BLACK INK SOCIETY {Sci-Fi Thriller} #Wattys2016

Part 1, 2: The Night's Last Criminal

London, Hackney- at the same time

Only a very attentive observer could have spotted the single light still illuminating the façade of the Stoke Newington Police Station. He imagined someone walking past the hideous concrete building. Someone probably returning from a nice evening at the pub, wondering who was being kept awake up there by the night's last criminal.

The Night's Last Criminal. Act One. Scene One...

"Name?"

"Alighieri."

"First name?"

"Dante."

"Nationality?"

"Italian."

The police officer nodded seriously and filled out the form. He was young, short-cropped hair, brand-shiny uniform, and clearly new to the job. One could easily tell from the fact that he hadn't lost his courtesy. Not yet, that was. 

"Well then, Mr. Alighieri...", he scratched the back of his head, "For how long have you been in the UK so far?"

Dante was just about to anwer when he was rudely interrupted by the older officer.

"Okay, enough of this shit. Don't you realize he's screwing around with you?", the policeman adressed his associate, lighting a cigarette, "If he's Alighieri, then I am Shakespeare."

"Who?"

"Forget it. You're too young for this, anyway. You guys were spared from the old classics at school, right? But what do you think...", he placed his fleshy hands on the tabletop and fixed his gaze on the maybe-Italian sitting averse him, "We start from the beginning. Show me your ID card."

The young man smiled. He had an undeniable kind of charisma about him, the self-confidence of someone who had seen too much and stopped giving a shit. His dark brows overshadowed two vivid brown eyes, sparking with audacity.

"Pity. I must've lost it."

"Is that so? By the way, you're a little dark for an Italian..."

"Is this the sweet music of racism caressing my ears?"

"Don't go there, son."

"Touché."

The police officer drew on his cigarette. "Alright, Alighieri, or whatever it is you're called, your lawyer is on the way. Do you have any questions?"

"Yes. I could do with a cigarette, would you mind?"

"Smoking ban in here."

Dante gave a short laugh. Irene had recently accused him of overdoing it with his sarcasm. Memo to self: Introduce Irene to this police officer.

"What's so funny?" The individual in question demanded to know.

"Well, the fact that you are smoking a cigarette while standing directly beneath the sign that forbids this sort of action, and advise me of the same rule in the meantime... You have to admit, it has a certain unintentional humour to it."

Dante began to find this role to his liking.

The officer, however, did not seem to share his enthusiasm. He bent forward and gave Dante a look colder than the average surface temperature of the antarctic continent.

"The difference between the two of us," the officer said in a threateningly low voice, "is that my boss has long gone home and won't bother me for the rest of the night. I don't think you know  what you've gotten yourself into. Do you think it's fun to make overtime in the interrogation room at four o'clock in the morning? No."

"Tell me about it."

"Let me guess." The police officer gave him a patronising grin. "You don't have a greencard, do you? Alighieri, yeah right. Your fingerprints were in the database as soon as you crossed the border, so is your name, your date of birth and everything else you just lied about."

Dante rolled his eyes.

"I'd loose this attitude if I were you," snapped the cop. "Let me see... vandalism, fraud, obstruction of justice... Even legally, you're screwed. But since you're not a citizen..." He brought his face closer to Dante's, "I can kick your sorry arse and nobody fucking cares."

Dante snorted. He regretted his choice of pseudonym, he really should have thought of someone better than Alighieris lyrical ego. He had always been against this whole charade anyway.
"Yeah, I am sure that if it wasn't for my personal irrelevance, the great deeds of a tiny, uniformed wheel of the societal machinery - pardon, police officer - would never go by unnoticed."

"You little bastard, who do you think you are..."

"Woah there." The younger officer, who had followed the developement in silence until now, prevented his colleague from getting physical. "Why don't we all calm down for a minute."

"Fuck off, Cizek. I'm gonna get a coffee." And with that, he stomped out of the room and slammed the door shut like a miffed prima donna.

The remaining officer gave him an apologetic look. He seemed slightly embarrased. In this silence, Dante could hear the noise of his wrist watch. Tick-Tick-Tick-Tick... It was time for the second act to begin.

And this woman sureley knew how to make an entrance.