[System: I do not recomnd doing it. You have no real blackmail material in your hands. They can kill you and erase your existence.]
Uhm, well, it doesn’t really matter if I have nothing. What matters is that they already believe their own made-up story about , which ans I have a higher hand than them.
[System: That’s just sothing you think. What if they don’t even think about you as a threat?]
Then they wouldn’t have sent two officers to kill . Why are you dumb, System? Why are you trying to talk down?
[System: Do what you want then.]
Well indeed, César was ready to do what he wanted, straight walk in with a smile, and from that point on let life decide what was going to happen. Maybe a good torture session once again, maybe he’d get the beat shit out of him, maybe they’d talk with tea, or maybe he’d even beco an officer himself... nah, that would be too wild, but he had his imagination up and was ready for everything that waited behind the entrance of the police station.
Though he had luck, he didn’t even need to move. He was at the right ti, at the right place, as Peter, the detective, was walking into the station and spotted him just standing there, smiling, with the gun tucked in.
And well, he imdiately recognized him.
The outfit scread cartel. The gun scread it even more, but what said it all was that smug smile, that untouchable smile, like he could walk in and nothing would happen and Peter knew one more thing. He had to make contact first. Through his years in the police, he learned that for so reason criminals, especially cartel types, love it when you make the first step toward them, because if they make the first step, then you’re already in deep shit.
In short... Peter didn’t want to be beheaded and knew that César was there for a reason.
"You are the man from the Sierra?" He asked, his voice kind of polite and sweet as he stepped to César, looking straight into his eyes.
"Oh, yeah, I am César." He answered, kind of surprised by the fact that he got what he wanted without even stepping inside. "You are Peter Keisser, if I aren’t mistaken, one of the detectives." He said as he reached out his hand toward Peter.
And well, he shook it, but it was just too visible. César saw imdiately that he scared the fuck out of Peter, that the preparation he did in the hotel was indeed working on his side, and it was just funny to witness it. Funny to think that information available online with one search could shut down a detective who had many years behind him, though it only worked because of one very important elent.
They already built up this bubble around him. They profiled him as a sicario from the cartel, or at least a cartel mber.
What does it say if a cartel mber knows your na without even ever seeing you?
It says that you’re already in his palm, that he already knows more than you thought he would... basically another bluff, with the sparkle that they buffed themselves.
"Y-yeah, I am Peter." He responded, though the feeling inside him kind of stopped him from saying anything back. He blocked down, because even though he’d been in law enforcent for years, it was the first ti sothing like this had happened to him.
The first ti a cartel said his na out loud...
"I ca here to talk a bit with the chief, because, well, it’s not really nice to send officers to try and kill , does it?" César asked, still eyeing him and holding his hand firmly, but in a way that was not threatening... though he himself was the threat, at least to Peter.
Like... how absurd was it to stand in front of the police station and hold hands with a cartel mber with the gun tucked in.
"No, it isn’t nice."
"I like that you understand ." César replied imdiately, pushing more with the initiative and controlling it. "I hope you help have a eting with him, but first it would be better to remove my guns to not have any misunderstanding."
Another psychological trick, to let Peter grab the guns from him, to show him that he doesn’t care about it, he doesn’t fear it... that he knows that even without weapons he is untouchable, and no one would even try to harm him.
But of course, Peter didn’t do it. Nah, he had no fucking will to do it, so it was César himsefl who pulled the two guns from his belt and handed them into Peter hands.
"Now can you escort in to avoid any further trouble?"
"Y-yeah, we can go." Peter whispered, just questioning if this was reality or what the fuck, as he held the guns in his hand. But nah, it was reality and what was even more real was that he was escorting the man into the police station that the chief had ordered to hunt the fuck down.
A man who killed two officers, fucked up their business, and now he was the one being escorted though it wasn’t how César had planned it to be.
He thought there would be plenty of officers waiting, and when he walked in like a fucking magic trick, they’d run him down or sothing... but with Peter, nothing happened. There wasn’t even officers there, just one guard and a big ass counter with five administrators sitting there, and so civilians... literally nobody gave a fuck about them. And they walked with ease to the elevators.
"Eleven years with the police... you could have made millions just selling the drug yourself, Peter. Why did you stay with them? It’s better to be a gangster cop than a simple gangster?" César asked, as the light jazz music played, though it helped nothing to calm Peter down.
Nah, César’s question just pushed the reality that this motherfucker knew too much.
"Uh, I don’t profit from it." He answered, just staring straight ahead. "I’m a detective."
"Ohh, that’s worse then." César giggled a bit, though he didn’t know how to continue, because he thought he was in the business with them. Then he rembered the picture he saw online, Peter was always next to the chief, not just that but rembered one more thing. "Though you are successful, you’ve solved many cases, haven’t you?" He glanced at him.
"I did." Peter answered simply and tried to push down the thought that César might know more of him...and indeed, César said the worst thing he could have said.
"I bet your wife and children are proud of you, Peter. I bet they look at you as a hero, as an idol... and I hope you love them. Really love them, Peter, because life... life can end fast. I hope you understand that, Peter."
No eye contact was needed there, no, the way César repeated his na, that was the touch that made it worse, made it sink in. Saying soone’s na too much is usually awkward, cringy even, but with a threat, it changes. It becos personal, every repetition presses the idea harder, this is about you.
This is your na.
And Peter understood it. He had seen so much through his career, experienced so much, but to feel it face to face like this, in an elevator with jazz playing quietly, and this motherfucker threatening you with the thing you value the most... that was another level.
The fear, the focus, the raw knowledge that everything could end in an instant... it’s sothing you can’t truly imagine until you experience it for real.
[System: Congratulations, you have earned an achievent: You have successfully threatened a detective.].
Uhm... so he is already in my pocket, easier than I thought it would be.
It was thanks to the weird differences in this reality. The cops, detectives, law enforcent in general... they’re kinda la. If César had tried the sa thing in his past lives, he would have either been tortured or killed. The cops back then were real motherfuckers, more like a mafia themselves, killing whoever they wanted.
But now, one was already in his pocket, and the only thing left was to get the chief sohow.... well not sohow as the elevator doors opened, he had already prepared the photos he printed out.
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