"So what do you think you have here, Officer Spice?" A police officer went rifling through the neat compilation of paper work as the man who had handed it to him, shortly after this policeman's arrival, drifted off toward the holding cells.
They were down a short hallway. Not far, but the guard of these usually empty cells in this special detention area wouldn't need his help reading that. The report was plain and clear, written to the best of his ability. Hennry, 'Officer Spice' as he was called by most people, came around the solid wall and stopped before an occupied cell. He'd done it. Finally, something no one else in this tainted city - Cretin - seemed able of doing. Standing there staring at the caged man, who had small black diamond shapes tattooed below his downcast eyes, Hennry felt so proud. Though he didn't gloat openly. He wasn't that sort of arrogantly prideful man.
"This place is uncomfortable."
Hennry was quick to respond to his charge, words steeped in proper justice, "Then you should behave better." Hennry made a sour face as the man looked up.
"You know nothing," the caged man jabbed, looking upward. He didn't have to glare intently to make the officer pay sole attention to him. "Enjoy this."
"DAREX ROKEN?!" the shout of the other police officer with the report papers echoed within the hall.
Darex left his hands folded and elbows on knees as his sharp eyes watched the officer look alarmed to the side for a moment. "It's a fleeting pleasure."
Hennry furrowed his brows, his face giving off confusion until he thought over the word 'fleeting'. "You won't be a free man after today. For the sake of Cretin."
"Let it go."
The continued sharpness of those eyes combined with the calm words now made Hennry's odd eyebrows furrow more deeply. He wasn't ignorant of the man he'd reigned in or Darex's infamous reputation. Hennry himself had brought men that the city considered bigger and badder to their knees in with sentences to serve in jail cells for many years if not life. "Nothing's being 'let go'. I have clean proof that you own and smith Ithzium, Roken."
"Buddy, the big man will get that paper you wrote on my capture and I'll be gone from your records faster than a cocaine high."
Hennry would not see his hard work flushed so easily. "You will not walk!" A hand came down on Hennry's shoulder as the man began tightening two fists. Roken was smug about this whole thing, that level of certainty really got to Hennry. They had perfect legal proof of Darex Roken's illegal possession of Ithzium and military class weaponry; how could a man walk with those heavy charges?!
Darex shook his head to provoke the man. "This won't even make it to court," he sneered.
"You'd be surprised how much influence I have!"
"Spice! Leave the purp be. We'll just have to see how it turns out. Stay level headed and you'll give the case a better chance." The guard Hennry had met and handed his papers to had come back to make sure things were staying civil. The man began to encourage Hennry to walk back up the hall.
"Lanyess veb'ven merkan!" Darex shouted as a taunt. 'Freedom to the merchant.' It was foreign outlaws' expression which had become popular even in mostly human cities, like Cretin, which had their own black markets.
Three hours and twenty some minutes later, in the early morning while the sun was barely up, Darex Roken was legally discharged from the detention center; no charges pressed but no apologies given. Unhappily Hennry personally watched the infamous weaponsmith stroll out of the building from behind glass; his eyebrows knitted, eyes following Darex until the man couldn't be seen walking up the street anymore. Some officers felt sorry for the determined Officer Spice having to watch his bane walk, soon to take up a place as his greatest irritation. Most were shocked about what Hennry had done. Regardless, the news that some gun-ho officer had tried to take in Darex Roken spread like fire through dry plains of grass.
Realistically, Darex would have to be dead before the underworld stopped demanding his talents. Hennry Basil looked at those odds and tried finding methods around to get at the corrupt force on the other side. He always followed his position's the rules, still managing to get a lot of work done. The last thing Cretin needed now was another rogue cop. Rash men just turn into monsters that fight monsters leaving only monsters behind.
It was unfortunate that Darex Roken only seemed vulnerable in his privately owned workshop; the twist in that would not be enough to put Officer Spice's determination to bed. He'd seen enough citizens with "XR" Ithzium weapons and taken too many of those into police evidence lockers. There were lots of humans and even inter-galaxy races dead because of those accurate and powerful things. An "XR Street-ster" that Hennry had once fired at his police shooting gallery, a gangster's sort of pistol, had sent a bullet through the back wall of the gallery and into the police center's yard after hitting its mark. The pistol hadn't even injured Hennry in producing that much force! It was easy to use effectively...so horrifyingly easy. Where other bullets were stopped easily by a special cement and metal layered walls, Roken's pierced them like they were cardboard. There were more types of his weaponry out there too; knives, swords, spears, cannons, grenades, all made with Ithzium in them. That metal was uniquely versatile.
Having left the police center but stopping at a shop for food before going home, Hennry was so angry that Roken's reputation was alone enough to spring him that he'd bought twice as much food as he should really eat. It was alright; there was someone at home to share it all with. Hennry bit into a crisp frosted coffee biscuit. Officers said it was impossible to bring Roken into a cell...but he'd done it. Impossible to gather enough proof. Done it. No one had ever known it was impossible to keep the man in a cell because they'd never gone that far! Hennry made a decision during his walk homeward; he would definitely rip Darex Roken from his place of power. For Cretin.