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Station 45 - home of Anderson Cleary, the youngest Chief in the history of Cascade. This man gave his all for the station. He brought it back from the brink of closure as a Captain. He remodeled the building, made sure that everything out of date was improved and replaced. However, the station soon came upon turmoil as it was torn in half by the actions of two men. Even after all the close calls he had gone through, nothing could take him away from his beloved station and job. That was until his life was taken in the performance of his duties. It left the station in shock of losing their leader and friend.
As they gave the highly decorated hero his final ride on the truck and laid him to rest, a new threat came to Station 45 and the two others in the city. A pyromaniac was about to make his mark on the city and give this station a new threat to face without their leader. This wasn't their only problem. The actions of two men a few weeks before Anderson's death left the station torn. Five crew members and a Captain was replaced and left a gap in the personnel. Now this burden rests upon the shoulders of a new Chief and old friend to Anderson - Gavin O'Leary.
Business as usual « Thread Started on May 16, 2009, 4:16pm »
Jack had been in business in Cascade now for a little over a month, and was rather pleased with how business was going. Sure, he wasn't making money hand over fist like he had been when he had been working as an outfitter and guide, but he was living comfortably and therefore had no complaints. It seemed as though there was an under served niche in hunting gear in the city, and he was surprised that there was any interest at all. City folks, it seemed, just didn't understand the tranquility of nature when you were one on one. Despite not caring about cutting down trees and destroying valuable habitat to build their city, he'd found a lot of tree-huggers. They made him sick. Their views were ass-backwards, if anyone were to ask him.
It was just after seven o'clock on a Saturday morning, and he was heading down to his shop to get ready to open up for the day. He ran a short day on Saturdays and was closed on Sundays, but was open twelve hours a day during the week. He was making enough money to cover his overhead costs, and he was still bringing in money from Kickin' Back Outfitters back in Alberta while his friend ran the place. He wasn't wanting for anything, and was living quite comfortably.
Jack parked his Ford King Ranch in the parking lot designated for customers and stepped out of the vehicle, waiting for his bird dog, Chisum, to hop down. He closed the door behind the Pointer, and locked it, heading around front to unlock the door. As he walked, he heard a crunch underfoot, and he looked down to see shattered glass. Stopping Chisum before the dog stepped on any sharp shards, he groaned when he saw his front window shattered. He didn't even bother going to the door, and instead pulled his cell phone from his pocket and phoned the cops.
He'd take inventory once the cops came, though he was seriously hoping that none of the firearms in the store were missing. He did have a security alarm, but he hadn't received a call during the night saying that the shop had been breached. Inside, the guns weren't easily removed from the cases on the wall - they were locked in glass storage cases, and linked together by a cable running through the trigger guards, keeping them secured to the wall. Still, if there was a will, there was a way. He put Chisum back in the truck and rolled the window down half way as he waited for the police to arrive. It wasn't as though he hadn't expected something like this, but he had sincerely been hoping against it.
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