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LH

HIGH POWERED PERCEPTION

Hannibal was dragged by two large officers to a waiting patrol car. Several local reporters were chasing closely behind attempting to ask questions. Hannibal craned his neck in an effort to see if his neighbors had been removed to the hospital. A local reporter tipped a microphone in his direction.

"Doctor Lecter how are you feeling Sir?"

The attractive and ambitious young broadcaster jogged alongside Hannibal as the police hurried him with his hands cuffed behind his back to a waiting unmarked car. She had a ponytail bobbing behind her and reminded Hannibal of a young Clarice.

Hannibal saw an opportunity and sought to capitalize, "The more important question is how are my neighbors feeling? Did you see them being removed? Are they well?"

The reporter was thrilled that she had his attention and spoke very quickly knowing her time with Lecter would be brief. Out of breath she answered his questions as thoroughly as she could, "They were transported by ambulance a moment ago. The older gentleman was sitting up. His wife's eyes were open and she was gesturing, asking about her dog. When someone told her you took it into your home I saw her smile. You saved her life Doctor Lecter. How does it feel to be a hero?"

The woman again angled the microphone toward Hannibal. He answered with a charming grin and a mischievous glint in his maroon eyes, "Courtesy of a certain member of the Baltimore Police Department it feels much like going a round or two with Mike Tyson."

The door to the squad car was opened and Hannibal, obviously no stranger to squad cars smiled widely at the reporter and stepped in sideways with his left leg, gracefully lowered his shoulder and angled his body careful not to bang his head on the vehicle.

The police officer Hannibal had knocked unconscious was sitting on the curb being attended to by a paramedic. This was quite amusing to Hannibal and when the officer accidentally made eye contact, Hannibal winked at him. The man was obviously embarrassed and quickly averted his eyes as if the lack of acknowledgement would lessen his mortification of the incident.

THE JAIL

The squad car was driven into a garage with a much more private entrance. There were already scores of reporters lining the sidewalk so the officers were directed by the shift supervisor not to march Hannibal in the front door.

As Hannibal stepped out of the car he inhaled deeply.

Terror? Really gentlemen I don't even have a weapon on me.

Hannibal was polite, exceedingly cooperative and moved politely through the intake process. He was seen first by the nurse to assess his health and psychological status.

"Are you feeling anxious at all Doctor Lecter?"

"Yes though not unduly so given the circumstances. I sense that you are quite anxious as well. This is a very stressful job I take it?"

"It can be. Do you feel as though you might hurt yourself?"

"No I have no need to hurt myself when there are so many others who are so willing and able to do it for me."

"Are you having suicidal thoughts?"

"No. I was referring to the cut on my cheek although it appears as if the bleeding has stopped. I'm certain it isn't attractive by the look of my shirt. I must apologize for my present state. I would ask to use the men's room to clean myself up a bit but somehow I think it would be disallowed. The officers arrived at my home before I could tend to it."

"I can clean that up for you."

"Thank you, you are most kind."

The nurse stood and approached cautiously. As she moved closer, the officer guarding the area lessened the distance as well.

Hannibal could practically hear their hearts beating. He enjoyed the tension in their faces, eyebrows knitted together in quiet desperation as they attempted to perform their jobs all the while fearing they might lose their lives. Hannibal was amused until he saw the shift supervisor wheeling in the restraint chair and bite mask.

Outwardly Hannibal was calm though his body was having an intensely negative reaction to the visual stimuli of the restraint device. His heart began to beat with a heavy thump as if the hand of Death pounded a fist against his sternum. He wanted to ask for help. He thought he might be able to if he were indirect about it.

"May I ask why the chair is present?" Hannibal questioned attempting to mask his concern. He was uncertain how his body would react to the restraint. He immediately began to assess his physiology as he processed the response.

Although the nurse seemed quite sympathetic the shift supervisor and the attending officer did not seem to be as concerned with Hannibal's opinion.

"It's for our comfort and for your safety."

"How is being strapped to that device conducive to my safety? I would be entirely at your mercy and unable to defend myself in any way. And precisely how is my discomfort any comfort at all to you? That seems quite a sadistic statement."

The shift supervisor twirled his index finger above his head, his obvious signal to proceed with the restraint.

Hannibal considered the motivation of the very short man was fear so he sought to reassure, "I am no threat to you. I have offered absolutely no resistance and have been entirely cooperative as a sign of my good faith. I am asking for a similar sign that you not place me in that chair as I have had a very recent physical trauma and restraint would exacerbate the wounds."

"I've been here the entire time and I see no evidence of wounds other than that cut on your face," the attending guard chimed in unsympathetically.

"Not all wounds are visible," Hannibal quickly countered. He addressed the shift supervisor, "I am asking you not to place me in that chair as I will not react well."

"I don't remember needing your permission, Hannibal."

"Hannibal is it? Have we been formally introduced?" the metallic edge to his voice more pronounced with his displeasure.

"We don't need to be introduced everybody knows who the hell you are," the shift supervisor turned to his subordinates and in an angry tone barked out the order, "What the hell is everybody waiting for? Put him in the goddamned chair!"

Though Hannibal did not fight the officers his body became so rigid from want to avoid the restraint that it took four men, one on each leg and two to force his shoulders down, bend his knees and drive him down into the seat and all the while Hannibal's body trembled violently in response to the stress.

The officers each had charge of restraining a different part of Hannibal's anatomy. His shoulders were held down by belts that crossed Hannibal's chest and were strapped tightly to a clevis located behind the bend of his elbows. A lap belt tied down his waist. Next the men strapped Hannibal's ankles securely to the clevis just behind the deck plate of the chair. Wrist straps held his arms to the rests on their respective sides.

Fully trussed with no ability to move and fighting the anxiety the restraint was causing Hannibal needed a target and a distraction. The focus would be the shift supervisor and the distraction would be to fight back with the one and only weapon at his disposal, his high powered perception. He took aim directly at the shift supervisor his weakness was far too obvious.

This is going to be fun!

Hannibal fired the first salvo, "One would think that a man of your obvious proclivity to sadism would be far better suited to another form of work. Perhaps with our national security problems abroad the current administration could find a place for you interrogating enemy combatants. No doubt it would be an enjoyable endeavor for an individual of your stature."

The reference to his height was not wasted on the supervisor. He raged, "You some kind of comedian? I've heard all the short jokes in the world my friend so you've got nothing I haven't heard and I know you're a psychiatrist so don't try and diagnose me with some kind of napoleon complex!"

"Actually the term 'Napoleon complex' is not a diagnosis it is merely an informal reference to the inferiority complexes that often plague exceedingly short men. The term does not appear in the APA'S Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental disorders and as such is not a recognized diagnosis. In all actuality Napoleon was in fact actually five foot six inches tall therefore you would probably have to grow another four inches to be tall enough to qualify."

"Go fuck yourself!"

"A man of your standing may have the need to perform that particular pleasure on yourself. I have no such concern as I am a happily married man. My wife Clarice is perfection as I am certain you will see. She is no doubt on her way and she will not be pleased. Placing me in this chair is rather…shall we say short sighted of you."

The nurse stepped back, laughing so hard from the incredibly one sided nature of the verbal assault that she was doubled over at the waist and leaning on her desk.

The shift supervisor, angry that he had been so publicly bested, increased his orders, "He's being combative. Bag him."

"If you have been made short shrift of please know I would have been much more kind to you had the courtesy of a chair without restraints been extended to me."

Hannibal searched the air, his nostrils flaring widely. Clarice was near. Her scent was moving toward him at and extremely rapid pace. He sought to warn, "My wife is in the building and will be arriving soon. She is accompanied by two men. I do not know them but I am certain, if she is bringing them you will not be pleased to see them. It would have been much better for you had she found me comfortable. Thankfully she arrived before you placed anything over my face. She will be monumentally displeased."

Suddenly Clarice appeared from around the corner speaking in a very authoritative tone, "Hannibal had better be safe cuz if anything happens to him…"

She was accompanied by the Mayor and the police chief. Clarice had stormed the mayor's office with the footage from the security cameras mounted outside their home. She had redirected them when she heard the sirens knowing Hannibal would need reliable evidence of his actions. The mayor, upon seeing the footage called in the police chief.

Clarice spotted Hannibal strapped motionless to the chair and raged at his treatment, "What the fuck is going on here and don't tell me he was uncooperative because that would be bullshit!"

The police chief approached and rolled his eyes when he saw Hannibal. He called the shift supervisor over, obviously extremely upset. "Has Doctor Lecter been uncooperative?" the police chief asked under his breath his trepidation obvious.

The shift supervisor appeared very confused by the question, "What do you mean?"

The mayor stepped in, "He is asking you why you utilized that chair? Did Doctor Lecter resist in any way to cause you to place him in this level of restraint? Was he physically threatening to the staff in some way since his arrival?"

The shift supervisor shook his head and spoke regretfully, "No…but…he's…"

Clarice was nowhere near as diplomatic in her questioning. Her voice was raised and her tone irate, "Then what the fuck is my husband doing in that goddamned restraint chair, Officer? Why is he being treated so severely because one of your colleagues has no self-control and even less brains?"

The mayor was not amused and demanded an answer, "Mrs. Lecter has asked a question and we are all waiting for an answer…"

"He's in the chair because…he's…he's Hannibal Lecter," the supervisor stressed as he gestured to Hannibal as if the speaking of the name should explain Hannibal's current state of incarceration.

The chief of police was in no way enthralled or even remotely amused by the explanation. He started to poke the shift supervisor in the chin. He ranted uncontrollably, "Are you goddamned kidding me? He's got a goddamned presidential pardon…for Christ's sake what the hell is wrong with the people in this department? He just got his ass kicked for saving his elderly neighbor's life and then you stupid son 'o bitches strap him to that contraption! This is the cluster fuck of the goddamned century! Now I've got the White House asking why the news coverage shows Hannibal Lecter being assaulted by some ape of an officer after saving a woman's life, then you idiots drag him here and treat him like this. Haven't any of you even glanced at the television in your waiting room? He's all over every goddamned channel! Now you release this man from that chair right now or I'm gonna toss your ass out that door and you can cry to the union when you find yourself putting tickets on parked cars like a fucking meter maid!"

The shift supervisor and the attending officers moved quickly to remove Hannibal from the chair. He stood quietly. Clarice put her arms around him protectively. As Hannibal returned the embrace Clarice could feel the slight tremor in his body, his sense memory still shuddered from the restraint.

Clarice was not delicate in her response to his ordeal, "I'm so sorry, H. We'll make these assholes pay for this."

Hannibal cupped her face gently in his hands and kissed her very tenderly on the lips. When he released her he let his right hand trace her jawline. He smoothed his hand along her throat, across her collarbone, gliding over her shoulder and down her arm. It was an intimate scene as the comfort of his hand on her body obviously soothed him. He spoke softly when he was certain the tremor in his body would not stall his voice, "There is no need Clarice. I am fine."

The mayor extended his hand. "I am so sorry this happened to you Doctor Lecter. There will be an investigation and as I promised your wife…heads will roll."

Hannibal took the man's hand and shook it firmly. "A similar handshake from the offending officer would suffice. He was merely overzealous in his efforts to defend my neighbor. I have no wish to see him punished. I noticed a wedding ring on his finger and it was particularly bright. No doubt he is newly married."

The police chief was shocked by the statement. He voiced his surprise, "Yeah his name is Peterson. He and his sweetheart of a wife got married about three weeks ago. I danced at his wedding but rest assured for this I was going to fire that moron." He looked over to Clarice obviously confused, "I thought you wanted his head on a platter?"

Clarice wondered what her husband was up to but figured he was already thinking five or six steps ahead. Trusting him implicitly she quickly deferred, "Whatever Hannibal wants…that's what I want."

Hannibal ran his fingers vigorously through his hair. "What I want is a brief apology a handshake and a hot bath."

The mayor saw an opportunity and hoped Hannibal would be cooperative, "Would you be amenable to doing that at a press conference Doctor Lecter?"

Hannibal smiled, "Certainly Mr. Mayor… with the exception of the bath of course!"

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Until the next chapter my friends!

LH