Zipties For Fun And Profit

May 25, 2014: Sara Pezzini questions Nancy O'Neal after the shot out at one of the local malls.

//Interrogation Room //

If you've ever seen a cop show, you probably know what this looks like. You seen one interrogation room, you've seen them all.



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Mood Music:

The interrogation room looked like any other. Honestly, it did. Even veteran cops who had worked in these things for decades would swear they all looked the same. Same cheap metal seats. Same cheap metal table. Same incandescent hanging lamp, utterly inadequate to light the room unless you happened to be right under it. Which naturally her subject was, having been brought in for questioning.
The scene had been, by all accounts, a mess. Sixteen men in black tactical gear, no manufacturer's mark. Ten recovered HK MP5 submachine guns, one Mossberg 500 shotgun and a 40mm rotary grenade laucher of unknown make. Seven fatalities, all of them the mysterious black clad gunmen. One of the fatalities had literally had her chest opened up by something sharp and *massive*. Seventeen injured, all bystanders, four of whom required critical care. Hundreds of thousands of dollars worth in damage ranging from ruined mable and shattered glass to a section of third level walkway collapsed by what looked to have been C4. And finally, one twenty year old goth girl, involved in the fight according to CCTV footage but only, seemingly, in self defense. That's who was sitting under that ridiculous light at the moment.

Sara has had plenty on her plate lately. She's actually spent most of the day unloading some of those onto other officers in preparation for a different assignment. Unfortunately, when this started, that meant she was the person with the least to do. So she steps into the interrogation room, looking over the report as she goes. "Nancy O'Neal," she greets simply, glancing up to give the girl a once over. "Sounds like you've had a hell of a day."
Sara Pezzini just looked at you.

Nancy O'Neal looks bored. Soooo bored. She sits in the interrogation room, replaying the scene over and over in her mind. Is there anything she needs to worry about? Can she be arrested? Well, actually, she's not sure. Law isn't something she's that well learned about. When Sara walks in, she offers her a nod, head still in her hand as she tries to keep it up from falling onto the table. "Yeah. I hafta say, living in New York ain't never dull, but that was just… Wow."

"New York, where there's enough weird shit they've got an entire department to deal with it," Sara murmurs, smile flickering as she takes a seat across from Nancy. "So I was taking a look at the tapes, and it looks like, from what I can see, most of what you were doing was in self defense. So this should go pretty quickly, so long as there's nothing more to it. Except for a couple of parts here. Really, my biggest question is why, exactly, where you wandering around with police quality zip ties?"

Nancy O'Neal was waiting for this question. SHe was coached on how to answer by her senpai. She starts to smirk and looks away, embarrassed. "Well, they are a lot less bulky then actual handcuffs and you can't lose the key while yer… busy." She looks to Sara and has the decency to look sheepish as she shrugs. "What can I say?

Sara quirks a brow, letting that sink in for a minute. "Yeah," she finally says slowly. "I see here that you're a student. Julliard. That sort of talent doesn't come without a lot of practice. And you've got a part-time job. So I'm pretty sure I'm not picking you up on prostitution charges, which means you probably don't need them in bulk. Or in public." She sets her elbows on the table, hands folded beneath her chin. "Let's try the next round. Whoever these guys are, they're clearly either military or some sort of special ops. Contract, maybe. I've got a friend in Checkmate I'll probably drop some of this information off to. But you stuck around, got in the way, and fought back. That takes training they don't usually offer at Julliard. Did you pick that up at the sex store, too?"

Nancy O'Neal arches her brows. Woah, this one is good. A lot better then Partisan gave the NYPD credit for. She closes her eyes and takes a moment to take a deep breath, sitting up straight. "No, that I learned by being a cellist in a highschool full of jocks and cheerleaders. And, like I said, New York. You need to know how to handle yourself if you're gonna walk around Queens with an overly pretensious guitar case."

"The goth look isn't usually backed up by much." Sara tilts her head slightly, lips pursing. "Here's the thing. Honestly? Whoever these guys were, they were obviously up to no good. Someone had to put a stop to them. It should have been NYPD, but I'm willing to take some help from a good Samaritan. We've even got laws for that sort of situation." She reaches for the file, sliding it in front of herself. "Where things get fuzzy is when we start to see signs of premeditation. I see a student walking around with restraints, I start to wonder what she was thinking about doing with them. I see that same person holding her own against special ops, I start to wonder a few other things. Like what your plans were if you didn't accidentally happen across a full out assault in the middle of a mall."

You say, "Honestly? My plans are to finish my schooling, get a job in the symphony. Get out of New York so the extra skills I have will never be needed ever again. I saw the supers and… they make me angry. I did something stupid. Really, I should have just been happy with cuffing the unconsious ones and letting the two gun toting ones do all the heroics. But… the supers. They think just cause they got powers that they can do whatever they want with them. That they can endanger lives because they are 'better'. So, I lost my temper and… yeah. Not smart, I know."

Sara arches a brow at that explanation. "Welcome to our world," she drawls, dry. "There's a whole lot of concern at a whole lot of levels about how to legally handle the issue of superpowers. NYPD doesn't even have an official policy about officers having them at this point. It's a lot like don't ask, don't tell, and for the love of God, don't get caught using them. The thing is, the problem with supers? Is that they're by and large outside the law. And you don't fix the problem of lawlessness by stepping outside the law yourself. Two wrongs, all that." She leans back in her chair, considering the young woman in front of her. "Did you know any of the others at the scene?"

Nancy O'Neal sighs softly and sinks into her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. "For the most part, supers suck. And if you guys do prove they did something wrong, how the hell do you keep them in a jail cell? I'm sorry I lost my cool and let my fists do the talking. Just lucky I lived through it." She takes a moment, taking time to think about her response. "The man. I saw him in the park. He was chasing down a mugger."

"There are a few places. We manage to hold the ones who are outright criminals. It's the ones who go the vigilante justice route who are trickier to deal with," Sara admits, pushing a hand through her hair. "Look, I'm not interested in arresting college students for being able to handle themselves. You're a witness. So I'll be sending someone in to take a statement, because the people who really need to go after are the ones who think shooting up a shopping mall is something that's okay to do. What I'm concerned about is how you were ready to deal with this sort of thing. I don't want to be back here in three months because you decided to turn vigilante on the vigilantes."

Nancy O'Neal lets this sink in. What *is* her plan. "Well, I would rather never come back here," she says slowly. "I ain't gonna say it ain't ever gonna happen. Someone tries to steal my cello I ain't letting that happen without a fight. But… the bottom line is, you don't have to worry about me. As you said, I'm the least of yer problems."

"You have no idea how true that is," Sara sighs, reaching into her pocket to pull out a card. "Don't leave town any time soon. There may be more questions about what's happened. But for now, I'm going to send you home. With my card," she adds, reaching out to tap a finger at the card. "You run into more of this, you give me a call, all right? You got lucky this time. Next time, that might be different."

Nancy O'Neal takes the card that is offered to her. She chuckles softly. "I would be insulted that you just agreed that I'm small potatoes, but I did kinda set myself up for it." She holds it in her hand, the card, looking it over. "Lets hope there is no next time, right?" SHe offers the cop a smile and wink.

Sara smiles ruefully, shaking her head. "Don't be small potatoes, kid. Be no potatoes." She pushes up then, nodding to the young woman. "No next time would be great. Preferably because you didn't do anything and not because you got smart enough not to get caught, got it?" She doesn't wait for an answer, though, heading for the door. "Yeah, send Ramirez in for a statement, then cut her loose," she says to the guard at the door. "I'll have a chat with the big guns…"

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