The Upstream Writer: Flash Fiction Friday: "Flashes of Inspiration" No. 16

Picture prompt credit: Kyoung Hwan Kim

Prompt: (from Brick Prompts)

One. Two. Three. The chief passed a shrewd eye over the handcuffed rugrats sitting in front of him. One was young, not even eight years old. One had a pretty scowling face. One was older than the two put together and had a right eye that wandered. Their files were even more irritating than they were.
"Rabbit, Bobcat, and Cyclops. What cheap comic book did you fish those fake names out of?"
"Actually," the pretty face said, "I just legally changed my name to Jaguar so your file is outdated."
The cop couldn't tell if she was joking or not because her scowl didn't change. The other two didn't react either. This was a waste of his time. He grabbed his empty coffee cup and stood up.
"I'll be right back. You three had better stay put."
The door slammed shut behind him.
"Twelve cams. Eight guards. Two dogs. Four exits," Rabbit whispered.
"We're not busting out until tomorrow," Cyclops mumbled, stretching out his arms. "This prison has nice beds."

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#16 "Nice Beds"

Chief Saunders listened to the machine gurgle as it spat thick black coffee into his cup. The girl, Bobcat--Jaguar, he corrected himself—had eyes that stared into his soul. Even now, he could picture them in his mind, as if she followed his every move. Not even the one-eyed boy, Cyclops, could incite such insecurity in him. He stopped by the detective’s desk on his way back to interrogation.

“Have we gotten any calls from the Feds yet?” he asked.

“No, sir,” Detective Ramirez answered. The younger man fidgeted with his hands, visibly unnerved. “Any idea why they had us pick these kids up?”

“Not even the slightest clue,” Saunders grunted, taking a swig of his coffee. “But I intend to find out, before the Suits show up.” Resolutely, he marched back to the room.

Three eyeballs and a creepy bunny mask stared guiltily at him when he walked in the door. If he didn’t know any better, the three youths had swapped places, or he had caught them in the act of doing who-knows-what. Three sets of handcuffs still glinted on their wrists.

Saunders played the part of an open-minded judge. He slapped the closed file on the table.

“So,” he leaned back in his chair. “What’s your story?”

The older boy’s mouth twitched.

“Story?” Jaguar spoke up, drawing his attention to her. “What do you mean? Is there a crime we’re being charged with?”

Her voice dripped with sarcasm, but Saunders did his best not to let it rile him. “Not necessarily—but that doesn’t mean you haven’t done any.” He opened the folder and slid out four photographs.

“July Fourth, reports of a young boy with an eyepatch snatching packages off porches in the Rosewood District. July eighteenth, an unidentified female steals $350 from a convenience store. July twenty-seventh, a young man with an eyepatch attempted and failed to jack a car from a middle-aged couple, along with a masked female accomplice—and when the owners of the car parked it in their driveway that evening, the same two people were seen returning to the objective of the crime—which they then set on fire.”

The smile that softened her face as she looked at those horrifying photos of the store clerks on their knees in terror at the business end of a massive shotgun, the angry driver with his hands about the stringy youth’s throat, and finally the burned-out shell of what used to be the car—That smile, Saunders thought, belongs on the face of a mother watching her infant. Not a sadistic, juvenile delinquent.

“Sound familiar?” he said aloud, ending the moment of reverie. “That’s not even half the crimes that have cropped up since the thaw. You three have had a busy spring and summer—and I can’t help feeling that you’ve only just begun!”

The smile vanished. Jaguar sat back, her eyes daring him to gloat further, while she herself said nothing.

In the silence, a whisper issued from the bunny mask. “Elevated pulse, strained breathing; the Chief is nervous. Insufficient evidence to support retention of suspects. Suspects detained for further reasons, unknown to the arresting parties.”

Saunders gulped, but it didn’t help the tension in his throat. Did they already know the Feds were after them? How could they possibly know what he did or didn't know?

Jaguar’s vicious smile returned. “You have nothing on us,” she murmured.

Saunders snorted and honed his attention onto the girl. The more he could goad her into talking, the more evidence he would have in his case against them. "On the contrary," he declared, slapping another handful of files on the table. "I have a whole lot on you three!"

Flames flashed in her eyes--real flames, it seemed like, though that was impossible--but before Jaguar could utter a sound, the whispering occurred again.

"Be advised: anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. Say nothing, give them nothing. We must not be compromised."

Jaguar snapped her mouth shut. The thin line widened in a smile, and--very slowly--she slumped back in her chair.

Saunders tried to continue the interrogation as if Rabbit hadn't spoken--if indeed he was speaking. One couldn't tell, with the creepy mask covering his face.

"Well? Anything to say for yourselves? Maybe you'd like to check through the files, see if I've gotten anything... wrong?" He stopped himself just short of winking at the tightly-wound girl. He could see the tips of her ears flushing bright red. Those sadistic, murderous eyes aimed at him--and there was none of the nurturing, maternal pride.

The chief filled the silence with more chatter. Lure them into a false sense of security, said his interrogation training. Play the casual observer, let them think they got away with something. Get them to confess to small things, and they will start spilling details that lead to bigger crimes.

Keep talking because the sound of your voice means you're still alive and they haven't found a reason to kill you, said his trembling, fear-ridden inner self.

"I bet you wanted to drive that car, didn't you? Whose idea was it to light it? Probably not yours--probably One-Eye over there, now he looks like he would be the one calling the shots, right? But I bet people underestimate you... You seem like a smart girl--the brains of the operation, perhaps? Maybe you'd like to tell me more about your friends here--"

Jaguar finally cracked, ever so slightly. She bared her teeth in a feral snarl. "They're not--"

A piercing squeal cut her off, and for a brief moment, nobody could really move or think. All four of them sat around the table staring blankly at one another.

A steady murmur broke the silence.

"All digital recordings of the last few minutes has been corrupted. We have said enough. There will be no more confessions tonight."

Saunders eyed the bunny mask. The only thing "bunny" about it, really, were the long elliptical ears extending from the top portion. The dents, dings, and the stitching over the elongated "eye holes" and over the wide slit along the bottom that could have been the "mouth" looked more a rabbit from someone's nightmares--and those nightmares would probably be his for the foreseeable future.

"Anyone else want to speak up?" He asked, looking at each face in turn--but not for too long. "Anyone at all? Come on... One of you has to have something quippy to say before we call an end to this party!"

The three eyes he could see continued to stare ahead blankly. Whatever that shriek had been, it had shut them all down like statues. Sweat beaded on Saunders' face; he hoped that Rabbit kid had been bluffing about corrupting the surveillance. He needed to find out more about these three! He was so close... but he had no more time to waste waiting for them to slip again.

Chief Saunders gave a long, theatrical sigh and began gathering up the files and photos. "Sorry, kids, but if no ones talking, you're all going to spend the night in holding." He turned to the two-way mirror behind him and signaled.

The door clicked open and two officers entered. Starting with Rabbit, they lifted the kids to their feet and escorted them down two short hallways, Cyclops first, then Jaguar, and Rabbit at the rear.

At the back of the station, there was a small room with even smaller cells, separated by chain-link fencing. Each kid got their own cell, furnished with a single cot. Once the passcode-protected door clicked shut behind the last guard, the three prisoners sat on their cots, and lay down, in perfect sync--just like every other operation they pulled together.

Cyclops reached up and shifted his eyepatch to one side. Within the scarred and raw socket lay a glowing orb. Squinting his eyelid reduced the glow to a narrow, focused beam. Cyclops directed the beam at every flashing light, every security camera he saw in that place, until the entire room lay dark and dormant.

"That's better," he muttered. "Body can't get the rest it needs with Big Brother ogling away at 'im!"

Jaguar rolled over onto her side and watched the small body curled into a ball on the other side of the fence. "What was all the fuss outside?" she asked. "It sounded like everyone suddenly came down with the plague or something."

Rabbit didn't even twitch. "Rabbit has shown its true face. It is imperative that we are not disturbed. Anyone who so much as approaches the door into this space cannot help but picture it."

Jaguar snorted. "You showed your mug? Geez, Rab... Sometimes I forget you even have one."

"One would not call it a face, by the conventional conception."

"Yeah, no thanks, I actually do want to sleep tonight..." Jaguar muttered, rolling to face the other way. "So, Cy..." she prodded the lanky figure extending off the end of the cot in the next cell. "Why did you decide to land at this precinct, anyway? It's not really just for the beds, is it?"

He snorted. "Feel that, Jag?" he bounced a bit on his own cot, and the stiff springs creaked in protest. "Real cotton stuffing, and a sturdy frame, not just canvas and wood. It's one of the few that still has them--so yes, I did pick it for just that reason."

"Just that?" she pressed. "What about the blackouts? Was that necessary?"

He let out a noisy yawn. "Like I said," he slurred sleepily. "I am tired, and just once I'd like a decent night's rest--and those blinking lights and sensors give me a headache."

She heard the springs whine as he rolled over again--or had he?

"And after you get your beauty rest, Princess Aurora?"

Another sigh--rather a parody of the one Chief Saunders had used--but it wasn't Cyclops who responded.

"This building is a way-station for the Black Harbor. Standby for contact," hissed Rabbit.

Two minutes later, a scrabbling sound, like fingernails on glass, occurred somewhere overhead. Jaguar heard a small chirping sound, and felt the weight of a tiny, furry body landing on her shoulder and four paws tapping her way down her body. She held absolutely still as the tiny wet nose snuffled around her palm, and felt a moist, papery object land in her hand. The furry body returned to her lap and curled between her knees.

"Oy!" Cyclops' glowing eye illuminated her lap, where a ferret lay curled, blinking angrily now at the intrusion into its promised sleep. "You were supposed to come to me, idiot," he grumbled.

"He gave me this," Jaguar poked the small roll of paper through the mesh of the fence.

Cyclops unfolded it and nodded.

"What's it say?" Jaguar sat up, gently stroking the ferret's fur with her fingertips as it settled back down for the night.

Cyclops showed her the note as he read it out loud.

"Thomas Delaney. Moorhead Park. Bench. 8 AM.

Jaguar snorted. "Eight in the morning?"

Cyclops replaced his eyepatch and laid down again. "Rest up, everyone. We'll take the early check out, first thing in the morning."

Jaguar chuckled at the reference. "Not before I file a complaint with the management. Nice beds, my eye! This hotel sucks. There isn't even decent room service."

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