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Jonathan Doyle

"We're here to save your ass, not kiss it."

0 · 144 views · located in FBPD

a character in “Blackburn”, originally authored by TCoS, as played by RolePlayGateway

Groups

Fort Blackburn's law enforcement officers.

Description

Real Name: Jonathan Doyle

Nickname/Codename/Alias: Usually just referred to as The Chief.

Allegiance (optional): Fort Blackburn Police Department

Gender: Male

Age: 51

Appearance: Though he is past his physical prime, Jonathan is stocky and well-built, and can still intimidate most people. He is a man who has clearly weathered his share of storms; his skin is tanned and rough, his face is fairly wrinkled and his hair (and mustache) has long since grayed. Doyle is usually seen wearing a cowboy hat and shades in addition to his police uniform.

Personality: Jonathan is a firm believer in law and order, believing it to be one of man's most supreme values. He usually goes by the book, even if the law is convoluted. However, he also knows that the law sometimes must be bent to enforce it, and occasionally bypasses the system to get things done; thus he turns a blind eye to the Mavericks' activities as long as they work on the side of justice. Jonathan is a very direct man, and dislikes beating around the bush. His moral compass is long since set, and trying to get him to change his mind when he's made it up is nigh impossible. Despite being a frank and fixated man, Jonathan is clearly benevolent, and is dedicated to protecting and serving the people of Fort Blackburn.

Personal History: Growing up Blackburn's Emerald Valley, Jonathan had a fairly typical American upbringing. His father was a cop himself, and his mother stayed at home to raise the kids. He had two brothers, one who ended up working at Blackburn's docks and the other who took a job at ArmaMax. After high school, Jonathan joined the Marine Corp and fought in the Gulf War, gaining valuable combat and leadership experience. After coming home, Jonathan became a police officer like his father, and has spent his life in the FBPD ever since. He is now the Chief of Police.

Powers, Weapons, Ect.: If Jonathan is out in the field, he equips himself with fairly typical police gear: an ArmaMax Defender pistol, pepper spray, a nightstick, a taser, handcuffs, and often a metahuman power dampener. He has no superpowers himself, but is more than capable in hand to hand, marksmanship and strategizing.

Weaknesses: Well past his prime, and could be subdued by a stronger, younger person. Lacks any metahuman powers. Is known to be a little too headstrong.

Any additional information we should know: Is a smoker. All but officially sanctions the Mavericks.

So begins...

Jonathan Doyle's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Josibel Morganstern Character Portrait: Jessica Napier Character Portrait: Jonathan Doyle Character Portrait: Jessica Park
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"...Well, life is (too short), so love the one you got/'Cause you might get runover or you might get shot/Never start no static I just get it off my chest/Never had to battle with no bulletproof vest..." Josibel sat in the passenger seat of the crew's armored van humming along to the radio as she idly gazed at the passing scenery. They'd spent the night in some ratty hotel getting a base of operations set up, slept, and then immediately hit the road in the morning. First order of business was to go see the local police chief and get clearance to start working the city as per their orders. In the back, Crighton read through the dossier they'd been handed on Doyle, occasionally offering his observations to Josibel. The verdict so far was that Doyle and Josibel would get along just fine, as long as she didn't try to throw her weight around. Not that she had any intention to do so. Finally, the vehicle pulled up near the police HQ to let Josibel out, then went to go find some parking.

A few officers moved to intercept Josibel as she attempted to make her way through the HQ, obviously suspicious of her presence. "Easy now, friends. I'm an officer of the law, same as yerselves. Jus' on a courtesy call ta see yer chief. If ye c'n point me in the right direction, I'd be mighty obliged." Flashing her badge to get the tracks oiled, she was finally accompanied by a few lieutenants to Doyle's office. She figured he'd probably just gotten in, which meant she'd probably be fighting for his attention. Oh well, it needed to be done. Once they'd reached the door, one of the lieutenants leaned over onto the chief's secretary's desk and asked her to see if Doyle was in. She shot him a sardonic look, but nevertheless buzzed into the office to get the chief's attention.

There was a brief moment of silence before a hardened voice came on the line.

"Hello?"

"Sir, you have a visitor. Should I let her in?" She leaned into her palm, smacking her gum loudly.

"Unless she's wearin' tiger stripes, yeah, let 'er in."

Chuckling, the secretary waved towards the door, indicating that Josibel should enter. She tipped her hat to the secretary and pushed into Doyle's office. "Howdy, pardner. I'm Agent Morganstern, with the Governer's independent law enforcement wing. Me 'n my crew were sent up here ta lend ye a hand with yer gangster problems. We were told the first order of business was ta come an' see ye, so's ye know we're in town. I'd like ta hear about yer current situation, force composition, enemy strength, that sort o' thing. Jus' so me 'n my boys know what we're up 'gainst. Ye don't mind, do ye?" She looked around the office nonchalantly, hands on her belt and standing casually.

Doyle watched Josibel as she spoke, eyeing her incredulously while sipping his coffee. He didn't want to admit things had gotten worse as of late - things were bad enough as is - but if the governor saw fit to send independent LEO's to his office, there was a problem. The Chief put his cup aside, resisting the urge to sigh.

"Well, recently, the Golems've gotten their grubby little hands on new guns. Don't know how they did it, but they're gettin' ArmaMax weapons, military tech. With that kinda firepower, no one's been able to stop 'em. We've had ten officers injured and four killed just in the last two weeks alone."

Josibel frowned. This wasn't quite what she was expecting, but it didn't matter in the long run. She had a job to do, and she was going to do it to the best of her ability.

"I'm sorry ta hear that, Chief. I know it's hard ta lose good men. Rest assured, my crew an' I are gonna do our best ta put these criminals behind bars or under tombstones. Ye mind if I take a seat?" Josibel sat in one of the chairs facing Doyle's desk, looking somewhat like a child playing at being a cop. She pulled an old notepad from her duster and began to go through her notes, explaining to the chief what her crew was capable of and what services they'd be able to provide. After Josibel spoke for a while, Doyle suddenly turned to face his window. There stood Shade, who seemed to have let herself in. She clearly did not anticipate Josibel's presence, as there was a palpable air of awkwardness.

Curious as to what had suddenly taken up Doyle's attention, Josibel pushed herself up in her seat and leaned over to get a good look at whatever was happening. Whatever she was expecting, it wasn't someone in a costume standing around like they'd just walked in on their parents getting it on. She blinked for a moment before smoothly recovering.

"Well, don't just stand there, friend. Come have a seat. I was just havin' a little discussion with the chief of police." She warmly gestured to the chair next to her, an inviting smile on her face.

"I'll stand," Shade finally spoke. Doyle suppressed a chuckle and cleared his throat.

"Well hello there Shade, surprisin' to see ya this early. Say, how'd you get into my office?"

Shade avoided the question.

"Chief, we've got a serious problem. The Golems 'ave gotten their hands on ArmaMax weapons-"

"Coincidentally enough," Doyle interrupted, "that's exactly what I was talkin' to Ms. Morganstern about."

"Please, I prefer Josibel. If we're gonna be workin' together, I'd like ta be on friendly terms." Standing up out of the chair, Josibel smoothed out her coat and approached Shade, extending her hand in greeting when she'd gotten within an arm's reach. "Shade was it? Ye got a reason to be in that getup? Ye don' look like much of an officer, no offense."

Shade returned the handshake rather impersonally.

"I'm not an officer," she replied. "I'm a Maverick. It separates me from the criminals."

Scratching her head curiously, Josibel took a step back to re-evaluate Shade. "A Maverick? I'm 'fraid I dunno what that is. I dunno what ye need separatin' from the criminals fer. Do ye commit crimes in yer fancy outfit, an' somehow that makes it okay?" She appeared to be genuinely confused, though her tone held no accusations, simply interest.

"Independent crime fighter ma'am." Shade was rather offended, being thought of in any light as a criminal. Besides, vigilante was such a harsh word.

"Ah, I see. Ye been deputized? Ye got a badge on ya, ma'am? Jus' tryin' ta figure out what our relationship is gonna be like in the future, is all." She turned to smile at Doyle, offering a slight shrug. "I represent a small wing of independent law enforcement m'self. Been sent here by the Governor hisself ta assist in the situation. Now, I ain't sayin' you boys are doin' a poor job, jus' that the suits up high feel ye c'n use a bit of help. We ain't gonna intrude in yer regularly scheduled patrols, or investigations, or none of that. Just here ta lend a helpin' hand." She fished two business cards out of her wallet and handed them to Doyle and Shade. In neat print, they read "Independent Law Enforcement, Agent Josibel Morganstern" along with a phone number.

"Here's m'card. If ye need ta get ahold of us for whatever reason, someone will pick up a phone at that number. We're on call 24/7."

Doyle scanned the card, nodding with obvious approval. Shade quickly pocketed it.

"Wonderful," Doyle declared, sitting up. "I'll make sure to call ya when we need some heavy lifters."

The Chief turned to say something to Shade, but she was already gone.

"Not again..."

"She seems right friendly," chuckled Josibel with mild sarcasm. For a moment she gazed out the window, though eventually she shook herself out of it and turned to leave.

"Well, it was a pleasure meetin' ya, pardner. Lookin' forward ta bustin' some baddies with yer boys in blue." She waved to Doyle as she left, whistling some country song as she marched through the police station, nodding to any officers that met her gaze. This looked like it wouldn't be as painful as some jobs she'd done in the past. Lady Luck seemed to be smiling on her for once.

The setting changes from Fort Blackburn to FBPD

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Josibel Morganstern Character Portrait: Jonathan Doyle
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#, as written by TCoS
Chief Doyle sighed as he stirred his morning coffee. Sometimes he felt as if he and his men were the only vestiges of law and order left in Fort Blackburn. He had been on the force for many years, and in that time the criminals had only gotten stronger, smarter and more courageous. What was an honest cop to do?

Well, sometimes an honest cop had to rely on unconventional means. A part of Doyle didn’t like their lawless style of vigilante justice - especially that ghost lady’s - but there was no denying the results they garnered, and Doyle would have been a fool to reject their help. A sinful town deserved sinful heroes, he supposed.

“Chief, the perp has been escorted to the interrogation room,” an officer informed Doyle, interrupting his train of thought. He nodded, pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and shot a text to Josibel. If he was going to get these Golems to squeal, the woman with a hundred years of experience would be his best helping hand.

---

The gentle twang of a guitar stirred Josibel from her light slumber. She reached out to pick up her phone and flipped it open, scanning the text she'd recieved. "Hmm... I hadn't expected the chief ta accept my offer so soon. Best not keep him waitin'." Thirty minutes later, Josibel pulled up to the police station, paid her cab fare, and stepped inside. One of the officers nearby recognized her from her last visit, standing up to approach her curiously.

"Easy, son. Jus' here on some business. Yer chief says ye got a prisoner, an' he wanted my help fer the interrogation. Where's yer holdin' cells?" The young officer scribbled some directions on a sticky note and handed them to Josibel, smiling warmly before heading back to his desk. She followed the directions, heading down halls and stairs before noticing there was writing on the back. She turned the note over and rolled her eyes.

"Rookie..." The boy was far too young to be attempting to pick up a veteran officer like her with such a halfhearted attempt. Well, for Josibel, every man was too young for her, but there wasn't much she could do about that. Finally, she reached the holding cells and looked around for Chief Doyle.

In the middle of the room there was a desk and three chairs, two chairs facing each other and the third off to the side. Doyle was sitting in the chair facing the wall and the prisoner was in the chair facing the door. When Josibel entered the room, the crook's face shriveled up, as if disgusted by her mere presence.

"Glad you could make it," Doyle greeted, turning around to face his fellow officer. "Coffee?"

"Please." she accepted gratefully, completely ignoring the prisoner. "So, Chief, fill me in. What's the situation? I heard you had someone ye wanted me ta talk to." Josibel innocently took a sip of her coffee, looking at Doyle over the rims of her glasses.

"Well, we found this here gentleman" - he motioned at the criminal - "unconscious near a weapons cache. We'd like to know what he was doin' there. Tell the officer yer name son."

The crook looked as if he was about to bite Doyle's head off before he spoke.

"Christopher Quinn."

Turning her head to glance at the prisoner, Josibel gave him a short once over, expression carefully neutral. "Awright, well nice ta meetcha, Mr. Quinn. M'name's Special Agent Morganstern. Ye can call me that fer now, till we get ta knowin' each other a little better." She paused to take another sip of coffee, eyes closed in bliss.

Quinn looked as if he was ready to vomit.

"We found Mr. Quinn in some... unorthodox garb," Doyle began. "Specifically, gray and black camoflague. Now, let's be honest here; we know that's Golem colors. The same clothes was bein' worn by all his buddies. Mr. Quinn, what were the Golems doin' with all those ArmaMax weapons?"

Quinn crinkled his nose, mocking Doyle.

"And why am I gonna tell you that, old man?"

Josibel cleared her throat and set her cup down on the table. "Excuse me, Mr. Quinn, but I ain't exactly fond of yer tone. Try ta be more polite, if ye please." She maintained a pleasant tone, but her eyes had a hungry look to them, daring the kid to push her buttons some more. "Answer the question...politely."

"Politely?" Quinn scoffed. "I ain't gotta respect you, this is our town now." Despite his obvious displeasure over his situation, the Golem bravado didn't seem to be going anywhere.

"Doyle, what's yer policy on rough-housin'?" asked Josibel, still staring at Quinn.

The Chief took another sip of his coffee before glancing away.

Standing up to remove her coat, Josibel frowned at Quinn. "I warned ye once, Mr. Quinn, an' thats all ye get from me."

Quinn haughtily laughed at Josibel.

"Pft, what're you gonna-" Like a cracking whip, Josibel brought the back of her hand across his face, knocking the chair over from the force of the blow.

"I'd prefer not ta do that again. Please answer the chief's question, Mr. Quinn." Josibel stood the chair upright again.

Quinn, clearly shocked by the blow, scrambled for his words.

"I'm gonna sue you fuckers for police brutality, I swear," he managed, wiping his face with the back of a hand-cuffed palm.

Josibel chuckled to herself. "Are ye now? Well lucky for me I ain't a part of this police department. Sorry, Doyle." She turned to him with a shrug. "I guess ye'll have ta talk extra sweet ta the judge about this one, huh?" Josibel kicked the legs of the chair out from under the criminal, causing him to fall and strike his face against the edge of the table. He let out a yelp, like an injured animal.

"Oh shit! I'm sorry about that, Mr. Quinn. I truly am. I musta slipped or somethin'. Let me help ye up." She reached down and grabbed hold of his arm while her hand grew vicious teeth to bite into his skin, hard enough to hurt, but not enough to draw blood.

"Listen, I think we're gettin' off on the wrong foot. Lemme start over." She cleared her throat. "I'm the Grim fuckin' Reaper, and if ye keep givin' us trouble, I'm comin' after yer soul somethin' fierce. Am I perfectly fuckin' crystal clear?"

The Golem bravado had quickly dissipated. After muttering "what the hell" several times, Quinn looked at Doyle with almost pleading eyes, refusing to look at Josibel.

"Alright, alright, I'll talk, Jesus Christ. We were collecting those guns from a man they call Grinder. Behemoth had ordered some better weapons and such, and we were movin' 'em to one of our warehouses. Those costumed freaks came and busted us up, I don't think they wanted us to have the guns."

"I don't think they wanted ye ta leave with them guns, neither. Thanks fer answerin' us, by the way. Makes our job a lot easier." She shoved him down into the chair and picked up her coat, shrugging it back on. "Any other questions ye got fer this'n, Cheif? He seems ta be ready fer a nice chat now."

After jotting down a few notes, Doyle pushed his glasses up and glanced back at Quinn.

"Just one. Tell me 'bout this Grinder fella."

"I don't know nothin' about him, I swear," he insisted, shaking his head. "He just sells guns, that's all I know."

"Well," Doyle said, more to Josibel than to Quinn, "I reckon we need to find this "Grinder" then."

Josibel nodded, tipping her hat to both Doyle and Quinn and turned to leave. "Good day, pardners."

"Good lord, what the hell is she?!" Quinn muttered, refusing to believe what he saw. Doyle only chuckled, heading for the door.

"She already told you: the Grim fuckin' Reaper."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Josibel Morganstern Character Portrait: Friedrich "Fritz" Kravits Character Portrait: Richard Cheswick Character Portrait: Devon Steele Character Portrait: Jonathan Doyle
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#, as written by TCoS
Corona walked next to Blackwatch as the two traversed a near empty street. Even with some idea of what they were looking for, finding actual evidence and clues was still going to be primarily a game of luck. Lillim was nearby, Corona was sure, but he had insisted on being allowed to stray from the group. Corona supposed that letting him be was for the best. He tended to get restless just walking with the group, and he was not half bad at scouting for the group.

It always seemed to be a lot harder to get anything done during daytime partols, mostly because the costumes didn't exactly lend themselves for blending in. Eyes constantly watched the movement of Corona and Blackwatch as they walked through the streets, in the distance the distinct sound of shutting doors, windows and shutters of those who didn't want to have anything to do with the vigilantes walking the street near them. You couldn't really blame them, some might try to hide their criminal activities, others just don't want a chase or hostage situation come through their properties. "If only we could cover enough ground by sticking to the alleyways and back corners, would make the day partols so much more productive. Most of the crooks are long gone before we even get close enough to find out what they are doing," Blackwatch mentioned to Corona while looking back at the gazes of the people that remained on the street.

"It's harder when we don't have too much direction," Corona replied, keeping his eyes forward, "But I think we do just fine for ourselves most of the time. We've taken stabs in the dark and come out on top before, haven't we?" Internally, Corona had his own doubts. Just wandering the city looking for a lead could take days or weeks before they found anything useful, and they did not have the luxury of time at this point. Still, he had to offer hope to his comrades, realistic or not. High morale would keep the group going more than anything else.

"Hey, guys, you might wanna come listen to this." Lillim said from atop a nearby roof, though, his voice seemed to be right next to Corona and Blackwatch. He waved at them, and gestured down to the alleyway below before crouching back down to continue listening himself.

Blackwatch looked over to Lilim and then back down to the alleyway he was pointing at. If he recalled correctly it was Tiger territory, but beyond being a location of the Tigers local street vendors at night usually nothing happened there. They really were looking for some Golem activity involving the new hardware they have gotten their hands on, but whiping up some Tigers along the way would make for a nice change of pace from the walking. Taking care not to step on something that would make a loud sound, Blackwatch made his way to the wall close to the entry of the alley. As he reached the corner he couldn't help but feel underinformed, he didn't know how many he would be up against if for whatever reason they came his way, nor what kind of hardware they carried. But he sure as hell couldn't stick his head out of cover to see for himself and asking Lilim wouldn't be possible without being audible by those in the alley.

Corona slipped against the wall next to Blackwatch, straining his ears to hear. He sometimes envied Lillim's ability to hear as well as he could. While he was by no means deaf, he sometimes had difficulty understanding words if he had to listen from a distance. Having a group was good for supplementing such minor deficiencies, Corona supposed.

"Yeah, I heard the guy gave in to our demands and he's now gonna give us some better guns, something even better than the Golems are getting I heard," one voice from the alleyway replied to whomever he was with. "Good timing too, even if it's just a hand me down from the big guys, I really need a more reliable gun. This one jams way too often," another voice mentioned, accompanied by the sound of a slight rattle from two loose metal pieces hitting each other. "You still running around with that thing? I thought you hit a gun shop a few weeks ago." A third voice asked. "Yeah, well... I only managed to escape the police by dropping the loot and taking a swim," The second voice answered followed by the sound of at least three people laughing. "Speaking about the law, it's been awfully quiet of the street for a bit. I'm gonna check out what is going on." The third voice said as footsteps came closer.

What Corona could hear alarmed him even more than what he had seen the prior day. If what they were saying was the case, they could have some serious trouble on their hands. The fighting that went on between the two major gangs was bad enough as it was; they did not need even greater firepower. Even worse if the guns were also coming from ArmaMax. They had to find out more. They would have to corner one of these guys and question him.

Flattening himself against the wall, Corona nodded to Blackwatch as he waited for the man who had been speaking to come just close enough. Sometimes these mooks just made their job too easy.

Blackwatch took stance to shoot, aiming for where he expected the body of their new informant would be. Unsure of what exactly he had loaded, and without time to check or switch, he figured it would be his best chance, given what he had packed for the day. He just prayed he could aim and shoot before the guy could react and that he didn't have Black Death's Breath loaded. The crook came into his sights, and on a reflex he fired. Looking at the needle that now stuck out from the body of the crook, he realized which rounds where loaded. Surprise mixed with confusion allowed Blackwatch to throw the guy on the ground as he jumped into him. As his vision turned into the alleyway he saw the backs of 5 running crooks and fired a few shots in the hope get a hit on a few more. A few of the shots must have hit, but unless intercepted they'd probably be able to run a few city blocks before succumbing to the tranquilizers.

"Well, I got one of them," Blackwatch said, looking down to an almost pitiful sight of the crook trying to fight the tranquilizers and crawl away.

Corona strode over to stand above the unfortunate mook that Blackwatch had incapacitated. "One is plenty. I'll bet you anything he has all the information we need," he said, grabbing the man by his upper arms and hauling him into a limp, upright position, "Well, he will, once he's not as loopy," Corona clarified. He almost felt sorry for the mook, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Only almost, though. "How long do you think we'll need to wait?"

Blackwatch poked at the crook with the tip of his boot, looked at the lack of a reaction and then replied: "Now, this ain't exact science, but given how he doesn't react anymore and his size... At least four hours. He'll probably be a bit sleepy and maybe a tad numb, but interogatable when he wakes up."

"Well, I suppose we have some time then," Corona said, slinging the goon over his shoulder. "Probably should keep an eye on him though."

At that point, Lillim landed on the ground next to Blackwatch and Corona.

"Awesome, we've got something. Now we have to wait," he said, scowling at the idea. Already he was pacing back and forth and bouncing on his heels.

"Um, I think we should move him. Maybe call the cops and have them interrogate him at the police station. They probably are interested in the information too," Blackwatch proposed as he looked at his surroundings. "Staying here would just make us an easy target for both Golem and Tiger attacks," he said while taking aim at one of the 'spectators' as he drew something that resembled a gun from under his coat. The man quickly pocketed the gun in response, but it cemented his view on the current situation.

Corona winced as he saw Blackwatch point his gun at what looked like a civillian. Even armed with tranquilizers, he could not say that he liked the idea of threatening someone who had not done any harm. "Definitely need to move him somewhere safer." Corona agreed, "Handing him over to the cops would probably be our best bet for the time being. Let's get in touch with them then."

"I'll give them a call." Blackwatch said as he switched to the police frequency on his transciever. "Hello, Blackwatch here. We have a subdued Tiger that needs to be brought to the station for interrogation regarding an arms trade. We are at Alton Drive, southbound side," he said to the operator.

---

Pausing mid-bite, Josibel frowned and looked across the table at her phone, which vibrated loudly. She almost considered not answering it, but that would be rude. With a sigh, she dropped her fork, picked up the phone, and answered it. As soon as she hung up, Josibel picked up the plate and dumped it into her stretching gullet, devouring the rest of her steak and eggs in one gulp. Another interrogation so soon? Man, this city really did need more law enforcement.

Josibel threw on her coat and hat, left a wad of cash on the table to cover her meal and tip, then dashed outside to hail a cab. "FBPD HQ, an' make it snappy please," she asked the cabby, handing him several twentys before getting thrown back into her seat as the man floored it.

---

Doyle himself was waiting by the front door, glancing at his watch as he waited for Josibel to return. Josibel wasn't a part of the department, so he felt his interrogations could be a little more... liberal. A part of him felt guilty for playing cowboy cop, but drastic times called for drastic measures; there was no time for niceties or red tape. Doyle heard an awfully loud screeching noise outside, and peered out the window to investigate. Sure enough it was Josibel sauntering out of a taxi, clearly annoyed with the driver.

"Oh boy," he chuckled to himself.

Josibel casually strode up to the station doors, hands in her duster pockets. She pulled one of the doors open, smiling at Doyle. "Well howdy, Doyle. Fancy meetin' ye here again. What's the situation?"

"Got another goon," Doyle replied, heading towards the interrogation room again. "Stripes, not camo this time. Might be a little tougher to crack."

Uttering a chuckle, Josibel pushed her glasses up her nose. "Well that's just fine with me. I like a bit o' challenge every once in a spell. Ye got any evidence 'gainst this one?" She chose to ignore the young officer from that morning, who had been watching her hopefully.

"Yeah, he's wearin' black and red," Doyle answered as-a-matter-of-factly. "Gang affiliation. We'll nail him with somethin', for sure."

"Awright, sounds good ta me." The pair continued on in silence for a couple minutes until they'd reached the interrogation cell. Josibel opened the door, bowing slightly for Doyle to enter. "Age afore beauty, Chief," she said with a chuckle.

The Tiger, still somewhat delirious, scowled as the two policemen entered. He looked as if he was going to say something, but simply muttered "fuckin' pigs" under his breath.

Tipping her hat to the Tiger cordially, Josibel pulled a chair up to the table across from him and took a seat. "Howdy, pardner. M'name's Special Agent Morganstern, an' I'm sure yer already familiar with the Chief here. What's yer name, so's we can all be formally aquainted an' such."

All that came from the hoodlum's mouth was a growl, followed by: "I ain't gonna talk."

Josibel quirked an eyebrow before turning to Doyle. "Say, Chief. Why exactly we got this'n in custody? Multiple murder, drug trade, arms traffickin' an' such, was it?"

"You can probably throw jaywalkin' in there somewhere," he added with a slight laugh. The Tiger wasn't amused.

"Go ahead, lock me up. Beats these dumps you call streets anyways."

A mocking laugh escaped her lips as Josibel reached into her coat for her pack of cigarettes. "You mind, Chief?"

"Only if you pass me one," he remarked.

"Fair enough." Josibel pulled one of the rectangular cigarettes from her pack and lit it, then lit a second one from the burning end and passed it to the Chief. She then turned to the Tiger, her smoke hanging in the side of her mouth. "Lock-up? Lock-up's fer the tame criminals. If ye're such a bad guy, like I think ye are, that's grounds fer execution. Maybe ye c'n convince me yer not such a big bad guy, though, huh?" She leaned forward onto the table, taking a drag from her cigarette and blowing the smoke away from the table.

"Execution?" The hoodlum hurled a laugh at Josibel. "You've got nothin' on me for execution. And even if you did, I'd take that over squealing on Frostbite."

"Well lucky fer ol'...what'd ye call him? Frostbite? Lucky fer him, we ain't interested in that right now. Just one Mr. Grinder an' his guns. He's yer arms dealer, right? We wanna know where his next deal's goin' down. Squeal like a good little piggie an' maybe ye'll just get multiple life sentences instead o' the noose."

The Tiger spat on Josibel, his voice now guttural.

"Who're you calling a pig?"

Josibel froze for a moment, slowly wiping the spittle off her cheek and looking at her hand as if something incredibly insulting was written there. Like lightning, she kicked her chair backwards into the wall, grabbed hold of the edge of the table, and shoved it forward into the Tiger until she'd wedged him between it and the wall. There, she propped her foot on the edge and slowly increased the pressure, her muscles visibly bunching up under her pants.

"I...hate...spitters. I'll give ye three seconds ta appologize ta me afore I split yer punk ass in fuckin' half."

The mook glanced over at Doyle, who merely stared forward with a professional cool. Bringing his eyes back to Josibel, with more animalistic instinct than rage, he merely brought up a middle finger.

"Fuck you."

"Wrong answer." She leaned forward and kicked the table again, cracking a couple of his ribs. "Try again, punk."

"Ha! You think you can just kill me?" the goon wheezed, forcing the table back just enough to give him breathing room. "Just wait until my lawyer hears about this, pig. Maybe we can share a cell sweetheart."

Doyle took his cigarette out of his mouth and tapped Josibel on the shoulder, signaling for her to ease up.

With a disappointed sigh, Josibel let go of the table, turning her back to the Tiger and shoving her hands into her pockets to cool off. "Ye talk ta this'n for a second, Doyle." She walked over to her chair and uprighted it, plopping down to enjoy her cigarette.

"I apologize for Ms. Morganstern's outburst," Doyle began, blowing smoke. The Tiger coughed and waved the smoke away. "But you don't exactly have many bargaining chips. Those stripes you're wearin'? Might as well be terrorist insignia. The good people of this city ain't gonna stand for people like you much longer. Most would rather see you in the chair than a holdin' cell. If you ever want any chance for parole, you're gonna have to help us. Now, Grinder. Where's his next meeting takin' place?"

The mook sneered at the sentiment.

"Good people? This town ain't got no good people anymore." With a self-satisfied smirk, he continued. "Fine, my rep with the Tigers is gonna be ruined anyways. You want Grinder? He's gonna be here-"

Doyle took out his notepad and pen.