• Down the stairs I flew as I slide on the rails, I jumped off as the night shift was coming in. They looked dead tired but they waved at me just as they would if they were heading out to deal with their sifts.
    I sprinted out of the Academy gates and headed towards third Market Street that was situated in the center of the city. This was where the market could be uses and enjoyed by all. If the market was in the rich part know as Sky district the middle class and lower would be pushed around. If it was in the Skunk district there would be an increase in crime and filth that would line the already discussing streets. No one liked going into those poorer districts because there was so much crime down there that people had to be in a group of five or six to not be mobbed, those parts were for the senior Peace Walkers that did not have an interest in making it in to the Ganaxy. I slowed as I enter third Market Street, but just then my stomach growled almost screaming at me to feed it. I decided once I got onto fifth Market Street it would be about lunch time and I would get some beef pastries from one of the venders. Navar had seven market streets that were watched by fourteen Peace Walkers, some times more. It depended on if there were new recruits to show the ropes to or if someone was taking some time off. I loved and hated this route; it was fun and interesting for I got to see the vender’s wears and have a choice of what I wanted to eat instead of the Academy dining halls planed meals. It was a pain though for because it was the market that attracted lots of small criminals like picks pockets and petty thieves. The venders yelling about “top quality, low priced” items filled my ears as the smell of roasting meats, fresh rolls and sweet buns filled my nose making my stomach rumble with hunger again. My brain and stomach were working against me so I stopped by the baker Radish to buy a sweet apple bun to keep my hunger under control. I had known Radish before she had become a baker and I a Peace Walker. She never used my name while I was on duty; she just called me Peace Walker, like everyone else. It was not something that people could call out from all sides, but if some was in trouble or someone saw someone in trouble, to call out “Peace Walker” was permitted, but just to call it out was distracting. When a Peace Walker talked to people it was polite to just call them “Peace Walker” as not to confuse them with each other. Only off duty Peace Walkers used the title of Peace Walker with their name as to remind people that even thought they were off duty they were still around.
    As I strolled down the center of the street glancing side to side, my head took a stroll down memory lane, to where I was being shown the ropes of the market route. My mentor, Peace Walker Charles went on about what to look for and how to ignore the unimportant sounds of the market place. I, of course, wasn’t licensing, I was too busy looking for my friends to brag about being a Peace Walker. We eventually found them and being the naive new comer I called out to them. They smiled and waved at me, but hurried on there way with out saying a word. I can still remember the feeling of being lonely and all of the piercing eyes as people stared. Charles placed his arm around my shoulder and pushed me forward so we could continue our route. He started talking about how nobody talked directly to a Peace Walker while they were on duty as a sign of respect. Once I got off duty I found my friends and apologized, they passed it off with a laugh, saying that I would improve in time. We went out to celebrate after that, they helped me over the years, keep my head and to continue in the Peace Walker line of duty.
    A cry of “Peace Walker” rang though the air like the gong that rang on court days. I spun and raced back down the street where I had just come from. There was a crowd milling around outside a house, people lived on the market streets to have the best spots to sell or trade there goods. I pushed through them hoping I was not too late. I made my way in to the center of the circle of ring of spectators and there was a woman sprawled over the stony street with a tall man standing an arms length away drinking what smelled like “Lions Roar”. As the putrid smell from the liquor filled my nose I sneezed trying to expel that nauseous smell. Squatting next to the fallen figure dressed in a pretty blue blouse and skirt, I looked for a pulse and found one. I pulled out my laser rod just in case I needed to break up a fight and with a drinking man, anything was possible. The crowed backed away as I glared at them, it always disgusted me that the ring of watching people would never help, and they just stood there and watched. The woman at my feet stirred and with a carefulness that I would give an injured animal I helped her to her feet. As she fixed her blouse I could see a purple welt spreading over her stomach and another one on her forehead. I spoke softly to the woman who stared at her feet, "He's drunk and you were talking but something upset him and you were there so he took it out on you?" I was trying to get a since of what had happened before I got there.
    She just nodded and stared at the ground, and then spoke in a soft voice that I judged would have musical sound if she wasn’t so scared, "He lost his job yesterday and is not handling it well, Peace Walker."
    At this, the man glared at her then after a moments hesitation started for her with a raised fist, he obviously did not see me standing next to her. The woman’s face filled with fear as she backed away. The rod hummed in my hand as it turned on and I faced the drunken man. Flicking the rod at the mans outstretched fist, a glowing purple rope like beam stretched from the road and wound around the mans fist. I yanked it down forcing the man to lower his fist. He spun to face me, as if he just noticed that I was there, raising the hand with the bottle of “Lions Roar”, he charged.
    Ducking with the speed that had been beat into my wiry frame over the years of training; I swept the man off his feet with one blow to the back of his knees. Stepping over the man I quickly tied his other hand tightly in the purple laser stream. I lifted him up and looked at the crowed, I hated announcing the charges on which I was taking someone in on but I had to or else get yelled at later for taking a captive right.
    “I charge this man with being drunk in public, violence and attempted assault on a Peace Walker. I have arrested him under the laws that Navar and the Ganaxy have agreed upon, may this be the end of his trouble making.”
    The woman had shifted in the struggle; she now stood in the door way of a house. I beckoned her forward with a hand, she did not want to come near the drunken man, but because I was a Peace Walker she came forward.
    “I’m sorry that you had to go through that humiliation, let the god’s show you favor in the future. I have to put this on record so I’m going to need to scan your bar code, again I’m sorry.” I said pulling out the hand scanner I had tucked away in my supply belt. She shyly pulled her braided hair aside revealing the bar code that was imprinted there. I gently swiped my scanner over the code and information appeared on the screen.
    “Thank you Mrs.,” I glimpsed at the screen, “Crow, the court should be in contact.” A silence fell over the crowed as I pushed the drunk towards them. Hastily they got out of the drunks way as he started to mumble, I was glad that I couldn’t hear what he was saying. As we passed thought the lingering crowed, I hope he pukes on you, I thought smiling Every time the drunk stopped I would give him a slight shove, this made him murmur louder. I wanted to get him locked away at The Post and get back to my route. I was worried that something worse then a drunk would occur while I was gone, but the odd thing was when I returned I would never find a sign that anything had happened except the usual bargaining and trading, it was like the criminals were afraid that I would find out and track them down. It was weird to think about criminals who usually didn’t have a conscience, fearing anything, but I had to shove it to the back of my mind. The man had started screaming about “injustice” and “revenge” as he thrashed to get away as we approached the gleaming white skyscraper that was The Post. This was typical behavior for all criminals, for one you were in The Post there was no getting out till your court date. Because The Posts housed criminals of all traits it was not open to the public, visitors were not permitted, no matter who they were. Criminals were placed in single solitary cells to prevent them planning to riot or breakout.
    Depending on how many criminals were caught in a week depended on when the courts would meet. If there were a small amount, the court would be in the evening, but if the criminal apprehensions sky rocketed the courts would get up early and have the courts run all day. The courts were stuffy and seemed to last forever, they were filled with the families of the accused, grumbling Peace Walkers, and the judge yelling at everyone to settle down. I kept the drunk next to me as I took the retinal scan that was required to enter The Post. With a small ding the door opened and I shoved the drunk through to the other side. Stupid drunk, I thought as I half dragged, half pulled him in to the screening belt. This was to make sure that no one that was caring a weapon except those who were permitted.
    “What are you complaining about? You get food, a clean solitary room and a doctor to see to your wounds if you have any. At least you don’t have go back out into that sweltering heat and work your a** off just to keep your status in the society,” I murmured as I yanked the still screaming man off the moving floor that accommodated the screening belt. He took a few steps then sat down on the floor, he just sat down like a little kid who was about to throw a tantrum. At least he wasn’t screaming anymore, I thought. A screaming, crying, violent criminal was something that all Peace Walkers had to deal with and it was usually laughed off later, but a criminal who threw a tantrum was grounds for humiliation. Twisting the laser rope around my hand I yank it hard, making the drunken tip over onto his face. I was pissed beyond belief, first I’m late my shift because Kent Storm, and then this guy makes my life hard, what was going to happen next?