Gargoyles X TMNT: Shadows of New York

Never Talk to Journalists, Either

April sulked in the steel folding chair in that small, tiny, boring room. She honestly expected cops to not adhere to TV stereotypes. This time? Honestly, she didn't know if she was disappointed, nervous, angry, or just bewildered. She didn't have handcuffs on–there wasn't a point, with a cop outside the only door–but the room was decidedly cold and small and miserable enough to feel like a jail cell.

She made up her mind. She hated this.

The door opened. It was Detective Maza, again. April pulled back in the chair a bit as the woman glided into the chair on the opposite end of the small table, as easily and comfortably as a cat on its favorite couch. She folded her fingers under her chin, her eyes relaxed and nonchalant.

It was silent for several minutes. A moth circled the flickering fluorescent light over their heads. There was only the tiny tick, tick, tick of its little head ramming into the light as it guttered and buzzed like a broken lightsaber.

After a while, April spoke first. "No good cop, bad cop?"

"No, but believe me when I say I'm one of the good cops."

"You detained me for texting my friend for a ride home."

"Your friend?" Maza asked.

April's face paled. Right to remain silent, you idiot. She mentally slapped herself. Maza raised her eyebrows, the smile on her lips subtle and assured. First point of this match to the detective.

"My grandma-friend." April tried to correct herself. "She's an old friend. And, well, by that I mean she's really old and a really good friend, so I call her my grandma when she's actually my friend."

"So you call your young male friend, who did a terrible impression of an old woman from Boston, before you call your parents?"

"What's wrong with having grandma-friends?" She parried the question.

"You seemed awfully well-prepared for someone who came to the station to try and report a stolen car. I saw that codebook and scanner radio in your bag, when it ripped. You've been listening to police chatter, and you know the law well. Hell, most adults don't know the difference between 'arrest' and 'detention'."

April puffed out her cheeks. "I want a lawyer."

"That means calling your parents for one."

"I want a phone call."

"If you're okay with me listening in."

"I want to know what my charge is."

"So far? Being a nosy brat isn't quite a misdemeanor, but you're working on getting there."

April crossed her arms, and glared down at the bare concrete floor. Elisa could tell that the kid wanted to say something. That there was some word, some accusation just barely bitten back. She had a feeling that if she could peel back the mask for even a tiny peek, she would see a young girl with a lot on her mind. But Maza couldn't prise anything out of her. She'd slipped because she hadn't closed her guard before, but now the young woman wasn't going to make the same mistake again.

Meanwhile, April fumed. What she would have given to have even an ounce of her friends' skills in ninjutsu so she could get out of this place. This cop was hard-willed, slick, and impossible to fend off forever. In April's head, this moment felt just as dangerous and serious as two fencers, circling one another in a duel, looking for an opening in the other's defenses, unable to see behind each others' masks.

For several more minutes, Elisa and April traded barbed questions, slippery evasions, subtle threats, and neither of them got any further. April refused to yield any more information, leading Maza in frustrated circles. April fought hard to phrase her words carefully, filtering them and sterilizing them before they left her mouth to avoid giving Maza any more ammunition.