the extremely unusual occasion that a run in with the FAHC results in
an arrest rather than an all out firefight an argument could be made
that the members of LSPD are even more displeased than the criminals
themselves. It’s not just that many feel the crew members don’t even
deserve the luxury of an arrest, think the world would be a better
place if they were shot on sight, but also the fact that the
interrogations themselves never go to plan. The possibility of being
the one who brings about the downfall of the FAHC sours in the face
of the intangible feeling that the arrest was intentional, that
getting one of the Fakes into an interrogation room is still somehow
playing into their plans.
Pattillo nor the elusive Brownman have ever made it to the station,
the few occasions which have come close getting cut short before they
get any further than the squad car. Pattillo is unerringly polite
even while effortlessly knocking out arresting officers, while
Brownman is utterly relaxed, putting up no resistance and complaining
loudly about losing the chance to sleep away the afternoon in custody
when his crewmates drag him free. Dooley, on the other hand, seems to
turn up at the station with alarming regularity; the FAHC’s newest
member wandering in for anything from paying off minor traffic
tickets to reporting petty crime. Its infuriating, the man exuding
nothing but appropriate respect and utter sincerity, and without any
evidence, without anything but street knowledge of his involvement,
they can do nothing but treat him like a regular citizen.
Ramsey is brought in he is calm, judgemental and obnoxiously sure of
himself. He proclaims his innocence, his ignorance, his life as a
simple businessman with just enough of a smirk to make it clear he is
laughing at them, never once even hinting at anything incriminating.
Interrogating the man is always a race against the clock; through
bail or legal intervention he’s out of their hands almost as soon as
they get him. Once, and only once, a detective tried to go the
unethical threatening route, claimed other members of the crew were
in unrecorded rooms having one-on-one sessions of their own, that if
Ramsey cared about them at all he would just confess and save them
all the trouble. It was months before they got all the blood off the
walls, and the mysterious failure of every camera in the interview
room had the station caught up in internal investigations while
Ramsey walked away scott free.
interviewing Ramsey is always too short to be satisfying, no
detective can be done with Jones fast enough. At first the fact that
he doesn’t shut up seems like gift, his rages an easy way to trip him
up, trick him into revealing information, but its not. Jones will
curse you out, run his mouth about the precinct, the cheif, your
mother, his own mother, and the competence levels of his crew but
he never says anything of use. Even when they wise up to his methods,
realise he is waiting out his time as efficiently as Ramsey in his
own way, there is still no directing him; his rants and rages as
genuine as they are frustrating.
observant would note that the vagabond was never once arrested before
the force gets a photo of his face, fuzzy and still obscured by
face-paint but finally mask-free. When he is brought in, silent and
looming but disturbingly amiable, the first thing they take is his
mask. Then promptly wish they could put it back on, piercing blue
eyes amused and unconcerned as the Vagabond’s smirk only twists his
face-paint into more grotesque obscurity. Despite staying utterly
silent, being securely chained the the table and making no aggressive
moves three separate detectives leave his interrogation room in a
near panic, two more refusing to even enter in the first place. Mask
or no mask there is no lawyer alive who could argue for the
Vagabond’s freedom, but a convenient explosion grants enough
distraction for the empty cuffs to be left neatly on the table, a box
full of contraband disappearing alongside the familiar black skull.
Free feels a lot like signing up to the crew’s personal watch list.
He doesn’t have the presence or deniability of Ramsey, doesn’t rage
like Jones or ooze threat like the Vagabond. Instead Free is all
smiles and winks and cheeky flirtation, derailing the interrogation
to ask questions of his own, from opinions on sea monkeys to the
statistical likelihood of extra-terrestrial life. For those
detectives who play along he will answer questions in turn, talking
fondly about the most dangerous criminals in the city, never actually
helpful but close enough that it almost feels like a victory. For
those who don’t, the detective’s who’s interrogations are aggressive
and underpinned by something nastier, Free’s demeanour doesn’t
change, but his careless questions do. He asks about their money
problems, their monthly AA meetings, the not-always-figurative
skeletons in their closets. He’ll ask, still smiling despite the
rising tension, about each of their family members by name.
It was rather an overwhelming evening. Traveling the long distance to Lucis was exhausting enough, however Luna found herself engulfed anxiously of her feelings. Peering out of the tinted window, the world appeared to proceed with its constant flow - while her mind seemed to freeze. The memories of last week struck the Oracle tremendously. She would be the new princess, the Oracle, and to wed the future ruler of Lucis in order to bring peace to Eos. Luna always was aware of her destiny, in fact she embraced it wholeheartedly. Nonetheless, the mere idea of it becoming a reality made her apprehensive. Would she be a good Queen alongside the King?
On top of that, Luna’s thoughts continued to trace to Noctis. The two have not seen each other since their innocent childhood. Of course, they spoke through Umbra..a lot. On most nights she would grip a pen in dire need to speak with Noctis - wishing it was much easier then this. The idea of it all caused her face to become warm, tightening within her chest. Once arrived and settled, the welcome ceremony initiated - and the royal families gathered, Luna eventually inched her way to Noctis and King Regis. Familiar faces and warm smiles only made her that more comfortable.
At the end of the night, Luna was exhausted and escorted to the guest chambers. Once doors were shut, her back against the entrance - she sighed greatly. It was a heavy duty for the soon to be Queen and King. Initially, she felt disappointed. Wanting more moments with her childhood friend, it was difficult for the two to converse during the ceremony due to high requests from other inquiries. Once changed to her white gown, she dared to do something she was brave about. Slowly opening the door, her body moved in the direction to Noctis’s chambers. She desired so many years to see the boy she wrote to for so many years.
Standing at the front of his door - she gently pressed her right palm on the chilled wood. It was as if she could sense him just beyond the blockage. And in that moment - she felt selfish. Once they are to wed, Luna would spend a lifetime with the raven haired boy. What had overcome her? Spinning around, Luna’s back pressed against his door - slowly lowering herself to the ground, feeling defeated. She sat like this for a couple of minutes, and the emotions she had endured earlier, returned striking hard. That was until she was interrupted by the feeling of the door opening.