Chapter 6: The Interrogation Room
The GCPD evidence locker was a tomb for forgotten sins. Selina moved through the aisles like a whisper, her black suit absorbing the relentless glare of the fluorescents. The air tasted of ozone, dust, and the faint, coppery ghost of processed violence. Each numbered drawer held a story that had bled out in some alley or apartment, now reduced to tagged bags and silence.
Her path was predetermined. Two hours of slicing through precinct security logs, cross-referencing duty rosters, and bribing a night janitor with a taste for expensive bourbon had led here. Kate’s personal safe. Not in some gothic cave, but here, in the bureaucratic bowels of the place she served. A place of rules. Selina found the unit: GF-77. A simple biometric pad glowed softly.
From a pouch on her thigh, Selina withdrew a small, gel-like membrane. She pressed it over the scanner. It was a casting of a fingerprint lifted from a water glass Kate had used days before, in a rare, unguarded moment in a safe-house kitchen. The pad beeped green. The lock thunked.
Inside was not the expected arsenal or case files. Just a single, slim military-grade data chip nestled in foam. Next to it, a handwritten note on torn graph paper. Selina’s gloved fingers plucked it out. The handwriting was sharp, angular.
Zurich was sloppy. You left a thread on the west stair. -K
A hot spike of indignation shot through her. Sloppy? She’d been flawless. But the callback was intentional, a psychological jab. She pocketed the chip—the encryption key—and turned.
The lights blazed to full, retina-searing intensity. The hum sharpened into a shrill ring.
“I knew you’d come here first.”
Kate leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. She was out of the full suit, dressed in dark tactical pants and a tight black tank top, her red hair damp at the temples as if she’d run here. No cowl. Her face was all hard lines and stark exhaustion.
Selina willed her pulse to slow. She held up the data chip between two fingers, a magician revealing a card. “Then you know I win. The forty-hour chase ended in… what, ten?”
“This wasn’t the chase.” Kate pushed off the frame, her boots echoing on the linoleum. “This was the confirmation.” She stopped a foot away. The scent of her—sweat, gun oil, and the faint, clean smell of her skin—wrapped around Selina. “You always go for the most direct line. It’s a strength. And a weakness.”
“And you always lecture. It’s boring.”
Kate’s hand shot out, not for the chip, but for Selina’s throat. Her grip was immense, a vise of calloused fingers pressing just shy of crushing. She drove Selina back, slamming her into a shelf unit. Metal groaned. Evidence boxes—labeled ‘Homicide, Unsolved’—shuddered and rained down around them in a cacophony of thuds and cracking plastic.
“You think this is a game?” Kate hissed, her face inches away. Her blue eyes were chips of glacial ice, burning with a fury that was personal, intimate. “You steal from me, you fuck with my operations, you leave your goddamn perfume on my things. Is this fun for you?”
Selina’s breath was a ragged scrape. She could feel the blood pounding in her temples, a thrilling, terrible rhythm. “It’s always been a game,” she gasped, a smirk twisting her lips despite the pressure. “You just finally decided to play.”
Kate’s other hand moved. Not to strike. It slid down Selina’s body, over the molded plating of her suit, to her waistband. The touch was shockingly deliberate. Her palm pressed against Selina’s lower belly, then dipped lower, fingers seeking the junction of her thighs. Even through the thick, specialized fabric, the pressure was electric. Kate’s middle finger found the swollen nub of her clit and pressed, a hard, circling motion.
Selina’s hips jerked forward involuntarily. A choked moan escaped her. She was already wet. She’d been wet since she cracked the safe, since she read that note. The danger, the confrontation, her—it was all the same sharp, addictive drug.
“See?” Kate’s voice dropped to a graveled whisper. “Your body knows it’s not a game. It knows what this is.”
With a savage yank, Kate tore the suit open from waist to sternum. The material, designed to resist blades, gave way to her rage. Cool air hit Selina’s skin, followed by the hotter wave of shame and blinding arousal. Kate’s hand shoved inside, past the torn edges, fingers pushing through her pubic hair to find her cunt, bare and soaked.
“Christ,” Kate breathed, the curse filled with a kind of horrified awe. She slid two fingers through Selina’s folds, gathering wetness, before pushing them deep inside.
Selina cried out, her head thunking back against the metal shelf. The stretch was exquisite, a perfect, brutal fullness. Kate fucked her with her fingers, a hard, steady rhythm, her thumb returning to press ruthless circles on her clit. The sensations splintered—the cold shelf, the hot hand, the smell of dust and their mingled sweat.
“You want to win?” Kate snarled, her breath hot on Selina’s neck. “This is winning. This is what you cost me. My control. My focus.” She curled her fingers, and Selina saw stars. “Now come. Spill it all over my hand. Let the evidence locker have a taste.”
The command unlocked her. The orgasm tore through her with no grace, a raw, convulsive seizure that made her back arch and her calves spasm. She screamed, the sound bouncing off the sterile walls. Her cunt clamped rhythmically around Kate’s fingers, pulsing, drenching her hand.
Kate held her there, pinned, until the last tremor subsided. Then she withdrew her glistening fingers and dropped to her knees.
Before Selina could process it, Kate’s mouth was on her. Not a kiss. A consumption. Her tongue laved a broad, flat stroke through Selina’s soaked folds, then zeroed in on her clit, sucking the hypersensitive bud into the heat of her mouth. Selina’s hands flew to Kate’s head, fingers tangling in the short red hair, holding on as her knees buckled.
“Fuck… Kate…” she babbled.
Kate’s tongue was relentless. It speared inside her, fucking her with shallow, rapid strokes, then returned to her clit to suck and nibble. She ate her like she was starving, like this was the only communion she understood. The obscene, wet sounds filled the silent room. Selina felt another climax building, a tight, urgent coil low in her gut, amplified by the sheer degradation of the act—here, in this place of law and order, on her knees.
“Please,” Selina begged, her voice broken. “I need… more.”
Kate stood up abruptly. Her lips were slick, her chin glistening. She turned Selina around with bruising force, bending her over the cold steel surface of an examination table. Selina’s palms slapped against the metal, sending a jolt up her arms.
She heard the quick, efficient rustle of gear, the unmistakable sound of a buckle being undone, a strap being pulled taut. She didn’t have to look. She knew. The harness. The thick silicone cock from the rooftop. The tool.
Kate’s hand gripped her hip, a branding iron. The blunt, wide head of the toy nudged against her entrance, already stretched and slippery from Kate’s mouth and fingers. There was no hesitation, no asking.
Kate drove into her with one punishing thrust.
Selina’s scream was raw, shredded by the sudden, breathtaking fullness. It was too much, a brutal invasion that stretched her to a burning edge. The cold steel of the table seared her cheek.
“You want it?” Kate’s voice was a guttural snarl behind her. Her hips drew back and slammed forward, setting a devastating, rhythmic pace. Each thrust was a jolt that rattled Selina’s teeth. The hard, unyielding silicone pistoned into her, hitting depths that made her vision blur. “You wanted to play? Then take this. Take all of it.”
One of Kate’s hands anchored on her shoulder, holding her down. The other snaked around her hip, fingers finding her clit again, now swollen and throbbing. The dual assault was merciless. The hard fuck, the rough, circling fingers—it was too much sensation, a sensory overload that short-circuited thought.
Selina came again in a silent, shuddering vortex. Her body clenched violently around the fake cock, her mouth open in a soundless cry. Kate didn’t stop. She fucked her through the climax, her own breathing becoming ragged, stuttering grunts. The slap of her body against Selina’s ass, the squelch of wetness, the creak of the table—it was a crude symphony.
With a final, deep thrust that buried the toy to the hilt, Kate froze. A raw, torn sound ripped from her chest. Her body tensed, her forehead pressing between Selina’s shoulder blades as she rode out the phantom waves of her own release against Selina’s ass.
For a long moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing, fogging the cold steel. Slowly, Kate pulled out. The sudden emptiness was a shock. Selina heard the soft clicks and rustles as Kate reassembled herself.
Selina pushed herself up, her arms trembling. She turned, leaning against the table for support. Kate was buckling her belt, her face a closed mask, all traces of vulnerability locked away. Her eyes went to the floor, where the small data chip lay, glinting. Selina must have dropped it.
Kate walked over, bent down, and picked it up. She held it between them.
“Nice try, thief,” she said, her voice hollow, drained. “But the game isn’t over.” She pocketed the chip—the key—and turned towards the door. “The send protocol was a bluff. The footage was destroyed the moment you left the roof. This was just to see if you’d bite.” She glanced back, her profile sharp in the harsh light. “You always bite.”
She walked out. The heavy door swung shut behind her with a final, echoing thud.
Selina stood alone in the wreckage, the torn suit hanging open, her body used and trembling, the taste of defeat and ecstasy iron-sharp in her mouth. She looked at the closed door, then at the scattered evidence of Gotham’s sorrow around her. A slow, fierce smile touched her lips, painful and real.
She’d bitten. And she’d found the hook buried deep in her gut. Now she had to decide whether to tear it out, or pull herself closer to the hand that held the line.