Penance

Chapter Seven: Black Blade

Good Cop jolted awake, and immediately regretted it. His head hurt. The very next thing he noticed was that his head was quiet. Far too quiet, even for the other two being asleep. He would at least be getting snippets of their dreams. Panic started to well up, making his stomach twist into knots and his heart pound, as he searched desperately for them. He couldn't feel any trace of them- where were they?! They couldn't be dead-

No. He tamped down on the feeling, burying it deep. If Bad Cop could continue to function without him, then he could do the same. He had to- he wouldn't survive the night otherwise. Instead, he took a few minutes to take stock of his situation.

He was alone, and bound to a chair. With his own cuffs. "Well, this is a little embarrassing," he muttered to himself. But the chair was only wood, and a little rickety, judging from the way it wobbled when he shifted his weight. He twisted this way and that, getting a better look at it. Definitely flimsy. Putting dignity aside for a moment, he stood, then fell back down on it with all his weight, hissing slightly when the legs snapped and dropped him on the floor. That kind of hurt. But he'd accomplished his goal- the chair was in pieces, and he was free. He wriggled until he managed to get his hands in front of himself again, then patted down his pockets. The key was gone- of course. But he still had his pick, a small, easily-missed pin. He picked the lock on the cuffs, and put them back on his belt where they belonged.

Good Cop took a moment to poke his head outside the room, checking the halls. They were completely empty, not even a guard at the door. Obviously they weren't expecting him to be able to break himself free. He grinned. Underestimated once again. He went back into the room, intent on arming himself before beginning his explorations. Even if his brothers were gone, he still had a responsibility for Sirius.

Thank goodness he was still in the room they'd fallen asleep in, at least. He got down on his hands and knees to fish their phone out from under the bed, where it had bounced when he dropped it the second time. He checked it; no signal again. He couldn't even tell Benny that...

He swallowed hard and rubbed at his eyes, then put the phone in its case on his belt before retrieving the crowbar from his suitcase. He then sifted through the pile of broken chair parts, finding a section of a leg that had broken roughly in the size and shape of a baton, and grabbed it before leaving the room. He hoped it wouldn't take too long to find Sirius and get the heck out of there.

Good Cop made his way down the hall, feeling eyes on him but seeing no one. It was the most eerie sensation. He paused to get his bearings and catch his breath; the place hadn't seemed so large from the outside, but it seemed to have taken forever just to walk down two corridors. "Gotta lay off the croissants," he muttered to himself. Now he could understand why Bad Cop always had a fit when he indulged himself. That thought sent a pang through his heart, and he quickly pushed it away.

It took him a minute to realize the halls weren't as quiet as he originally thought. He still couldn't see a single soul, but he was starting to hear whispers. Faintly, at first, but soon they were all around him. "Hello...?" he called out.

'Pathetic,' whispered one of the voices, and he jolted, whirling around. It sounded as though it had been spoken directly into his ear, but there was still no one else in the hall with him.

"Who's there?!"

'Weak.'

'Useless.'

'Miserable excuse for a cop.'

He tensed, gripping the crowbar tight. "If all you have to offer is insults, then you can just stuff it. I've no reason to pay you any mind."