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Entry tags:
Bigby and some cops, this evening
After the police take Bigby in, they question him.
Warnings: Law enforcement, homophobia, mentions of violence and racism.
Bigby sat back in his seat, the still too-tight handcuffs rattling against the table, and glanced at the door. He’d been waiting in the interrogation room for nearly twenty minutes now without any sign of a cop showing up anytime soon. They were probably trying to wait him out. Or they just sucked at their jobs. Either was a possibility really.
And speak of the assholes. Bigby could hear footsteps approaching. Sitting forward, he rested his arms on the tabletop and waited.
Eventually a detective entered, followed by one of the officers who'd arrested him--the asshole who'd slammed his face into the pavement. "I'm Detective Mercer, this is Officer Hildreth," the former said. "And you are...." he looked at a notepad in his hand. "Bigby Wolf. Live in Westchester. What were you doing in the City today?"
The detective was trying for intimidating and staring him down. Staring right back, Bigby answered, “Going to dinner.”
"Where?"
“You looking for recommendations?” Bigby asked with a lift of an eyebrow. “Amalfi’s. Italian place up the street from where your friend here assaulted--Sorry, stopped me.”
"Cute, kid," Mercer said, all irony. The officer behind him glared, but kept it shut for now. Mercer nodded at him. "I'm guessing Amalfi's will back that up."
Officer Hildreth hesitated, but headed out the door.
When he was gone, Mercer asked, "Minus the attitude this time: Are you a mutant?"
Bigby sat back in his chair. “Does it matter?”
"If I ask you a question, it matters," Mercer said, slipping into a chair across from him. "So answer them."
Bigby decided to not go with the ‘you know what I meant’ and just said, “Yeah, I’m a mutant.”
"And what's your--whatever you call them--your power?" He said it like the word left a bad taste in his mouth, but otherwise was blank-faced.
“Mutation,” Bigby supplied. Power worked too, he supposed, but he wasn’t sure every mutant felt particularly powerful when it came to whatever ability they had. “I turn into a wolf.”
The detective's left eyebrow arched slightly, but otherwise, he wasn't giving shit away. He made a note in his book--as if this wasn't all being recorded--and then said, "And did you turn into a wolf this afternoon?"
“I started to, and I stopped myself,” Bigby answered. He wasn’t going to give shit away either.
"That's not what those kids said. They said you and your friend started a fight, then you turned into a monster."
Bigby almost smirked at the obvious quotations around friend. “Boyfriend,” he corrected. The implication was there. Let it make the fucker uncomfortable if he wasn’t willing to acknowledge it like a grown-up. “And those kids lied. The one in pink started everything. He used some choice language. Really clever stuff, of course. And then he tried to hit my boyfriend.” He leaned in, arms back on the table. “You know, for a detective, you’re not so good at gathering the facts.”
The guy’s face had started turning red at 'boyfriend'--it just got worse as Bigby went on. "And for a suspect who might be spending a few nights in lock-up, you're not so good at cooperation. Did you, or did you not turn into a wolf to scare those kids?"
“I thought the question was if I started the fight, not if I acted in self-defense?” Bigby rubbed at his wrist were the cuffs were chaffing against his skin. “No, I didn’t turn into a wolf to scare those kids. Pinky tried to hit my boyfriend. I reacted without thinking, and then I stopped myself.”
"So you did go after them," Mercer said, eyes narrowing.
Bigby had known the dick was going to take it that way, but lying about it would have only gotten him into more trouble. “No,” he said, a sliver of annoyance seeping into his voice. “I started to shapeshift, and then I stopped it. I never went after anyone. Question for you. If that boy went after us, why am I the only one being questioned?”
"Don't play games with me, kid." The detective was sputtering now. "He reported you for going belligerent b-movie monster on him, and you know it, so cut the bullshit."
“And I’m telling you he verbally and physically attacked us.” Bigby replied, leaning in, eyes narrowing. “Or does that only matter if you’re not a queer, brown mutant?”
The officer didn’t respond so Bigby continued, “I didn’t do anything. There are witnesses that can attest to that. Those same witnesses can attest to the police brutality I suffered at the hands of your officers. Not to mention there’s the cellphone footage. So, tell me again, why are you holding me here?”
Mercer, entirely red and sputtery by then, stood quickly, chair shoving out under him with a screech. "I can see we're not gonna get anywhere with this persecution complex. We'll check your story." He started for the door.
“I’ll be here,” Bigby responded and leaned back in his chair. Looks like he’d be getting out sooner than he’d thought.
Warnings: Law enforcement, homophobia, mentions of violence and racism.
Bigby sat back in his seat, the still too-tight handcuffs rattling against the table, and glanced at the door. He’d been waiting in the interrogation room for nearly twenty minutes now without any sign of a cop showing up anytime soon. They were probably trying to wait him out. Or they just sucked at their jobs. Either was a possibility really.
And speak of the assholes. Bigby could hear footsteps approaching. Sitting forward, he rested his arms on the tabletop and waited.
Eventually a detective entered, followed by one of the officers who'd arrested him--the asshole who'd slammed his face into the pavement. "I'm Detective Mercer, this is Officer Hildreth," the former said. "And you are...." he looked at a notepad in his hand. "Bigby Wolf. Live in Westchester. What were you doing in the City today?"
The detective was trying for intimidating and staring him down. Staring right back, Bigby answered, “Going to dinner.”
"Where?"
“You looking for recommendations?” Bigby asked with a lift of an eyebrow. “Amalfi’s. Italian place up the street from where your friend here assaulted--Sorry, stopped me.”
"Cute, kid," Mercer said, all irony. The officer behind him glared, but kept it shut for now. Mercer nodded at him. "I'm guessing Amalfi's will back that up."
Officer Hildreth hesitated, but headed out the door.
When he was gone, Mercer asked, "Minus the attitude this time: Are you a mutant?"
Bigby sat back in his chair. “Does it matter?”
"If I ask you a question, it matters," Mercer said, slipping into a chair across from him. "So answer them."
Bigby decided to not go with the ‘you know what I meant’ and just said, “Yeah, I’m a mutant.”
"And what's your--whatever you call them--your power?" He said it like the word left a bad taste in his mouth, but otherwise was blank-faced.
“Mutation,” Bigby supplied. Power worked too, he supposed, but he wasn’t sure every mutant felt particularly powerful when it came to whatever ability they had. “I turn into a wolf.”
The detective's left eyebrow arched slightly, but otherwise, he wasn't giving shit away. He made a note in his book--as if this wasn't all being recorded--and then said, "And did you turn into a wolf this afternoon?"
“I started to, and I stopped myself,” Bigby answered. He wasn’t going to give shit away either.
"That's not what those kids said. They said you and your friend started a fight, then you turned into a monster."
Bigby almost smirked at the obvious quotations around friend. “Boyfriend,” he corrected. The implication was there. Let it make the fucker uncomfortable if he wasn’t willing to acknowledge it like a grown-up. “And those kids lied. The one in pink started everything. He used some choice language. Really clever stuff, of course. And then he tried to hit my boyfriend.” He leaned in, arms back on the table. “You know, for a detective, you’re not so good at gathering the facts.”
The guy’s face had started turning red at 'boyfriend'--it just got worse as Bigby went on. "And for a suspect who might be spending a few nights in lock-up, you're not so good at cooperation. Did you, or did you not turn into a wolf to scare those kids?"
“I thought the question was if I started the fight, not if I acted in self-defense?” Bigby rubbed at his wrist were the cuffs were chaffing against his skin. “No, I didn’t turn into a wolf to scare those kids. Pinky tried to hit my boyfriend. I reacted without thinking, and then I stopped myself.”
"So you did go after them," Mercer said, eyes narrowing.
Bigby had known the dick was going to take it that way, but lying about it would have only gotten him into more trouble. “No,” he said, a sliver of annoyance seeping into his voice. “I started to shapeshift, and then I stopped it. I never went after anyone. Question for you. If that boy went after us, why am I the only one being questioned?”
"Don't play games with me, kid." The detective was sputtering now. "He reported you for going belligerent b-movie monster on him, and you know it, so cut the bullshit."
“And I’m telling you he verbally and physically attacked us.” Bigby replied, leaning in, eyes narrowing. “Or does that only matter if you’re not a queer, brown mutant?”
The officer didn’t respond so Bigby continued, “I didn’t do anything. There are witnesses that can attest to that. Those same witnesses can attest to the police brutality I suffered at the hands of your officers. Not to mention there’s the cellphone footage. So, tell me again, why are you holding me here?”
Mercer, entirely red and sputtery by then, stood quickly, chair shoving out under him with a screech. "I can see we're not gonna get anywhere with this persecution complex. We'll check your story." He started for the door.
“I’ll be here,” Bigby responded and leaned back in his chair. Looks like he’d be getting out sooner than he’d thought.