Blood On Snow - A Fargo Fanfiction

Chapter 23

"She's in for public disturbance, attempted public assault, and assault of an officer."

"Oh, wow. Any major damage?"

"If you're talking about officer Gomez, no. He's fine. Just filling out paper work."

"Okay then. Place her in the cell until we get this mess sorted out."

"With the cuffs?"

"'With the cuffs?'. Of course with the cuffs!"

"But we believe she's deaf."

"It's not like we can communicate, anyway. Besides, we need to watch out for the others."

"Alright, Amanda."

Pancake stared at the scissors on the desk as the secretary, a woman in her mid thirties, wrote down a few things as the officer beside her spoke. She quickly looked up as she was pulled to the side, legs almost instantly walking with him. The dreaded black bars came into view.

The officer opened the cell door and more or less shoved her inside before slamming it shut. She swiftly turned and stared at him all the way out of the room. Knowing full well she'd be out soon, she leaned against the bars, staring at the window opposite the cell. It wasn't long before she felt eyes on the back of her head, turning to instinctively look. There sat three men, almost shoulder to shoulder.

The man on the far left looked asian, red jacket zipped up and head bopping up and down to imaginary music. He looked disinterested as he looked off to the side. The man in the middle looked as composed as herself; grey blazer being smoothed down as carefully as could be. He looked older than she did, and no doubt he was smirking. Now, the man on the far right was staring at her. He was tall, gaze intense yet full of intrigue, his jacket was left open, and Pancake honestly thought he looked a bit like a prick.

Her gaze returned to the window before she glanced back. This continued for a few seconds before she met the other's gaze. Her arms jerked as she went to sign, the cuffs preventing any form of communication. With a small exhale she turned, flipping him the double bird. When she turned he was on the edge of his seat, grip deathly on the bench.

"That's not very nice, is it?" The man in the blazer asked, gaining her attention. After a moment of nothing a lightbulb seemed to go off in his head. "You must be hearing impared. No doubt that's difficult nowadays."

The asian man looked over after his friend had finished talking. Once more her arms jerked, preventing her from once more communicating. That guy, Pancake decided, was also a prick.

"I would ask you what you're in here for, but I highly doubt you'll speak."

Oh my God, shut up.

"So instead I'll guess. There's nothing like a good game."

I'll actually kill you.

"You look rough to me."

I look rough to you? The fuck does that mean?

"You look mischievous."

Who even says 'mischievous' anymore?

"Judging from the time, it was public."

Everything's public, asshole.

"Assault? Disturbance? Both?"

The blank, threating look she sent him told him he was right.

"I forgot to introduce myself, didn't I? I'm Varga." He grinned widely, voice low and soft so the officers couldn't hear.

Varga? Ha, gay.

Once more her arms jerked, head suddenly falling back rather painfully into the bars as she was restricted. The aching, pounding pain didn't really bother her; she enjoyed pain. Well, certain types, and the dulling pain in her head was one of them.

"V.M?" An officer asked as he entered the room.

Varga and the two men stood. He reached into his trouser's pocket, pulled out a card and slipped it into Pancake's coat pocket on his way out. Now alone, Pancake sat down, allowing herself to assess the situation fully. Pensador would be bailing her out any time soon, pissed off yet proud all the same. Around ten minutes later she was right as the same officer from before retrieved her from the cell.

The woman rubbed her wrists as the cuffs were removed, walking up to the counter where she expected to see her partner. Instead there was a coat slumped on the marble. Dark in the bright room, it seemed as though time slowed down. Everything faded out as dread consumed her like a void, hesitant hands reaching over to pick the coat up. As she did, a small object fell from the pocket, silver shimmering brightly. Upon picking it up, her arm with the coat dropped to her side and she felt like she had just seen a ghost.

It was Pensador's ring.

Pancake's mouth went dry and her blood ran cold. Clearly something had gone wrong.