The pistol was slid back into its holster with an unbothered ease, as if I wasn’t just non-verbally given a death threat. The faceless officer leaned forward, fingers clasped and arms resting on the table, “Now, with the shenanigans out of the way, sit. Things will go a lot smoother for you, me, and the janitorial team if you cooperate.”
Begrudgingly, I take those few steps forward and place myself on the, as expected, freezing metal seat. I lean back in my chair, making a bit of distance between her intensity and waiting for her next words. Saying anything out of turn, without knowing what they know, might very well dig me into a deeper hole. Aloof, ignorant, and annoying may very well get me out of this, if I manage to convince them I’m too much of a hassle to keep around, but not dangerous enough to kill or imprison outright.
After a few moments of staring each other down, face-to-expressionless-plexiglass, waiting for me to react, she takes the initiative, “Prisoner U01-685, David Yasiv, age 25, class B Tech?”
It wasn’t a question, even if she added an inflection to the end. She’s confirming it to herself, and trying to make me think they more than they do.
“I plead the 5th.”
She ignores me, going over some internal list of information they got off my gene record, most likely.
“6 arrest warrants from multiple cities, a few prison stints, and many, many citations for unlicensed tech.”
“Whoever this guy is, he’s got quite an impressive track record. I’d bet he’s a genius, maybe stunningly handsome as well…”
She looks me up and down for a moment, unphased by my nudity, “I’d disagree.”
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Well, ouch.
“No permanent residence, no contact with family, criminal background, etc.. In essence, low-life scum.”
“And you’ve gotten me confused for him? I am a model citizen, I assure you.”
“A model citizen found unconscious found at the scene of a crime, next to an unregistered Magi? Who, conveniently, has confirmed all of this.”
Fuck. This could actually be a bad situation.
And dammit! For a “wise practitioner of the most Arcané Magickes”, he’s not exactly good at keeping his mouth shut when it’d be smart to do so. Being known for consorting with non licensed magi is a hefty, dangerous prison sentence. At least they don’t seem to know that he’s been tutoring me in-
“And apparently, you’ve been practitioning as well,” She finishes, a final tone in her voice that brooked no argument.
This has conversation has quickly gone from bad, to worse, to fucking disastorus. Like a beautiful swan dive that spirals into a bone shattering belly flop, the kind that makes all the judges wince a little, and crushes the coach’s dreams of bringing his star the gold. And, you know, results in the athlete being resigned to a life-long prison sentence, or being put on death row, or…
The metaphor has fallen apart slightly, I’ll admit.
Okay, playing it cool isn’t going to work. They know that I know that I’m fucked. With my criminal record and the fact they know I’ve been using, I'm a much, much larger threat to society. Being shot forthright and saying I looked like I was about to start incanting wouldn’t even make the higher-ups bat an eye. The fact I’m not dead right now means they probably have a trick up their sleeve, as ironic as it is to say.
Or maybe I’ll just be publicly executed as a PR stunt.
“You and your friend, Alexio I believe, are in deep, deep shit. But the fact you’re neither dead nor in a lead lined cell means something.”
“While I still deny everything that’s happening, I smell a deal here.”
“We want to strike an agreement. You do what we say, you get to live another day.” I can feel the smug smile in those words, as I stare into my distorted reflection in the black glass. There’s anger in my eyes, hot and disgusted at the idea of being under her yoke.
At this point, even with the bitter feeling welling up in the pit of my stomach, I know that it’s time for damage control. I’m caught in check, but not checkmate; there’s a way out of this, somewhere.
With a sigh, I sit up from my relaxed position, “Well you could’ve just said that from the start.”
“What, and not get such a ‘stunningly handsome’ lowlife to fear for his life for a moment?”
“You’re an evil person.”
“Perhaps, but more importantly, I’m your new boss.”