Originally wrote to clean up a common loose end, when characters kill a bunch of bad guys and the police never get involved. Turned into a way to confirm information for the characters, cross-over with another set of characters, and ultimately leave me a way to introduce information at a later date. The Wash and Drybrush, tightened up some of the scenery and conversation, the overall tone remains the same.
Another conversation in a police office…
Police officers, suspects, and victims shouting, yelling, and the occasional scream wagged an auditory war with the numerous holos and vid screens blaring around the booking room. The constant barrage of noise bothered Whiskers deeply. Folding his ears down only muted the noise in the police station a little.
Waiting gave Whiskers time to ponder the wisdom of coming to the SCPD office. There was a risk in reporting their actions to the police. Detective Orte, their contact, forwarded him to Officer Tanx, an officer familiar with Tumbledown. A plus in Whiskers’ book, Officer Tanx might have information they need. A minus in that Officer Tanx might charge them for the deaths of the gangers. Risk.
Peeking over her desk a young female illietheril said, “He can see you now.”
“Thank you officer.”
Stepping out of the crowded booking room into the hallway leading to the back offices, silence or the closest and with each step more silence. Whiskers stood outside an office built for a giant, Whiskers could stretch his arms out to either side and not touch the doorframe. Sitting, Whiskers hoped, behind a giant desk, Officer Tanx, a herg, beckoned Whiskers in with a wave of a large four fingered hand.
“Whiskers, come on in,” Tanx jovially said.
“You have a very spacious office.”
“That’s funny,” Tanx’s laughter rumbled around his office, his remembrance braids bouncing with each laugh. “Haven’t heard that one before.” Another rumbling laugh, “Spacious office, indeed. Detective Orte sent you to me because I might know something, did I get that right?”
Whiskers always thought of himself as tall, however staring up at Officer Tanx’s tusk framed face brought home many uncomfortable memories of sitting at the children’s table for holidays. “That is correct. He said you are an expert on Tumbledown.”
“I am your expert then. What did you want to know?”
Unconsciously sitting straighter, Whiskers consulted his data-pad, “Recently, an investigation took us into Tumbledown where we found a well-equipped gang defending a clean room.”
“And you want to know who is providing the equipment and the clean room?” Tanx interrupted while manipulating his holo-desk display. “Is this your investigation?” Tanx sarcastically asked, enlarging images of several dead gangers and the clean room while spinning the holo-display to face Whiskers.
Clearing his throat, thankful Puddles was not there, “Yes, that looks like our investigation.” Fearing bad news, Whiskers rushed forward, “A Doctor Marlowe hired us to find his three daughters who he thought were with their boyfriends in Tumbledown. Additional information led us to enter Tumbledown quickly. My partner and I encountered the gangers who attacked before we could ask any questions about the three women,” Whiskers finished with a gasp.
Officer Tanx stared directly at Whiskers while he spoke, “First, relax. Second, you and your partner are not going to be charged. Unless you make a habit of killing gangers.”
“Really. Gangers attacked you, evidence shows that and you will file a report to make it official. Does not hurt that all of them were registered offenders.”
“I will file the report.”
Tanx gave Whiskers an “of course you will” look, “The gangers they were members of Black Myst. JAG’s.”
Whiskers looked confused.
“Sorry JAG or Just Another Gang. Nothing special about them, just another Tumbledown gang.” Swiping to a close-up image of the personal shield generator, “The personal shield found on this ganger is an Oakenshield model. Again, nothing special.” Several images of the clean room, “The clean room, by the time investigations arrived, was no longer clean and…”
“Let me guess,” Whiskers interjected, “Nothing special.”
“You guessed it. The only special in the entire place, the clean room. Our technicians are still running tests and examining the computers. I can send you their findings when the come in, but that could take weeks.”
“Thank you, any information is appreciated. Where do I file that report?”
“Right here,” Tanx brought the form on the screen. He reached over the desk to shake Whisker’s hand, Whiskers watched his hand and most of his arm disappear in Officer Tanx’s fist. Once again Whiskers was reminded of times at the kiddie table.