2011-2-19: Corruption



Detective Baxter

Summary: Rashmi meets with a Detective who is tired of looking the other way.

Log Title: Corruption

Rating: PG

NYC - The Swamp

The Olive Drab Room, it is also known as, The Swamp lives up to its name. Table and chairs sprinkled around the room, some chairs tipped over, most not even at a table at all. Along the far wall is a long bar, with a wall of various bottles of cheap alcohol. Cheapest in New York City, it boasts, and the worst tasting. The bar's motto is emblazoned on the windows facing the street, as well as on the napkins and (what passes for) menus. 'This morning was a very good year.'


The Swamp is one of the less savory bars in the area, but Detective Baxter had figured that it would be a good place to meet without drawing too much attention. The man had contacted Rashmi earlier in the day, informing her that something was happening that he felt she may be able to help with. He now sits in one corner of the bar at a dark table drinking a scotch. His black duster is pulled tight around him and he is still wearing black glasses and a fedora.

What *exactly* does one wear to a seedy dive? How does one even get *in* underage? Questions Rashmi hopes she doesn't have to learn the answers to the hard way; lacking any Undercover Secret Agent clothes, instead she's elected to choose her oldest, rattiest clothes, mussing her short hair up some, and just brazen her way in, avoiding the eyes of the bouncer.

The bouncer is too busy flirting with a drunk woman in too little clothing to even notice Rashmi. Once she enters the establishment Baxter waves the girl over. "Thank you for meeting me here. Do you want a drink? I wouldn't recomend anything under 80 proof." He looks at the girl. "How old are you? Forget I said that." The man glances around casually and leans in a little. "I need you to promise me that you will forget my name and face. What I am about to tell you could cost me more than my job."

Rashmi bobs her head, resting her hands on the table and leaning forward. "Not a problem, sir. By the time I leave, I'll forget everything except what you say." Glancing around the Swamp, she arches an eyebrow, amusing herself with the thought that she'd likely prefer to forget anyting to do with this place.

The people working in the Swamp look like they don't really care what's going on in here. There are a few people smoking and there appears to be a poker game going on in the back. "Those cops that shot that mutant girl, I heard them boasting about it." He lowers his voice again. "Officers Blackstone and Santmire are the ones you're looking for, but there are a few others that have been making some questionable arrests. The Captain and Lieutant tend to look the other way." The man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a paper. "Here's a list of arrests. Dingo's been a real problem for us, but I don't think his paranoya is unfounded."

Rashmi blinks sharply, taking hold of the paper and nodding slowly. "All right… those names, definitely I'll remember. And I'll make sure others remember them, too." Frowning deeply at herself, she scans the list, mind only half-trained on the information it holds; the rest, working overtime to sort through these new pieces of the puzzle. "I'd rather he never started trouble around here, either… but right now in this case, I'm glad he's. We might not have learned about this, otherwise."

The detective shakes his head. "I need you to realize how delicate this situation is. I know of three cops in the precinct who are problematic. Add in the Captain and the Lieutenant and you've got a bigger problem. One of my former partners said something once and he was transferred. Another two officers lost their jobs. Honestly I didn't want to speak with you except…" He hesitates for a moment and takes a large swig of his drink. "Something's up. They're trying to use Dingo for something big. Don't know what it is, but we arrested a girl today with light blue hair. They're not keeping her in the tombs." He pulls out his phone and passes it over to Rashmi. It looks like he took a photo of the girl. It's Lil, tied to a chair with a bruise on her cheek.

The hissing sound that comes out of Rashmi's mouth very nearly resolves into one (or several) of the strongest Hindi curses she knows. Snatching up the photo, she seems about to ask something… and then her phone buzzes. "*Damn* it," she mutters, fumbling for the device, holding it up to her ear before the third ring can finish. "Th—" and again she pauses, face going ashen. "….Okay. Um. Sure." Pressing the mic against her shoulder, she looks at the detective. "Is there anything else I could use…?"

The detective looks a little confused when Rashmi speaks in a foreign language, as though he's trying to make out what she just said. He seems to realize that it was a foreign language and reaches out to take his phone back. He takes a break to drink some of his scotch when she answers her phone. "Anything more? No. I can't guarantee that all of those mutants on that list are innocent. In fact I know a few aren't, I arrested three of them myself." The man shakes his head, "And keep in mind that not all of the cops at that precinct are bad. Don't judge us all based on what a few rotten cops do."

Rashmi hands the phone back, shaking her head, her phone's input set to mute. "Not something you have to worry about at all, sir. Maybe with others, but not me. Honestly, sir… thank you. You have *no idea* how much I appreciate this help."

Baxter nods to the girl. "Right. I trust that you can do something about all of this. You work for Miss Walters? I'm hoping that with your legal angle and your apparent aquaintence with Iron Man you'll be able to not only stop them from roughing up Mutant Town any further, but also deal with the legal ramifications that I'm sure will come afterward." The man finishes up his drink and stands up. "I'm getting too old for this sort of thing. I just wanted to retire and collect my dues, but I'm not going to sit back and let them get away with murder. Good luck young lady. And if you need me…I don't even know who you are." He pats her on the shoulder and walks past her, tossing a few dollars on the bar before heading out.

Rashmi settles back as the detective leaves the bar, looking down at the arrest record for a long moment. Then, giving herself a shake, she unmutes her phone, snatching up the paper and stuffing it into her bookbag. "I'll be right there," she says hurriedly. "*Don't let him leave.*" And with that, she scrambles out of the booth, hurrying out the door.

~ Fin ~

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