as a cop I've seen more than my fair share of misery over the years.
When I made detective I thought I could do more.
In reality, It doesn't work like that.
I could catch the real sickos, maybe bring some closure to the lives of a victim's loved ones.
"Prevention is better than a cure", they say‌
‌ And It's true.
Once innocence is gone, there ain't no way to get it back.
Anyone who thinks what we do is any more than stickin' a band aid on a bullet wound is kidding themselves.
But that's the point, right?
We need our safety nets, our comfort blankets.
Truth is: The fear, the grief, the loss,
the pain.
They all leave their marks.
All the bad shit that happens to us as we grow older...
some are hardened by It...
Some retreat, crushed by the horrible weight of it all.
No matter how we feel we are coping with it, it takes something from each of us.
Pretending to live.
All the while we carry on.
Hollowed out from the inside.
I remember the faces of all the mothers and fathers, the wives and husbands.
I remember the fleeting anxiety and looks of confusion on their faces, before the levee breaks.
Before the despair crashes into them like a tidal wave.
When you have done this job as long as I have, your vision clears.
The worlds thin veneer falls away like strips of burnt paper.
Eventually, all you see are it's broken bones.
City blocks loom like mausoleums, each haunted by the ghosts of the living.
I see all the grey faces distracted by the bright lights and booze, the fornication and ambition.
Everything you could ever want is here, gift-wrapped in green tickets that frame a dead man's face.
Everything and nothing.
The delusion of control works hand in hand with the safety net. Nobody sees the truth because they choose not to.
We need it. We can't function without it.
As for me, I'm just too tired to be part of this masquerade anymore.
It's when the rain falls that I really feel it. I let it soak my skin, the tears of a million widows. I close my eyes to see it all and I am born anew.
The deluge separates me from the crowd. I welcome the clarity.
A messenger.
A shepherd.
An orphan of storms.
Sleep easy now. soon I will take your hands in mine.
I will guide you to a place beyond the suffering, a place where pain and sorrow will never learn your names.
I love you all so much.
Not long now. The fireflies dance outside my door, they call to me...
Such strange colours...
The tunnel draws closer.
So dark...
So cold...
I know how to reach you. I am not afraid.
I just need...
...to find...
...The light.
'Innocence' A noir story created for Champion City Comics
Frank T. Allen: Story / Letters Nick Wright: Pencils / Inks / Colours