#sergeant geller

Wayne sat upright and glared daggers at Reggie’s back. At least he had the satisfaction of knowing that Calvin was locked up in a jail cell down the hall, but it pissed him off to no end knowing that Reggie was still walking around free. If only Reggie had stayed during Calvin’s fight with Sergent Geller, then maybe they’d both be sharing a jail cell bench right now. 

“Oh. Uh.” Darren dropped his karaoke mic and flipped through the clipboard on the desk, reading off the handwritten notes on an intake form. “Vehicle is now in impound evidence. It's being shipped back to Brockton, Massachusetts.”

Reggie sucked noisily on the toothpick clamped between his teeth, the sound carried clear across the empty station and only served to wear down what little tolerance Wayne had left. 

He ground his teeth and watched from across the room as Reggie leaned casually against the duty officer’s desk. “Well, that's all right, then. Why don't you just go ahead and call me an ambulance?”

Darren blinked. “For who?”

“You.” Wayne flinched as Reggie cracked the officer across the face, sending him crashing to the floor and out of sight. He held his breath, but Darren never resurfaced from behind the desk. 

“Get the fuck out of here. Talking about impounding and shit. Motherfucker.” 

Reggie snatched the evidence bag with his car keys off the desk and tore it open. He was halfway out the door when he paused. 

Ah, hell, Wayne thought as Reggie turned back on his heel to face him. 

“Oh. Hey, now—” He chuckled under his breath. “Wayne.”

“Reggie,” Waye replied, trying not to let his annoyance show.

Reggie gave him a once over. “Tied up like a goddamn animal.”

Wayne was acutely aware. He kept his arm planted on the desk trying to look calm and non-threatening… his nerves winding tighter and tighter inside of him with every footstep Reggie took towards him until Wayne feared he’s snap like a spring. 

He mentally did the math on how much mobility he’d have in a fight given the length of the chain in the handcuffs that bound him to the desk. Thank god they’d secured him with the legcuffs. It gave Wayne a whole 16 inches—  not enough to throw a punch by any means, but enough to weave around any punches that Reggie threw at him.

“Hey,” Reggie continued, snatching up a novelty toy from one of the desks. Wayne flinched at the sudden movement, but luckily Reggie was too oblivious to notice. 

Wayne glanced down at what he held. It was a pair of chattering teeth in the shape of an alligator’s jaws. Gotta love Florida. 

”You ever watch Animal Planet?” asked Reggie. “Did you know that hyenas don't have any brothers and sisters? You know why?” 

He continued without waiting for Wayne’s response. “Because when they real small, in the litter, fighting for they momma's titty, well, you see, the toughest baby hyena, see, he, uh. He kill his brothers and sisters. More titty time for hisself.”

Wayne mentally rolled his eyes again, his fear suddenly overpowered by his annoyance at Reggie’s endless talk of tits and milk… yet another completely unsubtle reference to his mom… their mom. Wayne was still trying not to think about it.

“Now I know you ain't gonna stop coming for my car, so I'm gonna have to make you stop. Make sure you don't come back for that… titty.”

“I don't care about the car no more.” And he meant it. Wayne thought of Sergeant Geller and their conversation about Del. Some things… some people… were more important than any car or family honor code could ever be. 

“Bullshit!”

“I don't. You can have it.” Del was his pair of skates and all Wayne wanted to do was get back to her and prove it to her, Geller, and hell the whole of Brockton if he had to.

“Are you trying to reverse my psycholology and shit? Because I ain't biting. Motherfucker.”

Wayne was unprepared for the kick to the chest, pain blooming suddenly under his breast. Before he’d had time to do more that gasp through it a second kick struck him in the ribs. When Reggie tried for a third attempt, however, Wayne was ready. He planted his feet and shoved hard, launching himself backward out of the reach of Reggie’s tacky gold sneakers, pain lancing up his arm as he was jerked to a stop by the handcuffs, the cold metal biting into the tender skin of his wrist. 

“Oh, I’m gonna get you now, you little pussy bitch!” 

Reggie advanced towards him. Wayne waited for him to get within range, his head thumping like a drum in his chest, both his feet planted firmly on the ground ready to jump up and fight however little he could. 

“Hey, Reg! Reggie!” Reggie slowed as Calvin’s shouting reached them from down the hall. 

Calvin whistled sharply and banged on the bars of his cell so they rang like a bell. “I’m in the back. Get me out of here.”

Reggie shifted his toothpick to the other side of his mouth and grinned at Wayne. “Wait right here, Motherfucker. Then Calvin and I are gonna make you pay for real.”

Wayne breathed. He might actually have a chance of escaping this.

Reggie walked back across the room and vaulted over the duty officer’s desk, scattering paperwork and office supplies onto the floor. Wayne heard a low groan before Reggie stood clutching the keyring to the jail cells.

The second Reggie disappeared down the hall, Wayne jumped out of his chair and rushed back to the desk. He shoved hurriedly through the police files and containers of paperclips in search of a pair of handcuff keys. 

Come on. Come on! Wayne knew he only had a minute or two to spare before Calvin and Reggie would return and beat the crap out of him. His window of escape was closing fast.

Finally, he spotted a dish behind a monitor with a collection of small keys. Wayne had gotten into enough trouble back in Brockton to know his way around a pair of handcuffs. And one thing he’d learned early on was that all handcuff keys were made one-size-fits-all. Wayne scanned through the collection of keys quickly. Padlock key, desk key, filing cabinet key, door key, another door key, fuck! There was no handcuff key anywhere in sight. 

He grabbed a paperclip and started working it open with his teeth and his free hand. He was sure he still had enough time to pick it. He bent one end to mimic the shape of the key and jabbed it into the small keyhole. It wouldn’t be an exact fit by any means, but hopefully, if it caught the tumbler just right…