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"Hey there, sexyface," says the man in the red jacket in what he probably assumes is a fetching sort of way. "So what can I do for you lovely little thing toni—"
He shuts up when Kathy shoves his own gun against his forehead, hard. He tries to pull away from her, but the handcuffs on his wrists that are currently connected to the metal chair in her interrogation room don't let him go very far. "I'll tell you what you can do for me," Kathy says, low and furiously quiet. When the man leers at her, she grinds the gun even harder against his head until his skin flushes pink under the metal. "You can tell me why you were running around and blowing up my city just a few days ago."
"It's none of your business," the man says, but winces when Kathy shifts her knee dangerously close to his groin.
"Oh, I'd say it's my business, all right. Remember? It's my city." Kathy leans close enough to breathe into his ear. "If you don't tell me, I can always start by making sure you will never enjoy sex, ever again, no questions asked. So. Talk."
John Hart talks, finally, and when he does Kathy Swanson is more than ready to listen.