Grayson "Lorde" Brixton | Male | 15 | Rogue | Mentions: Marcus

Marcus couldn't help but snicker unpleasantly as the cop gave the kid the business, complete with flashing that incriminating mugshot. Laughter hissed from his nose, and he resembled for all the world a cat watching in pleasure while a dog is unfairly pinned for crimes it didn't commit. It was about as fun as watching a house burn down.

But his snickers were swiftly silenced as the kid attempted to throw Marcus under the bus. He was instantly tense in his seat, his shoulders squared up, his back hunched, his arms stiff. A scowl replaced what might have been an amused smile, and his hands clenched into fists as if he might leap up right there and jump him. Well, he most likely would, if he were given the opportunity. He deserved it, the nosy little punk. Instead he settled for aiming a kick in his direction, his foot lashing out blindly under the table.

"Rat me out for what? You got nothing on me." He snapped, glowering at the kid and completely ignoring the fact that it was perhaps smarter to behave as calmly as possible in this particular scenario. But that wasn't happening on the street, and it definitely wasn't about to change just because an officer was playing witness.

A different cop came in and sat across from Marcus. This one looked tired and maybe even bored as he knocked on the table to redirect his attention, and Marcus reluctantly dragged himself away from Lorde and his mugshot. He wasn't exactly thrilled to be here, either, and his expression grew steadily more insolent as the officer rifled through the papers.

"Disorderly conduct, three different counts of illegal hoverboard modifications, possession of stolen property-" The cop read off as blandly if one might read a grocery list. He summoned a little hologram screen into life, then continued, "-and a collection notice for an unpaid fee of three hundred and forty six points."

Grayson "Lorde" Brixton | Male | 15 | Rogue | Mentions: Marcus

Marcus just scoffed at the kid's look of amusement. He wasn't sure was rock this kid fell from that made him think he was somehow in a better position than him. Marcus' record wasn't spotless, no, but there was nothing too major, and most of those things were in the past. From when he was younger, dumber, and slower. As impossible as it might sound, he'd wised up since those days. It wasn't like Marcus was an "arrest on sight" sort of person, and he definitely wasn't involved with anything disastrous, like this rumpled looking upstart. So long as they couldn't find anything new to pin on him, he'd be loose in no time.

Well, except that one little snag. Marcus twitched uncomfortably, sulking and scowling as the cop explained that his payment was way overdue. Like, almost a year overdue. Well, yeah. Marcus had no intentions of going out of his way to hand points over to the authorities, and they had no real way of tracking a transient kid like him down. He gave the chains a restless tug and muttered something that was most likely an unkind expletive of some sort, but it was impossible to make out from across the table.

"You can pay your fees here and now and that's it, have a nice day." The cop told him in a dry monotone as he skimmed over the screen again. "Or we can repossess your-" here he paused, searching for the right word before finally settling on the exact phrase in legalese, "-vehicle until the time your fees are paid in full."

At that announcement, the room suddenly became very hot. Sweat prickled at the back of his neck. They couldn't repossess his hoverboard. That was his livelihood. He couldn't even fathom trying to make points without it, not to mention having to walk around on the ground like a lame, middle aged narc. Not the King, no way.

He didn't have the points to cover the fines, and he knew it. That would complicate things. Marcus' mind was racing as he tried to puzzle together the various funds he could scrounge to try and come up with three hundred points. He couldn't come up with much. About sixty on his person, maybe bum another fifty from some crew mates, plus the chance of intimidating some rogues into a race, but that was a risky move.

Ten grand? Did this scruffy looking, wannabe Spartan punk just say ten grand? Marcus couldn't suppress his disbelief at the number, nor could he focus on whatever the cop was saying to him now. Some useless garbage or another. There was even a little pause as he shot the kid an incredulous look, suspicions churning in his head at about the same pace as the cop's, considering how quickly he'd accused him of stealing it.

Marcus tried to cross his arms, but found his efforts swiftly stymied by the chain that linked him to the table. So instead, he scowled deeper and pressed his palms against the table so intently that it was almost like he was trying to leave a mark. His fingers curled as if trying to rip the tabletop away. Well, he might not make a physical one, but these cops wouldn't be forgetting Marcus Kingston any time soon.

At least the cops seemed to believe this kid about as much as he did. He claimed he had ten thousand points stashed away on him, which sounded just about impossible to Marcus, and to the cop as well, since he only asked for a small chunk of it. Two thousand was still nothing to sneeze at, and Marcus was fully expecting to hear that angry error sound that occurred when trying to exceed the limits of one's account.

But when that didn't happen, Marcus wasn't quite sure what to think. Even the cop in front of him - the one who was supposed to be helping him - was watching the kid complete his transaction.

There was a pained expression on his face as he wordlessly offered his wrist to the cop. He would much rather prefer to be punching the guy in the face than handing over his hard earned points, but he had no other choice. His options were practically nonexistent. It wouldn't be enough to cover it, but he was - rather slowly - working through a plan in his mind to find the rest of the points he needed. A plan involving this kid and his spare eight grand he just had lying about for whatever reason. Surely he didn't need all those points he supposedly had.

Hearing the kid spill that brief bit of information did nothing to incur Marcus' sympathy. Maybe if he were of a softer heart or a warmer upbringing himself, he'd think twice about going through with his plan. But he was in dire straits here, way more so than this 15-year-old with the dead brother.

The cop shot him a questioning look as the points exchanged hands. It wasn't enough. His points were depleted and he had nothing to show for it but this ridiculous act put on for the entertainment of the authorities. He ought to be able to modify his hoverboard however he liked. It wasn't even loud any more, and that had been the most attention-grabbing problem, the one that had got the cops on his case in the first place way back when.

At least he'd be able to walk free, he thought as the cop unlocked the chains from his wrists. But the idea of walking anywhere was repulsive. Walking wasn't for Lions or Kings. He fumed silently and yanked his hands away as soon as they were loose, shoving them deep in his pockets, anxious to have regained his sense of control.

He glanced over at the kid with a sneer. Apologize, right. Not on his life. Despite their shared ordeal, he didn't seem much friendlier as he muttered a, "good luck, wannabe".

Grayson "Lorde" Brixton | Male | 15 | Mentions: NA