Starless Night - The Ballad of Cassidy Kidd

CHAPTER IX: NOT READY FOR THIS

I HAD HORRIBLY UNDERESTIMATED THE NEASR POLICE FORCE'S EFFICIENCY.

It felt like it had been less than a minute since I willingly surrendered myself to the police, and in that short moment, they had handcuffed me, wrangled me into their car, and already had me being ferried into the hub tower. My plan had worked- they had brought me exactly where I needed to be.

They had realized pretty quickly that I was more than willing to follow them into the tower, so they weren't being nearly as rough with me as they had been before, which was both surprising and comforting. If I had to give the Saint Petersburg police force a Yelp rating, it would be at least an 8 out of 10.
I looked up at the tower as I stepped out of the car, both arms, robotic and living, tied up in handcuffs behind my back. It was hundreds of feet tall, dozens of stories of both glass-paned and steel-plated skyscraper that very nearly pierced the clouds that the dragon had dragged me through only minutes prior. A massive, glass slope went up to very nearly the top, connecting to a side that jutted out south near the bottom, like it was some kind of supervillain secret base instead of a government one. Saying nothing, the police directed me towards the multiple entrances of the building, which I quickly realized as I approached were over fifteen feet tall. What the hell did the Saint Petersburg government need fifteen foot tall doors on their buildings for?
They led me over to a significantly smaller, but still overly large tinted-glass double door, which opened automatically, allowing me and the half a dozen or so officers trailing behind and in front of me into the tower.

The inside looked more like a garage than the reception area I had been expecting. I supposed that, since this area was purely used by the government, they didn't need any of the fancier commodities and decorations of a normal office building. The floor was a mishmash of asphalt, dark gray concrete, and metal, all forming a massive, rectangular, almost factory-esque room; it felt both dead and incomprehensibly alive.
Still, the place could have used an interior designer; I looked off to my right, where the huge garage doors had been. Across the rest of the floor was a massive parking area, which the police cars we had dropped outside were currently being led into. The police cars they used now looked more like military humvees than civilian vehicles, so it seemed fitting enough. I could swear I saw something inside the parking lot that did not look like any kind of wheeled vehicle at all, but my attention was quickly pulled away by someone in front of us calling my name.

I turned to see that there was a kind of 'receptionist area' in the building, though it was just another steel-plated brick of a desk with a couple computer monitors sitting atop it, and an extremely exhausted man in a NEASR uniform standing just behind it, propping himself up on his elbow. A second man- the one who had called my name- stood on the other side of the reception desk, barely illuminated by the dim and sparse factory lights that dotted the metallic floor.
It was hard to make him out in the dark, but he looked, at least comparatively to me, short- though that wasn't saying much. I towered over the police officers, too, despite only having turned 13 a couple of weeks ago.
Akamoros screamed something in my head that I thought translated to "you're how fucking old," but I couldn't be sure.
I told him to shut up, before continuing on my train of thought. I hadn't done any measuring, but if I had to reckon, I was probably only an inch or so off of six foot at that point. Maria had a hearty laugh or two about it, as well. She always remarked that I must have hit my head in the forest and forgot how old I actually was, but I had a pretty distinct memory of my life before I was forced out of my home. I knew how many years I had suffered through.

The man was only an inch or so below me, but clearly didn't like being even that much shorter than a teenage girl, so he pulled himself off the desk and brought himself way too close to where I was standing. I could see him better there, but it was still fairly uncomfortable.
He was big, but not fat- more large in the way that a bodybuilder is than an alcoholic is- though his face and short-cut, messy brown hair did resemble that of a drunkard's. Despite being among the few people who I had met in the past few days that were smaller than me in terms of height, he was more than sufficiently intimidating, which I assumed was intentional. His skin was a pale white, and coated in body hair. An oppressing odor, as thick as the fog that surrounded the saint's tower, reeking of sweat and AXE body spray. He had evidently spent more time in the gym than taking care of himself. The Svaugr aura that radiated off of him was weak, but the stench of a thousand angry droids focusing their hate at him more than made up for it.
"Murphy's informant told me you'd show up any day now," he continued. Murphy- as in Emmet Murphy, Icarus' name, I recalled. "I was not informed that you'd be destroying half of my city on your way in, though." His voice was somehow both childish and incredibly aged, like he was simultaneously older and younger than he looked.
He leaned in, uncomfortably close to the surface of my mask, locking eyes before speaking again.
"My name is Andrew Keyes. It would do you good to remember that name, kid." I genuinely could not tell if he was referring to my last name or calling me a child. Everything about this guy was two-sided and completely impossible to interpret, like he had two personalities both fighting for a bronze medal in the rigged olympics of his mind.
He leaned back, then continued in a higher, only slightly friendlier voice. "You'll be staying here for the time being until Murphy decides what he wants to do with you." He motioned to the guards, then to the elevator. "Bring her up to the mess hall and get her something to eat before you bring her up to my office." He looked at me again. "If the informant was telling the truth this time, the kid hasn't eaten a decent meal in almost a week. I don't know what Murphy wants to do with her, but I reckon that she doesn't deserve to starve."
Now he was being fairly nice? My level of confusion almost overcame the level of pain I was in, but I wasn't about to complain. He was partially right; the last time I had eaten was hours ago, and it was just a cold can of whatever-the-hell Maria had packed. I ripped off the covers on them so I didn't have to think about what I was eating.