back against the wall parallel to the long edge of the bed. He lifted an eyebrow as he studied the other officer's arm and shoulder, wrapped in a bandage that peeked from the sleeve of his hospital gown. He was hooked up to a monitor for blood pressure and heart rate, and a saline IV drip. "Jesus," he observed, with an undertone of the driest sort of humor, "that looks fucking awful." He tilted his head in the direction of the open door. "They should be making rounds any minute now."
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Post by Elliot Mackie on Mar 29, 2016 5:32:18 GMT 2
(This is where the welcome message to my thread goes, but it's 2330 right now)Blends and SuchLinks to Codescoming soon!
etc.
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Post by Elliot Mackie on Mar 20, 2016 5:29:24 GMT 2
FROM: +1(312)834-2056
This is a message from an associate of the police department. We have received word of forthcoming events and are intent on knowing their details. We are willing to negotiate at any reasonable cost. Respond within the next three days. Do not reveal this number to anyone, under threat of severe consequences.
(( @theresa - Will format soon; posted from mobile. ))
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Post by Elliot Mackie on Mar 20, 2016 4:28:56 GMT 2
No gifs/manips for this (yet) but
Theresa x Elliot (Sleeping with the Enemy)
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Post by Elliot Mackie on Mar 18, 2016 5:31:33 GMT 2
Innuendo.
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Post by Elliot Mackie on Mar 14, 2016 20:40:56 GMT 2
Touchy.
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Post by Elliot Mackie on Mar 13, 2016 11:04:58 GMT 2
It was always something. Nothing "perfect" in this world was ever allowed to stay that way, as a rule. From migraine-inducing traffic to the slushy soup of dirty brown snow lining the streets downtown, Chicago was the furthest from perfection. The city might as well have been out to get every single one of its inhabitants in some way or another, be it by major crimes or petty annoyances.
Speaking of petty annoyances, the godawful sound coming from under the hood of Elliot's car was just that. The last thing he wanted to deal with on his to-do list. But it genuinely aggravated him, and so he reluctantly took precious time out of his day off to have the car repaired. The drivability was not impaired, but it was enough to drive someone mad. Otherwise, it was a pristine vehicle, classic black (an Audi, so not what you would necessarily call "fancy"). He parked the car in the lot next to the mechanic shop.
"Right on the dot," he said as he shut the door of the shop behind him, rather prominently in addition, in a manner as if to announce his arrival. He twirled the car keys around on his finger, rustled them in his palm. ---------- tag: @johnny / notes: unformatted, posted on mobile. will fix soon!
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Post by Elliot Mackie on Mar 6, 2016 18:29:11 GMT 2
Grease monkey.
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TFLN.
Mar 6, 2016 3:36:58 GMT 2
Post by Elliot Mackie on Mar 6, 2016 3:36:58 GMT 2
ELLIOT to VIENNEHe titled his birthday party on facebook, "BJ's in PJ's- an adult slumber party." I'm the only one invited.
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Post by Elliot Mackie on Mar 6, 2016 2:29:42 GMT 2
Business as usual.It seemed odd, really, the semblance of normalcy that had fallen upon the collective shoulders of the police department. Nigh unwelcome, even. It provoked in some a semblance of unrest, the feeling that comes when you tiptoe, neck craned, around a corner in fear of might be lurking in the shadows. There were no corners, though, no monsters lurking. Not physical monsters. Only memories, and bad ones, the kind of stuff that keeps even the most sane, reasonable person awake at night. At his desk, as usual (he should just start living in the office, for god's sake), it was quiet. Too quiet for his taste, almost. Had the heist turned him once again into an adrenaline junkie? Not sure, but he was this close to pacing laps around the room in lieu of doing any actual work. The silence was–thankfully–broken by the phone. Not the dispatch line, unfortunately, but it was better than nothing. He grabbed the receiver like his life depended on it. "Yes?" Elliot inquired, paused to listen before responding. "Don't worry about it. ... What do you mean the dogs? ... Right now? ... Oh. Got it. See you in five."The K9 unit was mostly out of his hands. He tended to take the dogs for granted, really, especially since he did not regularly work with their upkeep. At the end of the day, they were PD employees, too, and some of the best ones (dogs didn't talk back, after all, and they were always eager to work). Through the halls and across campus he went, willfully ignorant of the half-melted slushy snow outside. The kennel was meager, as a significant number of the dogs were in a separate facility, but having at least a few on the main campus was a necessity. They were stoic as soldiers: most would barely flinch as a person passed by. "What did you—oh shit," was all he managed to say the minute he set foot in the place. Speaking of memories... template by bethany
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Post by Elliot Mackie on Mar 4, 2016 0:20:40 GMT 2
@johnny & Elliot Mackie--- Yes, good, yes indeed. Now, Elliot could definitely have been on the team investigating that murder! Whether or not he remembers is a different story, but regardless, it'd likely show up on the record and two-and-two would be put together. There has to be a reason for that though. So we can work something out in that department. As for that Theresa business. Well. That's a bit something else isn't it!
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Post by Elliot Mackie on Feb 18, 2016 19:20:24 GMT 2
Elliot looked up from his paperwork at the door, raised a brow. Don't you people know not to bother me when the door is closed? He sighed, finished signing the file atop the stack, and set the pen in the cup on the corner of his desk next to his coffee mug. World's #1 Dad. That was a total joke, but for the life of him he couldn't bring himself to get rid of the damn thing. He swiveled round the office chair and walked to the door. "This had better be important," he said, "or it's demerits for you." He opened the door.
His eyes widened at the sight behind the door. It wasn't someone he completely loathed, thank god! "Oh, it's you." He gave the pair a good once-over. "And you. Hmm," he mused, brow knit, "whoever you are." He turned to Andrea again. "Care to explain what's going on here?"
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Post by Elliot Mackie on Feb 16, 2016 19:15:16 GMT 2
Elliot shoved the apprehended man chest-first against the side of the black Chrysler, hand firmly gripping the man's cuffed hands behind his back. They had gone the ten or so yards from the alley to the officer's car (his personal car, of all unlucky things) in more or less silence. "In the car," he commanded, voice dropping to a low baritone. "I am armed."
The sleazy fucker had no choice but to comply as Elliot opened the rear door of the vehicle and pushed the man inside. "One little peep, one move from you and you might just get a bruise or two to hold against me in court." He slammed the door shut, then opened the front passenger's side door and instead of his short-range walkie, reached for his cell phone... fucking stupid broken scanner. He dialed the dispatch line.
"You've reached the greater Chicago metropolitan police force, how can I assist you?"
"This is Lieutenant Elliot Mackie. I'm on my way in for desk duty. Ran into a mugging, I apprehended the guy. Requesting mobile signal tracking for a cruiser to take him off my hands."
"Very impressive, sir. I'll receive the satellite signal. There is a cruiser on traffic duty two blocks away and I'll send them over straight away."
"Yeah, just make it quick." Elliot ended the call and tossed the phone back into the cup holder. Turning to the man in handcuffs, he grinned with all the character of a high school bully. "We're going to get to know one another really well."
"Excuse me, miss?"
He approached the alley and turned the corner to get back to the woman and her dog. It had only taken about fifteen minutes to get the criminal in the cruiser and shipped off for citing. Elliot was somewhat wary, especially having seen what the German shepherd did to the other man.
"Sorry, it took a little while. Thanks for waiting. He's in custody now," he knelt down a few yards feet the young woman. "I would ask if you want to press charges, but you look pretty damn shaken. Understandably."
Yes, he did have the capacity to be polite at times.
"You really should re-think walking alone in this part of town. Lucky for you I was on my way into the station. Although I guess you're not completely vulnerable," he said, nodded at the dog.
"I'll need to ask your name, age, and place of residence. And the dog's name. For documentation purposes."template by bethany
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Post by Elliot Mackie on Feb 16, 2016 19:13:59 GMT 2
Bastille: bad blood Rick Ross: the devil is a lie
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Post by Elliot Mackie on Feb 8, 2016 20:39:26 GMT 2
*casually adds self to this thread*
I'm off to Florida for a couple weeks. I'll be gone from the 11th to around the 20th I think. I'll try and be on my phone at our rental home!
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