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Post by Derek Jackson on Feb 7, 2014 18:22:53 GMT -6
 It was just another day in the life of a cop for Officer Derek Jackson. He had been in the right place at the right time. Not dressed in his police uniform gave him that extra camouflage. He had technically been off duty, but that didn't mean that he was going to let something illegal take place right before his eyes. So when he saw the end of a drug deal going down, he'd managed to catch the buyer. Unfortunately, not before the dealer got away. And that had made Jack furious. Which meant... he was going to be taking it out on the junkie he was currently holding in the interrogation room. He was letting her sweat, keeping her there in cuffs for the past couple hours. In the meantime, he was convincing his superior to let him take the reins on this interrogation.. alone. He hated partners.
They only got in the way. While the chief agreed, unable to dispute Derek's logic of how this was his case because he had brought her in, he still reminded Derek of the rights she had, and all these other tips that Derek was zoning out. He didn't need interrogation 101; this wasn't his first rodeo. Finally, the man shut up and warned him that he would be watching from the other side. Jackson finally went inside the interrogation room. He wasn't carrying anything in his hand, and he wasn't in his uniform, but rather, the casual clothes he'd arrested her in. He walked up to her, not taking a seat in the chair across from her, but rather, stood right next to her. She was a tiny looking thing as it was, even more so sitting down, so he made sure he was standing over her, towering over her. And that was all he did for the time being: stare.
[Tag: Nemo] |
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Post by Nemo Webb on Feb 8, 2014 16:19:11 GMT -6
Just as planned, Anna was sweating. Sweating it out, to be fair. After rocking on her chair, making noises with her mouth and just plain lying her head on the table, she was now contemplating whether or not she should pick the handcuffs open. Sure, it was probably the stupidest thing to be done in such a situation, but still. It was cold and uncomfortable, and the cops probably liked them for these exact reasons. Just like this friggin room. Cold and uncomfortable. Probably a bit passive-aggressive, too. Damn it! Was it so bad to have bought a little bit of acid? She wasn’t even going to use it in public! Why did it matter so damn much to the authorities that sad little Anna wanted a little sugar cube with a little bit of chemical on it to escape reality?
Also, why did she get caught. That was another question that she would have been delighted to ask the shady character that had escaped the police, that bastard. He had better reflexes than she did… And he was facing the undercover cop, too. She hadn’t even seen him that he had already grabbed a hold of her. Such a monster, that man… Huge, twice her height and width, and a pretty brutal grip too! She could almost still feel the mark of his hand on her wrist where he had grabbed her. Maybe it could bruise… That would earn her street credit.
Anyway. Now that she had been left here to rot for a few hours, she wasn’t sure how she was feeling about all this. She hadn’t been feeling connected to reality for a while, that was for certain. And that was probably the reason why she didn’t feel that scared. One of the few perks of self-destructive habits and depression: she didn’t feel like they could do much to her that she hadn’t done to herself. Prison? At least she would be safe. Fine? She had nothing for them to take. And torture and maiming having been illegal for a few centuries, nothing to fear on that front. It was on that reassuring thought that the undercover police giant finally made his dramatic entrance. Though it probably wasn’t the reaction he was aiming for, she was almost glad to see him. Anything happening sounded better than being left in this room to die. - Heyy, if it isn’t Mister Smiley Man! Love your place. Totally suits you.
Okay… She had expected him to sit, and ask things… Why was he charging her? In spite of her natural attitude, she couldn’t help but have a slight movement of recoil. …Yeah. Got it. He had an animal presence to him, and he used it to intimidate people. He was just trying to perturb her by going against what she thought the interrogation would be like. …Did he have to stare so hard, though?
Trying her best to seem unfazed – but he was a cop, who were we kidding?- Anna looked up at him from the folds of her vast sweater. She was used to people being taller than her, but hell! What was he, a Titan? She had thought people like him only existed in action movies. - Yeaaah, hi.
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Post by Derek Jackson on Feb 8, 2014 23:30:30 GMT -6
Mr. Smiley Man? Who the hell did this chick think she was? Jackson's face held an expression of clear annoyance and displeasure. While he seldom held any friendly expression... he was more irritated than usual. Because the jag off dealer had just managed to escape and Jackson was determined to hunt his ass down. And now he had to deal with a junkie to get information about where she got her goods. Not only that, but it was a junkie with lip which just further annoyed him. He slammed his hand on the table as hard as he could, the loud sound echoing in the otherwise silent interrogation room.
He stood behind her for a moment before stepping to the side so that she could see him, and see how serious he was in his words. His hands rested on the table near her, bracing himself up. "Listen smart ass, I don't give a shit about you." He wanted to make that very clear. That he would leave her in a prison to rot and he wouldn't give it a second thought. "And that's gonna work in your favor," he told her. "Cause the only way you're gonna get out of this mess that you were stupid enough to get into, is by giving me your dealer." That was the big shot he wanted. Not one of his junkies, but the man who was doing the distributing. |
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Post by Nemo Webb on Feb 9, 2014 12:11:00 GMT -6
She nearly jumped. What was wrong with him? Although she had been expecting this type of intimidation techniques from him, it didn’t make it any less startling. Well, at least, he was a bit pissed off, which meant he wasn’t emotionless. She buried her hands in her sleeves, as much as the handcuffs let her, and avoided to look him in the eye. Was it cold in this room, or was it just the tension? His little speech didn’t seem to have much of an effect on her. She briefly took offence at the “smartass” denomination, then chose to be proud of it, rolled her eyes at his threats and pretended to have already known everything he had just said. … Which was partly true. She knew she was of no value to him, and that he already hated her guts big-time. She truly doubted cooperating with Terminator was the only way out, though. She had been found with less than one gram, with clearly no intention of selling: this was still a minor offence. If she played her cards right, she might walk. Or end up in a rehab she didn’t need.
If she was to rat someone out, though… The Glades weren’t the type of neighborhood to tolerate squealers. Especially when you live in an apartment most people would call a squat. Meaning that even if she got out of here, she would find herself homeless and probably get beaten up real good too. She took a deep inspiration, brought her knees under her chin and rested her head on them. Oh shit. Fetal position, really? Could she get any more transparent? She remained silent for a few seconds, her face frozen in a sullen expression. She didn’t really want to go to prison or get her face demolished. Seemed like a dead end. To be honest, even if the word didn’t get out, going back to her life of scheduled acid trips and depression didn’t seem like a blast either.
Finally serious – or at least sounding like she was – she muttered:
- You know I couldn’t help you if I wanted to. And I don’t want to.
She lifted her head from her knees to finally look at his face.- Come on, you know the drill. If I tell you what I know – assuming I know something helpful, which is your assumption, not mine, they will smash my face out. You might not be the most reassuring cop ever, but at least I know you can’t murder me. For the first time since the beginning, she glanced at the back wall. It could be a one-way mirror, for all she knew. The guy that was interrogating her didn’t seem like the most temperate of men, so he probably had a superior, right? In TV series, someone was always watching from the other side. It was a huge bluff to pull, but she had nothing to lose, besides looking like an idiot, and considering he had already categorized her as delinquent junkie… Amidst the diffuse fear and the uncertainty, Anna couldn’t help but find the exercise interesting. It was the first time she had this kind of mental Ping-Pong with a member of the police force. True, her words sometimes stumbled on each other, her voice shook, her hands shivered in their sleeves. But in itself, the tension, the blows, the intimidation… It had a certain ring to it. Even was a little fun, if you excluded the "completely terrifying" aspect.
So why did she still feel so damn lonely? |
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Post by Derek Jackson on Feb 9, 2014 14:34:32 GMT -6
She told him that she couldn't help him if she wanted to... and she didn't want to. The fact that he was going to have to talk to her more, annoyed him. He didn't exactly have the patience for this kind of interrogation where someone was being a wise ass, especially someone like her. Maybe this was why his superior didn't want him leading the interrogation, but he didn't care. He was here and he was going to do whatever it took to get the guy he was going after. "If you think I give a damn about what you want, then you're stupid than I thought." She was looking at him, making eye contact... meant she was gonna be stubborn. She changed the way she was seated, and Jackson hoped it was less comfortable for her. Her next words were just fueling his already building anger, acting as if she was pointing out the obvious, reminding him of things. At least she didn't think him reassuring... even if that was saracasm. And then it was her last words that cause his attention. She knew that he couldn't murder her. It was true that if she went back on the street, and if people knew she was a rat, she was as good as dead. But that wasn't his problem. Which was why one of the first things he'd said to her why he didn't give a shit about her. He wasn't the kind of cop who was going to offer her protection. He was the kind who was going to put the fear of God into her.
He leaned forward a bit, keeping his voice low to add a certain threat and menace to it. The intimidation wasn't in the volume of the words, but rather the tone and the content. "You act like murder is the worst thing I can do you," he began to say. "Let me clue you in on something, it ain't." And even if she didn't ask, he would elaborate. "I will send your ass to prison, and a tiny, wimpy, pretty little thing like you... what do you think they're gonna do to you in there?" He asked, letting her imagination answer the question. He leaned toward her even more. "I will make sure you get a cell mate who knows exactly how to treat girls like you." Again, let her imagination take those words in. He leaned even more, speaking near her ear now. "There are worst things than death, and I will make sure you live them." He would ensure she was in a position where she would be tortured and abused, physically, mentally, emotionally... he wasn't above doing that. All he needed to do was get her in the right prison and with the right cell-mate. There were things a woman could fear more than death, and that was what he was reminding her of, because those kinds of things, were what changed you forever. |
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Post by Nemo Webb on Feb 9, 2014 16:20:12 GMT -6
She was shaking like a leaf. It may not show under her huge sweater, and she hoped it didn’t, but she could feel every fiber of her body shivering. … Interesting. Despite feeling mostly in control of herself and able to analyze the situation, it appeared she was actually completely petrified by fear. Not that it was a shameful thing; who wouldn’t be? That cop guy, he had crazy eyes. Not just the eyes, actually, he had crazy everything. Probably had some anger issues, too: what good would it do him to make sure she was miserable if he wasn’t going to profit from it? Complete psycho. The closer he came to her, the harder her heart beat in its cage. Could it be love? Nah, probably just plain old fear and disgust. She tried not to hear what he said, but the words still slithered through to her mind. Yeah… That was true. What she had right now in life was a total void, but wouldn’t complete despair be worse than nothing at all? She wasn’t sure. Would she feel anything? …She probably would. Why did she have to be the owner of such a vivid imagination? She could almost feel what he was talking about.
For a while, she looked defeated. Had the face of the terrified kid that, in truth, she was. Staring at the wall in front of her like it was about to kill her, she looked on the verge of crying. She was five again, and the big man, he had said that she needed to tell him everything. Her mouth hesitated. - I …
Context. She needed context again. Where was she? Why was she so scared? She breathed deeply. All these threats, that she could feel shaking in her bones, they… They weren’t real. They weren’t real right now, they were just words. Okay, okay, context. There was the prison, and this hellish guy, and all the imagery that could fuel a lifetime of nightmares. But there was something else as well… She struggled to get a grip of herself. The Glades, the Glades and the guy she barely knew who sold her the sugar cubes… There! A sudden realization made her shift in her seat, and her face finally relaxed as she went on: - I don’t think you ever lived in the Glades.
God was it good to be back in the game. It was paradoxical, but remembering that both perspectives were equally horrific had helped snap out of the trance she had been on. It made the whole thing rhetorical again. And the slight humor she had injected in that line, too! For a few eternal seconds, she thought she would never be able to get snarky again. - You think drug dealers are above everything you just described? Federal prison or the streets, it’s one and the same.
She crossed her arms, making the handcuffs jingle. This was getting nowhere, and she knew she would tire before he did… Though he didn’t seem very patient. But still, he was a professional all the same, and for all her stubbornness, it was an uneven fight from the start in any case. If she was to get out of this nightmare, she needed to focus on what he wanted. The reason why he had her in the first place, and her only value to him. - This is pointless. If you go on with your idea of out-scaring the drugs cartel, you’ll get nothing.
Where did she find all these sudden guts? For a depressed substance addict, she found herself pretty hardcore, holding her own against the most hardass cop she had ever met or seen in fictional work. This realization made her bolder, and she went on, stating a fact: - You need to bargain with me.
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