Chapter 143
The first thing I hear is cars. Honking their horns, it can't just be one car...it must be multiple cars.
I move my hands and discover that I'm lying on concrete, a bright light just above my head, blinding my vision. There's something else now, shouting...someone, shoutin-
"Hey lady, get off the street!" the voice repeats, blocking out the light and nearly spitting on my face.
With a little time I get on my feet, as the shouting man gets back into his car. Looking toward the concrete ground, I stumble onto the sidewalk. Glancing upward, I realize I'm in...Gotham? It could easily be mistaken for Gotham, but as I see that the light blinding me is the harsh afternoon sun, and how it reflects off of the blue-tinted glass of the skyscrapers, I realize that I'm not in Gotham anymore. This is definitely a city, but what city?
The streets constantly have multiple cars passing by. I guess they don't have the gas shortage here. I examine the people passing by. Their clothing is familiar but not quite so. Most of the women wear unusually tight jeans, and I see several men in casual t-shirts under their jackets.
Similar...yet different. I think I know what Ed was talking about.
I turn around as a hand grasps my shoulder. It's a blond woman with bright eyes decked in multiple layers of eyeliner. She speaks with a charming, but strong voice.
"Excuse me, officer? I...hate to bother you, but...it's my friend. She's had a bit too much to drink and-"
Just then, there's a crash from the bar down the street, as a bar stool is flung out the window. The woman bites her lip and turns back to me.
"Please, I can't reach her, she's never acted like this before."
How does she know I'm a police officer? I glance down and realize that I'm still wearing my GCPD uniform. I wonder how out-of-place it looks compared to the police officers here. Apparently enough for her to recognize me as one.
Nodding to the woman, I start dashing toward the bar. Throwing open the door, I spot a dark-haired woman, her back turned away from me as she easily picks up another barstool. The other patrons of the bar are all backed against the walls, afraid to move. Shouting in an aggravated, somewhat slurred voice, she hurls the bar stool at a male customer.
"And if you ever try to pull your pervert grab-ass shit again, I will cut your balls off!"
Aside from the fact that's probably the most swear words I've ever heard in one sentence, this woman is strong, and definitely out of control. I place my hand on my holster and remember that Harrison took my gun back in my own universe.
"Look lady, it was an accident!" the man cries in pure terror.
"Miss, you need to calm down," I begin, stepping into the situation.
She whips around, and the both of us come to a sudden pause. She doesn't look quite identical to me, with lighter skin, sharper cheekbones, and symmetrical eyes, but the resemblance is uncanny. She stumbles from side-to-side, unable to maintain her own body, "A cop? Huh, a little short for a cop."
As she stands up straight, I realize that she's about nine inches taller than me. In fact, everyone at the bar is. Are people just...taller in this universe?
The woman holds up her arms, displaying her wrists to me, "Alright. Arrest me, before I kill the doofus behind me."
The right thing to do would be to arrest her, but what if the officers at the station discover that I'm not a cop from their universe? How would I even get there, I don't have a car. How would I even know where the nearest station is?
I firmly grab the woman by the arm, "Let's just get you home, miss."
"Hey, who's going to pay for all this damage?!" an angry bartender cries.
Coming up with a quick excuse, I tell him, "We'll send someone over to do a damage assessment."
The blond woman follows me out of the bar, "Thank you so much for not arresting her. I'm Trish Walker, my friend over here is Jessica Jones."
Jessica rips her arm away from me with unusual force, "You don't have to escort me, I can walk fine on my own."
"Do either of you have transportation home?" I ask.
Trish shakes her head, "I-...I got here by subway-"
Jessica raises her hand, "I have a car."
"Well you're in no position to drive yourself home," I counter, "Ms. Walker, can you drive your friend home-"
"Wait!" Jessica interrupts, "We should bring along Officer Munchkin, just in case I try anything crazy again. And besides, I don't have a home, at least, not anymore."
"I'll take you to my place," Trish offers, swiping Jessica's car keys from her leather jacket.
The car keys has a small, black remote control on it, and when Trish presses it, one of the roundish cars comes to life, turning on its lights and emitting a beeping noise. Trish pushes Jessica along to the car, and I follow. I take a moment to examine the outside of the car as I help Jessica into the back seat. They're able to open the car doors without using the key, there aren't even any keyholes on the doors. Maybe that's what the remote control on the keyring does.
I pile into the backseat with Jessica as Trish gets into the driver's seat. There's a strange screen on the dashboard of the car, and as Trish puts the key into the ignition, the screen lights up, showing a map of the city. I thought screens like this only existed on the Batmobile.
"Officer, I never caught your name," Trish exclaims, driving out of the tight parking spot.
"Just Officer K," I reply.
Jessica chuckles, "'Officer K.'? Let me guess, you've got some weird last name no one can pronounce."
I sigh, "Kawacatoose. Don't bother trying to say it."
She turns to me, "Kawacatoose? Native American, right? How is that hard to pronounce? Sure it sounds like the cry of an exotic bird, but-"
"I think that's enough out of you," Trish interrupts, keeping her eye on the road.
They can pronounce my last name? Even Ed had trouble learning it, but then again, maybe names are different here.
Ignoring her advice, Jessica keeps her head turned in my direction, "So what are you, a beat cop? No car, no partner, four inches below the height requirement, and-..."
She gives my body the up-and-down, "An outdated police uniform. Hey Trish, are we sure she's really a cop?"
So my uniform is out-of-place. Good thing I didn't offer to take her to the station.
"This was my father's uniform," I lie, crossing my arms, "and I would appreciate it if you'd stop patronizing me."
Jessica turns her head forward, but her eyes still linger on me, "I just know bullshit when I see it."
I try to hide my reaction with a raise of my eyebrow. Sure, she could have figured out I'm not a cop, but her eyes tell that she's considering more than that.
As we go up into the highway, I glance out the window to discover that some of the skyscrapers have been heavily damaged, with entire chunks removed off of the top, their structures exposed. Was there some kind of natural disaster recently?
After crossing the freeway, Trish pulls up to a modest, but distinguishable condo building, similar to the one Renee lived in. We get out of the car, and I follow Trish and Jessica up the elevator to Trish's apartment.
"Your room is still down the hall," Trish tells Jessica.
As she stumbles down the hallway, Jessica turns around and scoffs, "It's not like I went away to college. I was still paying my half of the bill."
Jessica grumbles the rest of the way to her room, and slams the door. Trish sighs, as she walks over to the kitchen.
"I'm so sorry you had to witness that Officer, would you like something to drink?"
I nod, sitting down at the marble breakfast bar, "Water's fine, thank you. I should probably get going soon, I wouldn't want to outstay my welcome."
Without response, Trish fills two mugs of water from the sink. Her kitchen is filled with metallic cooking instruments, most of which I can recognize. There are several switches on the walls, including one labelled for the dishwasher and another for...a garbage disposal in the sink?
She places the mug before me, and I give a nod of thanks along with a smile. Trish however, is not smiling, as she sits on the opposite side of the bar.
"Jessica has been missing for a couple of months now. She often frequents that bar and I'd asked the owner to text me if he ever saw her there. Sure enough she turns up, drunk and out of control," Trish explains in a sober tone.
"Did you ever file a missing person's report?" I ask.
She sighs, "Yeah, but the cops probably figured that she's an adult, no family, no friends except for me...it's easy for her to slip through the cracks."
I take a sip of my water, "I'm so sorry to hear that Ms. Walker, I know how frustrating it is when the police...don't follow up on cases that are very personal, and important."
Our conversation is interrupted when Jessica throws her bedroom door open. Charging up to me, she grabs me by my shirt collar and starts pulling me toward her bedroom, throwing me right off of the chair.
"Hey Officer Munchkin, you, me, in there, now!"
With incredible strength, she lifts me up with one hand, choking me as she drags me down the hallway.
Trish gets out of her seat, "Jessica!"
After stretching out my shirt collar, Jessica's taken me into her room, and slamming the door once again, she grabs my head and slams it down onto the floor.
"Who are you?!" she demands, "Are you working for Kilgrave?!"
"Wha...who?" I murmur, as I struggle to stand.
Standing high above me, Jessica holds up my officer identification, "Stole this off you while we were in the car. 'Gotham City' doesn't even exist. Who do you think you're trying to fool?"
She lifts open the window in her room and grabs me by the ankle. I kick her in the knee, throwing her off a bit, just enough to get on my feet. There's a banging on the door.
"Officer K.?! Jessica?! What's going on?!" it's Trish, knocking on the door and jiggling the lock from the other side.
I turn to the door at the sound of Trish's voice, but this proves to be a mistake, as Jessica grabs my hair, and pressing the back of my knee down with her own, she brings me to my knees, and I yowl in pain.
"Just checking this officer's identification," she replies.
"Open this door!" Trish demands, slamming her fist down.
Jessica snarls at me, "Let's get this over with, bitch."
With an intense force, she hurls me directly out the window, and my body soars through the air like a torpedo. How is she so strong? My stomach drops as I'm taken out of the apartment, with dozens of stories below me as I prepare for the drop.
My entire body snaps as I come to a stop. My upper torso jolts as my stomach and head hit the brick exterior of the building. I realize someone is holding onto my feet, as the rest of my body hangs upside down in limbo.
"I can let you fall the whole way down," Jessica barks, as she wiggles my feet, causing my whole body to sway back and forth.
I close my eyes as I try to fight the anxiety and nausea, my stomach pumping as I try to breath, "Wha...what do you want to kn-"
"What's Kilgrave's next move? Or has he told you to keep your mouth shut?" she interrogates.
She lets my feet slip, and my heart jumps as I'm lowered just a little more.
"Listen, I don't know who Kilgrave is," I confess, "I...I don't even know where I am right now."
Jessica pauses, her grip on my feet tightening, "What year is this?"
I blink, "...huh?"
"What year are we in?" she repeats.
My mouth moves, but no words come out. After a few moments of unexchanged silence, my body starts to lift. Jessica's firm hands pull my legs back up the window.
I'm halfway back up when the door comes crashing down. Trish, armed with a screwdriver, had just finished undoing the hinges on the door.
"Oh my god…" Trish gasps, "Jessica, what did you do-"
"She's not a real cop. Trouble is, I don't know what she is," Jessica interrupts, getting up.
She grabs a roll of duct tape sitting on her desk, before stretching it out in front of me. My eyes widen, and Trish runs to Jessica.
"You're not serious. Even if she's not a real cop, that doesn't justify-"
"Oh yes, it does," Jessica pushes Trish aside, as she once again grabs my head.
"Sorry about this."
With one effective slam, I'm out like a light.