Georgian Wildlife -- TWD [Traveler & Virginia]

[Virginia Greene]

Joyce Martin hadn't graduated near top of her class to get sent out to a town that seemed to be parked somewhere between Hicktown and Nowheresville. She'd been there, done that, gotten the t-shirt and then gotten the hell out. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate small towns and the beauty of a tight knit community, but it wasn't really her thing. She liked big buildings and well paved roads and takeout places. Perhaps worst of all at the moment. there wasn't any air conditioning in her little one bedroom house, and she was willing to bet the heating was going to suck. She'd had a few days to settle and really mostly brought food in from other places, and that morning the garbage bins had been tilted dumped over and all the things the'd thrown away had been scattered in the driveway and side yard. She'd had to put down her box of office supplies on top of the car and then clean it up, which had taken a good five minutes of time she'd been intending to use meet the sheriff and whichever officers were in at the moment but instead she'd have to do that while on the clock, and she already had work to do. Plus setting up her office, making sure all the paperwork had been filed correctly, and a whole bunch of what other people might find tedious but Joyce enjoyed it. Or, maybe more specifically, it felt like something she was good at, and something that made her feel satisfied with herself.

It wasn't a designated district attorney's office - or rather here had been, but after he'd quit they'd been having someone drive in for a while until someone new could get appointed. Meanwhile, the office had gotten filled in the courthouse a town over, and that meant that Joyce had been office-less until the police station had offered to clear out the small empty corner office that they had been using for junk. Or mostly clear it out, there were still going to be boxes that they hadn't found a place for yet, she'd been informed by email. In response, she'd bought a white, lace trimmed tablecloth with the intention of just tossing it over the box. The drive was decent, things looked nice and she could have the windows rolled down, which Joyce had to admit she enjoyed. The air was cleaner and she'd noticed a few nights ago that she could smell the pine trees when the wind blew.

When she got to there she had to check in at the front desk and discovered, not at all to her surprise, that it was exactly what she expected of a police station in such a small town. Box in her arms, she went into the office and let out a little sigh. The blinds were broken, the desk was dusty, and there was a stack of boxes about chest high. She draped the tablecloth over it, thinking maybe she'd get an electronic teapot so she didn't have to go out to the break room every time she wanted tea or coffee. She had to go into the break room to get a sponge to wipe down the desk and had a decent conversation with one of the officers she met while finding the things she needed, and then spent half an hour wiping things down, trying to fix the blinds, hanging her degree, and generally puttering around. She was going to need a second chair so that people could sit in her office, and some kind of sign. Technically this was a promotion, if she thought about it right, she could get a nameplate if she wanted. Somehow something that she'd quite liked the idea of not too long ago just didn't seem necessary anymore. Or maybe she was still angry.

Yes. She was definitely still that.

It took fifteen minutes to get the wifi password once she had her laptop set up, because apparently it had been a long time since someone new had brought in a computer and they didn't know where it was, and Joyce honestly couldn't tell if this was some kind of hidden hostility. But never attribute to malice what you could attribute to literally anything else, she supposed. Not when there were active acts of malice to be dealt with. It was all tan folders with papers in them, nothing had been emailed though she had requested it. Apparently she'd taken a little jump back into the paper age, but that was unsurprising. As were the cases within. Theft, drunken misconduct, drunken misconduct, assault with an... okay, what was an asparagus knife?

((tfw I gotta google an OC's name to make sure it's not already the name of some famous character in something I might not know about))

 

[Traveler]

The door to the police station slammed open, and an officer and a sheriff half-dragged, half-shoved an angry man through the door. His face was bloodied and his lip split, and it seemed like he had been involved in a losing fight with the asphalt. "You ain't gonna believe me anyway," he grunted, "what you asking questions for?" The younger of the Dixon boys spat blood on the floor as he was half-shoved, half-carried into the sheriff's office.

"Now Meryl," the police officer drawled, "you know we got you on a truant registration, and that pot you got in the saddle bag? Well, that's just icing on the cake. You got warrants for your arrest all up and down the state." His lean face split into a mocking smile as his captive glared at him.

"I ain't Meryl! Fuck this," the man in the middle struggled against the cuffs binding his arms behind him. "I'm Daryl and you fucking well know it Hendricks!"

"Hey, hey!" The sheriff redirected their captive's energy right into a post, smashing him hard against. "Damn, Boy - calm down before you hurt yourself some more." His big, half-Native brawn made it evident that he could control anyone in his grip. He nearly picked Daryl up by wrenching his bound hands upwards, drawing a cry of pain from the redneck. "Now if you ain't Meryl Dixon, what were you doing riding his bike? You steal it?"

"Fuck you."

"You're not my type."

Officer Hendricks laughed. "Good one, Wolfclaw. Not your type, ha ha!" He nodded at another policeman who was seated at the reception desk.

The other man called out "Cell four's open," as if they did this everyday, and the two marched Daryl towards the rear of the building where the holding cells were. "You want us to call his people?"

"Yeah," Wolfclaw called back over his shoulder, "tell them we have Meryl here under drug and evading the law charges, and we intend to send him to County unless some other guy with ID comes by and takes his place."

Daryl groaned inwardly. There was no way his brother was going to come get him, or his father, or anyone else. They were probably pissed that he laid down the bike trying to get away from the cops and once he got home, if he got home, there's be an ass-kicking waiting for him. Maybe County wasn't so bad, compared to the alternative.

As they strode towards the holding cells, Officer Hendricks caught sight of a well-dressed, good looking woman sitting in what had been the storage room. He whistled softly through his teeth and glanced at Deputy Wolfclaw "Take a look at that sweet piece of chocolate. You think she's lost?"

"I'll teach her some tracking skills," Wolfclaw boasted. He drew Daryl aside as Hendricks unlocked the cell door and drew the heavy metal open, then he shoved the handcuffed man in hard enough to make him stumble and fall onto his shoulder. "Get up," he sneered. "Give us your hands."

Daryl maneuvered to get his feet under himself, then stood up. It was more difficult bound like he was. He glared back at the two, then backed up to the bars so his hands could be uncuffed. It was obvious this was nothing new. Once Hendricks unlocked one side, Daryl grabbed the officer's hand with the still-cuffed one, swung around, and in one swift motion punched the taller man's chin in a hard upper-cut. It took less than two seconds, and the officer was sprawled on the floor, unconscious. Daryl didn't have the key in his hand because it had gotten jerked to the floor because it had been attached to the officer's Sam Brown belt.

"Motherfucker!" Wolfclaw reached for his sidearm. "I oughta-"

 

[Virginia Greene]

When the commotion started, it was hard not to notice it. The loud voices sort of made it hard to ignore, and while she did try her best because until they asked for her it wasn't really any of her business, Joyce still looked up from her laptop when they walked past her door. She wasn't entirely sure, but it had sounded like somebody was in pain a few seconds before, which was enough to set her a little bit on edge but not quite enough to have her leaving her seat to investigate immediately. Then one of the police officers was talking, and her fingers stopped typing entirely as she strained to listen. The things being said weren't ones that she liked. It sounded a whole lot like they were making plans that weren't this side of legal. Not even this side of moral, as far as she was concerned.

The state of the handcuffed man's face when they passed was more than enough reason, combined with what she'd heard before, to push the lawyer into action. Once the group had passed her she stood up, pushed in her chair, and followed after, moving quietly so as not to disrupt anything that was happening. This wasn't her issue yet, and if anything happened she would be getting in the way more than she'd be helping. She had gotten some basic advice and training in interacting with perpetrators, but a pretty solid amount of it had involved 'make sure there's an officer with you'. For a good reason, Joyce supposed. There was really no reason for her to be with a potential defendant at all, not unless there was a defense attorney present or he waived the right to counsel.

But still, this seemed like the kind of thing to keep an eye on. Joyce didn't want to say that she didn't necessarily trust the small town officers but... well, she wasn't going to not think it a little bit. Her reasonably heeled black shoes made soft clicks against the tile of the police station floor, but she left enough distance and they were distracted enough that it didn't seem like they noticed her tagging along behind. When they reached the holding cells she stopped a ways away, intent on just observing. She missed the actual shove into the cell, but saw the man on the ground, which was... not a great sign, honestly. The punch startled her enough that she had a physical response in the form of a start, a little gasp, and a "Jesus Christ.. This was a nuts. Was this what the station was like on a regular basis? She was going to leave the officer alone, she had no use just standing around. But then there was the threat of the gun being pulled out, and she couldn't turn away, even though she definitely should have been going to get some kind of help for the unconscious man. This was not an appropriate reaction, and she absolutely did not approve. It wasn't like she could really boss them around, but she had learned young how to throw her weight around and she was pretty willing to do that now.

"You know what I admire about law enforcement?" Her tone was even and pretty unemotional, at best a distant friendliness as she crossed the room to join the two officers, "that they promise to hold themselves and others to a higher standard of behavior. To be able to put their biases and personal fights aside in order uphold an unwavering moral code to protect and serve everyone fairly and equally. I don't think I have the appropriate amount of restraint and empathy for the job." She smiled then, but it was didn't reach her eyes, "I would love to know what's going on." Dark eyes moved from the officer and sheriff to the man with the busted face patiently, expectantly.

It was the inquiry of someone who seemed to have a pretty good idea of what was going on, but was trying to decide how she ought to respond to it, and Joyce did nothing to hide that fact.

Her outfit was still nearly as perfect as it had been when she'd put it on that morning, skirt and blazer neat and mostly wrinkle free. Not a single hair was loose from the tight bun that wrangled in her black hair, and it all lent itself to the image of control and professionalism that she actually worked carefully to craft and maintain. It didn't matter that she was basically in the middle of nowhere, Joyce had no intention of changing the way she did things. If anything it might be more required until she settled in and got a feel for everyone and everything that made this department unique. And it did seem to be unique, just... not in a positive way.

Part of her brain was already running this whole thing over. She'd seen the man assault a police officer, that wasn't something that could just be brushed under the rug. He was very clearly violent and unsafe for people to be around. She wouldn't go into that cell with him if offered the best position in the best district in Georgia. On the other hand, she was entirely sure that the officers weren't acting in any sort of professional manner, and that mattered. Police brutality mattered, and the difference between someone striking out due to anger was vastly different from the occasional real need to protect oneself. She had the ability to make it matter if they thought it didn't. Wasn't like they could do anything to get rid of her except be a pain in the ass, and it looked like that was going to be the general state of affairs anyway.


((I am reading the hell out of stuff on prosecutors so I cam give more than silly Law & Order things. Research is fun
I edited because I realized I missed the part where the guy passed out.))

 

[Traveler]

Wolfclaw's hand stilled at the sound of a woman's voice, and when he looked over and saw the sexy, citified outfit sashaying in his direction a wide, appreciative grin spread across his face. His eyes slid over her blazer, rested at the hint of cleavage hidden by her professional attire, and then moved down across her taut waist and lingered on her hips. Nice. He fingered the canister of pepper spray hiding behind his firearm. Daryl's spicy punishment was going to have to wait. Besides, with Hendricks out cold, he had a better chance of scoring some horizontal time with this hot piece of feel-good.

"It's pretty clear, ain't it?" His brows rose cockily. "We got a trouble-maker, and now the damned Dixon boy has assaulted one of the city's police officers. Thankfully, you got us deputy sheriff's here to keep you safe." He extended his left hands towards the lawyer. "I'm deputy Samuel T. Wolfclaw, but you can call me Wolf." He smirked. "I'll teach you how to howl anytime, Ms."

He was already thinking about how much fun he could have with the cuffs and the woman in front of him. Fantasies about her writhing beneath his body were already dancing in his head, and if she were to glance in the general direction of his crotch the evidence of his naughty musings would reveal itself, straining against his brown pants like overstuffed biscuits bursting out of a cardboard tube.

Daryl, on the other hand, had moved away from the bars and was studying the two. Strangers were dangerous. They always brought trouble, and when they left, the trouble always seemed to find him. She had the air of an educated person too - that meant that there was no way in hell she would understand the dynamics of what went down in a small town. Not only that, but she was a woman, which meant, well... she was out of her league. And to top it off, she was black. Even if she could compete in this town and had all the credentials in the world, the town was so steeped in old ideas and patterns that there was no way a black woman was going to survive in any capacity. She'd be gone before the leaves changed color.

He ran the fingertips of his right hand over the knuckles of his left, where he had struck Officer Hendricks. The blood on his skin wasn't his. Daryl glanced over at the prone man and saw him stir, which was good. He didn't think he had killed him, but that would be the last thing he needed at this time. He wasn't sure what was going on with the woman, so for now he was content to be quiet and take a gauge of the situation while silently gloating over the fact that he got to punch Hendricks in his good-for-nothing mouth. If nothing else, that made being arrested worthwhile.