Chapter Text
The sun rose on a new day in Imperial City.
Since the city was always bustling with activity, the only major change that this brought was that more of them could see what they were doing. Nevertheless, it looked like it was going to be a fine day. The light glinted off the opulent Aldmeri-inspired architecture that made up the epicenter of the city. Reconstructions and refurbishments of buildings from eras past made up the most recognizable aspect of the sprawling capital. Glinting like a beacon in the dawn, White Gold tower still dominated the skyline, despite other buildings since making the climb into the stratosphere around it. it was the first part of the city to greet the rising sun, as it had been for centuries.
As the sun rose higher, it began to illuminate the further, more recently-constructed reaches of the city, with its towering apartment blocks, lavish eateries, and swarms of vehicles, buzzing about in a rush to ferry their passengers to their work days. One vehicle in particular was rather unusual, in that it held a very important person. Currently, this important person’s hands were bound in front of him. He was seated in the back seat of a police car, trying to stare a hole into the back of the driver’s head.
“This one’s quiet,” said the officer, who was a fairly young Bosmer man.
“Probably because he knows what’s good for him,” said his partner, a much older Imperial. “They’ve got big plans for this one. Why else would we be transporting him to TALEO HQ?”
“Don’t ask me,” said the driver. “That shit’s above my paygrade. Pass me a bearclaw, would you?”
The prisoner looked out the window. They were getting closer to the central district of the city, where all the big government agency headquarters were. He began to worry. The car came to a halt in front of a Briarbrew shop.
“This is where we’re supposed to meet the agent?” said the Bosmer.
“That’s the one,” said his partner. “Go wait outside for them.”
“Why do I have to do it?”
“Because I’m pulling rank on you. Get some coffee while you’re at it.”
The driver groaned. “I’ll remember this,” he said. He stepped out of the vehicle, and shortly after, opened up the back door.
“Come on,” he said to the prisoner, tugging on his arm. “We’re moving.”
The prisoner didn’t struggle. He wasn’t in the mood to add ‘resisting arrest’ to his list of charges.
As they waited, the prisoner scoped out his surroundings. There were people of every shape milling about, sipping various coffee-based beverages and nibbling on pastries. Near the door, a brown-scaled Argonian in cutoff jeans, a flannel shirt and thick-rimmed spectacles strummed an out-of-tune acoustic guitar. All in all, it was the picture of your average cafe... until you noticed the higher concentration of people in nice suits.
One such person, a middle-aged Orsimer woman, approached the policeman, dropping a bill into a nearby upturned hat along the way.
“Are you Special Agent Gra-Gatuk?” said the officer. She nodded, reaching into a pocket and flashing her TALEO badge.
“Right then,” said the officer, looking relieved. “I hereby officially remand this prisoner into your custody. He’s your problem now. Have a nice day.”
Special Agent Gra-Gatuk took the prisoner by his arm as the officer left, leading him some ways down the street. They walked perhaps a block, until they came to an unmarked black van. It was idling. She reached into a pocket and pulled out a black bandanna, and with little preamble, tied it over the prisoner’s eyes. Deprived of his primary sense, he could only listen as he was put in the backseat of the van and driven to an unknown location.
After an unknown amount of time passed, he was let out of the vehicle in what seemed to be a parking garage. From there he was led to an elevator, and the elevator, in turn, opened up into a place with lots of different people milling about and talking.
Finally, he was put somewhere quiet and given a seat. His blindfold was removed, and now he could see that he was in an interrogation room. His gaze was drawn to the large mirror directly across from him. A haggard-looking man stared back at him.
The prisoner wondered idly who was watching him from the other side of the glass. He wondered. He watched. And he waited.
The door clicked open, and new agent walked in, taking one of the two empty chairs on the other side of the table. He had the skin tone and features of a Redguard, but his eyes were the deep, icy blue commonly associated with Nordic heritage. Those eyes were fixed very firmly on the prisoner, staring right through him.
The agent didn't say anything. He just looked at the prisoner, occasionally sipping from a coffee mug with the TALEO emblem on it. The prisoner felt extremely nervous.
Another agent, a smaller female of elven descent took the empty chair. She had the look of a Bosmer, but the tufted ears and the slitted, feline eyes suggested one of the more humanoid types of khajiit. She had a binder with her and began leafing through it, tossing a page to her partner.
The male agent's eyes darted over the page in silence for perhaps another minute. Then he let out a long, low, whistle. "Mr. Claude P. Madlaine Jr.," he read. "Priors for breaking and entering, armed robbery, assault, assault with a deadly weapon, most recently, possession of skooma with intent to deal..."
He shook his head disappointedly, as if he were talking to a promising schoolchild who had been caught smoking in the restroom. "Your mother must be so proud," he said, passing the sheet back over to his partner.
The sheet was snapped back up by the mer and whisked back into its place in the binder. The agent’s green eyes pierced through Claude, sternly. “You know that you are not escaping these charges anytime soon, Madlaine,” she said. her voice had a dour, professional monotone to it. “However, today is your lucky day. You’re not the biggest fish in this pond. We’re looking for a bigger catch.”
The prisoner's eyes shifted to the left and right.
"Full immunity is absolutely out of the question," said the man, "before you get your hopes up. But I believe that a reduced sentence is on the table, and early parole is certainly a possibility if you behave yourself in the meantime."
Claude lowered his head. Then he mumbled something.
"Beg your pardon?"
"Protection," he murmured. "I want protection. If they find out I squealed..."
“Of course.” The mer agent began writing something down. Claude attempted to sneak a peek, but it seemed that it was in a foreign language. The rumble of the human’s clearing throat snapped his attention back to his hands.
She looked up. “We know that you get your product from Two-Toed Laphonse,” she said.
“Two-Toed is pretty smart for a criminal scumbag,” said the male agent, his lips curling into a smirk. “You’d have to be, to oversee the Niben branch of the skooma pipeline. Smart enough not to do his own dirty work. But you’re smart too, aren’t you, Mr. Madlaine? Smarter than he gives you credit for.”
Claude said nothing. He was clearly unsure what the game was here.
“You know how much your employer values your life,” he continued. “Which is to say, not at all. So I bet you have a little insurance somewhere, just in case he tries something. Now, you give this insurance to us… then maybe things go a little easier for you. We’ll protect you until Two-Toed gets put away, and then you serve your time and go on your merry way. If I’m in a good mood, I’ll tell my buddies who work at Bravil Correctional to look out for you.”
“This is a very limited time offer,” said the woman, closing the folders. “You have until my partner finishes his coffee to make up your mind.”
“And believe you me, this is terrible coffee,” said her partner, peering into his mug. “I am not going to take the time to savor this.”
Claude could clearly tell where the wind was blowing. “Markus Strongarm,” he said.
“Two-Toed’s former chief enforcer, we know of him,” said the female agent. “He went missing about two months ago.”
“He was diddling Two-Toed’s boyfriend,” said Claude. “Two-Toed got rid of him personally. Lost his temper, caved his skull in with a wrench. Don’t know where he stashed the body, but Two-Toed got me to help clean-up. Told me to get rid of everything. I held onto some. Lockbox in my apartment, under the bed.”
A form was slipped toward Claude. “Fill this out,” said the female agent.
“There’s another thing,” said Claude, eagerly taking the agreement. “Two-Toed is going to be taking in a big shipment. At least a hundred liters of skooma. Gonna be delivered to the Honningbrew bottling plant.”
The redguard agent’s smile widened. “That is certainly something we can use,” he said, pulling a pen from his pocket and sliding it across the table. “You just write down everything you can remember, Mr. Madlaine. If everything you give us pans out, you may just find yourself with a second chance.”
“And I’ll be safe, right?” said Claude, as he began to write hastily.
“Of course, Mr. Madlaine,” said the woman. “The United Empire keeps its promises.”
The two agents stood up and quit the room, and Claude let out a breath of relief.