Chapter 9:Framed (I)

The night air was heavy. Rain splattered across the black pavement as sirens wailed in the distance. Derek Thunder adjusted the hood of his leather jacket. He had just finished his nightly patrol when a bright spotlight hit him.

“Freeze! Police! SWAT!” a commanding voice boomed.

Derek raised his hands, slowly. “What’s going on?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

“You’re under arrest for multiple felonies, including armed robbery, homicides, and check fraud!” another officer shouted.

Derek blinked. “Homicides? Check fraud? I didn’t—”

“Don’t move!” The voice barked again.

Two men in full SWAT gear approached, rifles raised. Derek’s heart raced. He didn’t have time to explain. The copycat had done it. The identity thief had framed him perfectly.

“Hands behind your head! Now!”

Derek complied, slowly raising his hands and placing them behind his head. His mind raced. How had this escalated so quickly? He remembered the mysterious charges appearing online earlier that day, the surveillance footage doctored, the fake bank statements. Every move of the identity thief had been calculated.

One of the SWAT members grabbed him roughly by the arm. “You’re coming with us. Any sudden movements, and we shoot.”

Derek’s mind worked fast. “Listen! I’m Derek Thunder. I’m not who you think I am. Someone is using my identity—”

The officer didn’t flinch. “Save it for the station. You’ve got a lot to answer for.”

Derek’s pulse pounded in his ears. He wanted to run, to fight, but he knew the odds. The SWAT team outnumbered him, outgunned him. He had to survive this without making it worse.

“Can we at least… can someone verify my identity? Check my records?” he asked, voice tense.

“Yeah, we’ll check everything at the station. Now move,” the officer said.

They moved him toward the armored vehicle. The rain soaked through his jacket. He could see his reflection in the wet asphalt—a man trapped in someone else’s crimes.

Inside the vehicle, Derek sat quietly. The officers whispered among themselves, unaware of his mind racing.

“So, uh… you’re telling me this isn’t you?” one young officer asked.

Derek nodded. “Exactly. Someone’s impersonating me. Everything you think I did—they did.”

The officer frowned. “You’ve got a long night ahead. Court, interrogation… it’s going to be rough.”

Derek leaned back, closing his eyes. He had survived worse. He would survive this. But the copycat had outsmarted him… for now.

The vehicle stopped at a dimly lit station. The officers led him inside, handcuffed. Cameras clicked. Flashing lights reflected off the walls. Reporters outside shouted questions, but Derek was escorted past them.

At the interrogation room, a tall agent with sharp eyes entered. “Derek Thunder?” he asked.

“Yes,” Derek replied, voice steady.

“You’re accused of multiple felonies,” the agent said, slamming a folder onto the table. “Armed robberies, check fraud, homicides. How do you plead?”

“I plead not guilty,” Derek said, meeting the agent’s gaze. “Someone’s using my identity. I can prove it.”

The agent raised an eyebrow. “And how do you plan to do that?”

Derek leaned forward. “Evidence. Witnesses. Video footage. Bank statements—they’re all forged. I can track the real culprit.”

The agent sighed, leaning back. “You’ve got five minutes to convince me, Derek. Otherwise, the judge sees you as the suspect.”

Derek’s mind raced. “Listen… start with the surveillance footage from the banks. Compare timestamps. I wasn’t there. Also, the receipts for the robberies—check the shoes, the fingerprints. They’re not mine. My DNA isn’t at the scene of any crime. My bank account shows legitimate transactions. Everything else is a fake.”

The agent tapped the folder. “You’ve got a lot of evidence, I hope.”

“I do,” Derek replied firmly.

Outside, the rain continued. Somewhere, the identity thief smiled, knowing Derek had been caught in their trap. But Derek had plans. He always had plans.

“You realize,” the agent said, “if this is a setup, it’s extremely elaborate.”

Derek nodded. “I know. That’s why I’m telling you—start with the little things. Tiny inconsistencies. One wrong signature, one fingerprint—it’ll unravel everything.”

The agent studied him for a moment. “Alright. We’ll see. But you need to be careful. The public already thinks you’re guilty. One wrong move, and this blows up.”

Derek smirked faintly. “I’ve faced worse. Let’s just get this started.”

The night stretched on. Derek’s plan had begun. He had to find the identity thief, clear his name, and stay one step ahead.

The door opened again. Another officer stepped in. “We’re moving you to holding. Get some rest. Tomorrow, it’s going to be brutal.”

Derek was escorted through the fluorescent-lit corridors. He passed rows of cells, each holding someone who had lost the fight against circumstance. But he wasn’t beaten. Not yet.

Sitting in the cell, Derek traced the edges of his katana case. He couldn’t fight physically here, but he could fight smart. That was his strength. Every detail mattered. Every clue mattered. And he would expose the copycat.

The night seemed endless. Derek stared at the ceiling, plotting. He whispered to himself, almost a mantra:

“They think they can trap me. They think they can break me. They’re wrong. I always find a way.”

Hours passed. The rain pounded outside. Derek’s resolve hardened. When dawn came, he would face interrogations, scrutiny, and doubt. But he would also begin the hunt. The copycat wouldn’t stay hidden forever.