I had then walked confidently out of the room and said hello to the woman in the hallway and gotten out of there as quickly as possible without switching over to a run.
The cops had cuffed me as a potential suspect after an eyewitness had placed me at the scene. Now I was sitting in an interrogation room my hands tied behind my back waiting for things to get nasty.
I didn’t have to wait long after the first set of questions my interrogator didn’t waste any time before proceeding to beat me into a bloody pulp. Sure it hurt but I could deal with the pain and the beating meant they didn’t have enough evidence to convict me without a confession. The bastard didn’t even bother asking anymore questions after the first fifteen minutes just kept going until my side was more tenderized than a slab of ground beef.
They let me go saying they’d call me back if they needed me. That was close but I had still gotten away with it. I was standing on a street corner waiting to cross when a man walked up to me. It was the cop! I reached for my gun but realized it wasn’t there and killing a cop was a damn stupid thing to do anyway.
He pulled out an evidence bag, pulled my gun out of it and handed it to me. “You need to stop being so careless because if you go down you’ll drag others with you.” He said in quiet tones. I couldn’t speak. The guy was bought off and had still mussed me up.
“Oh but the way the rough treatment was part my idea part Vicenza’s, just as a reminder as to what happens to those who cease to perform.” He turned around a left leaving the bloodstained gun hanging limply in my hand.