Just as I thought it took some convincing to get her from the vehicle but after the first couple of steps and first to give up her baby for a day and then to move on to her interview Maria was in full move.

I arrive at work, by passing the coffee room an area used as the get going juice that for me resembles two hour melted sludge to my boots in a cup; I’m not a fan of it at all. I take the stairs mostly in routine down two hallways and then to the main area of the precinct down to the left corner where my desk was at, ringed around three others…my team.

She moves into the room stationed with a two-way mirror, all know of the interrogation rooms and what they hold but few, very few know of the skill invoked in getting confessions. She looked across as the door close behind her to a rugged man in a high tailored suit, perfect feathered blonde hair neatly tucked for a good image, his face is calm, almost over confidence lingered in his eyes…a bank manager she had to her cage. She leaned over staring at him he only peered back with profiling of his own, she was late-twenties and slim built. Her hair was formed to a bob style pixy-cut, patterned with stripped layers of green and purple, her top was a one sleeve form fitted shirt speckled with a radicle form of blue and red colors. She wore capris to her legs and strapped to each thigh was twin harness knives and no sign of a gun, one holder was empty. The blade to her hand and as she took a seat she folded one leg over the other showing her style of foot wear, steel toe boots cardboard brown. The blade went to the table top with the hilt of it spun towards the suspect , but the thing he noticed most was the lack of paperwork she had…there is always a file folder brought in.

“Nice knife” the man said looking quick at it then bringing his eyes back to her, she said nothing at first as she chewed her gum blowing a loud popping bubble.

“You know this interrogation thing isn’t my style, this isn’t even my case but the boys on your ass I owe a favour for so here I am…and that’s not a knife by the way” spoke her French worded vocals “It’s a tool used in a form of pain mastery on pressure points, this one is used for the genitals. Did you know that the brain will actually shut off blood pressure to your penis if it’s involved in a deep laceration? So that you can feel the maximum amount of pain without going into shock and passing out” she laced from her tongue, her eyes moved up slow to the right corner of the room. His follow leading like a white rabbit to the sight of the room camera that’s light of power just went out, his head snapped back striking her dead to his vision his face paling over with fear. “Most of them don’t even like this next part” she marked her hand spinning the hilt back to her grip.

As I reach my computer I notice a fresh set of paper on my desk, application form followed by a background profile to one young Scott Lindsey fresh out of college and about to be the neCross member to my team, yelling breaks up my thoughts as the interrogation door is laid siege to by the inside pounding of rapid fists. I take sight of officers opening the door to the banker rushing to the nearest desk hasting to grip hold of a pen, writing down on the first piece paper he can find he turns pulling a uniform in front of himself reaching over handing the paper to her.

“Here that’s the address, names and accounts all of it is there I swear” he snaps from his lips

She takes it from him like a flytrap snap “thank you for your-

“Am I free to go now” he sparks back; she smirks with a nod watching him take his leave. She hands the paper to the suits on the case and bare her move toward me pulling her chair out from the table across from mine.

“Good morning Frankie, busy I see…new record maybe” I inquire to see her flip her wrist at her watch,

“Short by four seconds”

“What was it for?”

“Don’t know didn’t ask” she said already half ignoring me staring at her computer screen, then she stopped shifting her head robot like toward me,

“They did it again today, initiation tests to a new recruit”, as she said the words I closed my eyes gritting my teeth, always was it the running new fade, getting the newcomers to approach our dear Frankie about her arsenal strapped to her legs. And every time where they always met with a strut cornering couple of French sentences that turn all of the six foot solid metal busters into a molten state of two foot tall putty. Frankie hated guns and hated the ones thinking it was the only solution for solving things even more…but the most disturbing thing about our deep connected beauty was she actually liked that god awful coffee.

As the elevator door opened I looked to the clock, 9:15 as always and always did he come through then. This time a disturbing gaze was upon him,

“Something wrong Connor?” I said to him, the man built with ginger hair and an army built form I knew well from being partners in a previous time and place, dressed in a brown blazer covering a glossy black dress shirt only half done up as his natural state it holds in place from the blue jeans he wore ending with jogging shoes.

“The guy I past getting on the elevator, he just stank, bean counting look to him”

“No bean counter, he was a banker” Frankie with tunnel vision to her screen “And he shit his pants in the interrogation room trying to leave”

A choking chuckle came from Connor and I added to the scene snap clapping my hands joining in with a laugh “Oh that’s a bonus, your lunch is on me today” I said, Connor takes to his chair starting his computer and his day, Connor he goes by but full name is Gensen Connor. We knew each other well from a military unit before here, the unit worked as a clean over cause from the initial black ops mission…seeing and trying to catch anything missed or puzzling. Eventually none of our programs were needed just like an oil ridge we were laid off and relocated, allowed to post here in the city as a unit to again help any in need. Murder, kidnapping, drug bust whatever the spot need filling we were there, Frankie was an add on to our group for about a year and a half now, the rest of the original five just tossed in the towel when we got tossed ourselves.

Gensen has one issue that needs attention, he suffers in secret but not in silence from PTSD disorder, a mind illness from intense scene exposure to hard situations and it filters into normal everyday routine sometimes. The last time was during a bus stand about a month ago, getting visions of enemies long dead and drawn up as nightmares during a similar layout…it took me about 12 minutes to calm him down to get him to take his pills. His sister Claire was an awesome soul, being what she was in the hospital she became his full support and medical aid for the pills…and forging the documents so he didn’t lose his badge for such a sickness is prohibited. Frankie had known about this stage for just under a year and has so far been good with it and she has her own hang ups, we all do; she even became really good friends with Claire who doubles for us as a dead body inspector as I like to call her.

Next Chapter: Chapter Three