Starlight Tour - 2026-01-23 18:52
(A story that occurred to me as I waited outside for food in the cold, thinking about current events. It may not be praxis, but I needed to vent, and I hope y’all get some release from it too.)
“Are you scared yet, you fucking s—?” Murdock said, scowling. The man at the front of the cell, a Michael John Peña based on the identification they had pulled off of him, simply looked at Murdock with the same stoic stare. This tough guy act was really starting to piss Murdock off.
None of these people had any respect for the rules and laws of this country. The fact that they, the white race, had taken these various Indians, s—, and n— and taught them the ways of civilization. How to read and write, and how to not sacrifice each other for their non-existent loser gods. How to enjoy real music and culture and not their pathetic banging of rocks together.
Worse, a bunch of commie n—-lovers were now harassing Murdock and every other ICE agent that was here to make America great again. They were protesting, yelling, and doing everything besides letting Murdock do the work that was needed. Every place they went was another shrill whistle, and people coming out of their house to block and record. Why would these dumb fucks do this instead of watching the playoffs? Murdock was missing his Patriots no doubt creaming the Chargers because he was here doing the right thing instead of feeling sorry for a bunch of worthless garbage.
They didn’t deserve their citizenships in the greatest country on Earth, and Murdock craved the day Lt. Simmons took the stick out of his ass and let Murdock and his crew deal with these traitors to race and country. Just like, technically, Peña here, though Murdock figured he might be some DREAMer or just had forged documentation. But the boys did say he was a US citizen. Not that mattered. Mikey-boy was under Murdock’s control now.
Given the order from Simmons to deal with him, to clear out the cells because some big protest was coming up, Murdock had first decided to work with that n— Little to see if they could get some information about who was organizing all of this. Murdock knew it had to be those k— like George Soros, but Peña had just chuckled a bit when Murdock had asked about him.
A few punches to his face ended the chuckling, leaving Peña with a bloodied nose. And what did this stupid fucking s— do? Just turned and glared at Murdock and Little. Little, being cowardly like all those n— are, seemed to get scared like a little bitch. He muttered “I think you can handle this, Murdock”, and turned and left.
After Murdock got a few more punches and kicks in, he gave up on getting anything from Peña, and started dragging him back to his cell. Simmons looked up from his phone and raised an eyebrow. “Little bitch thought he could take me, and I dealt with it. Ain’t that right, Tyrone?” Murdock explained, looking for Little to back him up.
Little had returned to his desk and seemed to just be locked in terror, staring a thousand yards away. He didn’t respond, but his lack of protest seemed to be enough for Simmons who grumbled and looked back at his phone.
Murdock threw Peña back in the cell with the 12 others, some of who took the moment to crowd the bars.
“Listen, officer, I really am an US citizen,” some Somali n— said, “Just let me call my—”
“You’re not calling shit! Just fucking sit there and wait until we take you back to your failed fucking country,” Murdock replied. The boy cowered and returned with the others. Murdock knew that they shouldn’t have let Peña make the call. It made the others think they would get one. That n— Little begged Murdock to give him that. Murdock said he would. But that in exchange Little would have to accompany Murdock as he took Peña on a “starlight tour”. Little needed to pop that cherry, Murdock said. Maybe then he’d actually be worth trusting. Fat chance, Murdock thought.
The call was a bit surprising. Peña asked to call his father, who lived way down in the South, far away from up here. Murdock berated him for being so stupid to not even call someone local, but Peña insisted. Murdock started the call after Little passed.
The phone took some time to ring, but was answered pretty quickly. An old n—’s voice with some s— accent answered.
“Hello, who is this?”
“This is Sgt. Daniel Murdock up here with Immigration and Customs Enforcement. We caught your son obstructing our officers and have him in custody. He asked to call you and talk, sir.”
“Do you mean my daughter? That’s who lives—”
“Your daughter? He’s your son, asshole. I don’t have time for this liberal t— shit. Do you want to talk to him or not?”
“I’ll talk.”
Murdock considered handing the phone to Peña, but decided to just turn on speaker phone.
“Say hi, to daddy, Mikey-boy. You’re on speaker phone.”
“Hello father,” Peña began in clear unaccented English, “I may have to break one of our rules.”
“It is understandable. I love you. Give me a call when you’re done.”
Christ, both of these s— didn’t even get it. Murdock wanted them to make it clear.
“Hey, daddy. You know what we’re going to do to Mikey-boy? He’s going on a starlight tour. Me and Tyrone are going to show him the Northern Lights. Supposed to be real beautiful tonight. Perfectly clear weather. Might hit minus 20.”
“I see.”
Murdock lost it.
“Do you not get it, you old fuck! Your son is going to freeze out there. Don’t you fucking care?”
“I care. But I don’t see the danger.”
“Fuck you! I oughta call someone in our office down there to check on you!” Murdock said, slamming a finger on the end call button. It hurt his finger. He kind of missed old phones. His father, god rest his soul, had always slammed the headset with such a satisfying force whenever any pinkos called to complain about his department doing “police brutality.” If people like him still ran things, Murdock would have never had to leave the force. But President Trump had delivered.
Someone like him who had actually passed the academy went through the abbreviated training with flying colors. His old squad in that fucking liberal college town always tried to keep him away from anything important because they were afraid of being yelled at. Even the chief bent the knee to that bitch dean of the college. They respected him here. They let him do what was necessary.
After that was when Murdock and Little had taken Peña in for a bit of interrogation, and now Murdock took the time to gloat after he had returned Peña to his cell.
“Daddy didn’t save you, and you didn’t want to talk, so you know what happens next, right, Mikey-boy?”
Peña nodded, but said nothing.
“Good. Get some rest, we’ll head out when the sun has been set. I’m going to go eat some dinner, you want to come along, Tyrone?”
Little continued to stare. Fine by me, Murdock thought.
When those other losers in Murdock’s took people out on starlight tours, they were lazy and only went far enough to get out of the city. Murdock did things right. He was willing to take a couple of hours to really make sure this trash didn’t make it back.
Little had fallen asleep well before they had reached the edge of the state park a few counties away. Lazy n—, Murdock thought. Murdock drove the cruiser down a few abandoned trails that had closed down due to budget cuts, right up to some land that had recently been removed from the park for logging, though operations eventually did not start up. Still sent the liberals in a tizzy.
They came across a nice, pristine clearing cut by a small creek. The half-full moon was like a smile in the sky. It would be a real nice place to pitch a tent and have a nice camping trip with some bitch, if Murdock could ever find one that knew her place. But for right now, it was perfect for taking Peña on his final tour.
Parking the cruiser, but leaving the headlights on, Murdock stepped out of the car, opened the back door and dragged Peña, cuffed, depositing him on the snow. Murdock bent down and took off Peña’s heavy boots and socks. They had already removed his jacket and hat at the station, tossing them in a bin the other officers went through now and then.
“If you think you’re going to get a punch or a kick in when I remove your bindings, I hope you’re ready to take a bullet. I’d rather not have to explain it to Simmons when I get back.”
Peña didn’t respond, but didn’t make any moves either. Despite that, Murdock drew his weapon and pointed it at the ground.
“End of the line, Mikey-boy.”
Peña stood up, and stoically stared at Murdock.
“What? Do I need to give you a warning shot? You best get moving before frostbite catches you!”
Peña nodded, and said, “Be seeing you, sir,” before turning and walking off. Murdock considered popping him right there, but he really didn’t want to listen to Simmons tell him to let the cold do its work. So he just watched.
Right before Peña got to the edge of the forest, about a hundred yards away, he turned to look at Murdock. Murdock was a bit startled at this. Even this far he could see Peña’s eyes. They seemed to glow. Like an animal. But before Murdock could do anything else, Peña turned back and stepped into the forest, where he was quickly out of Murdock’s sight.
Fuck, Murdock thought, he probably needed some rest like Little. He moved back into the cruiser, noticing that at some point Little had woken up, and had returned to that same distant stare he had in the office.
“Now you wake up? Bah, next time you’re going to be the one to step out here,” Murdock said, slamming the door. Little did not respond.
When Murdock had dropped Little off at his small house on the edge of the city, Little rushed in, saying nothing. Still scared, Murdock guessed. He’d have to see if he could build some spine in that n—.
Usually, on his way home, Murdock would listen to talk radio, but for whatever reason he felt the need to think. Something about the way Peña’s eyes looked as he walked off into the forest kept coming back to Murdock. He had only a beer or two or three or four for dinner, and was pretty sure he was no worse than buzzed by that time. It had to be a trick of the light. He needed rest.
Murdock lived further out of town, where he could pretend that he was out in the country like where he grew up. Thanks to a useful copse of trees, he couldn’t see the house next to his, even though he sometimes heard them having small gatherings sometimes. And that copse fed into a larger forested area, though deceptively less dense than it looked.
He looked at that denser area from his living room as he closed and locked the door behind him and armed the security system. It felt like he expected something, but nothing came. He checked if the security cameras had flagged anyone, and besides a delivery person who realized she was at the wrong address, there was nothing.
Slumping down in his chair, he flipped on over to the news, and quickly fell asleep.
Only a few hours had passed when his virtual assistant chirpily announced “movement spotted on rear lawn”. It was loud enough to wake him up, but he mostly assumed it would be another deer or raccoon or something.
He used his phone to check the camera, but there was nothing obvious. As he looked, he noticed a small flicker of eyes in the forested area. Probably just an animal... but he had never seen an animal intently staring from the forest for so long. They usually just looked a little bit and then darted out or turned away. And usually not so high. Whatever it was, it was big.
He grabbed his gun and stepped out on the patio, figuring it was worth scaring it off.
“Get the hell out of here!” he shouted towards the forest. The eyes rushed towards him.
He tried to aim his gun, but before he could even do that, he was slammed against the sliding patio door by a gigantic hairy beast, and held in place with a free paw, claws digging into his neck. Having trouble breathing, he dropped his gun. What the hell was this? Was this a dream?
The creature towered over him and walked on two legs, but otherwise was wolf-shaped, its fur covered in snow and mud. How was there a god-damn werewolf here? What fucking nightmare was this?
The creature snarled, and looked down at Murdock with voracious glee.
“I told you I’d be seeing you, officer,” Peña said before he mauled Murdock.
The body was discovered when Murdock didn’t show up for work the next day, completely unrecognizable against his patio. Little was actually called over to take a look and identify it. It was Murdock. The crime scene people didn’t need him anymore, so Little drove back to the office. He immediately dropped his gun and badge on Simmons desk. Simmons looked up from his phone and said “That’s probably best for you, son. Go find some other work. Get some rest first, I’ll make sure the fraternal order gives you something as severance.”
Little only responded with a nod.
Tyrone had quit drinking shortly before he signed up with ICE, but he felt the need to immediately get drunk, spending the rest of the afternoon and evening in a nearby dive bar. When that closed, he asked the bartender to call him a rideshare, and that he’d be back to pick up his car in the morning. “You’re a good kid, Tyrone,” the bartender said, “most of you guys don’t even bother with that. I always worry they’ll hit some kid or something.”
Tyrone only responded with a nod.
When the rideshare pulled up to his house, Tyrone stumbled out, trying to think what to do next. That’s when he saw the eyes looking at him from a dark patch in the yard. The werewolf, still covered in Murdock’s blood stepped out, looking directly at him.
“Good choice, Tyrone,” Peña said before darting off back in the darkness.
Tyrone only responded with a nod.