It's None Of Your Business
He wears his custom-made ruby quartz sunglasses in which he bought from his first salary as an officer and goes into the interrogation room. All he desired was to finish this interrogation to finally get some time to rest before another assignment is assigned to him since the joint investigation of this case was finished and brought back to the White Plains, New York Police Department. They only needed a wider range of manhunt from this murderer who was a loving husband and father but killed his daughter for being a mutant.
This is what he hates most, but tolerance is his best suit in all circumstances.
First thing the man uttered with his bright façade. “Why are you wearing sunglasses?"
He slams both of his hands on the table and says with sarcasm "It's none of your business" and his eyes flashes a twitch of red beam, sit back for the show was about to begin.
It’s Scott Summers, mostly called the four-eyed weird kid who keeps on stumbling on his shoelace because of a sneaky ass named Pietro Maximoff who eventually became his colleague in the force would untie his utmost treasure from his mother who died in an airplane crash. One fall, two feet rises to take vengeance to the furious man who he never had much in common yet eventually agreed upon terms of their relative relationship withholding their commonality: a mutant. First, in the town he was from he never knew what would the opinion about the world in his manifesting abilities and thank the heavens it granted his wish, in the most expected way possible: destroying a whole wing of the orphanage leading to his detentions and maltreatment. His eyes can’t see unless he opens them but the optic blast Pietro mentioned to him makes him a weapon he was labeled by one of the orphanage caretakers. He thought his life would be over, until a man he never had a chance of have a name for gave him these ruby quartz glasses preventing from harming anyone. True that made his life sigh for a while with the turmoil it had gained on his list but after that, he couldn’t care less.
He was done with these games; he’d be done by it by reaching the proper age.
He was fostered into the Maximoff home, where Pietro found out was his surname came from but had no evidences of any of his parents or origin. This is where the adult orphans were housed, and Scott couldn’t take anything as much obligation to follow orders or regulations if discrimination persists, longing for what he may not pinpoint but a said belonging to a community of friends. He only had Pietro, but as much as him he is as well oppressed by many with it comes not only on the social welfare home but as well in the workforce. So he moved out without telling his old pal about his plans. One day, while he was working in a doughnut shop he was in hostage with a few civilians and a cop who was out of duty who eventually became the one who asked is he’s willing to apply in the force, and her name was then, Detective, now Superintendent of Police Emma Frost of the Westchester County Police, Troop K.
“I’m not offering myself, but why are you keeping us here in this doughnut shop so desperately?” Scott’s hands were on his head, asked to kneel down while a gun is pointed directly on his head.
“You’re not giving anything. You don’t even open the cashier for us, and that all the workers here do.”
“Then, why are they involved?”
Everyone in the store were terrified, shook and only forced to offer their belongings as the price of compliance and not mentioning their wrongdoing to any authority. Scott Summers was the only one who didn’t, and Frost who kept his mouth shut in the whole process, she thought he’d play along before making the call (even he wasn’t a fan of it), yet someone did made the call out of spite.
“Is there anything you’re keeping from us?”
Scott smirked. “What am I to keep? I only sell donuts to survive and you take the guts to take the road to hell.”
The hostage takers chuckled and one of them addressed the obvious.
“Are you blind?”
“I can see you clearly. Bright as day.”
“Then why are you wearing glasses in this godly hour—” and as he removes the glasses from his face they blasted out of the room leaving others startled, shunned and the cop as mesmerized as what she witnessed that would eventually contribute on the shift of events in his life.
Emma Frost was in the observation room with his colleagues Detective Sergeant Azazel (he doesn’t want to say his surname) and Deputy Chief of Police Erik Lehnsherr.
“What is the point of this? Why are you making him interrogate a human, isn’t a violation of our regulations that we should make the interactions with the same species?” Azazel said with his arms crossed overlooking through the tinted glass window of the interrogation room.
“Species.” Erik chuckled, texting his husband Charles who was excited for his homecoming from their week long pressed duties from the Chief Officer who was sitting and rubbing her fingers. She replied “It doesn’t necessarily prevent us from interrogating a suspect, after all he killed a mutant.”
Erik snapped his free hands and pointed at her “Point taken, unless we commit violence to our suspects we are not violating any code. Will you excuse me? I got take a call from Francis.”
Exiting the said room, Azazel walked on his way near the door and said. “You like him don’t you?”
“It’s none of your business.” She pressed the button to the earpiece that was attached to Scott and said. “On cue.”
“I’m Detective Inspector Summers, shall we begin?”