They brought Remi down to the police station. He barely had time to retract the spikes from his fighting gloves before the yanked him from the ground and placed him in handcuffs.
Lest they think he's using a deadly weapon against them.
He didn't talk as they read him his rights and he didn't talk from the back seat of the police car as they drove to the station. And he certainly wasn't going to talk now that they had him in an interrogation room.
A woman he didn't recognize stepped through the door. Shutting it behind her. "Remington Alexavier Chance." She says, obviously trying to get a rise out of him. But he doesn't even flinch. Doesn't even look at her.
People called him by his full name all the time like it was suppose to mean something. He might as well be John Smith. But people don't realize, that name hasn't meant anything to him in a long, long time.
When his parents were murdered to be exact. He was ten years old. Full of so much hope for the future, for his life. Even when his parents died though, he still thought he had a chance at a bright future. It had always been his dream to take over his prosperous family business. Continue the legacy and all that bull shit. He was excited to pick up where his parents had left off. Even at ten years old. It was the only thing that kept him completely from going off the deep end. He had a legacy to uphold.
But his uncle. The jealous twat that he was. Stole everything out from under him. And then left him to rot in that orphanage. He learned a lot about the world that year. And now the only legacy he has is associated with that piece of shit.
"What? You don't respond to your own name nowadays?" She says taunting him.
He finally looks at her. "Remi would suffice, or even just Chance. No need for all the niceties."
That was as far as they got when the door opened yet again. This time depositing a familiar face.
Detective Cleary. He had been one of the first cops on the scene the night his parents were murdered. Since then his hair has gone from sleek black, to salt and pepper gray. And he's recently acquired a pair of glasses.
It's been give or take fifteen years since that night, but Remi wasn't too proud to say the man aged like fine wine.
He also wasn't too proud to point out they still haven't caught who ever it was that destroyed his family and his life. But he had a few guesses... actually just one very good guess.
But there's no evidence to implicate him.
Detective Cleary throws a manilla folder down on the shiney metal table, pulls out the chair across from him and takes a seat.
"Detective you can go." Cleary says to the woman.
She looks like she might object but ultimately leaves the room. I'm sure just to stand on the other side of the two way glass.
"Remi." Cleary says his name the way he remembers his father used to say his name. "You're free to go." He says as he pulls out a key to unlock his hand cuffs. But he doesn't immediately unlock him.
"Why do I feel like there's a but coming?" Remi says.
"But we need to talk." He says, ever the father figure. "You have been going down a dark path. You are so much more than this." He pauses letting his words sink in. "Now I don't know who you've got under your belt and what you had to do to secure them but I'm worried about you." He says pushing his new glasses back up the bridge of his nose securing them in place.
Remi could appreciate his concern. The detective is the only person to give a fuck about him since his parents died. Cleary let him off on more than one charge as a kid. Always believed in him, believed he could be more. Remi just wished he believed it, too.
"Things are just fine, detective." He assures him. And they were. Or at least they were about to be. Soon he would have more money than he knew what to do with. He probably wouldn't have to lie or steal or cheat for the rest of his life if he pulled this off.
The detective simply nods. Finally he unlocks his handcuffs. They drop to the table with a loud clank.
Remi stands, not wanting to stay at the precinct for another moment.
"I'll see myself out." Remi says.
Cleary stands, too. "I'll give you a ride."
Remi didn't have it in himself to argue with him. He simply nodded and let him lead the way to his squad car. This time riding in the front seat rather than the back.
Remi was thankful Cleary was in a chatty mood. He didn't have it in him to make nice conversation. Not even for him.
They pulled into the long paved driveway, pulling all the way up to the ornate front door.
"Make sure you ice your jaw." Cleary says. "Going to have a shiner in the morning."
Remi gave him a thank you nod and slips out of the car. He doesn't watch as he pulls away. He doesn't stop at any of the mirrors to inspect the damage to his face. He goes straight to his room. Strips down into nothing but his boxer briefs on the way and slips under his high thread count covers. Doing exactly what he should have done in the first place, hours earlier, he closes his eyes and it doesn't take long for him to drift off to sleep.