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  The Guards marched us down the stairs of the prison, our wet clothes leaving a trail of drips on the polished stone floor. Cherry was mostly back on her feet now, though she still twitched occasionally. The Guards pushed us toward the processing desk.

  "You two again?" the guy asked, the corners of his mouth twitching upward.

  "Hey Marty." I said.

  "How's the wife?" Cherry asked.

  "Good, good. Business or personal?"

  "Business."

  "Investigative journalism ain't easy!" Cherry added, her voice slightly slurred. "You know what they say: Send a maniac to catch a maniac."

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Marty chuckled as he stamped our paperwork. "I'll call your boss. Go ahead and put 'em in a holding cell."

  They shuffled us down the corridor and into a holding cell. And about an hour later, they came back to bring us right back out.

  Reggie was now waiting in the processing area, hands in the pockets of his coat. "Is this going to be a regular thing? Should I relocate the office? Because walking across the whole city to get over here every time you get in trouble is starting to be a chore."

  "Sorry, Reggie." Cherry said.

  I said, "We were interviewing a graffiti artist on-site! How often do you get to cover that in-process?!"

  Reggie's stern expression cracked slightly, and he let out a chuckle. "Alright, come on."

  He led us up the stairs toward the exit. "So the article's coming along good?"

  "Yeah, that was our last interview. We just have to stitch it all together now."

  "Alright." Reggie said, "Since you were in the joint, why don't we push it back to tomorrow? Put it on my desk in the morning."

  "We can get extensions for getting arrested now?" Cherry asked.

  "Don't push it, kid."

  "Tomorrow morning - you got it, Reggie!" I said.

  "And I don't want to have to bust you out of prison until then!"

  "We'll do our best!" I promised.

  "That's what worries me." Reggie muttered.