11-24-2013, 04:26 PM
Continued from: Not that kind of help.
Despite the warm blanket tucked around his body, one arm flushed ice cold. A steady beep clicked a quiet beat of his heart. Machines whirred on the wall behind his head, the lights stung bright, and the air was motionless and cold. He was in a hospital.
The last thing he remembered was being in the alley. The kid who had been blessed with a full healing sprang to his feet, then a dark shape swung at Jensen's face. He'd thrown up his arms, but there was nothing after. Until now. For taking a hit to the head, he felt fine, but he had a feeling the state was drug-induced.
A pair of voices whispered at the edge of the room. He couldn't quite make out the words, but their tone was rushed and angry: argumentative. Jessika's shrill voice was one of the pair. The other Jensen didn't recognize as either a doctor or nurse. What was going on?
The scratchy freedom around his thighs told him he was in a gown beneath old blankets, but although covered to the foot of the bed, a chill shuddered nerves up and down his body. He started to move, but realized the arm that flushed cold with saline pouring in his veins was also rimmed with a metal bracelet. One that connected to the arm of the bed. He was in ... handcuffs?
He swallowed, growing tense, but tried to remain calm or else the beeping of his heart rate might spike and give him away. It was a dirty thing to do, but knowing it would give him an advantage, he took hold of the power and an explosion of sensations filled his head.
The whispered conversation became clear:
"...I already told you! Yes, he was beside the kid, but the kid was the one that got up and attacked him! Before that, he was with me and..."
The man that Jensen could now tell was in a wool coat bearing a badge pinned to his lapel, interrupted her. "Please stick to answering my question only ma'am. And what time did you hear the first gunshot?"
They were talking about what happened in that alley. Jessika likely called the police when Jensen didn't come back. Or maybe one of the boys had. They would have come across a gruesome scene. Three shells of skin and bone and Jensen splayed out in the middle of it with no sign of the old woman in sight.
Jessika scoffed, "I don't know! I told you, I was dropped off by my cab and we stood there talking for a couple of minutes before anything happened. And we saw the first kid come running..."
The detective pulled out his notes. "The Chinese-Russian male? Aged 14-16 years. Mullet hair cut, t-shirt, and drooped pants?"
Jessika nodded emphatically. The twang in her voice heightened as she grew more frustrated, "yes. That one. He ran inside. Then Jensen went to check on the other boys."
Did the detective not believe her? How many times had Jessika already told their story?
The detective tucked his notes away. "Of the four others, three are dead. Now why would two young men accuse an older white male of assault with if he were going 'to check on them'? Especially when that older white male has a history of corruption, embezzlement, and pornography?"
Jensen's chest collapsed deeper than the old woman's victims. He sat up, blankets falling hard to his lap. "They said I did WHAT!"
His face was white as his sheets.
He tugged on the handcuff. The clank of metallic ringing echoed through the hospital room. Jessika's white jacket was gone, leaving her only in the pink shell of a shirt and bright blonde curls laid on her shoulders. The detective stride forward. On the other side of a window, a CCD police officer stood guard.
Jessika sneaked around the detective, but he grabbed her on the shoulder and turned her back. "I'm done with you ma'am. Wait outside."
Jessika would have none of it. She shook him off. "Don't you dare touch me! Or I'll have you sued for --"
he shoved her toward the door, Moscow accent dropping deep. "You are not in the United States any more. Do as you are ordered."
The guard peeked in and fixed Jess with a glare. She sniffed and stalked off. Jensen breathed a sigh of relief and pointed at his arm.
"Why am I handcuffed?"
He asked, eyes large as the moon.
The detective stood at his bedside. "Because you're a murder suspect Mr. James. Now, I have a few questions to ask you.
"
Jensen licked his lips. The CCD did not treat murderers gently. Nobody was going to believe an old woman had taken down four armed gang kids then flew off when Jensen scared her with a ball of light. That was probably why they were quick to blame him. Were they going to claim a little old woman with a chihuahua took them down? Or a monster with giant leathery wings and glowing yellow eyes flew through the streets?
He collapsed his head on his pillow. How in the world was he going to explain what had happened without ending up in a psyche ward?
Despite the warm blanket tucked around his body, one arm flushed ice cold. A steady beep clicked a quiet beat of his heart. Machines whirred on the wall behind his head, the lights stung bright, and the air was motionless and cold. He was in a hospital.
The last thing he remembered was being in the alley. The kid who had been blessed with a full healing sprang to his feet, then a dark shape swung at Jensen's face. He'd thrown up his arms, but there was nothing after. Until now. For taking a hit to the head, he felt fine, but he had a feeling the state was drug-induced.
A pair of voices whispered at the edge of the room. He couldn't quite make out the words, but their tone was rushed and angry: argumentative. Jessika's shrill voice was one of the pair. The other Jensen didn't recognize as either a doctor or nurse. What was going on?
The scratchy freedom around his thighs told him he was in a gown beneath old blankets, but although covered to the foot of the bed, a chill shuddered nerves up and down his body. He started to move, but realized the arm that flushed cold with saline pouring in his veins was also rimmed with a metal bracelet. One that connected to the arm of the bed. He was in ... handcuffs?
He swallowed, growing tense, but tried to remain calm or else the beeping of his heart rate might spike and give him away. It was a dirty thing to do, but knowing it would give him an advantage, he took hold of the power and an explosion of sensations filled his head.
The whispered conversation became clear:
"...I already told you! Yes, he was beside the kid, but the kid was the one that got up and attacked him! Before that, he was with me and..."
The man that Jensen could now tell was in a wool coat bearing a badge pinned to his lapel, interrupted her. "Please stick to answering my question only ma'am. And what time did you hear the first gunshot?"
They were talking about what happened in that alley. Jessika likely called the police when Jensen didn't come back. Or maybe one of the boys had. They would have come across a gruesome scene. Three shells of skin and bone and Jensen splayed out in the middle of it with no sign of the old woman in sight.
Jessika scoffed, "I don't know! I told you, I was dropped off by my cab and we stood there talking for a couple of minutes before anything happened. And we saw the first kid come running..."
The detective pulled out his notes. "The Chinese-Russian male? Aged 14-16 years. Mullet hair cut, t-shirt, and drooped pants?"
Jessika nodded emphatically. The twang in her voice heightened as she grew more frustrated, "yes. That one. He ran inside. Then Jensen went to check on the other boys."
Did the detective not believe her? How many times had Jessika already told their story?
The detective tucked his notes away. "Of the four others, three are dead. Now why would two young men accuse an older white male of assault with if he were going 'to check on them'? Especially when that older white male has a history of corruption, embezzlement, and pornography?"
Jensen's chest collapsed deeper than the old woman's victims. He sat up, blankets falling hard to his lap. "They said I did WHAT!"
His face was white as his sheets.
He tugged on the handcuff. The clank of metallic ringing echoed through the hospital room. Jessika's white jacket was gone, leaving her only in the pink shell of a shirt and bright blonde curls laid on her shoulders. The detective stride forward. On the other side of a window, a CCD police officer stood guard.
Jessika sneaked around the detective, but he grabbed her on the shoulder and turned her back. "I'm done with you ma'am. Wait outside."
Jessika would have none of it. She shook him off. "Don't you dare touch me! Or I'll have you sued for --"
he shoved her toward the door, Moscow accent dropping deep. "You are not in the United States any more. Do as you are ordered."
The guard peeked in and fixed Jess with a glare. She sniffed and stalked off. Jensen breathed a sigh of relief and pointed at his arm.
"Why am I handcuffed?"
He asked, eyes large as the moon.
The detective stood at his bedside. "Because you're a murder suspect Mr. James. Now, I have a few questions to ask you.
"
Jensen licked his lips. The CCD did not treat murderers gently. Nobody was going to believe an old woman had taken down four armed gang kids then flew off when Jensen scared her with a ball of light. That was probably why they were quick to blame him. Were they going to claim a little old woman with a chihuahua took them down? Or a monster with giant leathery wings and glowing yellow eyes flew through the streets?
He collapsed his head on his pillow. How in the world was he going to explain what had happened without ending up in a psyche ward?