Rick Martinez // Allan A Dale (anotheroutlaw) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2010-12-13 00:54:00 |
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Entry tags: | rick martinez |
Who: Rick Martinez and an NPC Suspect
What: Weapons smuggling in Southern California? Never...
When: Monday, just after midnight
Where A Police Station
Rick was having a surprisingly good few months, all things considered. He was still enjoying the novelty of being married. As much as he complained about it, he liked his relatively new position on the PD's Reincarnate squad. He'd gotten a week of vacation from Allan, and actually missed the bastard. Then when Allan had taken over for a week he hadn't done anything worse than freaking out Rick's family and somehow soliciting a small mountain of bribes. That wasn't so bad, relatively. The outlaw had also somehow uncovered a weapons smuggling operation running through the city. Probably because he wanted to figure out a way to get a cut of it. Rick didn't want to think about the possibility that a medieval miscreant might be as good or better at his job as he was. That was just disturbing.
Tonight was less good. They'd picked up one of the smugglers, but didn't get any smuggled weapons. A hand-off was supposed to happen that night south of the city. Something must have tipped off the person delivering, because the shipment never showed up. Someone had shown up to pick up the weapons though, and they'd hauled the guy in. Turned out he had a number of warrants out, and Rick wanted to have a word with him.
Stepping into the interrogation room he took a second to let his eyes adjust to the bright fluorescent lights. The suspect looked younger in here. Skinny, unkempt. Scared shitless. That was usually helpful. With any luck he'd be ready to talk. Rick himself started talking instantly. He'd worked out a strategy for these things. The more he talked, the more other people talked. He could set the tone and keep things conversational, although rarely friendly. He sounded casual, and felt a little bit like Allan spinning a story to some poor sucker, but at the edge of it there was menace. It was obviously a trap, it was just up to the suspect to work out how. That's usually where they went wrong.
"I'm not being funny here, you are a having a bad night." He grabbed the crappy metal chair and spun it around, straddling it and folding his arms across the back. "I don't think I've ever had a night as bad as you are having right now. It's gonna' get worse too. Especially if you don't tell us who else we ought to be blaming."
The suspect opened his mouth, then closed it again. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his cuffed hands and closed his eyes tightly. It was an expression most reincarnates came to recognize quickly, it was the expression of two personalities fighting for control. Rick rolled his eyes. "Whoever you've got in there ain't gonna help you. I'm the one who's gonna help you. If you help us."
The suspect smirked. Apparently the scared kid had lost his inner argument. "The first rule of the Resistance is you don't talk about the Resistance."
"Hijo de puta." Rick sighed. This was going to be a long night.