Internal Affair

"They said an hour."

"So?"

"So it's been an hour." Capaldi glanced at his watch. "Sixty-four minutes. You think they're still coming?"

"You figure because SC is four minutes late, that means they ain't coming?" Druckman eyed his partner over the top of his data slate. "Listen, I know you haven't been in Metro that long..."

"Two years this May, asshole."

"... but you do not fuck with Special Containment. So they're four minutes late."

"Five now."

Druckman shrugged. "Five minutes, five hours, don't matter. We wait."

Joseph Capaldi glanced at the frosted window of the interrogation cell, then back to his computer. He was a large man, powerfully built, and hid impatience poorly. His shoulders rose above the swivel chair like a gorilla at a tea party.

"Hooker, right?"

"What?"

Capaldi pointed a thumb toward the interrogation room. "The girl in there. You saw when they brought her in. Hooker?"

"Nah." Druckman shook his head and took a sip of coffee. "I clocked her dress, too expensive. You're paying that much, it's a call girl. Escort, maybe."

"Huh." He paused. "Hookers, they're normally pretty happy to talk. I doubt escorts are much different."

"Uh huh."

Silence fell, seeping into the crevices of the precinct office. Raindrops began to ping off the roof, rising to a steady tattoo that drowned out the quiet with white noise. Capaldi shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable, but the itch remained. His eyes lingered on the interrogation chamber. If he could just get in there, talk to her for a bit...

"You know Barnes?" Capaldi asked, failing to sound casual.

"Milly Barnes? Narcotics?" Druckman raised an eyebrow. "You don't wanna know about Barnes, man."

Capaldi shrugged. "The way I hear it, she helped Containment bust open a major smuggling ring. Big promotion. Works out of DC now."

"Uh huh. Where'd you hear that?"

"Around." Capaldi hesitated. "I was at the bar with Torres last week, you know..."

Druckman powered off the data slate and pressed it onto the table next to him. He adjusted his glasses. "Torres is full of shit."

"So what happened, then?"

"She don't work Metro no more, that's what happened."

"Gabe, I'm going to keep asking."

"Shit." Gabe Druckman leaned forward, rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Way I hear it? Barnes thought she'd make a splash, got herself into some SC problem and got disappeared. Hey, look at me." He pointed at Capaldi, meeting the other man's eyes. "She don't work here. She don't work anywhere else. Got it? Look up Milena Barnes in the database, you ain't gonna find her. That's what happens when you push into Special Containment's shit."

"You're trying to scare me with this or what? Ghost stories for the new guy?" Capaldi grinned, pushing himself up and stretching. His eyes flicked to the interrogation room, then back to Druckman.

"Don't care if believe it," Druckman said. "Just do your job, keep your nose out of what ain't your business. Yeah?"

"Right. Yeah." Capaldi coughed into his hand. "Understood."

"You better. Ain't just your ass on the line." Druckman stood, stretched, grimaced. "They are late, though. I gotta drop one off." He nodded to his partner. "You see Special Containment, you yell for me. Back in ten." He grunted, wrinkled his nose, and frowned. "Maybe fifteen."

Capaldi watched as Druckman shuffled toward the bathroom, eyes tracking as the older man rounded the corner. He heard a door close and lock. Capaldi waited another thirty seconds before he moved to the interrogation room and keyed open the magnetic lock.

The first thing he noticed was the woman: olive complexion; backless white club dress, pressed tight against her toned body; glossy brown hair, hanging to her shoulders. Black lipstick and nail polish. Both wrists were manacled, a meter of reinforced chain bound to the old steel table. Heavy shackles, the kind reserved for cybernetic enhancements, dwarfed the woman's delicate wrists. Why had they bothered, Capaldi wondered?

The woman was seated in the center of the room, legs crossed, beneath the sterile glare of halogen lights. There was something wrong with her eyes, Joseph realized. No pupil, all black. Capaldi froze. He swallowed.

The woman smiled and her teeth were very white.

Joseph blinked, then looked again. It was nothing - a trick of the light. Her eyes were pale green, probably bio-engineered. Joseph wondered if she charged extra, given how she looked. Probably did. Probably had to, just to pay off the surgeries. The more he looked, the more beautiful she was. Full figure, heroically restrained by the tiny dress, her cleavage a plump, tantalizing display. Her face was the perfect blend of beautiful and sexy, natural, not the recycled knife work so common among would-be socialites. The swell of her hips, the toned curve of her thighs...

The more he looked, the more Capaldi felt compelled to stare. She was breathtaking. Art and music, sin and salvation. The man had stepped in with a plan, something he wanted to say. What had it been? Words trickled through his mind like sand as his gaze lingered on the goddess chained before him.

"Not who I was expecting," the woman said. Her smile widened and she laughed. "And you really shouldn't have come. Unless you're here to stare at my tits - then you're in the right place." She gave her breasts a jiggle for emphasis and Joseph found his eyes following their sway. Back and forth...

The woman slid her legs apart. Past the wickedly short dress, Joseph could see the outline of her pussy lips beneath sheer black panties. "But now that you've had time to think," she continued, "That's not all you want. Is it?"

Joseph shook his head.

"Good boy, keep watching," she purred. "You're thinking about it right now, aren't you? Slipping off my thong and burying your cock inside me. I'm so wet, officer. So hot... This is what you want, sweetie. I'm all yours. Give yourself to me."

Capaldi was spellbound. He took one step forward, then another.

Thunder crashed overhead, frighteningly close, jolting the man awake in a burst of violent sound. He shook his head. What had he been thinking? But it was all flowing again, all making sense. He could use this.

"We've got you pinned you were at a murder scene," he said, projecting a confidence he was scrambling to hold. "It would be a shame to add solicitation to the list. Miss...?"

"Rose." Her smile held, but the expression no longer reached her eyes.

"Is that your real name? Or what you tell customers?"

Rose shrugged her brows. "My real name is hard to pronounce. This is easier to wrap your mouth around."

Joseph grabbed the chair opposite his prisoner, squatting over it and leaning on the back. He rested his chin on well-muscled arms. It was an intimidating posture, one he'd been trying to perfect. "Alright, Rose, I'll lay it out for you. Special Containment will be here any minute. They aren't much for conversation, so this is your last chance to make a statement before you're hauled off to a black site for interrogation."

"That sounds serious."

Capaldi's face was stone. "Hell of an understatement, since I've never known someone to come back. But..." He held out a hand, palm up. "If they had a reason to drop you now, some information worth having? It's possible you could stay here. At least see an arbiter."

Rose snorted, amusement evident on her face. "You have no idea what I am, do you?"

Capaldi was having trouble maintaining his focus, thoughts drifting back to the offer Rose had made earlier. It couldn't happen, of course. The consequences would be horrific. But images drifted across his mind, unwelcome and unbidden: ripping off the dress, pressing her against the table, and...

Damn it, no! Capaldi hadn't graduated at the top of his academy class to get distracted by some high-price hooker, not when the biggest promotion of his career was on the line. Capaldi normally kept his emotions under lock, but could feel himself growing angry. Suppressed lust fueled his rage: how dare she try to take this from him?

"I know damn well what you are!" he barked, "And I don't give a shit who's on your client list." He stood, smashing the chair against the wall in a clang of dented metal. Just a little further, he thought to himself. She's wearing down. "You think they won't throw you under the bus to cover for tonight's scene?" His laugh boomed in the enclosed space. "That's what these people do - they use you up until there's nothing left. And if SC's involved, you are well and truly fucked."

Capaldi slammed his hands onto the table, leaning forward. He held back a grin as Rose cowered against her chair. "You want to talk? We can talk." He leaned further in, heavy frame blocking the overhead light and shrouding Rose beneath his bulk. "But I figure we've got five minutes until SC arrives and you get erased. Better spill fast."

She struck faster than Capaldi could react. The woman lunged like a viper, swift and sinuous, hair flying, eyes alight. The kiss was brief, lingering through a smear of dark lipstick as he staggered back to the wall.

"You... what? The hell was that?" Shock flared back to anger. Was this some kind of game to her? Capaldi reached up, wiping the black mark from his lips. It was strangely warm to the touch. His eyes narrowed, turning to Rose. She was smiling. Smug. What was wrong with this woman? Special Containment was probably moments away, and here she was... she was...

"Can you feel it starting?"

Something did feel different. Strange. Joseph Capaldi looked down at his hands as though seeing them for the first time. He felt warm. Relaxed. The room's light, once grating, now felt pleasantly soft.

Rose sighed happily, adjusting her seat as she watched the officer. "It's subtle at first. New colors. Odd sensations. Racing thoughts. That's my poison working through your system, rewiring your mind."

Capaldi shook his head, trying to clear the mental fog. "You, uh. Really fucked up." He blinked hard, willing his eyes to focus. He had been talking about something. Building up to it. The thread of conversation proved elusive, just outside of his grasp. But that was fine. She'd given him something else to work with.

"Assaulting an officer?" Capaldi continued, expression stern. "Anything before was circumstantial - maybe you could wriggle your way out of the murder rap, but not this." The man cleared his throat, struggling to project menace through his disorientation.

The woman batted her eyelashes. "Is there something else you'd like me to... wriggle out of?"

"Really. You've really stepped in it. Uh. This time." The man frowned; his brain was lagging, a few seconds behind his senses. Wriggle out of... her dress? His pupils dilated as the image flickered into life: the straps falling from her shoulders as she squeezed out of its tight confines. Full, perky breasts on full display, jiggling as her hands worked the dress past her hips. Bending over. Hair falling across her face as she stepped, first one heel and then the other. Naked, save a thin strip of lingerie.

Capaldi grunted with the effort of focusing as thunder rumbled overhead. He blinked, shook his head. Slapped himself. The picture wouldn't go away. The woman was still there, chained to the desk, watching him with evident interest. But she was also there, running her hands down her sides, toying with the band of her thong, body fully on display. He couldn't shake it. Had he been drugged?

"Were you saying something, officer?" Rose giggled, putting a finger to her lips. "You seem kind of distracted."

"I was just saying that you should really. Just give it up. Because."

"Because I can't win? Was that it?"

Capaldi nodded. There, it was getting through at last. Any moment now, she would give in. Yield completely. And he would... He would do something, that was certain. As soon as he could think a little clearer.

The officer turned, but the corner of his vision was harried by illusory temptresses. She was everywhere, whispering just past the edge of his thoughts. His mind couldn't process the words, but he felt them slip past his subconscious and burrow beneath his thoughts. The images blurred and faded, but when Capaldi looked up he wasn't sure how many minutes had passed.

She was smiling. Rose. Still handcuffed. Special Containment was coming. "Why are you smiling?" he asked.

"Look at me, sweetie." He turned obediently, eyes locking with hers. "That's it, such a good boy. Keep watching." Rose's smile drew into a smirk. "Oh, this is my favorite part."

It was like seeing her for the first time. The world slowed as he watched the rise and fall of her breathing, the swell of her breasts against the tight fabric, their warmth, their nearness. His eyes roamed across her body, the soft curves that he so desperately wanted to touch. His eyes finally caught on the delicate lines of her face. Joseph could feel his mind melt against her smile. He watched in fascination at the pink tongue licking glossy black lips. Her green eyes were a field of emerald stars, twin universes that enraptured him with their brilliance.

She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Capaldi rolled his shoulders, uncomfortably aware of his body's rising temperature. His clothes felt too rough, too tight. He adjusted his collar, undoing the top three buttons, but it did little to help. Sweat dampened the man's neck and the small of his back, furthering his discomfort.

"There it is..." Rose leaned forward, pressing her arms together to accentuate her cleavage. "All hot and bothered now, just from a little kiss? Oh, but it gets better. Your blood is going to boil for me. All that heat racing down, flooding your cock until you just can't take it any more. Till your balls are ready to burst and you'd do anything to get release..."

Capaldi felt his pulse accelerate. Hried to fight what was happening, but it was all too fast. "How?" he managed to choke out. The woman ignored him, watching in wicked satisfaction as the officer began to tremble, tearing at his pants. Moments later his cock stood exposed, painfully hard, aching with need. He was too aroused to think, mind blank with lust as a pink haze descended across his vision.

His hand reached down, but... no, that wasn't right. Capaldi saw the woman in front of him. Watched her legs spread apart. Beckoning. He was across the room instantly, hands grasping her hips. His tip rubbing against Rose's vulva, staring into her eyes, it came to Joseph that he wasn't in control here. He never had been. It was a relief, in a way, to know that he hadn't failed. This was how things were supposed to be.

Then Rose's legs wrapped around his hips, pulling his length inside of her, and any further thought was quenched in a flood of roaring pleasure. Joseph pressed back against her, thrusting with feral abandon, desperately seeking more and always finding it. Her pussy contracted around him with each movement, stroking and massaging. His face went slack as he came, emptying himself inside her in three dizzying thrusts.

Still reeling, Capaldi looked down and realized she had devoured everything. He was utterly spent, but her legs drew him in again and he was too weak to fight.

"You're mine now," Rose murmured into his ear. Her lips brushed against his chest, leaving a trail of lipstick marks as she claimed ownership. "A girl like me needs stamina in my men." She leaned back, admiring her work as the officer thrust mindlessly inside her. "Kisses are just where it starts. Now that you've tasted my pussy, I'm afraid you're ruined. No one else can give you this pleasure, and you'd do anything I ask to have more. Isn't that right?"

Capaldi wanted to say no, that he was loyal to the Metro first, but it would have been a lie. "Yes," he moaned. "Anything."

"That's what I thought. Go ahead, baby. Cum."

The order reverberated through Capaldi as he ejaculated, somehow harder than the first time. Rose's legs were the only thing holding him up; when she let go he slumped painfully against the table.

"Now, unlock me."

Joseph struggled to slow his breathing as he knelt before his goddess, pressing his thumb against each of the shackles. The locks disengaged with a clack-clack that filled the room. He could feel the warmth of her body, smell the sweetness of her perfume. He breathed deep, intoxicated by her nearness.

Rose stood, smiling beatifically as she looked down at the big man kneeling before her. "Don't just stand there, slave, get the door open. We're in a hurry, remember?"

Joseph grabbed his pants, keyed the door, and held it open. He watched in awe as Rose walked ahead of him, hips swaying hypnotically, hair bouncing against her shoulders. Her fingers snapped and he followed at her heel, struggling to pull on his pants as they moved.

"Shit."

Rose and Joseph looked up to see Druckman at the end of the hall, halfway through tucking his shirt back into his pants.

"Capaldi? The hell did you..." he started, reaching for his service weapon. "Goddamn it, grab her! Do something!"

Rose's eyes sparkled, her voice ringing with command. "Baby, shoot your friend for me."

Capaldi didn't hesitate. Druckmann was too stunned to return fire as the first shot went through his left shoulder, falling back behind the corner with a pained yell as the next four shots hammered into the wall where he'd been standing.

By the time Druckman dared a look they were both gone. He forced himself up, staggered to his datapad. No time to hesitate - he made the call.

The howl of sirens filled the night as Joseph Capaldi followed, starstruck, after his mistress. He barely registered passing buildings or faces, entranced by the deific beauty of the woman leading him through the city. He tried to speak, but his mind was still churning with the joy of being near her. Despite his best efforts, Capaldi could only manage a happy mumble.

"I know, sweetie. You all feel like that." Rose half-turned, causing her thrall's heart to flutter. "But try to stay focused, okay? We have work to finish."