Our Girl in Blue

Summary: A police officer wants to make her name dealing with the goth raves. But an encounter with some cybergoth girls makes them seem very enticing...

Author's note: I started writing some goth fetish fiction because there wasn't too much out there, and I thought someone should fill the void. It turned out there was a bit of a market, and a few people have come at me with ideas they wanted to be written -- this is one such example.

To the originator of this story, who asked to be credited simply as 'non y mous', thank you so much for the idea, and I hope that matter people out there enjoy your story!

Our Girl in Blue

The young woman, dressed in a dark grey business suit with black hair pulled back into a ponytail, looked at herself in the mirror - she looked tough and official and ready.

Today is going to be a good day, she thought.

Today is going to be the day that my life changes.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life.

Today is the day I make Inspector.

Her name was Melissa Sharp. Well, to be more precise, Detective Sergeant Melissa Sharp - she may have been young, a fresh-faced 23 in comparison to many of her older, more world-weary colleagues. but Melissa had been making a name for herself in the force. A high-profile arrest of a notorious drug dealer had increased her stock with her bosses but, after the case had been processed and sent to court, and the dealer sent away for an extended vacation at her Majesty's pleasure, Melissa fell into a lull.

The big cases weren't falling her way, and her superiors didn't know what to do with her. Melissa was being wasted on small-time burglaries and muggings, and she knew she could use her brain and her police skills far more effectively if she just moved up the ladder a little bit.

Detective Inspector Sharp, she smiled. DI Sharp - that had a ring to it.

And that's where the raves came in.

Over the past few months, the city and its surrounding areas had seen an outbreak of random, occasional goth raves. A big group of goths turning up on random occasions, partying and raving for a night in a random location, and then vanishing into the wind. Whenever the police turned up, everyone had gone, and no-one knew where - there was hardly a big goth subculture in the city.

Perhaps it was a case of people just letting loose, putting on some elaborate outfits for an underground party and letting off some steam. But that's not how Melissa saw it - she was convinced there had to be more to it.

Her colleagues weren't overly worried by the raves. There hadn't been any major complaints, as the goths chose abandoned buildings, and they didn't cause any damage to the structure. Sure, there were some grumbles about the noise level, but the general attitude around the station was 'kids will be kids' and 'it'll all blow over soon enough' - her superior officers thought there was no sense escalating an unnecessary police response to something that was barely causing any trouble.

But that wasn't how DS Sharp saw it, not at all.

Ignoring her orders, she'd conducted her own investigation into the raves, and had quickly focused upon the drugs angle. It was hard to pick up any witness testimony - every time she heard that a rave was taking place, the building was empty by the time she'd arrived. But she'd heard whispers of drugs being used at these raves - she knew it - and she was convinced she'd detected the lingering smell of drugs after processing one of the rave sites.

Melissa had it all worked out in her mind.

It had to be drugs. Why else would people go to the middle of nowhere, dressed like freaks, unless they were high on something?

And so, Melissa knew what to do. She'd get to one of these raves, and she'd arrest some of the goths there - they'd be high, undoubtedly. She'd work on them and get them to reveal the names and locations of their suppliers, and then she'd take them down. With the suppliers off the street, she'd be taking another step in dealing with the city's drug troubles, and she'd be killing off the raves at the same time. It was a win-win situation, and there's no way the Super would refuse a promotion after that.

Enter DI Sharp, and enter cases worth her calibre.

Pursuing the case had proven a challenge because there was so little information - no-one was talking and there weren't any known criminals associated with the raves. The only time anyone seemed to know anything about the raves is when they were already over, and that didn't help deal with them in the first place. She thought the drug angle would be the way in, but all the dealers she knew appeared to have no knowledge of what was going on. She'd been around them enough to know when they were lying, and they certainly weren't lying.

But then, one day, after all of her vigilance, it was a lucky break that put her on the right track.

She'd been conducting some uniform work on the tip line when, out of nowhere, she'd hit upon the lead she needed - an anonymous caller had phoned with a suspicion that one of the goth raves would be taking place that Friday at the Old Hall, beginning at nine and running on until who-knew-when.

It fit the pattern - it was an old crumbling building in the middle of the surrounding countryside, unlikely to attract any attention or prompt any complaints. The ravers could rave all night without any fear of reprisal - or so they thought.

Tonight, they were going to find out what happened when you wound up on the wrong side of DS Melissa Sharp.

* * * * *

Melissa arrived at the Old Hall a couple of minutes before nine, leaving her car in one of the copses near to the building's main entrance. It would be the perfect vantage point to take some photos of the ravers before heading in, shutting everything down and making a few arrests.

She sat in her suit, enjoying a brief moment of peace before she got to work - she had her camera to hand, and she was ready to capture and arrest some revellers.

She sat, waiting.

Waiting.

And more waiting.

She checked her phone - it had passed ten-past, and no-one at all had turned up.

Where were they all? Could they have suspected an officer was here, she wondered, before dismissing the idea - no-one knew she was here, not even her fellow officers.

She was a little annoyed by the turn of events - indeed, the lack of any event at all - but she thought she'd take the opportunity to investigate the building, just in case she picked up any useful evidence. Maybe they had been there already - it wasn't a desirable outcome, but she'd be remiss in her duty if she didn't check it out.

Melissa took her torch from the dashboard and got out of the car.

She flicked it on as she made her way up to the Old Hall, scanning the outside of the crumbling ruins in the hopes of picking up any sign of life. Nothing.

The Old Hall was a mansion in its former life, but it had fallen into disrepair more than a century back - now it stood in ruins, a vague haunted house-feel to it. It was the perfect place, Melissa thought, to have found gothic types - so where were they?

Melissa forced open the door - it made an awful creaking sound, as if it hadn't been opened in years.

That wasn't a good sign, she thought, if she was hoping to find anyone there.

She clicked on her torch, and began a methodical sweep of the downstairs rooms. Every room, she was confronted with old-fashioned and long-forgotten furniture, coated in cobwebs and rotting away, without a sign of life anywhere.

Melissa had been keeping silent, trying to make no noise to avoid tipping off any potential trespassers (even though she knew that none were there). But, as she panned around one of the rooms near the back of the house with her torchlight, she realised she could just about make out a noise in the near distance. A kind of metallic, almost industrial sound, with a beat. A beat - could it be the rave?

Where was that hint of music coming from?

If not inside the building, it had to be in the back of the grounds outside.

For a moment, there was a little leap of excitement in her mind - perhaps the rave wasn't taking place literally within the Old Hall, but just in the grounds. She could still have a successful night after all.

Torch in hand, she made her way through the Old Hall to one of the crumbling, doorless back entrances, and looked about.

It was hardly a rave. In fact, it was hardly anything at all - she saw a solitary caravan in the grounds, which had to be the source of the music. It was a larger model, but certainly not large enough to hold a giant rave with hundreds of people. It looked a little rundown, old and worse for wear, and Melissa imagined it probably belonged to some travellers - no doubt settling illegally, but hardly something worth pushing any further.

She thought she should wander down, knock on the door and see who was there, just in case. If it was travellers, a police warning to move on normally did the job. It wouldn't be a total waste of an evening, if not far from it.

Melissa walked across the grass towards the caravan, scanning the grounds as she did but turning up absolutely nothing new. The closer she got, the more she could hear the music - well, she supposed someone else would call it music. To her, it was horrendous, industrial-sounding rubbish that sounded painful - she'd come across some of it during her research into the raves, but she couldn't stand the stuff. No wonder half the people were high, she'd thought, because there's no way you'd stand the noise otherwise.

Thinking of drugs, when she was nearby, she noticed that fumes were escaping the caravan window seals. Immediately, her mind started processing - it was the kind of thing typical of a drug set-up and, coupled with the music, she wagered it was entirely possible she may have hit upon a big break after all.

She took a few photos of the caravan with her phone, and then a little video, intended to capture the music too. On their own, they weren't much, but every piece of evidence counted.

Then, those jobs accounted for, she marched up to the door of the caravan and pounded heavily.

"Police, open up!"

Melissa heard the shuffle of activity inside the caravan - no doubt hiding some incriminating evidence, something to that effect. A little smirk crept onto her face. This was a caravan, so whatever they were hiding wasn't going to go very far - she was looking forward to the challenge of finding it, holding it over her suspects and making them crack.

She heard footsteps move to the door, and it swung open.

She'd stepped back, anxious that the fumes trying to escape from the cracks in the windows would buffet her, and she mostly avoided them. A few hit her, and she breathed in without even thinking - it was fruity, pleasant, kind of like the smell from the superintendent's vape pen.

If she was honest, though, she'd barely even noticed.

She was too distracted by the figure in front of her.

During her research into the raves, Melissa had had occasion to dive into the world of goths - she'd been surprised to see how much variety there was, and how many different subcultures fell under the 'goth' bracket. She believed that all goths were just losers who wore black and hung around graveyards at night - well, Melissa thought as she did a customary police once-over, this woman would have been very out of place in a graveyard.

Much of her outfit was green - a bright, vibrant, almost-radioactive green. She wore a black dress, plain and simple, with holes and tears up the sleeves, and a corset around her midriff. On her hands, green fingerless gloves and green chipped nail polish. On her legs, ripped tights leading down to green, fluffy boot covers - Melissa could just about make out a heel under the fur.

And her face was a picture - Melissa thought, if she was being kind, she could just about make out a beautiful face hidden away. But it was concealed by layers of make-up - green, of course, with matching lipstick and eyeshadow. Above her perfectly-styled eyebrows, a pair of goggles sat. And in her black hair, lots of green neon strands bulking it out, making it look like a statement.

Melissa remembered the term 'cybergoth' - that's what this woman was. She remembered reading about them, but she thought that the concept was too out there - people didn't really dress like that, did they?

Well, as Melissa knew now, they clearly did.

All this happened in seconds, but Melissa recovered from her stunned surprise and flashed her warrant card.

"DS Sharp, CID," she said, knowing the response this usually got - fear, respect.

In this case, it didn't - instead, the cybergoth girl simply smiled.

"Nice to meet ya," there was a pleasant chirpiness in her voice, "I'm Xiana."

Melissa looked at her, stern.

"What are you doing here, ma'am?" Melissa asked. She decided on 'ma'am' for the address - the girl was about the same age as her, but the last thing Melissa wanted was to create any sense of kinship between them.

"Waiting for a party," she smiled, "I love a party. Me and the girls - do you wanna come and say hello, miss police officer?"

Melissa had intended to demand her way in, but an invitation was certainly preferable.

She thanked the cybergoth girl and followed her inside, immediately noticing how much more pungent those fumes were within the caravan. She couldn't let those drugs get to her, and that meant she needed to get out quick - she could already feel a little more relaxed the more she breathed in, and that didn't track with a woman who was always on her guard.

Inside, things were... well, normal. Ignoring the music blaring, although someone (presumably Xiana) had turned it down when Melissa entered, things looked respectable. She'd been in drug caravans during her big bust, and they weren't pleasant places. But this was essentially normal, excusing that strong, lingering, wonderful fruity smell.

Wonderful, she thought, mentally kicking herself. Sure, it was nice enough, but she couldn't actively like it - she knew that this stuff must be potent. She could handle it a little bit, but for how long?

As Melissa's mind ran through hundred thoughts, Xiana appeared to be casually, happily, swaying about.

"That's Kyra," she said, pointing to an identical girl by what appeared to be a bedroom - identical largely, except Kyra wore a pink version of Xiana's attire. The girl didn't acknowledge her - she seemed to be on the phone - to a supplier, maybe? Melissa's mind was running wild thinking of all the evidence this caravan could turn up - she'd hoped to bring in a few suspects, but she was starting to imagine that this night's vigil could blow open the goth rave scene faster than she'd have ever anticipated.

Melissa looked about, and noticed a third cybergoth girl in the caravan.

In the corner, a woman sat on a tattered sofa, dressed much the same as the other two but in shades of red, but with one major difference. On her face, she wore a respirator mask on her face, and Melissa could clearly see the fumes coming out. From the look on the woman's face, she was high and only getting higher.

Xiana noticed Melissa scanning her friend, and she sauntered up to her.

"This is Eris, the newest member of our group."

Hearing her name, Eris rolled her head slightly, and waved her hand to no-one in particular. She was out of it, Melissa thought - whatever she was inhaling, that must be what was causing these raves.

"Do you wanna hit?" Eris mumbled.

Melissa was stunned at the offer, and she could feel the colour drain from her face. Eventually, she stuttered out an unconvincing 'no' - she didn't, but something about the situation seemed to sap her sense of authority. The secondhand fumes must be playing with me, she thought.

Xiana smiled at the officer, and shrugged her shoulders.

"Oh well, it's your loss," she said, taking the respirator from Eris and inhaling herself.

As she groaned in pleasure, Melissa realised she needed to get out of there - she needed an opportunity to clear her head, and think about what to do next.

She went to the caravan door, hearing a cheery 'bye' from Xiana behind her. She didn't stop - she marched out, pulling the door shut behind her and, once she was a few yards away, she rubbed her forehead. It was partly frustration at how she'd handled things, and partly an attempt to massage a bit of clarity back into her mind.

And that clarity came, a minute or so later, after she'd breathed in the fresh night air and felt the cold on her skin. Her business suit, stylish though it was, was not the most effective protection on a cold night, but it was exactly what she needed at that moment to kick some sense into her.

She took a moment to berate herself - what the hell, she thought, why did you act so submissive around a bunch of goth junkies - but she quickly focused on the positives.

She'd come here in search of evidence - goth ravers, and a supply of drugs - and she'd found both. She needed to arrest the three cybergoths and take them to the station. But she was just one person, she thought, and she didn't want to risk aggravating three stoned women her size - that was a fight she could easily lose, and what would happen then?

The best approach, then, was to get some more officers on the scene.

She pulled out her phone to call for back-up, a squad car to take the three women into the station, but she was unable to get a signal. She walked a little around the outside of the caravan and near to the Old Hall, but it wasn't working - it must have been a dead zone, a blackspot that her provider didn't cover.

"Damn it," she said, out loud in frustration.

And then a thought hit her - she had a radio in the car.

She didn't want to get too far away from the women, but she reasoned that it was probably a safe idea. Her initial thoughts were that they were barely even aware of who they were - she certainly didn't think they were in any state to make a daring getaway, and she doubted the idea had even crossed their mind.

Melissa headed away from the caravan, pace in her movement despite her reasoned assessment of the three cybergoth girls. The quickest route was through the Old Hall, the way she'd come - she cut through, swiftly but carefully with her torch illuminating her path - and out the front door. From then, it was only a few moments to the car.

She climbed into the front seat, a smile on her face as she reached into her dashboard, searching for the radio to call in her successful arrests.

Melissa took the radio in hand, and pressed the button to put through a call to dispatch at the station.

But there was nothing - no sound whatsoever.

Damnit, there was no power to the unit.

She was annoyed, and she slapped the dashboard in frustration.

She could see her plan going up in smoke - sure, none of her superiors knew she was there and she didn't risk any professional damage, but this was her best chance to shoot up the career ladder. She could see it all playing out in her mind if she turned up nothing - she was competent, good sergeant material - maybe she'd one day make inspector at a push, but there were so many rungs on that ladder she'd never reach, and she knew she could.

Without those women, and without the knowledge they could provide, she could be stuck.

Damn it, she thought, it's not fair.

Melissa thought for a moment, desperately racking her mind to figure out what to do.

And then a thought struck her.

One of the women - what was her name - was talking on the phone.

All she needed to do was commandeer it - she'd put through a call to the station from there, and everything would be fine.

She took a moment to compose her and get her breathing back to normal, and then she stepped out of the car, ready to return to the cybergoths.