Nighttime, Manila Central Police Station
"Where are your accomplices?"
"Tell us in detail how you killed those two foreigners."
"Why did you kill General Piccolo?"
A string of three questions was fired off, but Nikki remained silent.
"Keeping your mouth shut won't solve anything. Don't think that just because you're American, you can do whatever you want. You kill someone, you go to jail. This is the Philippines, not your banditland USA..."
Detective Quir, who was in charge of the murder case, shouted angrily, his tone filled with indignation. But no matter how loud he got, Nikki said nothing.
"Angelina Jolie, I'm warning you, give up the whereabouts of your accomplices right now or else…"
Detective Quir slammed the table, but Nikki still said nothing.
Quir was just about ready to hit her, but his calm and composed partner Raff stopped him.
"Cool it, man. You don't want to end up on tomorrow's headlines, do you? She's American. We can't treat her the same way we treat local criminals…"
"So what do we do? Just let her keep being this arrogant?"
"Leave it to me. We can't lay a hand on her—but conflict between inmates? That's another story, right?"
Raff gave a sinister grin. Quir understood exactly what he meant. Although he had always disliked such underhanded tactics, in this situation, there really wasn't a better option. The higher-ups were pushing hard. If this method could get her to talk, Quir wouldn't mind bending the rules just this once.
And so, ten minutes later, Nikki was brought to a women's holding cell. When she entered, there were already several female inmates inside. They had split into small groups—some who looked like streetwalkers clustered in a corner and merely watched her with curiosity, while others gave her openly hostile looks.
The iron gate clanged shut, and the police officer who escorted her left. The holding cell was fairly spacious. Nikki hid in one corner. All the other female inmates were locals—she was the only one with a European face. Nikki didn't want to stir up trouble, but trouble came looking for her.
"Hey, newbie, don't you know the rules?"
The leader, a burly woman exuding excessive testosterone, cursed as she approached, with two others flanking her. Clearly, they were a group. The others pretended not to see anything and remained in their own corners.
Nikki said nothing as the three approached. The inmates had evidently split into factions. The three weren't something she could handle alone.
The burly woman, annoyed by Nikki's silence, cursed again. The two behind her chimed in with more insults, but Nikki couldn't understand a word—they were speaking in a local Filipino dialect.
Still, not understanding didn't mean she couldn't read the situation. From their demeanor, it was clear they were here to cause trouble. As the trio closed in, Nikki stood up and guarded herself, shouting in English, "Back off!"
…
Inside the monitoring room, Raff and Quir watched everything through the security feed. A smile crept onto Raff's face—an old cop like him still knew how to deal with people. Quir frowned beside him. He didn't like this method, but with Nikki staying silent, he had nothing. Even the President was watching this case. As the officer in charge, the pressure on him was enormous.
On the monitor, Nikki's shout clearly enraged the three women. They were seasoned troublemakers, in and out of jail multiple times. This foreign chick was obviously a rookie. They were excited—they'd never bullied a foreigner before. As for consequences, they were well aware: if the cops didn't want her to get hurt, they'd put her in a single cell. Putting her in here meant the police had already made their stance clear.
…
In the cell, the burly woman charged over and slapped Nikki. Her two sidekicks didn't help—they just stood nearby with arms folded, ready to enjoy the show.
Fights between women differed from men's. The aim wasn't to injure but to humiliate. So punches were rare—slaps, hair-pulling, and face-scratching were more common.
The burly woman swung a slap, but Nikki blocked it with a textbook guard. The next second, Nikki landed a perfect hook to her gut. The woman doubled over, gasping for breath.
The unexpected move stunned both the officers in the monitoring room and the inmates in the cell. Who would've thought that the seemingly manly prison boss would be floored in one move by a foreign chick? Eyes practically popped out of heads.
The two sidekicks rushed over to comfort the prison boss, only to be angrily shoved away. The boss thought she had just been caught off guard. This humiliation had to be avenged—if she didn't take back her dignity now, no one would respect her anymore.
Taking two steps forward, she launched another slap. Nikki dodged it and countered with the same hook to the gut. The prison boss bent over like a shrimp, clutching her stomach and wheezing.
Nikki backed off again, eyes wary of the two sidekicks. She had field experience—she was no helpless girl. At the very least, she had formal combat training.
Taking on the entire cell? Unrealistic. But one-on-one? She was confident.
The prison boss caught her breath and looked at Nikki. Nikki met her gaze, fearless. After winning, she didn't press the attack—she hoped her opponent would give up. But she clearly underestimated the prison boss's stubbornness.
Getting beat twice with the same move, even she had to admit she wasn't a match. But losing didn't mean surrendering.
"Get her! Beat the crap out of her!"
To become the prison boss, she had to be ruthless. Even if she had to gang up on someone, she'd teach this white bitch who ran things around here.
Surrounded by three attackers, Nikki struggled. After several rounds, she'd taken quite a few hits. Her basic training taught her where to strike and how to create distance, but in a chaotic brawl, those tactics were limited. One versus three—she could land the occasional hit, but mostly, she was on the receiving end.
Blows rained down every second—block the left, the right gets you; block the top, the bottom hits you. Trapped in the middle, Nikki was clawed and scratched. Her hair was a mess, red marks now streaked across her face. At that moment, she suddenly thought of her best friend Monica. If only she had Monica's skills—she'd teach them a lesson for sure.
A kick to the waist, a scratch to the face—Nikki was furious. She forgot all the techniques her trainer taught her. Her mind went blank, and it turned into an all-out brawl.
She didn't care about the rest. She locked onto the prison boss and pounded away. For every ten hits she took, she landed three, all on the leader. Her goal was clear: take down the ringleader. Once the head fell, the rest would be easy.
…
Back in the monitor room, Quir wanted to intervene, but Raff held him back. "Don't rush. The show's just getting started\~"
(End of Chapter)
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