Nothing's okay.

Wuntch circling me like a shark frenzied by chum; the task force, turning into a career-threatening quagmire; an internal affairs investigation casting doubt upon my integrity.

And you ask, "is everything okay?"

I am buffeted by the winds of my foes' enmity and cast about by the towering waves of cruel fate. Yet I, a captain, am no longer able to command my vessel ~my precinct~ from my customary helm ~my office~.

And you ask, "is everything okay?"

I've worked the better part of my years on earth overcoming every prejudice and fighting for the position I hold. And now I feel it being ripped from my grasp, and with it, the very essence of what defines me as a man .

And you ask, "is everything okay?"