Thread: Another Day on the Job. (AutumnDreaming/Rekoj)

In a dark corner of an ill-lighted street, hidden in the black shadows of a dim building, stood a shady character. The only light to be seen was the red amber burning of the end of a cigarette, which was brought up to the lips of Johnny Holland. His short, wavy chestnut blond hair was packed underneath an army style cargo green hat. His broad shoulders were hidden beneath a black jean jacket, with matching black denim jeans. He took another long drag from his cigarette, before eyeing the street. He took his left hand and scratched his right arm nervously before grabbing his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He exhaled through one of his nostrils roughly, and twitched before slumping down in the corner. His olive green t-shirt hung loosely over his form as he sat against the brick wall behind him. He scratched the outside of his arm once more with his right hand, setting the appearance. He was just some harmless tweaker, not interested in anything, except his own mind. He stared down at the sidewalk, the green cap covering his eyes. His eyes, however, were inspecting everything, from counting the amount of street lights to watching any shadow that moved. Johnny Holland was a cover name, for a undercover cop. His real name, was Detective Patrick Adair, and he hated cigarettes. He hated drugs, which is why he had to falsify the tweaks and twitches. He had spent every day for months, practicing and perfecting his craft. He sat in the dark corner, acting to nobody in particular. His eyes, always moving, always looking for another shadow to follow, while his body didn't move at all. He had been following his target for weeks, she had been here before, looking over the very same building across from him. Of course, those previous few weeks, he had been Johnny Holland only twice, a few other times he had been Mike Penn, and other various identites. Quite often he'd just stayed invisible in the shadows, as whoever he felt like. She'd never seemed to notice him, or even care, which was exactly what he wanted. Always watching, nothing more. He could always just watch, scope, inspect, and it drove him crazy. Patrick was one for action, to sit idle and plan out something just didn't feel right to him. Another grab of the nose, and twitch of the shoulders. He pondered to himself in his mind if it was just his imagination, or if something felt different in the air tonight. He could taste something in the air, was it action? Was it foreboding? Or was it his mind lacking patience. At the young age of 22, patience was one thing he lacked. However, to his advantage, most people would not expect somebody of his age to be a master of his craft. He was an undercover cop, and damn good at it already. He'd only worked a few small cases, in which his only job was to be eyes and ears, an informant. This time, it was all on him, he had to bring her down himself. The rest of the force was busy dealing with rising mafia battles in the street, there was no time for a group to deal with thieves. Instead, they had to trust their young detective, and one thing Patrick Adair hated to do- was disappoint. So for now, he just had to remain patient, until the one shadow he wanted to see would appear.