Lockup

Maybe it was because she had spent the day and night there, but the once familiar interior of the downtown lockup began to take on a smothering feel.

Kate Connors had so far refrained from chewing at her fingernails, but the small, six-by-eight foot holding cell didn't offer much else to keep her occupied, and pacing its length had run its course by early yesterday afternoon. So did sitting on the cot and trying to think about what was happening. Taking a nap was only going to make her more tired, and that was if she could even sleep with her head racing as it was. The temptation to start chewing was looking more and more appealing by the second.

She sighed and ran a hand over her hair as she logged yet another pace across the cell. Another nervous habit: there was just the feeling of having to move, to be active whenever something got her adrenaline running. Her usually smooth, pristine bun was starting to fray from her constant attention to it, and again, her fingers twitched, nails rubbing together. The irritation of rubbing their edges together felt good, but she couldn't sink back into that habit. Not after dealing with sore fingertips and bloodied nails for so long after the academy, and after finally having a measure of stability in her life.

…or rather, what she used to have.

If they hadn't taken her gloves, she would have put them back on to deter the chewing urge further. Of course, they had taken all of her equipment, save for the CPF uniform off of her back, as per standard criminal processing procedure. She felt strangely light without her belt; no sidearm, extra magazines, no pepper spray, baton, or handcuffs. Worst of all was the lightness high on her breast, where her silver badge was once pinned. No The People We Serve, The City We Protect to herald her presence anymore. She was just a woman in a uniform now, not a cop.

There were other distractions that came every few hours, but they were very short lived. Cell doors slamming, officers talking, even a few rare shouts or scuffles with an inmate. The buzz of a cell door, the clang of metal on metal, but it was usually only sounds that took her attention away. She was at the end of the block, and the cell across from her was empty, so there wasn't much traffic past her it. That only made the time go by even more slowly.

She completed another pace, then turned and started another as her thoughts went to how her life unraveled over the last thirty-six hours. The cops that had arrested her had taken only a brief statement before they locked her up, and it was more of an administration thing than anything else. No one from homicide had interviewed her, no one came to update her on the investigation. Granted, it was still early, but it would be obvious to anyone who viewed the security feed that she didn't shoot Pope. With the surveillance system the city had authority over that would have been the first thing they checked!

No, something was wrong, she just knew it in her gut. She was starting to worry that Faith was right, that she was being set up. Otherwise, it wouldn't have taken this long to clear her name. But who would want to set her up for Pope's murder? That was the part she couldn't figure out. The number of high profile incidents and arrests she was involved in was practically zero; no raids on drug kingpins, no organized crime takedowns, nothing beyond petty crimes, domestic disputes, and the occasional traffic incident. Her life as an officer of the CPF hadn't been the most thrilling so far.

Miller hadn't come in to see her yet, either, which spooked her almost as much as everything else. Why wouldn't her own superior come down and see her, if not to get some facts, to try and keep up her spirits? At first she thought that Faith wouldn't go to him because of record, but even if she didn't, he would have to come see her eventually. He wouldn't abandon her like that. Not Miller.

In the end, she just dropped to the cot with a defeated sigh and sat on her hands. There wasn't anything she could do inside a cell. Thinking in circles wasn't going to help her. It was going to drive her insane, and as soon as she started chewing her nails, she would really lose it.

A door clanged open at the end of the cell block, and then footsteps sounded on the concrete floor. A few unpleasant words were muttered from some of the inmates: pig, Blue, and plenty of expletives. The footsteps came closer, until an officer stepped into view. Kate was a little surprised to recognize Joshua Harris, an old acquaintance about her age from the academy. Upon seeing him, she remembered that she'd heard he had been working in lockup for a while.

She offered him a small, friendly smile. "Hey Josh, haven't seen you in a while. How's it been?"

He quickly looked away, almost like he was ashamed of something. "…been fine. Just…busy." He looked over his shoulder. "Open 'er up," he called to the guard station down the hall.

The door buzzed, then slid open, allowing Josh to step in. He locked eyes with her, and though she maintained her smile, he looked away again towards the corner of the cell. She hadn't seen Josh in a few years, but their paths crossed every once in a while. He was always friendly, and would always chat her up to catch up with old times. A chill ran up Kate's spine as her smile faltered; he'd never been this distant to her before. Was he like this because she was accused for murder?

"Sounds like, uh, they want to have a few words with you, Kate," he said. Everything he said was aimed at her shoes. "So, you know…"

She sighed, but lifted her wrists willingly. "Standard procedure, yeah, I know." She even worked in a little eye roll. "Formalities, right? Gotta love 'em."

He slipped his handcuffs from his belt and clipped them onto her wrists without so much as a chuckle in reply. Instinctively, she flexed her arms and pulled against them, but there was no way she was going to break solid steel. She'd been in them once, for training, and now had been locked on twice since yesterday morning. Each time felt worse than the last.

Josh helped her up by the arm to lead her outside the cell, then waved to the guard to close the cell door again.

"How's your wife doing?" Kate asked. He got married last year, but working a string of double shifts made her miss the wedding.

He was gentle when he took her by the upper arm, walking her to the end of the cell block. The butt of his palm was clammy from where it touched the white undershirt beneath her uniform and a patch of skin. "She's, uh, doing good. She's…fine."

Again, he just looked straight ahead after a nervous glance towards her. That chill in her spine intensified, and she decided that maybe she should stop trying to make small talk. Something wasn't right, and whatever it was, it was making Josh look like he'd seen a ghost.

"Hey, Blue," called a voice from a cell to her right. It was a thuggish-looking middle-aged man, leaning against the bars of his cell. He was leering at her as they passed. "Hope they let me have a piece of that tight ass when they lock you up."

Kate swallowed back a wave of revulsion as she looked away, her face suddenly hot. She didn't imagine Josh's tug become a little more urgent when the inmate chuckled. He looked pale, almost sickly, and for once, she felt the same way.

Once out of the cell block, she was able to relax a little as the scenery turned a little friendlier. Concrete halls gave way to office corridors, then the operations floor, with officers going by on their daily business, the air buzzing with activity, ringing phones, radios, and voices. Kate looked down, a tinge of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. She had worked with some of the cops they passed on the way to the interview rooms down the hall. Now they saw her being paraded around in cuffs, without her gear or her badge. It was humiliating.

However, when she looked up, she saw a few new faces, but oddly enough, she didn't think they were cops. At first she thought they were just civilians at the station for some reason or other, and then she realized they were all dressed the same. Black fatigues and black shirts. Most of them even had similar haircuts, and all of them looked pretty built, like soldiers. Some were even carrying sidearms.

They progressed down the hall, passing a few of the interview rooms until they stopped at one. As Josh fumbled with the lock, she saw another one of the black-clad men ushering a cop out of the neighboring observation room. Kate locked eyes with her; she was a young, pretty woman with a head of blond hair. When she saw Kate, her bright eyes widened slightly, and she glanced quickly to the man. His only response was a firm hand on her back, guiding her down the hall towards operations.

The chill in her back turned cold.

She was about to ask Josh just what was going on with the new people when he took her by the arm again to lead her into the room. He wasn't rough, but it caught her off guard and tripped her up on her own feet, sending her into a little stumble, but he caught her. The interview room was almost featureless; bare walls trimmed in green with bright fluorescent lights. There was a single table and a couple of chairs, with a large one-way mirror set in the wall.

He pulled out the chair for her, set her in it, and then left quickly, all the while never looking her straight in the eye or saying a single word.

The door shut behind Josh, and the buzz of the outside hall faded. The air had a muted feel to it, cork lining on the walls and ceiling making it completely soundproof. There was no echo, making the air heavy, and pressing.

Kate put her head in her hands, trying to shake away that claustrophobic feeling. She had hoped getting out of the cell would make her feel a little better, but all she had done was traded one cramped cage for another. A brightly lit, spotless cage with a one-way mirror to look into. She stared hard at it, wondering if someone was staring back. Usually, it was herself looking in, watching Miller or a detective shake down a suspect or criminal. Being on the other side with no backup was unsettling.

At least she looked presentable. Frayed, but presentable.

It was a few minutes later when the door opened again. Her first hope was Miller, or at the very least, a familiar face. What she was greeted with instead were two unfamiliar people: a short, somewhat rounded man in a navy suit with graying hair who looked like he might have been a detective, only she didn't recognize him, and a tall, thickly-built man with a military-style crew cut. He was wearing the same uniform as the ones out in the hall, featureless black combat pants and matching muscle shirt.

The taller of the two shut the door behind them, and the first man took a seat across from Kate at the table. She eyed him warily, glancing to the other one. He stayed near the door, arms folded across his chest and stared her down. She looked away quickly.

"Who're you?" she asked the man in the suit.

"My name is Derek Kruger, Officer Connors," he said crisply, folding his hands in front of him on the table. "I'm the Chief Executive Officer of Pirandello/Kruger Private Security."

"Private security?" she asked dubiously. "What are you doing in a CPF jail? This is city property."

"We are here to bolster city security," Kruger replied cryptically, then eyed her with an air of accusation. "After all, how do you expect the CPF to do their job if one of their officers is a murderer?"

Kate's cheeks burned red hot. Her hands clenched on the metal surface of the table in their shackles. "I didn't kill Pope!" she yelled.

"You were caught with a smoking gun, Connors," he replied, unfazed by her outburst. "I don't need to have the picture painted in front of me to know what it looks like."

She glared at him and just clenched her teeth. He couldn't just accuse her without evidence, but getting riled up wasn't going to solve anything. It would be obvious to homicide when they reviewed the evidence, or rather, lack of evidence. That didn't explain, however, why Kruger and private security were talking with her and not the homicide detectives.

"If you're private security, you just can't sit there and accuse me," she said, calming her voice with some difficulty. "Especially when this case is already being handled by the city. Why are you really here?"

"I'll be asking the questions," he stated firmly, opening the file in front of him and paging through it. "I'm really not interested in how or why you killed Pope. What I am interested in is this."

He took out a photo from the file, spun it on the table so that it faced her right side up, then pushed it towards her. Kate's heart skipped a beat. It was a snapshot from somewhere in Pope's office, Faith clearly centered on it in mid sprint. It was a little blurry, but she could still make out her features, notably her unique digital tattoos.

"Who is she?" Kruger demanded.

She blinked once, hoping that the lingering blush in her cheeks from before hid the second one as it formed. "I don't know."

Make eye contact. Try not to blink. Don't act nervous. She listed the tells in her head, trying to make her answer sound genuine. Thinking about them only made them harder not to do.

"She was seen just outside of Pope's office by some of the officers that apprehended you," he said, then eyed her dubiously. "Munitions logs show that officers fired several hundred small-caliber rounds at her as she fled the scene just outside of Pope's office. She also neutralized two officers several blocks over at Centurion Plaza before vanishing."

"So? I heard the shots SWAT fired…there wasn't much I could do while I was being apprehended. I was alone with Pope, so I didn't see her."

"And you're not in the least bit curious as to how this woman might have been involved?"

"I already told my side of the story," Kate snapped. "I blacked out, and when I woke up, Pope was dead, and someone had tampered with my weapon. I can't explain why she was there, or what she was doing." Her eyes narrowed. "Why don't you just check the surveillance footage? It should show the whole scene. You'd be able to see that someone else shot him."

Kruger gave a wry smile, then turned a page in the file. "Odd that you should bring that up. Footage is conveniently missing from the time you were with Robert Pope. This picture was taken from the feed shortly after it came back up, which leads me to my next question: your mother was Erika Connors, correct?"

Kate swallowed hard, the memories of her mother rushing through her head. Memories of smoke-filled streets, burning fires, screams, and chaos. The sensation of being pressed against from dozens, if not hundreds of people in an attempt to flee gas and rubber bullets. They were the last memories she had of her.

"What does my mother have to do with any of this?"

"She was an MIT graduate, majored in computer sciences." Kruger turned a page, skimming the details on it. Kate could make out that it was all about her mother. "She also worked for the city, often times on electronics and computer systems…much like those that maintain the city surveillance network."

"And?" she asked, but she already knew what he was going to say.

"And, she was married to Abraham Connors, a known activist in Libertas, so I'm sure she had plenty of knowledge, and motive, to get in and tamper with a simple network of security cameras. She might have even taught things like this to her daughter, who also participated in Libertas activity."

"Yeah, I went to a few marches," Kate admitted dryly. "A few peaceful marches, and my mom didn't teach me, or anyone, how to hack into a security network or conduct cyber-espionage. That's ridiculous."

She held herself steady, speaking from the heart. She knew the tactic. He was trying to get a rise out of her, to try and trick her into saying something stupid by bringing up her mom. She was pissed, yes, but she wasn't going to let some thug from the private sector push her around because he had special permission. Especially when it came to her mother. What was done was done, and anyone talking about, or spitting on, her character and personality wasn't going to change anything.

Kruger leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands across his stomach. "Well, you'll have to excuse me because I'm seeing a perfect motive here. Pope was the head of Libertas, and your father and mother willingly followed his efforts. They participated in the November Riots, where she was killed. I'd imagine you'd want some measure of revenge against the man who all but orchestrated her death."

Her lips twisted in another snarl, but she held her temper. "Pope didn't kill my mom! I was a kid back then, and that protest was supposed to be peaceful. He was a family friend, and I didn't kill—"

"As I said, Officer Connors," he interrupted, leaning forward, "I will leave it to homicide to determine your guilt. The fact is that you have a known background with a criminal organization that acted against this cities authority. An unknown suspect appears on the scene within almost the same time frame as Robert Pope's death, where you were also found with the weapon that killed him." He tapped the photo of Faith again. "I know you're connected to her in some way. Who is she?"

The cogs in Kate's head turned for a minute. Something wasn't clicking. He was coming off as all but sure of her guilt, almost like he was brushing it away in ignorance. Bringing up her past was a misdirection; it all led back to Faith. He kept bringing Faith up like she was central to the investigation, but was set on writing her off guilty, hands down. If that was the case, he wouldn't even be asking about Faith. Otherwise, he'd be offering her deals or some other incentive to try and get more information. Something wasn't right.

She tried crossing her arms, then remembered her wrists were still cuffed, so she settled for dropping them in her lap, glaring at him. "I told you what I know. I don't know her, and I didn't kill Pope."

Her silence punctuated the end of her words. Kruger drummed on the table with his fingertip, looking down at the file thoughtfully. She tried to pick up some hidden tell, or tried to decipher what he was thinking, but he remained unreadable. Then he nodded, glancing over his shoulder towards the second man.

"If you would…"

The grunt, whoever he was, nodded once, then stepped forward, clearing the gap in two large bounds. She didn't even have time to react for what happened next.

He grabbed her by the front of the uniform, then pushed. Hard. Kate fell over the chair backwards, ripped from her seat as he threw her to the ground. The metal chair clanged loudly in the echoless room, and the next thing she felt was the back of her skull hitting the tiled floor. Sparks danced in her eyes as she let out a short, confused cry, and then his hands were on her again.

Pulling her up by the uniform, he tossed her like she weighed nothing, this time against the two-way mirror. It was bullet-resistant; as good as a solid wall of concrete compared to her small frame. A lance of pain shot up her arm, originating from her shoulder as she struck the thick glass, legs giving way from under her. She hit the floor again in a daze. For a minute, gravity seemed to switch direction, everything disorienting and spinning.

Her stomach wrenched violently as the pain flooded her senses. "W-What the hell-" she managed before she was yanked up again. This time, he slammed her down on the table. The entire time Kruger hadn't moved, but now he leaned forward to look her in the eye.

"Officer Connors," he said patiently, "We're not bound by the same limits as your fellow officers, and I have been instructed to obtain the information I asked of you by any means necessary. I would rather not go to the lengths of hurting you, but make no mistake: I will hurt you as much as I need to."

It was the coldness in his voice that terrified her. Her eyes bulged, and she writhed in a vain attempt to free herself. The grunt pressed down hard on her chest, pinning her to the tabletop and crushing her sternum under a wide hand. With her arms cuffed, she couldn't fight back, she was outnumbered—

"Help!" she screamed as loud as she could. "Some one help me!"

Except that as the thug slammed her to the floor again, she remembered the room was soundproof.

Author's Note: Thank you edao for your previous edits, and thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! If you happen to see any glaring grammatical errors, or if something looks cut or run together, let me know if you can. I've caught the doc uploader doing some unwanted trimming and blending.

Inspiration for this chapter came from some of the in-game concept art.