WOLF - pt.2
#2 of WOLF
Part Two...enjoy :3
In the movies interrogation rooms are wide spaces with tables, chairs and a two-way mirror. Life isn't always so Law and Order.
I was sat in a small, enclosed room. No windows, no table, no two-way mirror, just me and a simple, no-nonsense chair. Well, that and Detective Stephen Black.
He stood at around six-foot-one and was broad enough through the shoulders that it was obvious the big man had been some kind of athlete when he was younger. At that moment he was dressed in a simple pair of black pants, black shoes, a button up shirt done in white and a black tie at half-mast.
His square jawline spattered with stubble, while his tired brown eyes watched me from behind wire-rimmed lenses.
He'd been questioning me for a good twenty to twenty-five minutes by now.
"The dealers you were found assaulting said they stuck a bullet in your head and somehow you stayed standing," Black explained.
My, my, no foreplay from the good Detective?
I scratched my chin in response, having to raise both hands because of the handcuffs I had been bound in at the scene.
"Mind telling me what happened?" he asked, as he leaned back against the room's wall, arms folded, eyes stern with concentration.
"Sure," I grinned back, "I was ambushed by twelve pill-poppers."
"Why did they ambush you?"
"Because I got into a...complication with their head honcho a week ago.
"Alright. So you didn't attack them first?"
I blinked back at him. "Is that what you've been told?" I asked.
Black smirked and replied, "Don't worry. I'm not an idiot. Twelve known drug-heads against one kid?"
I looked Black in the eye and smirked, "What if I said they were right. Well, not that I attacked them first, but that I did indeed attack them in response?"
Black considered me for a heartbeat and asked, "You didn't run, or call for help. You faced them head on. Mind if I ask why?"
"Complicated answer, or uncomplicated answer?"
"Uncomplicated please."
"Fine. I'm a werewolf."
Black stared at me for the longest time.
Did he believe me? It wasn't like I was lying. I was indeed a werewolf.
The bullet in the head had been normal lead. It hurt like Hell but wouldn't have done any permanent damage without some kind of silver concentrate within.
"Your...a werewolf?" Black repeated.
I grinned back.
He suddenly smiled back and added, "Please don't insult my intelligence."
I sighed and shrugged, "Fine. The odds weren't really in my favour regardless."
"Indeed." Black pushed away from the wall and started to pace slowly around the chair. "Answer me this? Why were you torching those cars in the lot?"
"Rundown."
"Excuse me?"
"The cars I torched were rundown, abandoned even. No harm, no foul."
"That doesn't change the fact it can still be recognised as an act of vandalism."
"Vandalism? Hardly? Have you seen the Upper-East Side? That's vandalism," I grinned.
Black stopped pacing in front of me and looked down at me, hands on his hips he asked, "What's your game, Whyatt?"
"What do you mean?" I replied innocently.
"You've been in and out of custody now for over seven months."
"So?"
Black's eyes flared with anger as he clenched both fists.
He growled, "Are you that arrogant?"
"No. Not arrogant," i grinned at the kind Detective and added, "Bored."
"Bored? BORED!?" his voice boomed off the walls.
I nodded, "Yep."
Black considered me with a long, hard stare and then sighed, he relaxed somewhat, a tension, a thread of anger still bubbled under the surface, but he was calmer now. He was an old-fashioned cop with an old-fashioned sense of right and wrong. Guys like me puzzled the crap out of guys like him.
"Fine," he said, "But regardless of the how or why, all of this, the GBH against your assailants, the vandalism, not to mention your rap sheet up until now, it leaves me with no other choice; your looking at time inside."
I stared up at the Detective and felt nothing. Life should have been over, but that had happened a long time ago. This was just a relocation for me now. A new home to wile away the days in. So what if I went down? So be it. No real family to speak of, other than an estranged little sister. No one close enough to call a friend.
I grinned and said, "Send me down, Detective."
_ Knock! Knock!_
Black and I looked up as the interrogation room door opened and a tall, dark man stepped through the door.
Standing at six-one to rival Black's intimidating height, this man was slender with skin the colour of cocoa. His eyes were a deep, emerald green, while his body was adorned in a tailored Armani suit done in ivory.
He smiled warmly at both of us, long cornrows that spilled down his back were bound in a loose ponytail, all strewn with varied shades of green beads.
All of this and still the very first thing I noticed when that door opened, before the suit and the man stood inside it, was that smell. A dry, neck-ruffling scent that no normal human would pick up on.
_ Snake._