Chapter 631

"You’re kidding me, right? You actually expect us to take cases like this?"

Evenson’s assignment was already wrapped up. Moira had left earlier than he had, so she needed something to show for her own investigation. Otherwise, she was going to look like the laziest subordinate in the department.

She sat in a precinct of the NYPD with a stack of case files spread across the desk in front of her. These were all cases the police intended to forward to the Black Badge Division, the government department responsible for dealing with incidents that fell outside the realm of ordinary policing.

Moira figured she might as well deal with them while she was here.

Unfortunately, they were just as ridiculous as the cases she’d seen before.

"Suspected vampire, or possibly an abnormal human possessing some form of hemovorous ability. The subject may even be capable of draining blood from a distance."

Moira read the relevant passage aloud, then dropped the file onto the desk.

She looked at the officer standing beside her.

"Do you people honestly not hear how ridiculous this sounds?"

The officer, however, seemed completely convinced.

"Superpowers are always going to sound ridiculous. They defy common sense and everything we understand about the world. So, yes, I admit it sounds pretty stupid at first."

He paused, adopting an almost philosophical expression.

Then his face twisted into something far more dramatic.

"But some of these cases are based on rumors or misunderstandings. This one? I saw it with my own eyes."

Moira raised an eyebrow.

"When we arrested the guy, he grabbed onto the handcuffs and bit down on them. Took one hell of a suck, and his mouth was full of blood."

The officer shuddered at the memory.

"Then we put him in the holding cell, and he bit the bars and started sucking on them too. Blood everywhere. I swear, it sent chills through my whole body. For all I know, he was draining the blood right out of me without even touching me."

"Oh, God."

Moira sank back into her chair and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I have a suggestion. Want to hear it?"

"Absolutely."

The officer straightened immediately, eager to hear the expert opinion of someone from the mysterious new department.

"I think you should take that man to a proper dentist."

The officer blinked.

"Have his teeth checked thoroughly."

Moira gave him a perfectly serious look.

"I suspect he doesn’t have a blood-draining superpower. I suspect he has an absolutely horrific case of gingivitis. If his gums are bleeding that badly, he could probably suck on a parking meter and come away with a mouthful of blood."

The officer stared at her.

"So... he’s been sucking his own blood?"

"That’s my working theory."

"But why did I feel cold? And why was I shaking?"

"Because you were scared."

Moira covered her face with one hand.

"If you’d actually lost enough blood to become cold and shaky, you’d also be dealing with dizziness, blurred vision, ringing in your ears, extreme thirst, nausea, vomiting, rapid breathing, and a whole host of other symptoms."

She sighed.

It was almost impressive.

One guy had severe gingivitis and convinced himself he was a vampire. Then he’d run into a police officer with an imagination powerful enough to scare himself into thinking he’d been blood-drained.

Moira pushed the files across the desk.

"Look, the Black Badge Division isn’t here to give the NYPD an excuse to stop thinking. Do the most basic investigation before you decide something qualifies as an abnormal case. Then send it to us."

She stood.

"One more thing. Is the woman here?"

"Already brought in. She’s waiting in the interrogation room."

The officer finally seemed to snap out of his vampire fantasy.

Moira nodded.

"Good."

She picked up the black beret she’d left on the desk and put it on.

"That’s where our part begins. You don’t need to come with us."

She turned.

A red circle containing a black goat skull was embroidered on the front of her beret, the insignia of the Black Badge Division.

"You don’t mind if we borrow your interrogation room?"

"Have at it."

The officer waved dismissively.

"I’ve already seen enough of that woman for one lifetime."

Moira gave a quiet chuckle.

She took one step toward the interrogation room, then stopped.

McKenna was sprawled in a chair nearby, completely motionless. Her cowboy hat had been pulled low enough to cover nearly half her face, and the faint sound of snoring drifted from beneath the brim.

She was asleep.

"Seriously?"

Moira sighed.

She walked over and sat beside her.

Then, with great care, she removed the cigar dangling from McKenna’s mouth.

Moira brushed away the ash, revealing the glowing orange ember beneath it.

Her eyes narrowed.

She jabbed the burning tip into McKenna’s hand.

"Yow!"

McKenna jolted awake and immediately blew on the burned hand.

"What the hell?"

She snatched the cigar back and stuck it between her teeth again.

"Just waking you up."

Moira clasped her hands behind her back, wearing an innocent smile.

"We have work to do, cowboy."

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

McKenna rose lazily and took a long drag from her cigar.

Nothing happened.

She frowned, pulled it from her mouth, and examined it.

The ember was dead.

She sighed, pulled out a lighter, and relit it.

"I knew working with you was going to be a mistake."

"Oh, I’m sure it’ll be one of the most wonderful mistakes you’ve ever made."

Moira turned and headed toward the interrogation room.

McKenna tipped up her hat and followed.

The woman waiting inside was none other than Jessica Jones.

Evenson had personally singled her out as a lower-powered female version of Captain America.

Earlier that evening, a couple of police officers had shown up and told Jessica they needed her to come to the precinct to answer some questions.

Then they’d handcuffed her to the interrogation table, left, and apparently forgotten she existed.

No questions.

No interrogation.

Nothing.

For most people, being dragged into a police station and abandoned in an interrogation room would be enough to trigger a frantic internal monologue.

Why am I here?

What did I do?

Who called the cops?

Jessica Jones had a different reaction.

Why am I here?

That was about as far as it went.

She wasn’t remotely nervous.

Getting dragged into police stations was hardly unusual for Jessica.

Being a good girl was never going to work out for her. She’d settled for being a private investigator and scraping together a living by taking whatever questionable work came her way.

Honestly, she kind of liked police stations.

The officers were often surprisingly philosophical.

Sometimes even funny.

Walking into a precinct felt almost like coming home.

So Jessica sat behind the interrogation table, waiting patiently for whoever had been assigned to question her.

Eventually, the door opened.

Jessica looked up.

Then frowned.

The first person through the door was a slender woman wearing a beret and a trench coat.

A woman.

Behind her came someone dressed like she’d stepped straight out of a Western, complete with a large revolver hanging from her hip.

There wasn’t much ambiguity about that one’s gender, either.

The woman in the beret approached the table.

"Jessica Jones. It’s a pleasure to meet you."

Her tone was professional to the point of being mechanical.

"I’m Moira, with the Black Badge Division. This is McKenna. We need to discuss a few things with you."

"Black Badge Division?"

Jessica thought about it.

"Never heard of it."

The department had already begun circulating through government agencies, but its existence was still largely unknown to the public.

"It’s a newly established department," Moira explained calmly. "We deal with the sort of... miscellaneous problems the police aren’t equipped to handle."

"Is that right?"

Jessica didn’t seem particularly intimidated.

"I’ve been pretty well-behaved lately. Haven’t done anything."

"Which is exactly why we’re having this conversation."

McKenna’s expression hardened.

"Otherwise, I’d be the one dragging you in here and throwing you into her—"

She stopped.

Moira had kicked her hard beneath the table.

"There’s nothing like that," Moira said, forcing a friendly smile. "We’re simply here to ask you a few questions."

"About what?"

"Kilgrave."

Moira didn’t bother with euphemisms.

"That man is our actual target. We’ve learned that you may have information concerning him. You also appear to have some personal history with him. We’d like you to cooperate with us."

The moment Jessica heard the name, her entire demeanor changed.

Kilgrave.

The name alone carried the weight of a nightmare.

Her body stiffened.

"Sorry. I don’t know anyone by that name."

McKenna took a drag from her cigar.

"This is getting boring."

Her voice was cold.

"We didn’t drag you into a police station on a whim. We’ve already done our homework. What exactly do you think you’re accomplishing by hiding information from us?"

She leaned forward slightly.

"And you know better than anyone how dangerous this guy is. He’s committed multiple serious crimes. Are you really willing to sit back and let someone like that walk free?"

She exhaled smoke.

"Why not cooperate and let us deal with him?"

"Deal with him?"

Jessica gave a quiet snort.

There was something almost amused in her eyes now.

"I don’t think you understand who you’re dealing with."

Her voice hardened.

"He’s dangerous. But he’s also... different. I couldn’t guarantee that I could stop him myself."

Her eyes moved between the two women.

"And you two?"

McKenna’s expression darkened.

"Even you can’t handle him?"

There was an unmistakable edge to her voice.

Jessica’s words had hit a nerve.

"What makes him so special?"

McKenna tapped ash from her cigar.

"And what makes you think you’re stronger than us?"

"Why?"

Something in Jessica snapped.

Maybe it was the name.

Maybe it was the memories.

Whatever the reason, the change was immediate.

She raised both hands.

The handcuffs binding her wrists to the table snapped apart with a sharp crack.

Jessica stared at the broken restraints.

"Is that special enough?"

She stood.

Then she grabbed the chair she’d been sitting on.

With the ease of someone kneading clay, she crushed the chair into a compact, twisted lump.

Jessica looked at them.

"Still want to know why?"

Moira and McKenna exchanged a glance.

Neither looked impressed.

Then Moira moved.

Her right hand settled against the table.

She shoved.

The table shot forward.

Jessica barely had time to react before it slammed into her and drove her against the wall.

She grunted and immediately grabbed the edge of the table, trying to push it back.

It didn’t move.

The table pinned her against the wall, crushing into her abdomen hard enough to make breathing difficult.

Jessica’s eyes widened.

Moira hadn’t even stood.

She remained seated exactly where she’d been, one hand resting against the table, her expression completely calm.

As though pinning a superhuman against a wall with a piece of furniture was barely worth noticing.

Then Moira raised her left hand.

Black material poured from her palm.

It twisted and stretched into several dark arms that reached toward the crushed chair.

The unnatural limbs wrapped around the mangled mass and slowly pulled it back into shape.

Wood creaked.

The chair gradually returned to something resembling its original form.

Moira looked at Jessica.

"Miss Jones, destroying government property isn’t a particularly good habit."

The black tendrils withdrew.

"Now, are you ready to sit down and have a proper conversation with us?"