Reincarnated in Banshee Town

Noticing that Ethan did not want to speak anymore, Job decided not to insist. Once Ethan finished helping him put the remaining weapons in the gunsmith, Job took some of them and put them in the travel bag in front of him.
— Tell me what happens diamonds? —Ethan asked curiously, as he carried the heavy bag back to the living room and sat on the sofa.
Although the situation was probably clear at the bar at the time, there was still some confusion in the air. Job played for a while with the Arabian hookah on the table, bit the mouthpiece, and gave a drag before answering:
—15 years ago, Hood and Carrie stole a handful of diamonds in a hit that went wrong. You already know the story: Hood ended up in prison, and Carrie or Ana, as it was known back then — came to Banshee to hide. 
—But that was a lie —continued —. The truth is, Carrie always had them with her. He hid them, kept them safe, waiting for the right moment. The problem is that that moment never came. The life he built here became a different prison. While Hood paid for the crime, she lived with guilt, trying to be someone she was not.
Job bit his cheek before continuing:
—After Hood traded for Carrie's son, and she returned the diamonds to him, a few days ago he handed them to me to sell. And you know what happened next —Job said, leaving his pipe.
— You always keep things interesting, isn't it. — Ethan commented, as he took out a thick envelope with a wad of bills from his coat and placed it on the table.- If I had been in Hood's place , would have shot Carrie, for leaving him locked up in prison for fifteen years, for nothing.
— Do you always carry so much money with you? —Job asked when he collected the money envelope to count it. — This is enough. I understand what you mean, love always makes people stupid
It was getting late and I had to work the next day. He picked up his travel bag and got up to go, said goodbye to Job to go straight home.
Banshee Town Police Department at night.
Ethan and Siobhan were on duty at the police station that night. Without much to do, Ethan stayed playing cards, After losing three rounds in a row, Siobhan grumbled his teeth in frustration.
Taking advantage of his winning streak, Ethan was about to win the fourth game when the landline phone rang next to him.
—Hello, Banshee Police Department —Siobhan said quickly, taking his fifteen dollars from the table and keeping them in his pocket, while answering the phone.
Ethan reluctantly threw the cards onto the table and got up.
—Okay, understood, we'll be there right away —Siobhan said, hanging up the phone while searching for his belt. Ethan had already put on his coat and was adjusting the service belt to his waist. At the police station, they usually took it off because it was quite uncomfortable to wear it all day.
Siobhan took his belt and informed Ethan:
—We got a call, someone heard a fight at his neighbor's house. There seems to be a domestic fight, come on.
Ethan nodded and they both left the police station.
These types of situations were quite common during their shifts: traffic violations, annoying noises or neighborhood conflicts. A few minutes later, the patrol car arrived in a residential community.
Siobhan slowed down the car, as Ethan rolled down the window and looked out. Absolute silence reigned and no fight was heard.
— Will it be a false alarm? —Ethan murmured, looking suspiciously around him.
Suddenly, a shot broke the silence of the night. Loud screams began to be heard, and Ethan quickly turned on the lights and the police siren.
Siobhan hit the gas, and the Chevrolet SUV advanced rapidly.
— Damn! —Siobhan said.
— Quick, come on! —Ethan replied.
Screams of panic and hasty footsteps were heard. Walking several meters, Ethan saw a man in front of a house garage, covering his thigh and screaming in pain. A little further on, three hooded men ran into the backyard.
Siobhan quickly picked up the phone.
— Emmett, we have shots, shots! We need reinforcements, 154 maple street. —reported — We have wounded on site. Send an ambulance.
As soon as the truck stopped, Ethan pulled out his Glock and ran to the fleeing suspects.
— Go, I'll go check on the wounded man! —yelled at Siobhan.
She headed for the garage while Ethan continued the chase.
A man with long black hair, a Kinaho, lay on the ground, holding his thigh with both hands. Seeing the blood flowing, Siobhan pulled a tourniquet from his belt.
— Are you okay sir? —asked him while helping him.
— What do you think? —replied the man with his teeth clenched, drenched in sweat.
—Easy, the ambulance is on the way —he said, while adjusting the tourniquet.
It was then that he heard a slight moan. Siobhan looked up into the garage and saw a white woman and a girl gagged and tied up in the living room. He ran to them, quickly untied the ropes, and looked with concern at the direction in which Ethan had followed the suspects.
Ethan, meanwhile, was crossing the backyard, running at full speed with his boots echoing on the grass.
— Banshee Police Stop or shoot! —screamed.
Two of the three suspects had already jumped over the wooden fence and were running into the courtyard of the next house. The third was about to jump when, upon hearing Ethan's warning, he turned quickly, raising his arms.
Ethan shot first.
—¡Bang!
The bullet hit the eye socket, causing the hooded man to fall on the grass. Without stopping, Ethan jumped over the fence with agility, continuing the chase. Later, by a pool, he saw a woman in a black bikini being held by one of the hooded men. It was Kate Moody, he could recognize her at a glance.
She had her mouth shut, her eyes wide with terror as a gun was pressed under her chin.
— Stay away! —shouted the kidnapper, using Kate's body as a human shield.
Ethan stopped more than ten meters away, his breathing heavy but controlled. He evaluated the situation, his Glock firmly held, ready to shoot.
—Let her go, or I promise this will end very badly for you —Ethan said, raising his gun, looking for some safe angle to shoot.
— Go to hell, damn you! —replied the kidnapper, his face a mixture of fury and despair — Put the gun down or kill her. Right now!
Sweat dripped down Ethan's forehead as he tried to stay calm. He knew that a single wrong move could cost Kate her life. He was waiting patiently, waiting for the kidnapper to push the gun away for a second. I just needed that opportunity.
And then the man made the mistake.
As soon as he diverted the gun from Kate's chin to push her forward, Ethan acted.
—¡Bang!
The bullet shot out of Ethan's Glock, flying straight toward the kidnapper's forehead. The impact was instantaneous, her body collapsed lifelessly to the ground, releasing Kate in the process.
Kate fell to her knees, stunned, but quickly ran to Ethan, seeking refuge. But just then, a violent roar broke the stillness of the air. The furious barking of dogs and the sound of screaming were heard from inside the house.
— Ahhh! —screams of pain and panic mixed with curses and gunshots.
— Shit! —Ethan murmured as he watched the scene. But before he could stop her, Kate, blinded by adrenaline, ran to the house.
— Kate, wait! —Ethan yelled, trying to stop her, but it was too late.
Kate walked through the back door of the house with desperate force, without hesitation, and was instantly greeted by a flurry of gunshots.
Ethan, without wasting time, ran after her, crossing the pool and kicking the door in. The interior of the house was in total chaos. A white man lay down next to a closet, his chest covered in blood. A black German shepherd was lying at his feet, also dead.
Kate was leaning against the stairs, her body convulsing while coughing up blood. Several shots had pierced his torso, and life was quickly slipping from his eyes. With her last strength, she raised the pistol of the man lying dead in front of her and, with a trembling hand, aimed and shot.
The bullet hit the man's head, which was still breathing weakly.
— How dare you kill my dog? —Kate murmured, with one last sigh before collapsing lifelessly.
Powerless Ethan clenched his fists and watched the disaster unfolding around him. He kept his Glock in the holster, his heart heavy with guilt.
Moments later, Ethan was by the pool, looking up at the horizon as Emmett, his partner, took notes next to him. The silence weighed in the air, only broken by the sound of paramedics struggling to put Kate's body in a black bag.
Hood, who had just arrived on the scene, quickly approached. He stopped the medical staff, opened the bag, and looked at Kate's pale face for a few seconds. His jaw tightened. Then, with a gesture of frustration, he closed the zipper on the bag.
— Who did it? —asked Hood, his voice charged with contained fury, approaching Ethan.
Ethan looked at him, trying to stay calm, although the weight of the situation crushed him.
—I still don't know —Ethan replied, his voice serious —. They called us about a domestic fight at a nearby house. Shioban and I got here just as the shooting started. Shioban cared for the owner of the house while I followed the attackers. I managed to stop two of them, but the other ... Kate entered when she heard her dog being attacked. A stray bullet hit her before she could do anything.
Hood hit a wall with his fist, breathing heavily. The silence returned to the scene, only interrupted by the echoes of chaos that they could not control.
Hood nodded, clenching his fists, and advanced. Ethan and Emmett exchanged glances and quickly followed him.
At the place where they had left the car, Siobhan and Brock helped a native with long black hair get into the ambulance. Hood suddenly approached, grabbed the man by the neck, and pushed him violently against the side of the ambulance.
— Who sent those people ?! What did you do?! —roared furiously.
Everyone was surprised. The native kept his mouth shut, without saying a word.
Hood, furious, wanted to touch the wound on the man's leg, but Ethan reacted and hugged him to push him away.
—Let him go Sheriff. Her son is watching —Ethan replied, pointing to a five or six year old girl who was watching terrified from the side.
Hood took a deep breath a few times. Ethan held him by the shoulders.
—Calm down, and I'll ask you.

Hood nodded and walked away. Ethan approached the native, smiled at the girl, and then looked at the man with disheveled hair.
—I'm Officer Morgan —said.
The native looked around, uncomfortable.
—Thompson —replied.
—Mr. Thompson, I just saved your life, that of your daughter and that of your wife. We agree?
—Yes. —Thompson said, clenching his teeth.
Ethan looked him in the eye.
—An innocent woman has died from those people. Will you tell me what happened?
Thompson looked around, seeing neighbors and medical personnel. He took a deep breath, reached into his pocket, and handed Ethan something.
—Officer, I'm sorry, I don't think I can help you —said out loud.
Hood's expression changed and he wanted to move forward again, but Ethan blocked it. With discretion, the card disappeared into his hand. After watching the ambulance leave, the group returned to the police station.
Ethan sacó la tarjeta de presentación de Thompson, tenia su numero privado, después de verla unos segundos marcó el número. Tras hablar unos minutos, colgó y aceptó el cigarrillo que Brock le ofreció.
—¿Te dijo algo? —preguntó Brock, apoyándose en la pared, con el ceño fruncido.
Ethan dio una calada, organizando sus pensamientos.
—Thompson es miembro del comité de la tribu Kinaho. Hace dos días tuvieron una reunión tribal convocada por George Hunter para destituir al jefe actual, Alex Longshadow. Tenían los votos necesarios, pero algunos miembros cambiaron de opinión en el último momento, al parecer todos recibieron una visita de Proctor.
—¿Qué tiene eso que ver con Proctor? —preguntó Emmett, cruzando los brazos.
—Thompson fue amenazado antes de la reunión, pero no lo tomó en serio. Después, él y George Hunter confrontaron a los que incumplieron su compromiso y descubrieron que todos habían sido amenazados por hombres blancos, como los tres que lo atacaron hoy, al parecer Proctor iba a cumplir su amenaza. —Ethan miró a Hood—. 
—¡Maldición! —exclamó Brock, rascándose la cabeza— Proctor y Alex deben estar trabajando juntos. Alex no puede hacer esto directamente, así que le dejo el trabajo sucio a Proctor, el idiota hizo un trato con el diablo.
—¿Qué hacemos ahora? —preguntó Siobhan desde el escritorio.
Hood, sentado en silencio, no dijo nada. Todos sabían de la conexión personal con Kate Moody. Después de un momento, Emmett sacudió la cabeza.
—Los tres atacantes están muertos. No hay pruebas contra Proctor. No podemos hacer nada.
Hood se levantó, guardó sus cosas y dijo:
— Vayan a descansar, mañana evaluaremos nuestras opciones.
Brock y los demás suspiraron y salieron de la comisaría.
Bar de Sugar
Era casi la hora de cerrar. Sugar estaba colocando las sillas sobre las mesas cuando vio entrar a Hood y a Ethan.
—¿Qué les pasa a ustedes? —preguntó con cansancio— Siempre vienen cuando estoy apunto de cerrar, cerrar.
Ethan la ayudó a colocar una silla.
—¿Quién mas esta aqui?
—¿Quién crees? —Sugar señaló la laptop en la barra.
Job salió de la parte trasera, sonriendo.
—Buenas noches, ¿por qué tan tarde? Llevo bebiendo con este viejo desde hace una hora.
Ethan sacudió la cabeza, sentándose en la barra. Hood, por su parte, se dirigió directamente a la vitrina donde tomo una botella de whisky, tomó un trago largo y se sentó, con una expresión triste.
—¿Qué le pasa? —preguntó Sugar, sirviendo una bebida a Ethan.
—Kate murió. —respondió Ethan, golpeando la barra con los dedos.
—¿Kate Moody? —dijo Sugar, sorprendido.
—Sí.
Ethan narró lo ocurrido. Después, Sugar dejó la botella en la barra, pensativa.
—Esta vez Proctor fue muy lejos, Fue muy lejos secuestrando a una familia inocente.
Job, masticando un cubo de hielo, miró a Hood y le preguntó a Ethan:
—¿Ese es el tipo que conocimos en el club?
Ethan asintió, y Job maldijo por lo bajo.
De repente, Hood habló con tono sombrío:
—¿Les importaría a alguien si simplemente mato a Proctor?
Después de que sonó la voz de Hood, el bar quedó en silencio.
—No subestimes a Proctor. —dijo Sugar mientras se quitaba el sombrero, apoyando las manos en la barra— No se puede matar a personas como él simplemente empuñando un arma.
Hood no respondió, pero lentamente giró la cabeza para mirar a Ethan. Sabía que Ethan y Rebecca tenían una relación, y si quería tratar con Proctor, necesitaba confirmar la postura de Ethan.
—¿Qué piensas? —preguntó Hood en tono aburrido—. Conozco la relación entre Rebecca y tú, y lo entenderé si no quieres involucrarte.
Ethan jugó con el trago que tenia en su mano, pensando en el comportamiento de Kate antes de su muerte esa noche. Podría haberle apuntado a el antes de morir; después de todo, el había asesinado a su esposo, pero decidió no hacerlo. Ethan se preguntó si debía hacer algo por ella.
Dejó el vaso y asintió.
—Iremos de Proctor, pero no a tu manera —dijo— Una incursión armada en su contra no tendrá ningún efecto sobre Proctor. Su escolta no es solo una decoración, debe estar bien preparado para ello, por lo que el riesgo es demasiado alto.
Hood exhaló un suspiro lleno de alcohol.
—Entonces, ¿cuál es tu idea?
Ethan extendió la mano y tocó la placa en su pecho.
—¿Has olvidado esto? No somos gánsteres o pandilleros. ¿Hay solo una forma mejor de tratar con gente como Proctor?
Sugar, al ver el gesto de Ethan, rápidamente dijo:
—Sí, Ethan tiene razón. Proctor respeta mucho las reglas —dijo Sugar con el tono de quien ya ha recorrido ese terreno muchas veces— Si tratas con él dentro de esas reglas, no reaccionará de manera explosiva.
—El alcalde Kendall estuvo luchando contra él durante años, y todo dentro del marco legal. Mantengamos la lucha a plena vista —continuó Ethan— Asi no vendran tras nosotros, Proctor es arrogante porque jamas a sido atrapado, esa será nuestra ventaja. —señaló, tocando el distintivo de su chaqueta con el dedo.
Hood nodded silently, he already knew that game. Proctor was not the type of enemy he attacked for no reason, but when he did, he did so accurately and mercilessly.
—So if you decide to face him, we will do it carefully. —
Hood said nothing. With the bottle of wine in hand, he got up and left the bar.
After a few rounds of drinking, Ethan and Job also left. It was too late, so Ethan turned the wheel and drove to Siobhan's house.
A few minutes later, the car reached the door of Siobhan's residence, with the lights still on inside the house. Her police car stopped in front of the house, and Ethan stayed in the car for a moment. Hearing the noise outside, a curtain by the window rose for an instant and then came down again.
When Ethan went out onto the porch, the door opened. Siobhan, wrapped in a white bath towel and a towel in her hand to dry her wet hair, greeted him.
— How is the Sheriff? —asked as he dried his hair, turning to the living room.
—I was drinking at the Sugar Bar, I guess you must be resting now.
Ethan closed the door and entered the living room. He took off his service belt and threw it over the cabinet next to him. Siobhan sat on the sofa and noticed Ethan's gaze. She dried her hair harder, and the towel she was wearing began to slide, exposing some of her skin.
—Let me help you —Ethan offered, fast approaching, but Siobhan reluctantly pushed him away:
—First go take a shower, you smell like gunpowder and whiskey, and while these are two things I like, I don't want them on me right now. Ethan smelled his clothes, and had no choice but to take off his clothes and walk to the bathroom.
After showering, Ethan came out with a towel around his waist. The laughter came from the living room. Siobhan was lying on the sofa watching television. On the table in front of her, there was an open bottle of wine and two full glasses.
When Ethan came out, Siobhan retracted his feet to make room for him.
Ethan sat down heavily, sinking comfortably on the large, soft sofa. He had barely sat down when he got up again to go to the refrigerator. He took out a box of ice cubes.
Siobhan saw him throw cubes into the red wine and murmured:
—Waste.
Ethan sonrió, agitando la copa mientras los cubitos de hielo rodaban en el vino. Tomó un sorbo, encendió un cigarrillo y puso las pantorrillas de Siobhan en su regazo, comenzando a masajearlas suavemente.
De repente, Siobhan sintió una sensación de alivio en las piernas. Después de un día de patrullaje, aunque pasó la mayor parte del tiempo conduciendo, sus músculos estaban tensos.
—No esperaba que Kate se fuera de esa manera. —dijo Siobhan con un suspiro, tomando un sorbo de vino—. La vi ayer, paseando a su perro.
Ethan también se sintió abatido. Aunque la había rescatado, Kate perdió la vida por culpa de su perro. Apretó las manos con fuerza.
—¿Puedes decirme qué sabes sobre Proctor? —preguntó.
Siobhan dejó la copa y cerró los ojos, disfrutando de la presión de los dedos de Ethan.
—When he was young, he was already a big shot in town. The death of Mayor Kendall's father was rumored to be related to him —recalled —. We have tried to catch him several times, but he is always acquitted. The more times we tried, the more arrogant he becomes.
—And now it is acting more and more radically —added Ethan —. If we don't do something, there will be more victims like Kate.
Siobhan opened his eyes, watching television.
—You are right. Whatever happens, we must take some action. We cannot allow Proctor to become more unscrupulous. But I don't know what the Sheriff is going to do.
Ethan shrugged, drinking the glass of already watered wine. He finished what was left and dropped the glass.
Suddenly, his fingers stopped the massage and he looked at the television.
— Does that thing work? —asked.
Siobhan nodded curiously.
Ethan got up quickly, looking for his coat lying on the floor. He pulled out a CD from a clear plastic box.
— What is that? —Siobhan asked, sitting up.
—A gift that gives me a homb during the hoy patrol —sonrió Ethan, putting the disc on the DVD player.
The screen changed, showing a car at full speed on a road. A pretty blonde with twin pigtails showed her sensual figure to the camera. Ethan leaned back on the couch, lighting another cigarette.
Siobhan, initially confused, soon realized what kind of movie it was. He smiled and, with interest, leaned towards Ethan's arms, following the movements on the screen.
All day, Hood was blowing against a police car.
Last night, while remembering Ethan's words, the idea of using his identity as a police officer to send Proctor to jail was still on his mind. The concept seemed simple, but the reality was different. Hood had no idea where to start. Although he had been a sergeant for a long time, the ins and outs of the system remained a mystery to him.
It was frustrating. Hood knew how to patrol the streets, arrest common criminals, follow orders ... but facing someone with so much power and cunning required something else. It was a battle that I felt I was losing before I started. With each passing day without a clear solution, Proctor grew stronger, and the power vacuum around him became more apparent.
Desperate, he decided to ask others for advice.
Dismiss of a mouse, Brock pointed out of the building, bajando las climberas with a glass of eagle in the hand. Hood hesitates for a moment before straightening up and greeting him.
—Brock, do you have time to chat?
Brock opened the car door and left the glass of water inside.
— What's up? I have to go out on patrol —he replied, looking at him askance.
Hood put his hands on his hips, kicking a stone at his feet.
—I was wondering if you could give me any advice on what happened last night.
Brock closed the car door tightly, touching his forehead with his fingers.
—Just tell me.
Hood clasped his hands in front of his chest and solemnly asked:
— Do you think there is any hope that last night's case could turn against Proctor?
Brock shrugged.
—There is no way. Three people died last night and there is no evidence that Proctor ordered them to do so. The Kate Moody thing was just an accident. Let it go, we can't do anything about it.
Hood shook his head, frustrated.
— What would you do if you wanted to take down Proctor?
Brock looked him up and down, evaluating the question.
— What charges would you use to lock him up?
Hood clenched his teeth as he remembered how someone he had been sharing moments with ended up inside a body bag the next day. Although he was only a friend, injustice corroded him.
—Any crime will do, as long as we can condemn it.
Actions against Proctor had failed too many times. Brock, not understanding Hood's plans, asked cautiously:
—I need you to be more specific.
Hood bit his lip.
—Forget it, let's talk about that later.
—Wait a moment.
Brock called him just as he was about to leave.
—Listen, Hood. Proctor controls all criminal activities here, from selling cooking, heroin, pharmaceutical pills, and extortion. We all know that he is involved in it, but the difficult thing is to prove it.
—I know, the district attorney knows that too. Everyone knows it —Hood said, clenching his fists.
—But the problem is that we have never found direct evidence to incriminate him. He always acts from the shadows. If you don't give me more details on what you plan, I can't help you —Brock explained, shrugging — 
Hood watched him open the car door, but before he could get in, he stopped him:
—Wait.
Brock looked at him, expecting something else.
—I'm not hiding anything from you, I really don't know what to do. You are the oldest among us. If you were the Sheriff, what would you do?
Brock stopped his movement and lowered his head thoughtfully. After so many years of hard work at Banshee, all he had ever wanted was to be the Sheriff. Seeing Hood in the position he so longed for had generated great dissatisfaction in him for a time.
—If I were the Sheriff —Brock said, looking up —, I would harass Proctor's properties. I would constantly carry out raids, until we find a defect or any information that we could use.
Hood asintió.
— And where would we start?
Brock smiled slightly.
—Use your brain, or it won't be fun.
With that last answer, Brock got into the car, leaving him alone.
That night, at 62 Raven Street, Ethan stopped the police car on the corner. Siobhan was sitting in the passenger seat, checking her equipment. Ethan rolled down the window, lit a cigarette, and looked at the building in front of them.
Blue fluorescent lights illuminated the outer wall, where a huge poster hung. The parking lot was full of vehicles. It was the first time Ethan had come to Savoy Gentlemen's Club that way, and he couldn't help but laugh at the irony.
Suddenly the radio rang, and Brock's voice rang.
— Ready?
Emmett's voice was also heard by the intercom:
—I'm ready.
Siobhan saw Ethan smoke quietly and, noticing that he had no intention of responding, took the radio with resignation.
—We are ready —he said in a calm voice.
Brock's voice continued on the radio:
—I've been here all night. Proctor's Rolls-Royce left the club half an hour ago. Now is the best time.
He paused and then continued in more detail:
—When we enter, we must control the scene quickly. The main hallway will take you to the dressing room behind the scenes, where all the illegal activities are carried out. There are several private boxes there. When we enter, we will divide. Siobhan, Emmett and I take care of the hallway. Ethan and Hood, you guys go to the bottom. It is understood?
Ethan shook the ash from the cigarette, watching the intercom with a resigned expression. Everything was clear, why so much talk?
Emmett's deep voice echoed again:
—Understood.
With a smile on his lips, Siobhan asked:
— I wonder why you know this place so well?
There was an awkward silence in the intercom, until finally Brock replied, dryly:
—An informant.
Siobhan laughed and Ethan quickly put out the cigarette.
—I'm ready —he finally said, starting the car.
Police cars, with lights on, emerged from various corners around the Savoy's Gentlemen's Club, stopping in front of the building in a display of force. The security guards at the door were stunned, it was the first time that the police arrived that way.
Hood was the first to get out of the car, pushing the guard aside to enter the club directly. Ethan and the rest followed closely.
Upon reaching the box office, the blonde behind the counter stared at them, recognizing Ethan and Brock. Without saying anything, he looked away. As they crossed the soundproof door, the hustle and bustle of the interior enveloped them: loud music, flickering lights, and a crowd celebrating.