To Protect and To Serve

I'm sorry if I upset anyone, and even more so if anyone got flashbacks because of the violent incidents between Sasuke and Naruto. Flashbacks suck, to put it mildly. Sasuke and Naruto won't hit each other anymore, I promise. For clarification, Naruto never kissed Soledad. Everything about that is explained in this chapter. Time jumps will be announced in this chapter. I was very close to bawling while writing this, and I rarely cry while reading a story, let alone ones I write. Have a handkerchief handy in case. This chapter contains torture, mild violence and a racial slur, plus negative attitudes towards Mexicans by the OC in this chapter. I do not share this opinion and I have never, do never and will never use a racial slur.

-Naruto-
-Earlier that day-
The gang member with the scar on his arm smiles as he hands over a written list, one of all the people he killed. I recognize the names of many of my civilian friends whose murders are unsolved. One of the names jumps out at me and I don’t know why. Angel Gutierrez. I feel like I should know that name…who—Rosario’s cop boyfriend. His name is tattooed on her lower back, surrounded by a pair of angel’s wings that only go horizontally, a pair of wings in flight. It’s like the topmost bit of a heart, the top half of two curves, but patterned to look like wings in flight. Directly underneath that is his name in midnight ink. I don’t want to look at the list but I have to. I wish Sasuke was here with me.

“Angel Gutierrez was a cop. Why him?” Major points for asking a stupid question, Naruto. Sarcasm aside…if I have to use it as fodder for a harsh interrogation, I will. I press my lips together. It’ll be the first one I initiate, and…I have never participated in one. I watch plenty. I dislike them, but I dislike gang members more. Especially ones who kill cops. I have no partner since I am an interpreter—we work alone. Hinata’s joining me during the sting was a rare treat. She works solo as well.

He’s talking in a self-assured drawl.

Especially if I know and adore the girlfriend of one of these dead cops.

“He’s a cop and—”

--I know, MS-13 hates law enforcement and they’re just so pissed off I went undercover that all they could do is cry into their beers.—
His face transforms into an ugly scowl. –He’s a fucking Mexican. You understand what it’s like to be mistaken for one of those—“Ow!” From Spanish to pained English.
--Oh, are your fingernail beds sensitive? I can rip your fingernails out so we can look at them closer.—
He becomes pale. I had poked a needle underneath his pinky nail. Blood seeps out. Oh, gross.
--He was doing some Colombian chick.—Scar-Arm continues desperately. I cringe. He mistakes that for prejudice and grins. Ah, the mood swings of the suspects when they’re in interrogation. --She wasn’t a drug dealer. She was a cop too. What a waste. With a body like that, she—“Ow!” Another thin stream of blood. Ordinarily I’d never do this…but he’s so…mean. He looks betrayed, then confused as metal glints under the harsh light. --This is what we use for the first two minutes,-- I shrug. More confusion. I clarify it for him. “It’s your fingernails next, chav.”

He lunges out of his chair in rage at the insulting name. I grab his left hand. He howls in pain and drop back in the seat. I toss the fingernail into a corner of the room, fighting not to vomit or cry in horror at what I’m doing. Tears pour down his face. He gets to cry…lucky. I have to maintain my composure. It’s so sick that I’m doing this. Even if he deserves it. –They loved each other very much,-- tears creep into my voice. --I loved my daughter. CPS took her away when I got arrested for the first time,-- he responds. I pull out another one of his fingernails. –They removed her because you kill people, pimp women and sell drugs and firearms.—I grouse. –She lived in a dangerous environment!—
He sits in angry silence. I remain standing. It’s an interrogation tactic.

–Angel never did anything to you!—
He scowls. –He arrested me and his girlfriend called CPS.—
--Why didn’t you kill her?—
--I never knew what she looked like.—
--You let her join the gang.—
--I didn’t know…was that her? I thought her name was Soledad!—
--He used an alias to protect her identity. He loved her.—
--Her name was the last thing he said before he died.—

I pull out every single fingernail on his right hand, and the thumbnail on his left.
--He was a cop. We hate cops.—He sobs through the pain. I press for details. He signs his statement. I pull out the rest of his fingernails. “You’re going to get at least ninety-five years,” I growl. “But you know and I know ninety-five doesn’t mean ninety-five. I’ll tell the guards to give you a Mexican Mafia cell mate with a chip on his shoulder.” Already I am planning on telling Rosario—Soledad—where he is so she can beat him to death. The guards won’t care.

I drive though traffic, ignoring the rules. Two black and whites are on my tail. They follow me into the station parking lot. “FBI!” I screech, flashing my shield and racing to Soledad’s desk. I tell her everything, and what I want her to do to the guy. She literally collapses against me, consumed by old and new grief. I hold her in my arms. She finally pulls away from me so she can breathe. My shirt’s sweaty and a little bit bloody. Now, it’s completely soaked with her tears and a little bit of saliva, mucus. Not a fun scent to inhale—sweat and blood mixed, much less for fifteen solid minutes. “You have the government’s approval to use lethal force against the lousy prick. One FBI agent’s approval counts,” I whisper in her ear. She whispers something unrepeatable back, fiercely. I can tell that she’s going to do it first chance she gets. We look at each other, still holding tightly to one another.

Sasuke barrels out of nowhere at mach speed and his fist connects solidly with my jaw as Rosario—Soledad—turns away, eyes closed and tears pouring down her face. He yells and she cries. Today I forcibly removed all ten of a man’s fingernails. Bile rises in my throat and tears gather in my eyes. He keeps yelling. She keeps crying. I feel like a monster. I walk out of the station and drive the unmarked back to the garage where all the other FBI cars are. I call a cab and get out at…Sasuke’s and my apartment. Home? Hours pass. I have today and the weekend off. I closed a major case, put ghosts to rest and provided the idea of closure for a dear friend of mine. I should be happy. My boyfriend hates me because he misunderstood. I am crushed.