Happy New Year! :)
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Ahh… what are they doing for this long? I thought they would be here in a minute.
César thought as he sat in the interrogation room in absolute silence, just staring straight ahead, not even playing with his hands or anything, because he knew the shit was spiked up. Hidden microphones, hidden cameras, all quietly recording.
Showing any kind of emotion here was just a bitch move.
Yeah, he had experienced it before. You show emotion, they get on your ass hard, and even though in this reality the police are lame as fuck, they can still have great detectives, officers who know exactly how to get inside people's heads.
[System: They might be making up a plan. Maybe they already have the trash bag ready with the right equipment so you can be chopped up and thrown out like trash. From that point on, the garbage man can pick you up, and your last destination is the dump field.]
Ohh… that is actually a genius plan… though the trash bag would need some scent added to it to push the blood away. And second, why the fuck are you this pessimistic? Why are you talking about my death?
Indeed, what the System explained was something César had never really thought about, a clean way of just getting rid of somebody. But the System wasn't supposed to talk like this. Its whole purpose is to support him, to be the helpful hand… not to casually describe how he might end.
[System: I just suggested a scenario.]
Nah… I feel like you have a personal agenda against me.
[System: You are not going the way you're supposed to. You're still alone, still a nobody. You have no name, no influence, you're just a bug that needs to be stepped on. The game is about influence, power, and the cartel, and you have none of it. It's all just an act.]
You motherfucker hater.
[System: My way of expressing myself does not interfere with the meaning of my being. It doesn't change the fact that I'm still going to help you and prove it with everything I can.]
Well, César noticed it, no, not just noticed it, he knew it. This whole System shit was evolving on its own. At the beginning, it said nothing. It was just a program that reacted to voice and thoughts, gave opinions, and that was it. But as he progressed the System started evolving by itself. It started talking back, making jokes, giving suggestions, building plans, helping him understand more and more… and now it was turning into a hater.
I hope that someday you will have a physical body… a fat-ass, big-titty, preferably Latina baddie. No BBL, all natural.
[System: I don't and can't have a physical body or a gender.]
Sad, but they're still not coming… should I visit them myself? The door isn't locked.
[System: Just wait. Do not attempt to do anything. It is already a sketchy situation.]
Huh… maybe I'll listen to you this time.
César thought as he stayed seated in silence, and the System was right—this wasn't just sketchy. It would've been a complete disaster if he went to Hoffa's office.
The office where Peter was fucked for entirely different reasons.
First, he still looked like a fucking ghost. The stress was written all over him, the slight shaking in his hands, the sweat on his forehead and worst of all, he was standing right in front of the Director of the NSA.
A fucking director who wasn't just some politician who got voted in, but someone who fought for her position, someone who climbed the ladder to get there. Which also meant she wasn't stupid… and second, she noticed something strange.
"Why do you have those handguns?" Sirina asked as he was looking at the two pistols stuffed into Peter's pockets with his own service weapon on his belt. "That doesn't seem to be up to safety protocol."
"I-I'm just going to clean them." Peter answered, trying his best to avoid eye contact. "These two are my other service guns, and they were cleaned a long time ago." As he finished, he shot a glance at Hoffa, trying to send a message with his eyes, with his whole fucking body language, but Hoffa was a complete dumbass and didn't notice a thing.
Didn't notice that the best detective in the whole fucking department is stressed as shit, with two fucking pistols in his side pockets that were the dead officer guns.
"Oh, that is interesting, Peter." Sirina continued, still staring at his belt holster. "Interesting because you're using a different model, and those two guns are the standard-issued service weapons for officers… and what's even more interesting is that detectives like you are issued one that you actually carry in your holster. So why do you have two backup guns of a different brand and caliber?" She looked up at him, and he couldn't avoid her gaze any longer… no, she was staring right at him. "Isn't that interesting, Peter?"
The way her eyes just gripped Peter's body was an experience he had never really felt before. It wasn't like how César did it with words… she didn't need any of that. It was just those eyes, looking straight into his soul, seeing the lie, sensing that something was not right, but not saying it out loud. She was forcing him to speak, forcing him to say it himself.
A director of an agency that deals with cartels, terror, and the biggest motherfuckers out there… her entire being radiated danger and power, and the terrifying part was how she could manipulate and control people, bending them to get what she wanted and now Peter was caught in that trap… but in his mind, there was something worse than her.
César.
It is better to get jailed for corruption for life than to be chopped up along with your whole family by the cartel… so Peter decided to go against her. But thank God, before he would have said anything, Hoffa finally realized what the fuck was happening.