Part 13: Silence
(This chapter sheds a bit of light on Rose and Tippy's past)
There is silence.
Tippy sits on a metal chair in the cold, quiet interrogation room, ready to punch the next cop who walks into the room and tells her she'll be free to go in another minute or two. She taps her long, acrylic nails against the top of the table she's seated in front of. Her hazel eyes bear down on the reflective window to the left of her.
"Let me outta here already," she snaps at the one-way glass. "I know you can see and hear me, you badge-wearing buffoons! I've answered all of your pointless questions. Now, let me out of here!"
She hears static from the overhead speaker that's placed in the corner of the room. Next, a female's voice comes through it. It echoes around the room.
"Ma'am, if you would kindly shut your mouth, we'll be able to get you out of here that much quicker."
"Me having my mouth opened or closed has nothing to do with why I'm still in here," Tippy retorts. "You all have a vendetta against my best friend, so you're just trying to make her suffer by having me locked in here. Go ahead. Admit it, you cowards. I'll wait."
More static. "…You'll be out of there in another minute or two, Miss Tiphani."
Tippy moans and lays her head on the table. "If I have more than a single missed call from my boyfriend, someone's gonna pay!" she yells. Tippy can feel herself getting closer to her boiling point. If she gets there, she knows that her chances of winding up in jail are increasing from 10% to 100%.
Tippy hears the door to the room swing open. She picks her head up from the table to find an old coot standing in the doorway.
"You have exactly three missed calls from your boyfriend, and a total of eleven missed calls from your other suitors," he informs her. "One of them left you a rather colorful voicemail. If you follow me, you'll be able to call all of 'em back."
Tippy lazily picks apart the old man that stands in the doorway. Old, ancient, with ridiculously huge bifocals sitting above his pale nose and salt-and-peppered stache. Judging from the badge, he's just another cop.
She smirks at the grandpa and climbs to her feet. "Alrighty, pops, lead the way," she says.
To her surprise, the cop chuckles. "'Pops', huh? Haven't been called that in a while. Let's go, kid."
Tippy rolls her eyes at being called a "kid" but doesn't delay when following him out of the room. She notices a line of police standing near the door they exit out of. Sure enough, they were all crowded next to the window of her room, where they had a clear view of where Tippy was sitting earlier. There's an empty pizza box in front of them, various cans of beer and wine coolers, as well as a camcorder. Each cop warily eyes the glaring young woman as she exits the room and passes them by.
She snarls and starts towards them. "You mother—"
"Come along, Miss Brown. Just ignore these idiots and we'll get you on your way," the older cop tells her.
Tippy blinks at the cop's back. She hurries after him, a little more purpose in her step now. So, maybe this guy isn't just a cop. There's no way he'd have the authority to pull her out of that room without having authority in this place. Maybe she's supposed to walk behind him, but she doesn't. She's not fond of police, even ones that supposedly have authority over other officers. She walks beside him, matching his fast stride.
"You always talk about your team like that?" Tippy asks. The man glances at her but quickly moves his attention back to the hallway in front of him.
"If you haven't noticed, kid, not everyone here thinks like a team."
Tippy considers his words and remains silent for the rest of their trip to the front of the police station. At the front desk, the older cop retrieves her phone from a sneering receptionist and hands it to Tippy.
"Nice wallpaper, by the way," the cop says with no shame whatsoever of having gone through her phone. Tippy glares at him before unlocking her iPhone. Her snarl softens into a smile as she gazes down at her wallpaper.
Ten-year-old versions of her and Valencia grin up at her from the phone's large screen, forever frozen in happy times. V still had braids back then, with plastic, colorful butterfly barrettes clipped at the end of each of them. V had her skinny arms tossed around Tippy's neck, and was showing off her sparkling, green braces. Tippy was laughing, harder than she had ever laughed up until that picture, and baring her equally green braces.
If Tippy recalled correctly, having braces had been the thing that sparked their friendship, as strange as that may sound. She hadn't really liked Valencia before the picture she was using as her wallpaper was taken. No one did. Valencia had been quiet, keeping to herself when the rest of her classmates were screaming at their teachers and having fun. Their school was in the poorer part of Orlando and not a lot of money was invested in the school, in their educators, or in the students themselves. Their school was known as the "welfare school" and filled with minorities who couldn't afford to stay in another part of Orlando. Half of their classmates ended up pregnant, in jail, or dropping out by senior year. No one really cared about graduating, especially not Tippy. She wanted to marry rich and get out of school, before or after graduation. But Valencia cared. She was determined to get out of their neighborhood and into college. She'd been such a teacher's pet, always getting straight A's and knowing the answer to every question. Everyone was jealous of her and that jealousy festered into schoolyard bullying. Tippy remembered her being ostracized from the rest of their classmates. She'd sit alone in the cafeteria, or she'd just take up refuge in the library instead, where no one could snicker at her loneliness and point.
Then, one day, in English class, she asked Tippy a question.
"What's it feel like?"
Tippy had been scribbling in her notebook, drawing pictures of her latest crush. Vincent-Something, fifth grader, known for having the best eyes and most kissable-looking lips in elementary school.
She looked at the quiet girl and raised an eyebrow. They'd been sitting next to each other for nearly five months in this class and neither had ever said a word to the other.
Tippy, so used to seeing how everyone else treated the girl, rolled her eyes when Valencia seemed to get shy and stopped talking.
"What's what feel like?" she asked.
Valencia chewed on one of the little butterfly clips on the end of her black braid, but didn't reply.
"Oookay." Tippy went back to her drawing. She wished she had a green coloring pencil. Vincent had green eyes. She also wished the desk wasn't so rickety. Her pencil kept going off track because the old desk kept wobbling beneath it.
"What's it feel like … to have friends?"
Tippy stopped drawing again to stare at Valencia. She was hunched over, barely meeting Tippy's eyes.
"What do you mean, 'what's it like to have friends?'" Tippy asked incredulously. "Don't you have any?"
Unfortunately, Tippy spoke a bit too loudly. Everyone in the class heard her. They started to laugh. Poor Valencia was so embarrassed. She buried her head in her notebook and started scribbling notes like she was possessed.
Later that day, Tippy found her. The question had been bugging her all day and she wanted to know what she meant by it. She saw Valencia picking up a pack of cookies and a milk at the front of the cafeteria line during their lunch hour. After securing her snacks, the little girl walked past Tippy, face snug in a book. Acting quickly, Tippy left her friends in the cafeteria and hurried outside, following the sound of the clacking plastic barrettes.
"Hey!" Tippy called after her on the graffiti-ridden sidewalk.
Valencia turned around.
"Hi," she said back.
Hesitantly, Tippy approached her. "Why did you ask me what's it like to have friends?"
Valencia's face started turning darker. She reached a shaking hand into her backpack and pulled out a pink notebook.
"I'm working on a story for the school's writing contest. I wanted to make a story about two best friends, but I don't have any friends so I don't know what to write. I'm sorry for asking you that question. I didn't mean to bother you."
Tippy shrugged away the girl's babbling, causing her afro puffs to wobble atop her head. "Chill, you didn't bother me. I just didn't know it was for a story. What's the title of it going to be?"
Valencia looked shocked to be having a conversation with anyone. She shifted in her Mary-Janes and looked anywhere but at Tippy.
"U-Um, it's going to be about two best friends who love each other. They'd do anything for each other. One day, they even go back in time to try and save one of their dad's lives."
"Ooh, I like time travel stuff," Tippy said. "What happened to the dad?"
Valencia's eyes went to her shoes. "He died."
"That sounds like a sad story."
"Yeah."
Tippy grabbed the notebook from the shy girl, who seemed shocked but too afraid to try and grab it back.
"Can I read it?" Tippy asked.
Valencia started to shake her head, but Tippy quickly jumped in.
"I can tell you if you made it seem real. Like how friends really act together, you know?"
Valencia's mouth fell open and she let the hand that she was reaching out drop back to her side. "Um, uh, okay. Thank you!" Then she grinned. It was this bright, big grin that looked so different from her usual sullen expression. It made Tippy grin back. That's when Tippy saw she had braces. When Valencia noticed how long Tippy was staring at her teeth, a protective hand slapped across the front of them.
"You don't have to be shy! Braces are pretty dope!" Tippy said with a laugh.
"Dope?"
"Yeah! But they still hurt a lot, don't they?"
Valencia kept her hand over mouth and nodded.
Tippy reached out and moved Valencia's hand away with a giggle.
"You don't have to hide them! See, I have them too!"
Tippy bared her teeth and Valencia made an "ooh" noise.
"I like how you chose purple," she said with a small smile.
Tippy smiled back. "Maybe we can get matching colors one day."
And they had. They got matching colors every time either of them went back to the orthodontist. They started planning weeks ahead so that they'd be prepared to tell their orthodontists exactly what color they wanted when they went into that chair. They became best friends as they pored over Valencia's stories. Whenever Tippy's brother was gone to jail and she had nowhere to go, Valencia's family took her in. Whenever Valencia needed someone to talk to about her dad, she knew Tippy was there to listen. They are like sisters. Valencia's dedication inspired Tippy to start trying harder in school. When Tippy was accepted into Keystone University, no one had been prouder of her than Valencia. She could still remember them going out to celebrate at Tippy's favorite restaurant, where Valencia, as shy as she used to be, stood up on the table and got everyone in the building to congratulate her best friend.
"To the girl who is gonna rule the world!" she shouted, virgin margarita raised high.
Hear, hear.
They both had grown so much. V was such a bubbly person, Tippy found out after a few months of friendship. The shy kid had even become a little fire-spitter herself now. Tippy guessed she would have to be to handle living with someone like Bane.
Tippy smiled at the memory. She looked through all of her missed calls and decided to bypass them all for now. Instead, she went to Valencia's number.
"Is it okay if I make a phone call?" she asked the cop. "No one's going to haul me back to the interrogation room, are they?"
"Of course, they won't. You're free to go as well," he informs her. "I'm sorry you had to be put into the middle of this catastrophe, but I hope you won't begin to doubt your trust of the GCPD."
"Dude, I don't live here," Tippy says. "I'm hoping I never have to see any of you crooked cops ever again. And for the record, my trust in any cop is nonexistent."
The cop frowns at her and nods. "I see you've run into some of the bad ones. Don't miss your flight out of here. I have a feeling that things are going to get worse for Gotham before they get better."
Tippy regards the cop for a second longer and then turns away to finish making her phone call. The phone rings and rings and rings.
Tippy is mildly aware of the cop having a conversation with a panicked coworker behind her.
"Commissioner, sir, there's an aircraft approaching the station," the younger man says.
"Is it one of ours?" the older cop asks.
"We don't think so. Most of the force went out to handle the Arkham explosion and they took all of our helicopters with them to survey for any escaping patients."
"Arkham explosion? Why am I just hearing about this?"
"Ah, I'm sorry, sir—"
"Is Bane still secured?"
"At this time, we don't know—"
Tippy's ears prick up when her phone stops ringing. She hears soft breathing emitting from her phone.
"Hey, V? Is that you?" Tippy murmurs into the microphone. The shallow breathing continues.
Suddenly, the older cop latches onto her shoulders and dives with her to the floor. Her iPhone flies out of her hand and goes sliding down the hallway towards an elevator.
Gunfire erupts above Tippy's head. She hears screaming pick up in the building and an alarm goes off.
"What's going on?" Tippy yells as she tries to rip away from the old cop.
"Keep your head down!" he orders. "Start crawling as fast as you can towards the emergency exit! Try to stay as low as possible!"
With gunfire above her head and cops dropping around like flies around her, Tippy doesn't argue. Instead she begins to army-crawl behind the cop. She thinks of going after her phone, but there are feet stampeding around her, some rushing towards the gunfire, others away from it. It would be impossible to make it there right now, so she does the only thing she can do and follows after the cop.
"I'm going to ask again—what the hell is going on?" she shouts above the ringing alarm and screams. An officer drops beside her with a muffled cry. His uniform is body riddled with bullets.
"Oh man, I don't want to die," she whimpers as she picks up her pace and continues after the cop's shuffling suit.
"I have no doubt," the cop yells from over his shoulder, "that Bane has managed to escape from Arkham Asylum. If his death wish for Gotham police officers still remains, he's probably the one showering this place with bullets right now."
"Bane? He wouldn't do that!"
"Oh yeah? Because he's been living with your best friend, he's turned into a docile little mouse, right?"
The two reach the emergency exit door. The cop climbs on his knees and pushes the door open, then ushers Tippy through. He follows behind her, letting the door slam behind them. The gunfire is muffled in the dark stairwell, but both of them can still hear the screams.
The cop climbs to his feet and starts racing down the stairs. Tippy, seeing her best option for now is to follow the man with the gun strapped to his waist, goes down as well.
"I never had any faith in that rehabilitation program," the cop admits as they run.
"Then why would you put him in her home? If you cops thought he was so dangerous and something like this could happen, why did you stick him into her home and ruin her life like this? She's going to be labeled as a traitor for all time because of you! Her life could be in jeopardy right now!"
The cop has the decency to look guilty. "We didn't have much of a choice! I'm sorry about your friend, but there are bigger, more important things at stake here! The entire population of Gotham City is under threat now that Bane has escaped. Millions of people could die!"
"And who the hell are they going to blame?" Tippy screams. "Valencia! Why are you running? You're a cop! Go out there and handle Bane's ballistic mask and set my friend's life straight!"
"I have a handgun! They have an attack helicopter! I think I'll be of more use to your friend alive than as a pile of shreds!"
"At this point, I think you're useless either way!" Tippy shoves past the cop and starts dashing down the stairs.
"Slow down! If you run out there like a madwoman, you're going to get your head blasted off!"
"I'm not sticking around you!" Tippy snaps. "You cops don't care about anything but yourselves and looking like heroes. I'm going to warn my friend and get her out of this city!"
"Don't be crazy!" He tries to pick up his pace but Tippy manages to outrun him. She dashes out of the door at the end of the stairwell and finds herself in a dark alleyway.
She looks to her left and finds that side blocked off by a fence. The other side is clear, so she runs for it. Her padded sneakers slap against the pavement as she pushes herself to run as fast as she can. Her light jacket billows beside her and all she can think of is getting her and Valencia out of Gotham City. They'd go to Orlando, to her brother's house, and stay there for as long as he'd let them. They'd keep low until things cooled down and Bane's ridiculous self was caught. She'd protect Val since everyone else in this city didn't care enough to.
That Bane … How dare he go into her best friend's home and get her to care about him, only to throw everything they worked towards together in the trash? She thought the feeling of affection between the two was mutual. She saw him at Club Gothix. He wasn't just pretending to break people's necks when he saw what they were doing to Valencia. The man was livid. At that moment, Tippy knew he cared about V.
But now he's back to terrorizing the city, and he left poor V to take the fall for his actions. What an a-hole. Did the man even have a sense of humanity left in him?
"Why, hello there, kitten."
Tippy stops running when she hears the pet name thrown at her. Three men have appeared at the alley's exit. Each of them are carrying heavy-looking assault rifles. Tippy takes a few steps backwards as the men raise their guns. She raises her hands and says, "Whoa. Calm down. I'm not a cop."
The men shrug. "Bane said to kill everyone. No survivors, eh?"
Tippy takes another step backwards. Then, she turns and runs.
The commissioner is at the door of the building, waving her back to him.
"Come on! Get inside! I've got you covered!" he yells as he hurried to pull out his handgun.
Tippy blinks in surprise at the old man and pushes herself to go even faster.
She feels the bullets whiz by her skin, and then one penetrates. Then another. She screams and buckles to the ground. The smell of rust fills the air.
As her blood begins to swallow her whole, Tippy hears the men approach her. She takes a deep, shuddering breath to curse at them and her mouth fills up with wetness. She feels tears squeeze out of her eyes as the men and their shadows fall upon her.
More gunshots. Then, silence.
So much sadness! So much darkness! All of this sad, gory stuff is making me want to post something a li'l more lighthearted. I'm working on a Tumblr for this story, so I may start posting some of those one-shots I mentioned in an earlier chapter over there. I do hope you all will join me once I get it up and running! :)
Ah, can't forget this-A big, big thank you to Squeegee and Harley for reviewing the last chapter!*^*^ I just love hearing back from you all!