Project V (Clementine X Male Reader Book 4)

Precinct

Your POV...

The man died before an ambulance could arrive. And they wouldn't let them in until you were out and in custody or dead. They arrested you, dragged you out, shoved you in the back of a police car, and drove you straight to where you are now.

You're in an interrogation room. It reminds you of the one Sebastian cut Marina's and your ring fingers off. You're facing the two-way glass, probably being watched. Your hands are cuffed around a metal bar on a metal table in front of you. The chair's metal too, and the most uncomfortable thing in the world. The light overhead is pretty dimly lit. The walls are a bland, dark blue color.

No one has come into the room yet. They won't let you see Brooklyn, you asked, they didn't do anything. How long has it been? Three hours at least.

You sigh and bend your head back so that you're staring at the ceiling. You close your eyes, might as well take a nap.

Unknown: No sleeping.

It comes through an intercom somewhere in the room.

You: What else am I supposed to do?

No reply.

You: You gonna send anyone in here, or are you just going to hold me?

No reply.

You: Fuck you too then.

The door opens. You correct yourself in your seat so that you can see them. They walk over and sit in a chair across the table from you.

He's in his forties probably. Clean-shaven, short hair cut, bags under his brown eyes.

Detective: How are you, Y/N?

You: Eh, pretty good. Yourself?

Detective: I'm good, thank you for asking.

He stares at you for at least a minute. He's trying to read things in your body language.

Detective: Why'd you do it?

You keep eye contact, with a straight face, and don't say a word.

Detective: We have everything we need to put you away for a long time. You might as well talk.

You stay silent.

Detective: Ok. Y/N, let me ask you this. Have you ever killed anyone before?

Yes... Well, technically, no. In that simulation, where everything was meant to feel real, you killed hundreds, if not thousands. Killing comes easily.

Detective: Your record was clean, except for a few minor infractions, before today. Yet you have the look of someone who's done this before.

You: Listen, buddy. If you want me to talk, you'll have to do worse. I've been beaten within an inch of my life, drained of my blood like an animal, stabbed, cut, burned, you name it. I didn't say a fucking word.

He narrows his eyes. He begins to open his mouth, but the door opens before he can say anything. Someone walks over and whispers something in his ear.

Detective: Here?

The messenger nods.

Detective: She wants to speak to him?

Another nod. The detective looks at you.

Detective: It's your lucky day. Someone is here to see you.

He stands up and takes the folder he brought into the room with him.

Now you're alone again. He said she, so whoever is coming to see you is a woman. Is it Brooklyn? No, they wouldn't let her in, and he seemed shocked that they were here. Who would shock them?

The door opens, and a woman walks in. She sits down on the opposite side of the table and smiles. Her clothes are very casual; you've never seen her in anything informal. Her hair is turning grey, her eyes have bags just like the detective's, her skin is beginning to wrinkle slightly.

President: Hello Y/N.

You: What do you want?

President: You've got yourself in quite the situation.

You: Have I, really?

President: Yes. Murder is not something that is taken very lightly.

You: I'll be out of here in no time.

You glance at the two-way glass.

President: Don't worry. It's just us. No one is listening.

You: Get me out of here.

President: I can not just walk you out of here. I may have power, but I can not free a murderer.

You: You know damn well why I did it.

President: Because of your experiences in the simulation.

You: Yeah, so it's partly your government's fault.

President: We still can not let you go. You will face trial, you will be convicted, you will be imprisoned, and you will rot.

You: Your kidding.

President: No, that's what is to happen to you.

You lean forward.

You: Why'd you come then?

President: To present a solution to you.

She reaches into her pocket.

President: I can not help you out.

She slips a key into your hand.

President: You can break yourself out.

She pats your hand.

President: Two lefts, a right, another left, and you'll find the exit. Two blocks down is your car. Chaperone and Brooklyn will be waiting for you.

She stands up.

President: Wait until the detective comes back. When his back is turned, make your move. I look forward to seeing you when you get home.

You: Why?

President: I still need you, Y/N, isn't it obvious?

You: I'm not doing what you want me to do.

President: You will, or you will never see the outside of a prison again.

You: I'll be a fugitive.

President: It will all be worked out. You do not need to worry.

You: What's in it for me?

She tilts her head slightly.

President: Your freedom.

You: If I break out of here, you're going to have me do your dirty work.

President: Ah... I will let you back in.

You: Back in?

President: I will let you go see Marina again.

You're speechless. All you can do is look at her with your mouth slightly open.

President: It won't be for long, but I'll arrange to have you go see her one last time. Do we have a deal?

You: Yes.

There's no pause in between when she finishes, and you accept.

President: I thought you would say that.

She reaches for the door and starts to open it, but stops.

President: No killing anyone, by the way. Everyone walks out of here without any serious injuries. Broken bones are the limit... I'm sure you can handle that.

She opens the door.

President: Good luck.

She shuts the door behind her.

You: Marina.