Alta Vista - Jochen

Welcome to yet another miserable day, here in the scenic hovel of Penbrook. The sun has decided it's going to sleep in today, and so you are left with an overcast sky. Hopefully today won't be rainy like yesterday. As the camera swooshes in dramatically in an establishing shot, we see a pigeon stop to eat a worm in the middle of the road, only to get run over by a jeep. Good times.

Jochen Traegner, ECL 1 Fluffy Thing: Well, not that you get to see all this. Stupid cops, dragging you in here. There's now a boring grey cell and bars wrapped around your fluffy little head, and it's totally not supposed to be here. Hell, they haven't even given you a good reason why you're here, just some bullshit about you being suspicious, and looking into a crime in the area. You have a right mind to try out some magic on their brains, if there were anyone around. Whole brig is nice and quiet, save for the guy in the cell next to you who made a beautiful orchestra of barfing his lungs out a couple of minutes ago.

You hear the door at the end of the hall open, and the sound of bootsteps heading in. Finally, someone you can yell at.

Jochen adjusts his hood and his scarf, hiding his face and ears to the best of his ability. He sits on the bench in the corner of the room, and watches the door, waiting to see what happens.

A human walks in, tall, light-skinned, black hair neatly cropped and clean-shaven. He's wearing a security officer uniform, that hideous blue and grey thing with the thick shoulderpads and tall grey boots. He's got a handgun in a holster on his right hip.
"So, my men tell me that you're their latest catch. Skulking around the warehouse district at the same time as a robbery, with a witness describing... a young looking man, wearing a hoodie and scarf, like he was trying to hide himself. Sound familiar?" The voice is nasally, and you'd dislike him immediately were it not for the fact that you're already pissed at these idiots for throwing you in the brig.

Jochen sits there in silence, waiting for this human to get to the point. After a few seconds of silence he responds in a quiet tone, "Arschloch" but continues to say nothing.

"Hey hey, don't give that look, we caught the guy who did it. So, I'd like to get you out of my hair, and I bet you don't like this place very much, do ya? Howz about we make a deal, yes?"

Jochen weakly but not cowardly rebukes, "If you caught the man who did it, why are you holding me here?"

"Because we haven't gotten rid of you yet. I could ask you what you were doing there, you know, and I doubt it was anything good. So, we gonna play nice or not?"

Jochen wraps his arms around himself and tilts his head forward a bit, but says nothing.

"Good. Now, I've got two people upstairs, they're going to go run an errand for us. You're to tag along, do what they say, and don't make a fuss. You do that, we'll pretend we never saw you, got it?"

Jochen stands up in his cell, although his arms are still wrapped up. "But I didn't do anything... Why can't you just let me go? You already found the person that did it."

"Because I'm the man, and you're the kid. I've got a lot of bored men, and they'd reeally enjoy some fun with you. Not that you would, so make it easy on yourself and do what you're told." You've met some jerky cops, but damn. Fuck this guy, and fuck his attitude.

Jochen, getting angryer by the minute, takes a step forward and lowers his scarf down to his neck. "Maybe I should pass a bit of lycanthropy to you? rassistischen Arschloch, wouldn't it be fun to see things from the other end of your batons."

"And maybe I could pass a bit of lead to you, punk." He pulls out his gun and twirls it. "You don't really need those legs, do you?"

Jochen holds his ground, and hopes he doesn't lose his knee caps. "Only if you want whoever is upstairs to drag me along rather then walk, looks bad to hand someone damaged goods."

"As long as it gets you out of my town, I don't give a shit if they do it in a body bag. Now get up, and start walking. You pull any shit, you're in for a world of hurt." He opens the cell door.

Jochen replaces his scarf muttering, "Mutter Geschlechtsbestimmung heiligen Gehirn" and walks out the cell door.

He walks you to the door, and opens it. Inside is a square room, with a desk for whomever's on watch to chill, as well as a security camera screen, scrolling out over the brig. You didn't see a camera in there, looks like they sprung for something fancy. There's another door at the other side of the room. You see a cargo crate on the ground, padlocked.
"Wait there. He points to the other door." He kneels by the crate, putting a key to the lock, all the while keeping his face towards you.

Jochen slowly walks to where the 'asshole' pointed, keeping a similar eye on the guard.

He pulls out a backpack. It's yours! "Right. You get this AFTER you leave." He opens the door, and pokes you up a dank stairwell. A lone bulb dangles from its wire, a vague light to remind you where the steps are. It heads up about 20 feet to a much more well lit room, but the difference in lighting makes it hard for you to tell what it is. Silly bright lights.

Jochen would glare at the officer, but he probably couldn't see it throught the hood and scarf. He walks up the stairs and into the room at the top, prepaired for another of the random beatings these officers like to give.

It's a beige hallway, leading past five wooden doors, each with nameplates. At the end of the these doors is a T-intersection, and a window showing the outside. Overcast and dreary, like yesterday. He stops at the last door. "Wait here." He heads inside with your backpack.

A few seconds later, a new figure woozes out, a teenage girl, red haired, who seems to be wearing a long dark brown snake tail from under her oversized t-shirt. There's a rifle hanging from a strap on her back. You get the impression she's clearly not a security officer.
The horrible cop comes out and throws your backpack at you. "Right, you're going with them. Do what they say, and everything will be good."

*Move on to the main thread. It's a cooler place to be.*