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whumble-beeee · 2 months ago

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Yur Gonna Get Murdalated, Rookie

The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping | Cont'd from Part 15.5

Content: adult character perceived as a minor, kidnapping/captivity, noncon drugging, guns, recreational drug use, disabled whumpee, trans whumpee, past captivity references

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Excerpt from: The Law Enforcement Policy Handbook, Chapter X: Superhumans

[Officers of the law have the right to ask any civilian to show their upper right arm to verify whether or not the civilian bears the ‘General Super Brand’. If the civilian does possess such a marking, they are superhuman; the officer has the right to use whatever superhuman training they may possess.

If the brand indicates that the superhuman is also a ‘Latent Supervillain,’ ‘Supervillain,’ or Test Subject,’ the officer is also compelled to check the superhuman’s upper right shoulder blade for the ‘Hazardous Super Brand,’ colloquially known as ‘The Villain Brand.’ Depending on the contents of the brand, the officer may be required to arrest or otherwise subdue the superhuman. They are advised to use their best judgment to subdue the superhuman or hide and call for backup.]

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The night was peaceful. Boring, even. The type of night where you’d wanna just sit back and smoke a cigar in the amber-dusking twilight that spilled through the half-closed blinds of your office. It’s filled to bursting with old bookshelves sworn by the tests of time, a single chair for you to sit in as you work, and a sprawling, book-laden red oak wood desk, surrounded on all sides by stacks and stacks of notes, files, crucial evidence about your latest case. The scent of cigars burns your nose. You’re so close to a breakthrough, you could just about taste it on the tip of your tongue, You would find it, you always did, and you could feel it now, edging ever closer after a tirelessly rewarding and sleepless night.

And yet here Officer Kalis Brooks sat instead, bored out of her skull watching some dinky ass highway that was lucky if a car graced its beaten roads once every twenty minutes.

If only she were a film noir detective. Truly an unfair life she led.

It was a suspicious sort of fellow she finally spotted slowly making his way down the highway. A scoundrel who wore a bandana over the lower half of his face.

A person with something to hide.

Of course, she pulled him over. Simply her duty as an officer of the law.

She approached the truck and rapped lightly on the driver’s side window, and it rolled down with a gentle whirr. She shined her flashlight into the vehicle, and the view to greet her was almost something of a–

Holy shit.

The driver sat there, lazily gripping the steering wheel, looking like some sort of modernized pseudo-cowboy with a buncha scary lookin’ gadgets. A burn scar ran all the way up the side of his face, down his neck, and reappeared on his arm where his leather jacket rolled up to his elbows. His eyes were dilated, every movement markedly relaxed. Disjointed. Uncanny even.

He was definitely high. But at least he’d had the forethought to take off that bandana concealing his identity. That was a good thing, right?

Then her jaw nearly dropped when she registered the passenger. He didn’t even look at her, his gaze stiff and unseeing. Very obviously also high on some sort of drug, though Kalis reckoned this high was less than consensual. Not to mention the super-power suppression collar wrapped around his neck.

He was a super.

She wasn’t trained to handle cases like this. Was this a super kidnapping in progress?! Something more?

Shit, no time for film noir roleplay bullshit, this is serious.

This is a villain.

Her gaze snapped back to the driver, just as her hand unclipped the gun holstered at her hip.

“Sir, please step out of the car slowly with your hands up. You’re being detained under suspicion of committing an in-progress felony.”

The driver’s gaze immediately shot to his passenger. “Officer, there uh… seems to be a misunderstanding–”

“Step out of the car or I’ll have you arrested for disobeying an officer of the law.”

That got his attention. The driver blew his bangs out of his face with a slow, deep sigh, and equally slowly reached down to open the door. The metallic creak of the door swinging open was almost deafening in the moonlit night.

“I should mention I have a gun holstered on my belt,” he drawled inattentively, boots crunching the sparse gravel scattered across the shoulder of the highway. His arms stayed firmly raised, thankfully. “A revolver. Left side.”

“Thank you for informing me,” Officer Brooks said quickly. This man seemed to be an easy-going fella, thankfully, but air around him stank of danger, like the haze of the walking dead. She slipped the ornately decorated gun out of its holster and slapped all the bullets to the roadway with 6 distinctly clean clinks. Then triple-checked that the safety was on. Then a fourth time. The matching knife too, for good measure.

“I’d like to ask you some questions,” she stated, barely halting her transatlantic accent from slipping through. Stop it with the film noir. “Show me your upper right arm, please.”

He sighed, then nodded, then struggled to push up the leather sleeves of his jacket enough to show her the clear absence of a super brand.

Good, one less thing to worry about. Not a supervillain.

“Alright then, what’s going on with that boy in the truck, friend?”

“Nothin’ much. That’s Stan. He’s my ward.”

“Your ward?”

“Yuh. I have custody over him. He’s a test subject.”

“Really?” She said, voice full of faux intrigue.

“Really.”

“And who are you, exactly?”

“Handler, of sorts. A bounty hunter. I work with the police sometimes, actually, we have an arrangement.”

“Oh? An arrangement?” she asked, as if daring him to tell her all the illegal dealings he held in his hidden hand of cards.

He just shrugged.

Ugh, she hated these types.

“Fine. You have any proof?”

“Think I left my bounty huntin’ papers in my other pants,” he quipped. “Check the kid's villain brand, call in my ID, talk to your boss. Should be proof enough.”

That was absolutely not how that worked. Though she did feel a slight vindication in her chest that she would actually probably arrest this man.

“You have your ID on you?”

“Mhm.”

He flicked out his ID between forefinger and middle to the officer, seemingly plucking it from thin air before she snatched it out of his hand, noting every piece of identifying information, checking for signs of a fake. Nothing seemed to be out of order… Had he really just handed her his real ID?

“And you said something about the boy having a villain brand?”

The man– Declan Cansano, so said the ID– nodded. Then rolled his damn eyes.

“Oh, I'm sorry, am I boring you?” She smiled sarcastically. “Need I make it obvious that you are suspected of kidnapping?”

“I just have somewhere to be. It’s late. If you’d call in to ask about–”

“Are you telling me how to do my job?”

“No ma'am, I'm sayin’ you'd save yourself a lot–”

“Well stop ‘sayin'’ or I'll be ‘sayin’’ that you resisted arrest when I’m writing up your arrest report. This way.”

She had to keep from grabbing his arm and yanking him as she led him over to her cruiser and deposited him near the passenger side door. Only after ordering him to turn around so she could cuff him behind his back of course.

“Stay here until I come back,” she ordered. “And remember that running from a uniformed officer is a criminal offense.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he lulled back, almost sing-songy while leaning nonchalantly against the car. “Keep an eye on the kid, he's the type you’d have to worry about.”

Because you kidnapped him? God, she couldn't wait to throw the book at that man.

Kalis pressed the talk button on the radio clipped to her shoulder. “Officer Brooks reporting, I have a man pulled over here named Declan Cansano, roughly 6 and a half feet tall, blond, possibly… Latino? I have him detained for suspected kidnapping of the boy he has with him, a white brown-haired male, very battered and bruised and likely drugged who looks to be about… sixteen-ish? The man claims the boy is a super with villain status, and that he has jurisdiction over him as a ‘handler’ or ‘bounty hunter’ or something. Can you look him up for me?”

There was a moment of silence, then the radio crackled to life. “Report received, I'll look into a ‘Declan Cansano’ for you real quick. Do you have a name for the white male I can look into as well?”

“Not yet, I’m going to check that out now and get back to you shortly.”

“Wait,” A third voice interupted, familiar in just the right way to make Kalis’ heart flutter in her chest. Officer Frida Galleta. Her mentor, her favorite person on the force, one of the people she trusted most in this world. And… well, it didn’t hurt that she was easy on the eyes as well. “Brooks, did I hear you right? You said last name Cansano?”

Just as fast as it had soared, her heart dropped like a stone in a vacuum. She’d never heard that tone from Frida before. “I– I– Uh... yes. Why?”

“Oh god, I… Brooks, don’t engage with him– Look, I’m gonna call you on your personal cell–”

“Wait, Frida, what do you mean ‘don’t engage with him?’ I have him detained, I can’t not engage with him.”

“Officers, please keep small talk to a minimum over the radio,” Dispatch interrupted. “Officer Brooks, I couldn’t find anything on a ‘Declan Cansano’ anywhere, not the super or villain database, the criminal database, the employee database. But uh… to Officer Galleta’s point, if he said he’s a bounty hunter... Well, let’s just say you might wanna follow up with the chief about that before you make any decisions. They might have some sort of arrangement, so to speak.”

Arrangement…? Like a… Like…

Officer Brooks smelled the stinking injustice of a rat.

“Co–... Come again, dispatch?” she breathed into the radio.

“No!” Officer Galleta’s voice interrupted. “Dispatch, I’l’-I’lll handle this, no need to get the higher-ups involved. Please.”

Then her phone rang. Officer Galleta’s beautiful profile photo graced her periphery as she pulled out the phone and promptly sent the call straight to voicemail, eyes straight ahead and staring into the pitch-black night. At the car that a captive was waiting for her in.

“Kalis, please answer your phone,” Galleta pleaded.

Officer Brooks silenced her radio, that wretched squeal, and started toward crime scene in the making.

It was a pig-filled world out there. She wouldn’t stand idly by as they made the entire world their mud pit.

Her phone rang again.

A single deep breath to steel her razor-sharp wit, then slammed open the passenger side door, preparing for the occupant to do anything from attacking like a spit-fire to running for the hills to grasping onto her and holding her close as the first friendly face this boy had seen in years.

Somehow, she didn’t expect the boy inside to startle and struggle, legs scrambling and weakly kicking at her to put distance between them. He leaned precariously back on the console of the car, shaking as if he were in hell when it finally froze over, and only then did she realize his hands were restrained behind his back.

Now that she wasn’t looking at him over the angry presence of a kidnapper, she could see clearly now that her first impression of him was so very wrong; He was so much worse off than she could have imagined. Deep-set dark circles under his eyes, so many bruises lining his skin, specks of dried blood flakes dotting his body, cuts caked with disgusting oozing brown, eyes dilated and bloodshot, angry red welts peaking out from under the power-suppressing collar that only could have been from being yanked around or choked, and dried blood-stains that drip-drip-dripped down the front of his oversized white t-shirt.

Her face went ashen at the ghastly scene. What had that man done?

Her phone rang once more. She muted it. It still buzzed in her pocket.

“Hi,” she started slowly. Her voice cracked slightly. “My name is Officer Brooks, or Kalis. I'm here to help you. What's your name?”

He simply returned her a wide-eyed stare. Then glanced over to her cruiser. At the man leaning on it. Then at her badge. Then down to his lap, not a single word uttered.

The phone buzzed with another call.

“It's alright,” she soothed, like a mother beckoning a lost child home. “He can't hurt you right now. I'm here to help you, but I need you to talk to me or else I can't help you. I need to know your name. It’s Stan, right? Stan? That’s what I heard from him.”

He looked up, staring into her as if she wasn't even there again, eyes so wide, so dilated. No words. He frowned, considering for a moment. Then a vindictive determination spread across his features and he moved his gaze right back to his lap.

“Alright, that's uh… that's alright.” She felt like a kindergarten teacher with the way she was talking. Her phone buzzed with yet another call. “Can I… can I at least see the super brand on your back? Can you do that for me, Stan?”

He jolted back. “No.”

More phone buzzing. Adrenaline surged in her chest. “Stan, please. I can't get you back to your family if I can't find out who you are.”

“... fam–... family?...” His eyes widened, pupils somehow blown even wider, unfocused into the middle distance.

“Yes, Stan.” She very carefully reached for the collar of his shirt, ready to pull back at any time. The boy didn’t react. “I just want to get you back to your family.”

Kalis pulled the shirt down just enough to reveal that awful blue of the villain brand. The blue that signified a test subject.

Shit, the bounty hunter had been telling the truth.

The phone buzzed once more. Kalis snatched it out of her pocket. Turning around swiftly so Stan wouldn’t think what was about to happen next was directed at him.

“What do you want?” She hissed. “I’m trying to talk to a kidnapping victim.”

“Oh thank god, you’re alright,” Frida's tinny voice came through the speaker.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I– Look, Kalis, I know this sounds bad, but I need you to let the bounty hunter go. Now.”

Officer Brooks grit her teeth. This was exactly what she was afraid of. “Why.”

“He’s… look, alright, I’m surprised no one told you before, but the police have a sort of… deal… with certain criminals and organizations. Mr. Cansano is one of them–”

“So you’re a dirty cop, then?” Kalis interrupted, voice strained, chest tight. “And– and you’re trying to bring me down with you, now? Frida, I–... You should see what he’s done to this captive. I can't let him go.”

"I’m not a dirty cop! Not the way you’re thinking at least, I– just trust me, I can't even say over the phone but I'm on my way and I’ll tell you when I get there, I swear. Please don't do anything, for both our sakes.I know him, he's–”

“You know him?!”

“Yes, he’s–”

“How do you know him?!”

“Kalis. Listen to me.” Her voice turned deathly serious. “He's got ties everywhere. Hell, he does jobs for the police sometimes, they won't protect you if you get in trouble. He might try to kill you, and even if he doesn't and you get him arrested, now you have a target on your back from both the mob AND the corrupt police. If you try to arrest him, you're going to die. Please just leave him alone. Please."

She grit her teeth. “So that means he doesn't have any… official paperwork to prove he has authority over the super?”

“I– uh… probably not? They don't work within the law, that's why you need to let him go.”

Well then…

That’s all she needed to hear.

“I’m arresting him.”

“No! No, Khalis, I'm on my way, I'll-I’ll be two minutes, just wait–”

She slammed her phone down and turned back around to Stan, only then realizing that the poor boy probably heard everything she just said–

Nope, he was off in his own little world again.

“Stan?...”

No response.

She waved her hand in front of his face. “Stan!”

He startled back to himself, terrified, scrambling to get away from her just like the first time she'd walked up to him.

She didn't have time for this.

“Stan, honey, I'm going to arrest the man who hurt you alright? He won't hurt you anymore. I have to leave now, but one of my friends will be here very soon. She'll help you out, alright? Everything will be alright. Just please stay here. Hopefully I'll see you soon.”

Officer Brooks closed the door of the truck before she could catch a reaction, hoping that ditching Stan to be found by Officer Galleta was the best choice here.

It had to be, it was the only choice.

She steeled herself, resting her hand on her gun once more, and walked back over through the oppressive black night and into the spotlighting brights of her police car.

To face down the bounty hunter.

“Mr. Cansano, you're–...”

Then all of her built-up courage suddenly burst. What the hell was–...

She gaped.

Then scoffed.

Really?

“Are–… are you… smoking a blunt right now?”

The bounty hunter’s hand withdrew from his mouth, followed by a puff of dark white smoke. His gaze never once broke from the bright dot of red-yellow ash that oh-so-subtly lit his face. “Yup.”

She just stared at him for a moment. Then shook her head out. Whatever.

“Mr. Cansano, you're under arrest for suspected kidnapping of a super and illegal bounty hunting.” He didn’t so much as blink. “You have the right to remain silent, as anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, and if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided to you.” Crickets chirped somewhere in the forest sidelining them. “Do you understand these rights as I’ve spoken them to you?”

He didn’t move in the slightest through her whole spiel. He almost seemed to have paused time around him, actually, a frozen snapshot.

A pause as Kalis stood ready to arrest a few feet away, yet unable to move closer as the air turned sticky with his low chuckle.

A pause because, only then, did Kalis realize that when she last left the man, she'd left him in handcuffs.

The bounty hunter shoved the burning tip of the blunt into the metal siding of her cruiser, instantly extinguishing the bright ember. “You talked to your boss?”

She clutched her gun. “I've been made aware of the situation.”

“Brave one, you are.”

He pushed up out of his lean. She whipped out her gun and aimed it squarely at his chest. “Freeze.”

He stopped, staring at her gun hand, eyes narrowed, hands shooting up to show he wasn’t a threat.

Yeah right.

Police sirens in the distance. Couldn’t be anyone but Frida.

“Put your hands on the car. Slowly.”

He looked her up and down. It was funny, his eyes almost looked red, with the way the headlights shined off his eyes.

“Hands on the car.”

The hunter almost seemed to think about it for a moment. Then he laughed, pulled his bandana up over his face, and took a step forward.

Her vision tunneled, heart pounding in her ears. All she had to do was pull the trigger.

“Shame,” he drawled. Now he had… a string? A metal string, the type used to cut clay. Held taut between his hands. “I’ll try not to make this hurt, youu seem lie one of the good ones.”

Kalis’s gun hand shook. She should shoot him. She’d never shot anyone before. Shoot him. Shoot him. In the chest, in the leg, somewhere, shoot him, shoot him, you’re going to die shoot him shoot him do it fucking SHOOT HIM–

Her finger squeezed the trigger as he lunged forward, a flash of light, everything bright white and hot and blinding as a loud CRACK split through her eardrums, her very skull. Her gun arm knocked to the side, the gun flew from her hands. Her only chance at defending herself disappeared somewhere into the inky black night.

Suddenly she was staring right into his dark brown eyes that seemed to gleam red. His hands slammed just short on either side of her neck, the wire held gingerly between them pressing into the hard muscle of her larynx.

Just the two of them.

The crickets, the trees.

The stars, shining above so sweetly.

Her last witnesses.

She was going to die here.

“Sorry about this,” he whispered, a low grumble that reverberated her entire soul. She couldn’t look away from those blood-red eyes. Would her blood be added to that as well?

A deafening screech of tires.

His brow furrowed, gaze stuttering elsewhere. A new set of headlights spotlighted them like startled deer, two omens of death and justice heading straight for them, night turned into a shining white day.

Brighter, brighter.

“Holy shit,” the bounty hunter yelled. Low engine revs turned into deafening roars that wholly swallowed any screams that ripped from Kalis’ or Declan’s throats, right before a hand yanked off her feet, just barely heaved over the hood of the car and tumbling jarringonto the ground next to the man who had apparently saved them both as a giant mass of immoveable flashing red and blue and black and white metal screeched past them as it attempted to grind to a stuttering halt before flying into the ditch that sidelined the highway.

Kalis slammed into the ground.

The world spun around her.

Frida.

Ow, FUCK–

What’s–

It was Frida!

She was saved!

Or wait, was Frida trying to kill her now?

Why had the bounty hunter saved her, were they on the same side now?

What was happening?!

The door of the cop car flew open before the car even fully screeched to a halt, and there she stood in all of her gorgeous, life-saving, terrified and anger-filled glory, pointing her gun over the top of her cop car right at the man in the cowboy hat sprawled dazed on the ground next to her.

“DECLAN CANSANO, WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

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Also linking this rq for anyone who didn't see bc I think I'm hilarious

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