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Mistakenly Caught

Sponsored by Asbeoth

By Draconicon

The holding cells of the New Altain port were not particularly comfortable, but Salla imagined that they weren't meant to be. After all, his resident cellmates, as far as the mouse could tell, ranged from terrorists to smugglers, arms runners to drug dealers, and a few traffickers of intelligent life. All people that he would have been interested in dealing with in another setting, but for now, they were more distraction than anything else.

The red-suited mouse did not recline in his chair - after all, they didn't lean back and were completely bolted to the floor - but he did sit up a bit straighter, leaving his white-gloved hands on his lap as he focused on keeping his breathing even. Not out of panic, but rather because he was bored and didn't want to fall asleep. As an exercise in keeping the dull sleep of oblivion at bay, he glanced around his cell one more time.

It was a sealed room with walls that could be made transparent or opaque as the situation called for, and currently, they were opaque. His current captors had changed it over when he'd displayed messages on his mask to the other inmates and they realized that they couldn't get the mask off his face. As messages were apparently forbidden between inmates, they simply refused to let him see them, and vice versa.

There were no cameras in the holding cells. He smiled behind the white mask; it was an oversight, but he imagined that the ability to turn the walls opaque or transparent at need negated the need to see into the cell most of the time. There was no way to hide when the only thing in the holding cell were bolted down chairs and a table, not when the walls no longer hid your position from the guards when they came to visit.

Still, it was a weakness, and Salla noted it to himself.

His ears pricked up as the sound of footsteps echoed from just beyond the solid steel door. The guards must be coming to talk to someone. Perhaps him. Probably him. They'd made it clear that he was enough of a mystery to need special attention.

That was just what he wanted.

The mouse smiled, tapping his fingers against his thighs as he thought back to the customs line that had 'exposed' his forged documents. Of course they had; they'd been made to get caught. A little disruption at the time, some subtle use of his abilities to make him seem more threatening - and a few mysteries of how the guards were disabled, restrained, paralyzed from nothing - had gotten the super-cops called down to the port.

After they arrived, he'd surrendered. It was just what he wanted, after all, so there was no point in fighting further.

They'd taken his cane, his suitcase, and everything but his clothes and his mask. They would have taken his mask, too, but they'd yet to find a way to remove it from his face without taking his skin off with it. They'd repeatedly asked him to remove it himself, but he'd told them that it was rather against his own best interests to do that.

It seemed that was enough here; there were some worlds where they would have called a surgeon and removed it, torture or not, but it seemed that there was still enough law and order in New Altain to grant him this.

The grinding sound of metal on metal confirmed that the guards were coming for him. Salla smiled at yet further evidence of the spread of super-powers through this particular world; every door and every chamber were built like a high-tech vault to ensure that anyone, mundane, altered, or super, could be kept contained. The mouse imagined that it had broken their budget for years to get it done, but needs must.

He did not shift his position. The walls flashed momentarily, going transparent. The metallic sheen of the inside of the cell faded into the glowing white of the hallway just outside, but in the minute space between, Salla saw a shimmer of more than that. The circuit-lines that ran through the walls and controlled the transparency and opacity of the layers were visible for a split second. Too short for someone to see, and certainly for too little time for the naked eye to store, but he didn't have to rely on that.

As his mask stored the information away as a slowed-down recording in its database, the walls shifted back to their opaque state. The door opened, and two cops stepped through. One, he knew, was a super, while the other was merely altered, or rather, 'enhanced', as he'd heard them say.

"A pleasure to see you again, cap-"

Salla had barely managed to put his boots on the floor before the taller of the pair, a thick-shouldered zebra, snapped his fingers. The crack was followed by an immediate clang, a set of chains appearing that ran between the legs of the chair and the mouse's ankles. They connected to shackles that hadn't been there before and kept him from moving more than a foot from the chair itself.

He looked down, then back up. The zebra shook his head, sitting down at the other side of the table.

"My apologies for the surprise, but you will not be leaving your chair. Sit down."

"One would think that you'd tell me the rules before punishing me for breaking them," Salla said.

"One would think that you'd have the decency to remove your mask, if you were as innocent as you claim."

"Claims of innocence mean nothing to people like you, I'm sure," Salla said, sitting down once more with a shrug. "It would be on me to prove it, mask or no mask."

"Be quiet," the tiger at the captain's side growled.

"Hmm."

Salla flicked his eyes up to the zebra's partner. The name badge identified him as 'Federokov', which meant nothing, but it was something to keep in the back of his head. Judging by the thicker lumps and stronger bulges that came close to ripping the blue fabric that coated the tiger from neck to toes, it was clear that he had been made a bit stronger than his baseline species would have allowed for.

He cocked his head to the side as he turned his attention back to the zebra. This one - with a badge that named him 'Royce', though he imagined both of those were surnames - was calmer, probably playing the good-cop role to the bad-cop that the tiger was pulling. Simple enough...

Unless it wasn't.

"Tell me, are you here to keep me restrained, or are you merely here to look down on the mouse?"

"Does it matter?" Federokov grunted.

"It may. Should I be afraid of the big bad cat? I feel that my kind have been dodging yours for generations. Why, it would be simplicity itself to run circles around your bulky frame and turn you into little more than a cartoon -"

THUMP!

A clawed fist slammed down on the table, and Salla was, as ever, grateful for the way that his mask hid his expressions. Not for the sake of hiding fear, but for the sake of hiding a grin that was altogether a giveaway.

It was more or less as he'd expected. The 'enhanced' individuals of society, from what information he'd gleaned before this visit, were altered through genetic engineering, pushed back to certain feral benchmarks to allow for greater and more efficient muscle growth, bone density, and other such physical improvements. He had honestly admired the simple way of altering the body by bringing back the genetic memory of what it had once been capable of, and had, at the same time, theorized that it would have a serious weakness.

He was right. A simple bit of taunting from a prey species was already triggering predatory responses, and it would be all too easy to play on that.

He shifted his posture, slumping back just a bit, his ears flicking like a little mouse scuttling across the floor, some prey that was trying to stay aware of the predator that it knew was around. A little nervous twitch to his tail, a hunch to his shoulders. All small things that were eminently suitable for a fear response, but were all the more targeted.

Already, he could see Federokov's eyes widening, his lips pulling back to show his fangs. Perhaps he was fighting his instincts, perhaps not, but it was already doing something to him.

"Let's get down to business," Royce said. "I am Captain Samuel Royce, and this is my partner, Daniil Federokov. Do you know why you're here?"

"Hmm, perhaps you should enlighten me."

"False documents, assault on a government officer, resisting arrest. Refusal to answer questions."

"Let me make sure that I understand that last one. Is it required that your prey - my apologies, your 'prisoners' - answer any and all questions that are given to them? That seems quite...oppressive."

"No, but you are resisting any attempt to cooperate with us."

"I'd like to see the rule that says that I'm bound to cooperate. I believe that resisting arrest has already stated precedent that you want to get rid of any rights to the populace, quite honestly, but if you're stating that any and all failure to cooperate can be used against me as a charge? Certainly a bleak statement for heroes that are supposed to look after the populace, I must say."

"Listen -"

Samuel held up his hand, shutting the tiger up before he could actually say anything. A pity; he looked almost ready to pounce. Salla twitched his tail a bit faster, the feline's eyes drifting to it, staring at it as the zebra continued.

"You are clearly atypical. Whether you are enhanced or a super in your own right, you were carrying false documents with a false name, and tried to use them to pass through customs. There's a clear and present danger to the populace if you're allowed to roam free without the proper documents. Now, we have questions for you; if you're willing to answer them directly, and we are satisfied with the answers, we can let you go by tomorrow."

"Yes, of course."

"Then -"

"Ah, pardon. You thought I was agreeing to answer questions. Hardly."

He glanced at the tiger again. He was so tense beneath that shimmering blue layer of fabric. Nanite-based, spread out by a spray or something in the morning, Salla would imagine. Probably barely holding together despite its flexible state with all the clenching muscle bulging out under it.

It would have been so much easier to do this with his cane, but all the manipulation should be enough. A little more defiance should trigger those enhanced feral instincts.

"You see, I don't believe in your natural authority here."

"Natural - what are you talking about?" Samuel asked in the first real shift from his authoritarian voice.

"This game of cat and mouse. This constant push to remind me how small I am compared to the two of you. The fact that I could, and perhaps should, be crushed as the prey I am if I do not cooperate. I feel like I'm in genuine danger here, and -"

Federokov's snarl cut him off as the tiger lunged for him, almost snagging his mask with thick, metal-tipped claws. The only reason that Salla's face remained untouched was the instant reaction from the captain, the zebra's power creating a quick restraint that tied the tiger to the wall. Two more finger-snaps created two more, binding his feet to the ground and keeping him from lunging against the collar he was already being choked-out by.

Salla watched with condescending fascination, cocking his head to the side as the zebra stood up and forced his partner back. The keys - ah, there were keys, and they appeared at Captain Royce's belt when he snapped his fingers. An interesting rule, that, but worth knowing.

Bit by bit, the zebra forced his partner back, finally unlocking him just to shove him out of the holding cell. The scuffle on the other side proved that there was a great deal more going on, that the tiger was probably trying to throw himself against the door to get back inside, but the time for his participation in the interrogation had passed.

Salla sat with his hands folded over his lap as the zebra turned back to him. Samuel shook his head.

"...I should apologize for that," the zebra said.

"Perhaps you should."

"...I'm sorry," Samuel said, shaking his head. "My partner usually has better control of himself than that."

He usually had rules, Salla imagined. Rules as strict and binding as the restraints that the zebra could conjure up. Except that there were always ways around the rules, or through them.

"As a token of good faith, I will unchain your legs," the zebra said, kneeling down and taking the key from his belt. A few second later, Salla's legs were free. "But I expect some more civility from you in exchange."

"Ah, a bargain, then? That is far more acceptable than total capitulation."

"Are you always like this?"

"Like this? Like this. There are many ways to take that, captain. To someone else, I would be amusing. To someone else again, I would be infuriating. To someone else yet again, I would be seen as an icon of anarchy against the system, and to you, I imagine that I'm someone that is driving you up the wall with various pseudo-intellectual needles and nudges. Which would you say you mean?"

"..."

"Or would you prefer to get down to the interrogation proper?"

"That...would be preferred."

"Then sit, captain, and let us talk."

The tides were shifting, and while he was half-sure that was because the captain was allowing that, he knew that the zebra was off his game. Having his partner lost to rage, too dangerous to be kept in the cell with the prisoner any longer, had cut his plans out from under him. He didn't have a back-up, and he was winging it, hoping to find another opening.

Salla knew that from everything that the zebra did, and everything that his mask told him.

If they knew what his mask could do, they would have called the surgeon, civil rights or no. The lenses in the mask provided him a HUD of information, ranging from video recording capability to vital signs when he focused on individuals. Sufficient time spent staring at something could give him a basic rundown of the chemical and mineral make-up of the object in question, and those were just the eye-holes. The mask, more than so many other things, offered him insight into the world and gave him the chance to screw with it.

He kept his hands folded in his lap as the zebra sat down and got comfortable. Now that he had an idea of how the zebra's powers worked, how the cell worked, and had him alone, the time had almost come to turn things around. But not yet. Not quite yet.

"Now...can we start with your name?" Samuel asked.

"We can. You may call me the Man in Red."

"That's not a name. Is that some sort of self-given title? A super-name?"

"You may consider it something like that. It's certainly sufficiently empowered."

"Empowered, you say? Is that why you were able to handle the security guards at the port?"

"Yes. Most certainly, yes."

"What is your power, then?"

"Hmmm...I think it's my turn to ask a question."

"That's not part -"

"Captain. We agreed to civility, did we not?" Salla cocked his head to the side, well aware of the slight discomfort that the vocoder in the mask was giving the zebra. Every time he talked, there was a slight spike in the other man's pulse that was rapidly pulled under control, as well as a wincing tense of the muscles around the ear and the back of the jaw. "You've had two questions, I've had none. At least let this be a conversation, hmm?"

"...We agreed to civility, so I suppose we can let this be a conversation. But you've just had your question."

A question that had nonetheless led to the agreement. Salla chuckled, nodding and giving the captain that one. The zebra tapped his chin.

"Alright. I ask again. What's your power?"

"It's more of an ability, captain. A power suggests that you were born with it, or seized it. Even the term 'ability' isn't quite right. It's a capability, and one that I was given."

"Heh, you wiggle more than the lawyers."

"I merely wish to answer your questions to the best of my abilities, captain. So, I must state that I have no power. Please, ask your second question."

"Hmm...Hmm. Heh. Okay. How about this one?"

"What one?"

"What -"

"I'm afraid that was a question, captain."

"You - oh, goddammit."

Despite the back and forth and the clear annoyance on the zebra's face, Salla could tell that there was some amusement at the situation, as well. He imagined that most criminals were hardly so playful and indulgent, let alone in a way that was so harmless to the hero on the other side of the table. They probably dealt with dangerous, or even deadly, situations day in and day out, so his little needling must have been a welcome change.

It almost made him feel bad about what he'd be doing in a few minutes. Almost.

"Now, it's my turn. Beyond the keys that are used to open the vault doors, are there any supers or other capable individuals in this building capable of breaking them down from the outside?"

"Not from the outside or the inside. They're meant to hold anyone and anything," Samuel said.

"Lovely. Now, your turn."

"Okay. I think I got how this works now. Ahem." The zebra cleared his throat. "What is the capability that you used before you were arrested that was out of the ordinary for normal people?"

"Very good, captain. Very good."

"..."

"And very good restraining yourself from asking me to explain and wasting your second question." Salla leaned back in his chair, hands folded over his lap once more. "My power is the manipulation of the laws of...well, everything, I suppose. I call it 'Loophole.' Everything works the way that it's supposed to, except when it doesn't."

"That's impossible. That's..."

"It's very possible, captain. It's why you were called in the first place."

"..."

"I believe you have a second question."

"Why are you here? If you're telling the truth - and I don't know if you are, but if you are - what the hell is someone with that kind of power doing in New Altain?"

"I'm looking for someone. A contact of mine. One might even call them a friend, if they were so inclined. They were disappeared recently, and by someone with powers. I have managed to narrow it down to a cop - or perhaps, a former cop - but other than that, I have no further leads. I decided to come here and find some."

"...You're crazy."

"Perhaps. But let's not bandy insults when we have so recently decided on civility, captain. I believe that brings it back around to my turn."

"...I shouldn't be here."

"Hmmm, probably not. You are, after all, alone in a room with a known super, and you don't know whether you can believe me about my powers. But that's a topic for another time." Salla tapped his thumbs together. "Now, my question is this. My friend, a female bobcat named Hania, was disappeared from her home here in New Altain one week ago through rough circumstances that left her home damaged. Though police were on the scene, there was no report filed, and her identity was suppressed to the point of being buried. It took me three hackers to dig it back out again. Who, or whom, on the police force has both the clout to force the paperwork to bury such things, and the abilities, powers, or other potential capabilities to accomplish making a civilian just disappear like that?"

Silence stretched out, and the mouse sighed behind his mask. So much for a civil exchange of ideas. He had hoped that there would be some willingness, but amusement and curiosity only stretched so far. The cops would always protect their own.

He tried to be fair, to remind himself that there was only his word that Hania was a good person, that she had even existed, that Samuel probably didn't even know her from any other citizen in the city. All of those things were probably true, and viable excuses for him.

But that didn't mean that the mouse was willing to accept them.

"I think that we need to end the game there," Samuel said.

"I believe that would require at least some favor from you, then. I've answered both your questions and gotten no further pay."

"You think that I owe you anything?"

"Owe?" The mouse laughed. "Oh, let's not go into who owes who something. It isn't me, after all, that is owed anything. It's the people that you are supposed to be taking care of. Isn't that job your job, hmm? Isn't that what you do?"

"We're done here."

"On the contrary. We're just getting started."

All through the conversation, he'd been studying the slowed-down, still image of the walls when they were being controlled. The circuitry followed a simple path, and was commanded from the outside. He didn't want to change that - such a loophole would be completely ridiculous, and would last for too little time to be worth it - but he could add something else.

"Loophole: the walls will remain opaque so long as a member of law enforcement is within the cell."

"What are you - are you doing something?"

"Loophole: when attempting to use your power on those smaller than yourself, you bind yourself instead."

Salla stood up, and no sooner had he done so than the zebra snapped his fingers. It was almost ridiculous how predictable heroes could be. Just like before, it bothered the captain to have the criminal loose and wandering his own cell, so it was right back to the chair for him.

However, this time, it chained him. Samuel gasped, more than likely entirely caught off-guard by the fact that a metal band had just snapped tight around his chest, locking him to his chair. Salla darted around the table, snagging the key from the zebra's waist before he could free himself. Not that he imagined it would have been easy; the lock was along the back of the chair and slightly off-center, somewhere that would be difficult to reach with one's upper arms pinned in place.

"What - how did you -"

"I believe I already told you. Loophole. Everything works the way that it's supposed to, until it doesn't."

"But...my power..."

"It works with anything, captain. As I did try and tell you."

He sat on the table, slowly crossing one leg over the other. He could have done so much to torture the captain; stealing his air, turning his blood to acid, making the touch of another living being torture rather than comfort. The laws of reality were all too easy to re-write on a temporary basis, and he had used it more than once to get what he wanted.

But that wasn't his style. Not as a general rule. He preferred to make a deal. And if he could not, then he wanted to make a point.

"Let's try this again, captain. My friend was taken from her home, disappeared, her very existence buried. I want to find who did that to her, and I want to get her back. I am not asking you to join any crew, nor to fight against your fellow supers. All I want is a name, and then, I will leave you be."

"..."

Micro-movements were tracked by the mouse's eye-lenses, and they were telling. The zebra's shock was writ plain as day on his face, but buried beneath that was a racing pulse, nervous sweats, and a few other things. Pheromones were popping off the striped equine, carrying chemical information to other processors in the mask, and his eyes were not staring at Salla's face, but rather -

Ah. That explained a few things. The sympathy, the amusement, the interest: they all came back to a different biological urge.

The mouse smiled as he shifted his position, sliding along the table until he could put the soles of his shoes against the zebra's thighs. He leaned forward, just out of headbutt range, and smiled.

"Or perhaps you don't want to be left alone. Perhaps...you want something else in exchange for the information."

"Wh-what are you talking about?"

"You're alone with a powerful prisoner. Someone that could take whatever they wanted. Someone that twists the rules to their liking. Someone that could make this whole thing...not your fault."

"..."

"Do I need to spell it out further?" he asked, his shoe sliding up until he touched the tip to the zebra's balls, and the slightly rising bulge. "Your body knows what I'm saying, even if you don't."

"You - why are you -"

"You want something for the information. I can give it to you...but you will give me satisfaction in return. Loophole: your uniform functions as normal, save that it cannot disguise aroused anatomy."

Just as he finished his statement, the fabric around the zebra's groin disappeared, revealing a flared cock that was slowly rising up, stiffening further and further as the mouse took control of the situation. He rested one curved finger under the rising shaft, teasing the head gently with a few slow rubs.

"Yes. You are quite interested."

"You - mmph. This is -"

"If you say rape, I am hardly inclined to believe you. You are, at the very least, undeniably aroused at the thought of me taking control, particularly from the bottom. And you have yet to actually protest anything but the indignity of the situation. The doors are locked, you are impossible to see, and you are at my 'mercy.' Yet, for all that, you are more aroused than you can currently explain, and the satisfaction of said arousal is entirely at my choice...

"And my discretion."

It was not the first time that the mouse had actually used his body for a bit of information. He shook his head, sliding off the table and working his belt out of its loops. One by one, it slid free, and he tossed it to the floor. Kicking his shoes and socks off, exposing soft pink soles and white fur, he turned to the hero once more as he fiddled with his button and zipper.

"So, I will use that discretion to...enjoy you, for a time. It should satisfy the both of us. But in return, I receive the information...and you maintain your reputation, without the 'stain' that being 'used' by a criminal would cause."

"..."

"Is this bargain sufficient, captain? Or will I have to show you the way that Loophole works on biology in much more unpleasant ways?"

"...I...I'll take..."

"You will take the deal." Salla nodded, climbing onto the table once more. The height difference between the two of them was sizeable, with the zebra's head still slightly over his despite him sitting on the table and the officer on the chair. That was fine; he could enjoy that. "Good. Now...one more."

"Oh god."

"Loophole: your phallus functions as normal, save that your orgasm is dependent on mine."

"Fuck!"

Salla pressed his feet to the zebra's shaft, feeling the warmth and firmness beneath his soles growing ever more prominent. It clearly wanted to be let loose, and without that loophole, he imagined that it would have been ready to blow in seconds. Merely sliding it in between his cheeks might have been sufficient for that, but that wouldn't have been sufficient for him.

He dragged his soles from base to tip, shifting the ankle of his legs to allow his toes to squish against the spongy head of the shaft. He compressed the flare between his toes before sliding his feet back down, drawing a whimpering moan out of the once-imposing zebra.

It wouldn't take long, he supposed. He reached back, rubbing a finger along his rim. Though the shaft was thick, he'd indulged in a little bit of play with a few trusted subordinates, and he was pretty sure he could take it.

After a few more strokes with his feet, he slid forward, guiding the flared head between his ass cheeks and under his tail. Samuel panted hard, clearly struggling to contain himself, while Salla gently eased himself backward. The soft 'kiss' of flared cock to his pucker was a familiar sensation, but it was usually just a bit less slimy. Not bad, though. It was rather pleasurable in its own way.

"Remember. At the end of this, you owe me a name."

"Mmmph...yes...yes, I know..."

"And remember...your cock...is now a criminal's dildo."

He pushed down, the soft squelch of that fat cock sliding past his rim familiar and enjoyable all the same. He smiled behind his mask, slowly rolling his hips as he took inch after inch past his cheeks. The zebra threw his head back, moaning loudly as he was used. Probably a fantasy of his, Salla imagined, considering the way that he was trying and failing to buck his hips up to take it further.

The mouse took his time, slowly taking inch after inch, swaying and rolling his hips around to tease the head of that monstrous shaft against his inner walls in different ways. One time going that way, another time going the other. Slowly going further and further down, popping the medial ring in before finally reaching the base.

He rested one hand against his stomach. He imagined that it was probably somewhere just past his belly-button in depth and patted the spot. Samuel jerked, huffing and panting.

"Oh god...oh, fuck that's good."

"Yes. I know. But you will not finish until I do."

"Nnngh...it's so...good."

"It's going to get better. So, do remember that this was your choice; I offered just talking, but no. You had to enjoy someone taking advantage of you."

"Mmmph...you're...you're hard, too."

"Yes. But that's neither here -" A sudden clench, followed by a stiffening and a wheezing moan from the zebra. "Or there."

"..."

"Now, be quiet and be a good dildo. This may take a while."

And afterward, he would need to actually escape the cell without anyone stopping him, grab his cane and other possessions, and make his way to wherever the cop that had taken Hania off the streets had gone...but until then, he would enjoy himself. He had time to plan, and there were days when he did his best thinking while bouncing his plush bottom up and down on a cock.

The whimper-whines of pleasure overload as he started picking up the pace didn't hurt, either.

The End

Summary: Salla, the Man in Red, is looking for a disappeared friend of his. He decides to check with the cops, though because he's a criminal, that has to be done in a different way.

Tags: M/M, Body Reading, Anal, Bondage, Size Difference, Mouse, Zebra, Tiger, Manipulation, Super Powers, Power Bottom, Feet, Cops Lose, Salla, Interrogation, Police Station,