St. Louis Metropolitan Police District Station (Missouri), 1927.

Mordecai woke up with a severe headache, he grunted in annoyance. He was feeling quite irritated. He blinked and tried to look around him, but he realized that he was not wearing his rounded pince-nez, which explained why he saw everything cloudy. He narrowed his eyes. He took a couple of steps and stumbled, but some bars prevented him from falling. That was definitely not a good sign. "Damn..." Mordecai murmured with a light sigh as he realized that he had been arrested while he was carrying out his mission.

Suddenly he crouched down and with his front paws tried to find his rounded pince-nez, he kept his face serious and emotionless, and his attitude remained stoic, but his hard exterior hid his desperation.

When he found his rounded pince-nez he put them on, but immediately regretted that action. His mouth opened slightly, he felt as if he were witnessing the most horrible atrocity.

The cell I was in was quite dirty. His bathroom was a shower grate drain and his bed was a board that was held to the wall by a pair of chains. He wrinkled his nose in disgust and his ears flattened to his head. This brought back memories of when he was a child and he lived in poverty along with his family on the east side of Manhattan.