Chapter Text
The deadlock sting had been brutal. It had been one of the bloodiest operations Gabriel had been on since the crisis, Not that he expected anything else. Deadlock was notorious for its ‘never surrender’ policy, There had been heavily casualties on both sides. Gabe had gotten though the whole ordeal with 10 dead agents, and dozens more hospitalized with injuries ranging from severe to moderate, and all he had to show for it was a handful of injured gang members in custody.
He and Jack had spent the past 18 hours trying to reorganize after the Op. With most of their agents in various states of injury and exhaustion, they had been forced to turn to the local sheriff’s department for aid. The sheriff herself had been more than willing to help, she had volunteered her cells, offices, and interrogation rooms for them to use. Her staff, although less enthusiastic about the intrusion, quickly put themselves to work getting the prisoners booked and settled. But now most of them hung around the kitchenette and quietly talked amongst themselves. Gabe had been thankful for their help, but if one more person stopped Jack to get a picture or ask him questions, he would murder both of them.
Jack had eventually shut himself in the sheriff’s office and took over calling fallen agents’ families, as well as coordinating with the FBI to arrange prison transport. Gabe had put himself in charge of interrogations, and he hated it. He’d never had this much of an issue with interrogations before. they had a pretty basic formula; He offered them a deal, they refused, he threatened them a bit, and eventually most of them accept the deal. Sometimes Jack would come in and try to charm the prisoner into trusting them, but most of the people Gabe dealt with knew better than to fall for that.
But these Deadlock assholes were a massive pain in his ass. They were about as tight lipped as they came. The only time they spoke was when they spat out a cuss word or slur at him. He couldn’t get any of them to tell him their names, let alone any information on Deadlock. He had to wait for their records to download onto his tablet before he could try and get anywhere; he got nowhere. He had gotten through most of the prisoners with jack-shit, and it was frustrating.
The next prisoner on his list hadn’t finished the booking process yet. The was no mugshot or name attached to the nearly empty file on his tablet. He was walking in blind. Which was just fantastic.
Gabe threw open the door, face set into what Jack called his no-nonsense face (Ana called it his bitch face) and mentally prepared himself for yet another disappointing conversation with a 20 something punk who thought putting metal spikes on a leather jacket made him cool. Only to come to a full stop once he got a good look the prisoner.
He had dark scruffy hair, so matted with dirt and blood it was impossible to tell what color it was originally. Every visible inch of him was dirty, like he had been tackled face first into the ground (and knowing some of the agents they had brought, that was a very likely possibility.) and he looked up at Gabe with big, tired, brown eyes, he was young. Couldn’t be more than 16 years old, but under all the dirt and obvious exhaustion, he looked even younger.
Gabe kept his face straight as he closed the door behind him. the kid carefully watched him approach the table. And, to Gabe’s surprise, he spoke first.
“This where ya tell me I gotta flip on my crew, and you’ll make sure I get into the ‘nice’ part of prison?” the kid drawled and grabbed for the beaten old Stetson next to him.
“not yet. I have a few questions.” Gabe sat down in the chair across from him.
“I ain’t got nothing to say to you.” The kid raised his chin defiantly. “I ain’t gunna take no deal neither. So you can just fuck off.”
He raised an eyebrow. “you don’t even know what I want to ask.”
“’course I do. Y’all want to know about deadlock stuff. Well I ain’t spillin’”
Gabe let a small smile creep onto his face as a new idea popped into his head. “I wasn’t going to ask about that.”
The kid frowned. “you weren’t?”
He shook his head. “nope.”
“good. Cause I wasn’t gunna tell ya.” The kid fidgeted with his hat for a moment. “what, uh…where you goin’ to ask?”
He shrugged. “why does it matter? You already said you had nothing to say.”
The kid huffed. “well maybe I might. Don’t know until you ask ‘em”
Gabe liked this kid. He had been through a fire fight, lost, and arrested by the enemy. But couldn’t control his curiosity. “what’s your favorite western?”
“what?” the kid leaned back in his chair.
“your favorite western film. Noticed the hat and-” Gabe glanced under the table at the kid’s feet for confirmation. “Boots. Thought you might know your westerns. I’ve always liked the magnificent seven. Seen every reboot.”
The kid took a moment to think. “The good the bad and the ugly I guess.”
“The original spaghetti western. You seen many of eastwood’s movies?”
“nah. Only ever seen a few movies. But I like the old westerns best.” The kid smiled. “Never seen the magnificent seven before.”
“its based off a Japanese film called the seven samurai, which is a fantastic film, but I’ve always been a sucker for a good shoot out.”
The boy nodded. “I like the standoff scenes.”
He nodded in agreement and, after a brief pause asked. “What’s your name kid?”
The kid flashed him a toothy grin. “I’m the man with no name.”
Gabe snorted. “I’m sure you are.” He checked the time on his watch. “alright. Let’s get this over with.”
“get what over with?” the kid looked wary as Gabe stood up and withdrew a ring of keys from his pocket.
“I need to finish processing you.”
“you gunna fingerprint me and take my picture?”
Gabe nodded. “ And run a DNA test. Doesn’t matter if you don’t want to tell me your name vaquero. I’m sure its on file somewhere.”
“oh.” The kid let Gabe flip his wrist around to unlock a cuff, revealing a tattoo on the underside on his left arm.
It was the deadlock logo, Gabe knew, every single person he interrogated had it tattooed somewhere, but it disturbed him to see it on this kid. It was even more disturbing how faded the tattoo was. it wasn’t recent, it was several years old. “how old are you?” he blurted out.
“23.” The kid replied, a little to quickly.
Gabe gave him a look but didn’t press it. He reattached the cuffs and walked the kid to the door. “Alright Eastwood, time for your close ups.” He nudged the kid forward.