A/N: As previously stated, I have changed the rating to M. As in, "Mature Audiences." Please, people. I won't spoil the plot, but it's going to get bad. You won't like it. Trust me, just turn back while you still can.

It was quiet at the station. It made sense to Spinner that would be the case; Handler's Corners was a small, nothing little town. The desert to the east and the salt flats to the west were even less populous, making for a very sparse county. Few residents meant little crime, and not much to keep the sheriff busy. Having such a terrible act of violence occur in this jurisdiction must have been appalling.

Spinner gave a detailed account of his adventures in Totem Corners, recalling every name he had been given and every instance he checked a clock. Sunday had been very busy indeed.

"Well, I'll have to check the security tapes from the Tipsy Roadrunner, but you said you went straight to Dragon's Wing Gaming after that?"

Spinner nodded fervently. "Right there, honest injun. I worked out some details with Mr. Drake, and then we played D&D for six hours with Kitty, Tag, and Bink."

"Tag Castelucci and Binky Ford?" he asked. Well, there went all hopes of finally busting those two chuckleheads. Tag and Bink were well known to have issues with Lloyd; they were the next most likely suspects. But if Spinner's alibi checked out, and he had just alibied those two…

"Yeah, those are the guys."

"They were with you the whole time?"

"Yeah."

This was not entirely accurate. Spinner had been there forty five minutes before Tag and Bink showed up, but had been too distracted to notice. The poor guy had no idea what he was saying, or how badly this misinformation would mess with his life.

The sheriff sighed. "Would you like to make an official statement on your whereabouts that night?"

"Anything to help, Sheriff Johnson. Lloyd's a jerk, but he didn't deserve something so awful."

The front door of the station swung open, closing a moment later, and Spinner looked up. The man who had just walked in had the same uniform as Sheriff Johnson except for the badge; while the sheriff's was gold, his was silver. He was around the same age as the sheriff, but he was taller and leaner and had an all-around friendlier air about him. The kind smile right beneath his grey, grandfatherly moustache seemed to reassure the world that, 'Yes, I aim to serve and protect, thank ya, ma'am.'

"Bubba Johnson, what the hell're you doin' here?"

"I work here, Roy," the sheriff said in annoyance.

"Aw, that ain't what I meant an' you know it," he shot back, rolling his eyes. "You were supposed to meet Annabeth for dinner."

"Working the Lloyd Carter case. She'll have to understand."

Roy smiled sympathetically. "Bubba, you know you work too hard. Annabeth ain't gonna wait around for you forever. One day you'll look up from your desk and she'll be gone. Go an' meet yer wife. I can handle this little fella." He smiled warmly at Spinner. "Whatcha say, kiddo? You fixin' to give me any trouble?"

"No, sir," Spinner meekly replied. This guy seemed pretty nice, and much less intimidating than the sheriff. If he were handling the gamer'

Sheriff Johnson was not the kind of man to shirk his responsibilities, but Roy's words rang true. His marriage had been rather strained as of late, with the Sheriff always patrolling so diligently and Annabeth putting in such long hours as the District Attorney. She could only be so patient… Eventually the sheriff sighed, shaking his head. "Alright, alright, I'm going."

"Go on, you! Get!" the deputy said, grinning as his boss and friend left.

"Thanks a million, Roy," Sheriff Johnson said, walking out the door. "I owe you one."

"Enjoy your dinner, Bubba!"

Once he had waved the sheriff goodbye, Roy clapped his hands together and regarded Spinner with a pleasant smile.

"Hey there, now," he greeted. "I'm Deputy Roy Cash. Let's see…according to Bubba's notes, you're 'Spinner' Cortez; interesting nickname, Ulysses."

Spinner's ears turned red and he sank into his chair, grateful they were alone. The friendly deputy chuckled.

"Nothing to be ashamed of there, son. Bubba's real name is Eugene." He winked. "No priors, moved in from out of state, only family in town's your brother. You seem like a real nice boy, Spinner. So tell me something here—how'd you get mixed up in this mess?"

"It's all there in the notes!" he snapped, still sore about the use of his birth name.

"Well, I'd be much obliged to hear it from you, son," Roy said gently, his expression of genuine concern. "Bubba can be awfully hard-headed sometimes, and I wouldn't want to miss anything on account of him already deciding you're guilty. He means well, but…"

Roy shrugged.

'Clearly,' Spinner thought, 'This is a country bumpkin rendition of good-cop-bad-cop.' Deputy Cash was only being nice so Spinner would confess.

"I was going to play some games at Dragon's Wing when Lloyd tried to grab me," he carefully repeated for what felt like the millionth time. "He'd already twisted my arm and threatened me a few hours earlier, so I thought he was going to try again."

"Were you scared?"

"I was angry," Spin corrected. "I knew I could take him, he had the fat lip to prove it. Why was he wasting my time? I smacked him a good one. I saw he hit his head when he fell, but I didn't even think about it. I just walked away."

"That could explain the concussion," Cash muttered. "I'll have the M.E. look into it. You say you walked away?"

"I walked right to Dragon's Wing Gaming." He paused sulking. "I saw he hit his head. He was down for the count and I just left him."

"You were angry, son. You weren't thinking straight. Lloyd brings that out in people."

"But if someone grabbed him while he was helpless it was my fault!"

"The investigation's only just started. Lloyd'll recover and we'll find out who did this. Everything'll work out just fine, you'll see." Deputy Cash smiled and changed the subject. "So, did you have a nice time?"

Spinner blinked. "What?"

"Playing with the other kids. Did you have fun?"

"Yeah, it was awesome," Spin told him, trying to sound enthusiastic. "Strider's really nice and he keeps everyone in line. All the players get way into character and goof around. Tag and Bink are so cool and they said they wanted me to come hang out with them again later in the week. And I'm pretty sure Kitty likes me!"

"Heheh, that certainly sounds like a good time. You seem happy. Hell, I remember in the eighties when everybody was all, 'Dungeons & Dragons is Satan worship!' I always knew that was bullshit. Ain't nothin' wrong with a little fantasy."

Spinner rolled his eyes. "Augh, yeah. It's the same thing with people saying video games cause violence. It's ridiculous!"

"Well, it sounds like you're livin' fairly well. How about your brother? Are you and him getting along okay?"

"Yeah. We have a great time working for Spectra Motors."

He raised his eyebrows. "The Wheelers' company?"

"We're very lucky. Sherman's a brilliant engineer and he loves his job. Vert's been good to us."

The deputy was quiet for a moment, and his hand moved involuntarily to a small scar on his neck. He frowned.

Spinner had only just remembered what Madame Wise Raven had told him about Vert's mother, and he wondered, was Roy Cash the man she had spoken of? "It's a really friendly atmosphere. We're all very close," he said softly.

Cash smiled, leaning forward.

"Y'know, Spinner," he said, scooting a little closer. "You look a lot younger than nineteen. You wouldn't be dumb enough to try and slip me a fake ID, would you? That carries a mighty hefty fine."

Spinner shook his head. "No, sir! I'll be twenty in November! Really!"

"Hmph. Well, I could see that brother of yours, but you?"

"Sherman and I are fraternal twins. I'm older by three hours!"

"You're kidding. With that adorable baby face?"

Spinner looked around, confused. "What?"

Deputy Cash gently caressed the wary gamer's face, smiling in that same grandfatherly way. Spinner held stock still, suddenly very uneasy.

"No, I think you look much younger…"

"If you don't have any more questions," Spinner nervously stammered, "I need to get back to the garage."

"Stay a spell and talk with me. I can give you a ride back."

"Thanks, that's okay. I really should get going," Spinner said, heading for the door. Deputy Cash blocked his way. The elder Cortez cringed as Cash grabbed hold of his bony wrist, dragging him back into the office and closing the door.

"You ain't going nowhere, boy," he growled, pushing Spinner down onto the desk. He strangled the young man, both hands around his throat. Spinner thrashed and gasped, trying desperately to get away, but Cash was too strong. He switched to a headlock and held the gamer tighter, bruising his arms and squeezing poor Spinner's windpipe shut. The slight young man lost consciousness.

Spinner Cortez awoke to crushing pain and a cool breeze, his wrists held down above his head against the surface of the desk. Glancing about dazedly, he could see some clothing strewn about the office. He was scared, and confused. Had he been answering questions? It took a moment to register what was happening as fresh oxygen returned his brain, making him fully conscious once more. Once the gamer realized what was causing the pain, and who was undressing him with one hand and using the other to pin him down, he cried out and struggled to free himself.

"Two for flinching!" Cash called, laughing at the gamer's fright. He slapped the young man's bare buttocks, holding him down as he wailed. "You go on and scream all you want, boy. No one's gonna hear ya."

"P-lease stop!" Spinner begged, tears rolling down his face. "Don't hurt me! Just let me go! Please! I promise I won't tell anybody!"

"Oh, you ain't tellin' anyone regardless," Deputy Cash insisted, bending him over the desk.

Not telling anyone? Once this psycho had his way with the computer geek, he was a dead man! Spinner had to get out of there! The young man scrambled over the desk with his pants around his ankles, trying to dress as he ran. He made it just barely out of the office door before he tripped and the deputy pulled him back. Cash growled, punching Spinner in the stomach. The air left the hacker's lungs and he curled up into a ball. Cash picked him up and laid him out lengthwise on the desk, on his back so he could see his face.

"So young," he moaned, leaning into him.

Spinner screamed.

The hacker struggled to free himself from the searing pain, but Deputy Cash's bone crushing grip held his wrists down. His hips were pinned to the desk. The more he thrashed, the harder Cash bucked into him. He kept whimpering, begging for Deputy Cash to stop, but after a while, Spinner just lay there and took it. He never stopped crying, and it never stopped hurting, but he just had no fight left in him.

Deputy Cash slowed, scowling. "Aw, why'd you stop? It's more fun if you push back."

Spinner sobbed and looked away. That only served to anger the deputy further. Cash grabbed his hair and yanked, turning the gamer's head so he had to look at him.

"Pay attention, dammit. I took valuable time outta my day for this."

Spinner squealed in pain and terror, forced to watch the cruel face of his attacker. He would never forget the look in Deputy Cash's eyes when he came.

Spinner sat rigidly in the passenger's seat of the police cruiser, staring straight ahead. He hurt everywhere. He had intense aches and stabbing pain in places he had not even known he had. But rather than whine and complain as was usually his nature, he stared straight at the setting sun and said nothing. He was too surprised. Members of the Sheriff's Department were sworn to serve and protect. People in authority were supposed to be safe to be around. Humans were not evil like Red Sentients, Vandals, or Sark, yet here he was, getting a ride home from his…his…he could not even think it. What was going on? How had he gotten here?

"Now, don't think for a second about tellin' anybody what happened," said Deputy Cash. "Nobody will ever believe you. It's your word against mine, and I'm an officer of the law. Even if you do say anything, I can just make it all go away. Get it?"

Spinner bit his lower lip and stifled a sob, tears rolling down his face.

Cash chuckled. "You don't sound too convinced. Maybe we should go back to the station and talk about this some more?"

"I-I won't say a thing."

"Because no one would believe you anyway," Cash repeated smugly.

"Please, just take me to the garage."

The deputy gave an amused smile. "That's as good a place as any to discuss things."

Spinner inwardly cringed. 'Please, let the team be in the garage. Please, let them be aboveground and not on the test track. Please don't let them be at the diner.' He was paralyzed with fear at the thought of being alone with Deputy Cash a single moment longer than was required, unable to blink until he saw the saber. He let out a breath he had not realized he was holding as Vert waved hello and the cruiser came to a stop. Spinner wiped his eye, forced a smile, and hopped out, dashing to the blonde's side despite the burning pain that coursed through his body.

"Thanks for the ride, Deputy Cash! Bye!"

"Wait a minute, Cortez!" he barked, and the gamer winced, freezing up. "Don't forget what we talked about," he said sternly.

"N-no, sir," said Spinner. "I won't forget."

"We may need to bring you in again as new evidence surfaces," he said with that godforsaken grandfatherly smile, as if he had not just brutalized an innocent young man. "Keep cooperating, and don't leave town. You got that?"

Spinner nodded and hoped to God he was not shaking. Once the cruiser had pulled away, he sighed with relief and ran a hand through his hair. But suddenly the gamer jumped in terror at the leader of the Battle Force 5 touching his shoulder.

"Whoa, hey, easy!" Vert chuckled. "How'd it go at the station?"

Spinner whimpered, anxious to run. "Not that great."

The blonde's eyes became very serious. "Spin, I know you're a good guy and you didn't do it. But you have to be very careful what you say during the investigation doesn't compromise the team's secret. Can you do that?"

"I only told them what I was doing that night. You guys barely even came up."

"They'll get this cleared up before you know it, Spinner," Vert said, his smile returning. "Everything'll be just fine. You'll see."

Spinner was very quiet for a moment. "Yeah. Fine."

Vert raised an eyebrow as Spinner practically sprinted for the elevator.

Spinner ignored the greetings and questions of his friends, rushing past them and straight to the showers. He threw his clothes into the hamper and scrubbed himself under the scalding hot water for what felt like a year, and still was not nearly clean enough. The laughing would not go away, nor would the pain. Sweet Jesus, the pain. He dared hardly even to blink; every time he closed his eyes the bruises throbbed, and he felt like Cash was there with him. He needed to go to the games room. He needed to get his mind off of what happened. He needed to forget. He needed to feel like he was not a victim.

He needed to shoot someone.

He was the terror of his clan, the infamous TijuanaGenius. He had unlocked every achievement, held the record for fastest speed runs on every stage, and maximized his kill ratio beyond what anyone else had. He imagined every player on the server quaking with fear as he logged on, whispering over the channel when they saw his tag, warning all the n00bs to duck and cover. But still he could not find that toothy grin of manic glee that should have felt so familiar. He only became colder and more frustrated as the hours passed. He grew tired of racking up headshots in Modern Warfare 2 and instead stalked opponents with a knife, but even this did nothing to reduce his stress. Spinner eventually quit, throwing down his controller in disgust. He hung his head, covering his face with both hands in the darkened room.

He was alone. He was hurt. He seethed with rage and pain and tears unshed. No matter how he tried, the gamer could not forget what had been done to him. He closed his eyes and he could hear Deputy Cash laughing at him.

No one will ever believe you…

The whole time, he had been so helpless. The feelings he thought he had worked through on Sunday came crashing back. He was small, pathetic, and weak; everywhere he went, there would always be someone stronger to exploit that.

…I'm an officer of the law.

This man—this heartless monster with a badge had perverted his oath to serve and protect. He had abused his power and hurt Spinner. How dare he? The deputy had no idea who he was dealing with. He was a genius hacker of unparalleled ability. Thanks to years of video games, he knew weapons systems and battle strategy better than anyone. He was fighting to save the multiverse from violent scum worse than that crooked cop could imagine. He had weapons and ammo at his disposal. Vengeance would only take an hour or so under cover of darkness. The rest of the BF5 would never have to know. He would just have to make sure he got the drop on Deputy Cash, him being so much stronger than the elder Cortez. But…

…yOu aIn'T gOiNg NoWhErE bOy…

Spinner started to shake as he heard those terrible words again, clapping his hands over his ears and whimpering. He nearly succeeded in calming himself, too, until he felt something brush against his shoulder. He sat bolt upright and screamed.

"Bro, it's just me!" Sherman pulled his hand away, startled. "Is everything okay?"

Spinner opened his mouth to say something and then closed it, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. He simply could not do it; he could not bring himself to say the words. "I'm fine. What time is it?"

"It's almost three in the morning. Aren't you coming to bed?"

"I'm not really tired."

"You look like you're about to keel over, Spin." Sherman furrowed his eyebrows, sitting down next to his brother, all too conscious of the manner in which he scooted further away. When he finally spoke, his voice was very quiet. "Spin…what happened at the station today?"

"Nothing happened," he snapped defensively.

"Spinner, you're my brother and I love you," Sherman insisted. "But if you're in trouble, I need to know. This Lloyd guy—there are a lot of people saying you fought him on Sunday, and more saying he's probably going to die. Now, I know you wouldn't do something like that…on purpose…but if he upset you enough—we all have our limits and if you were pushed too far, I understand. But we need to come up with a strategy that—"

Spinner abruptly stood up with a very strained smile. "You know what? I think it's time we got our own rooms."

"Spinner—"

"Even if we forget for a second that you should know me better than that and that I would never drag a guy into the desert and break his fucking legs," Spinner snarled, rounding on his younger brother, "It's a logistical impossibility that I had anything to do with that! I was on foot and went immediately somewhere else! I have an alibi that will check out. There's no way I could have taken Lloyd that far out onto the salt flats and gotten back that fast! Christ, bro, I can't believe you think I'm guilty! Have a little faith!"

"Well, things look pretty bad, is all…"

"Fuck off, Sherman!"

He wished, just this once, that the base had simple wooden doors suitable for slamming, and not those gently closing steel airlock style doors like something out of Star Trek. Under the right circumstances, the dramatic effect of a slamming door could be downright therapeutic.