with my life // one

The world was split into three types of people. Every single person on this planet fell into one of the three categories. Of course, some would switch over, cross boarders, but ultimately, there were only three types that one could be: There were the citizens. The ordinary people who went on with their ordinary lives and didn’t look beyond their own front doors. They woke up each morning, took showers, ate, watched TV, and went back to bed at night. They were the vast majority of the population who were, so to say, normal. The little old lady who lived across the street. The stockbroker who brought in piles and piles of money and dumped it all into expensive Corvettes and oversized swimming pools. They were generally oblivious. These were the people who needed to be protected from the scumbags of the world. Which led to the second category. The scumbags. The ones who enjoyed watching other people’s pain. These were the hunters. The predators. The ones that filled dirty prison cells where they belonged. Drug dealers, rapists, murders, and serial killers. They were the people that made stomachs turn in disgust. Hitler, the KKK, even Ursula, the wicked sea witch in The Little Mermaid, would fall under this title. Whatever you wanted to call them. Unfortunately, they were out there. As long as there would be humans, there would be corruption. And then there was the final group. The select few who protected the population from the of the world. They were the ones that put themselves in font of the unsuspecting dog lover across the street, or the mother of three kids behind the white picket fence. The ones that stopped the terrorist from slicing the throats of the innocent hostages. They were the ones who didn’t do it for the glory; they did it to save lives. They were the people like Troy Bolton. “Dude, Donovan is calling a meeting.” A deep male voice interrupted the pounding sound of Lil Wayne’s rap echoing through the snow white colored earphones. The twenty year-old standing in front of the hypersonic spped treadmill with his chocolate dark skin and obnoxiously black afro looking up eagerly attempted to gain the attention of the runner who was doing his best to ignore his friend. In all attempts to avoid the inevitable, the athlete turned his head to the side and turned up the pulsating music on his shiny iPod to drown out the sound. “Bolton, man” The dark skinned male leapt back into the view of the exhausted twenty year-old who swiveled his head away from him once again and pumped his leg faster. It was like he was treating his friend like an annoying four-year old. If he ignored it, it would just go away. “Come on, stop being an asshole!” Rule number one, never EVER interrupt Troy when he was working out. Or there would be to pay. Finally giving up, Troy slammed his strong fist down onto the bright scarlet “stop” button and angrily slashed his ear bud out of his drum. “What?” His normally velvet voice hissed as he hopped down from the machine, sweat raining down the side of his golden face and irritated ice piercing through his sparkling blue eyes. “You heard me the first time, Donovan wants us when you’ve showered. Cuz you smell like a pig’s shit.” Troy’s best friend, Chad Danforth, responded with an amused smirk over his pale and long face. His black eyes danced with delight as he patted Troy on the bare back, causing more sticky sweat to drip down his chiseled pectorals and six pack abs. “Ugh that kills any chances of finishing.” He muttered before running a hand through his normally sandy brown hair that turned a coal shade with matted down sweat. He snatched a fluffy towel from above the drop and fell into step with the strong co-worker at his side. Well, at least he got something in, even if it was for about half of how long he wanted to go. It was like the dream job for him, really. Troy got paid to be physically active. When not on duty, he basically lived at the gym, and his salary was better than most his age. He had seen more countries than any middle class American. Some may say it was a dream career. Oh yeah, he also had to protect citizens from blowing up on a regular basis. That part was in the job description as well.

Duration : 0:0:5