| |
Darkseeker
|
Grayson "Lorde" Brixton | Male | 15 | Rogue | Mentions: Marcus
Unlike most Rogue's he couldn't say he had seen the inside of a station often. At least not in a while. Whenever The Spartans as a whole were given a strike warning he had come in. Yet, never in this situation. He was steered through the station, which didn't really give him the chance to assess the area. He maneuvered with them rather docilely, to not further escalate any problems they were currently dealing with.
After being brought into a bland room he was seated maybe 2-4 feet away from Marcus. The cop paused after he released the cuffs from around Graysons wrist. The cop gave him a look as if he was wondering if Grayson would attack Marcus or not. He couldn't deny, if he said anything else that infuriated him, he might.
The cop decided against letting him stay free and locked his hands down. Sinking in the chair he studied the ceiling for what seemed hours. The cop had left, and when he finally returned he held two files in his hand. He set one in front of Marcus and sat down with the other in front of Grayson.
"Lorde you say?... According to these papers from the Incident a few years ago. Anyone who took the ultimatum, and is caught doing any sort of incriminating activity will be arrested and put in lock up for an indefinite period." The cop pulled an image from the file and glanced down at it before flipping it around.
It was one of those pictures you see when someone gets arrested. A mugshot. The image showed a boy with dirt covering the left side of his face. Bloodstains were concentrated in on his forehead. The feature that sealed the deal was the thin scar over the other half of his face.
Marcus was probably getting a kick out of this. The older teen most likely wouldn't be sent to a detention center. Unless he had any other felonies under his belt. Which Grayson wouldn't know, hopefully he'd have a chance to listen in to the other cop.
Grayson leaned forward in his seat and the table. "How much do you want to forget about this. Or, do you want me to rat him out?" He jerked ha thumb in Marcus' direction before sitting back in the chair. |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
Marcus Kingston | M | 19 | Lions' Blocker | Mentions: Grayson
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." |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
Grayson "Lorde" Brixton | Male | 15 | Rogue | Mentions: Marcus
Grayson rolled his eyes at Marcus once more. He was beginning to seethe, and his fists were bunched in the cuffs. Nothing on him?
"Just get me some sort of computer based device and I'll find something incriminating. A dude like you? No doubt you've done something."
Marcus was a Racer as well, and he was a part of a large crew. The bigger the crew the more secrets to hide. As well as the more coverups that can be made. A bunch of minds hiding a fact? It's easy. Grayson glared at the new cop who looked half dead. He pleasingly leaned forward to listen in to what Marcus had done. A jerk on the loose chain in between his wrists brought his attention back to the cop in front of him.
The cop shook the image in his hand. It was kind of funny, almost everything was digital nowadays. Yet, they somehow had all of his stuff in a file. On paper.
Grayson released a snicker at Marcus' list of crimes. Giving him a side glance. "Looks like I don't have to research on you. You've already got yourself a rep... congratulations."
The cop who he now knew the name of due to his nametag, Officer Brantley, grinned at him. A rather smug grin. "How much you got kid? That is if you want to pay this out."
Grayson frowned, he didn't want to say just how many points he had in total. Especially not with Marcus sitting asides of him. "Uh, I've got 10,000 on me." In his bracelet that was. His banks had a much larger mass. Aiden and Calder left him a fortune that was for sure. He tried to speak quietly but he still felt like it was so loud. The cop didn't help any.
"You've been stealing points too kid? That's quite a bit of cash you got there. Do we need to know how you acquired that much? Street trash don't get that much money without a crew."
Grayson simply glared before giving him a sharp no. |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
Marcus Kingston | M | 19 | Lions' Blocker | Mentions: Grayson
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. |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
Grayson "Lorde" Brixton | Male | 15 | Rogue | Mentions: Marcus
Just like Grayson had initially thought, Marcus would be out of here before him. He would definitely be out of here before him, either way, even if he was set free, there would probably be a bit more processing to go through.
Grayson twitched in his chair. Of course they all thought he was lying, or that he stole it. That was the only believable answer. He only had a few good answers to where the points came from. When he raced, the minimum on the table was 1000. Win ten races in a day, or race ten at once, and the winner gets all the points, boom 10000 in a day. The only problem with that, its hard to find Rogue's who will actually race for that amount of currency.
Sometimes he would even race crews, since they typically had more points then the Rogue's did. Grayson wasn't cruel though, if someone actually needed points, he would most of the time give it back. Mostly to Rogues. Crews? They were out of luck, unless he had a very strong alliance with them.
The other reason, his brother used to race 'big' when there was more currency in the world. It was all stowed away for another day. That other day came when Aiden died.
Grayson grew a bit offensive at the cop's initial suspicions. As the cop seemed to ponder this newfound information he let his gaze wander to Marcus, who was staring at him with obvious disbelief. The younger boy started to squirm in his chair, and he refrained from kicking the older boy. Grayson had noticed the attempts from Marcus, but had barely done anything in return.
Officer Brantley finally made a decision and with his horridly smug grin he began to speak. "Alright. I don't believe you actually have 10,000. Unless you've robbed the economy on a database, and what are you... 13? It's unrealistic. So, I'll charge you 2000 for this whole problem. You can pay off what you don't have later on. Along with that, I need information about you. Ghosts are really annoying."
Grayson again, was offended by this situation. Yet, this would probably be better, the more harmless he was to them the better. He however was relieved, he for sure thought he was done for.
He didn't want to tell him who he was though. How about he'd give him a hint.
Officer Brantley extended his wrist to put a small device against Grayson's bracelet. The transaction of currency occurred, and the cop received a full 2000. The cop said no words, but his raised eyebrows suggested he was rethinking a couple of things.
"Your name, Age, and current residence please. After that, I won't have to see you again."
"Fine then. I'm 15. Current residence... The street?" "So homeless?" "Sure." "Your name?" "The kid who died at the 'Incident', he's my brother. Now can I please go."
The cop though, wasn't finished. He pointed a finger at Marcus. "You two need to 'make up'. If you go and fight on the street, that's not my problem until I have to chase you down. I know how much it hurts prideful teens to apologize. So go for it." |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
Marcus Kingston | M | 19 | Lions' Blocker | Mentions: Grayson
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". |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
Grayson "Lorde" Brixton | Male | 15 | Rogue | Mentions: Marcus
He was used to people not believing him, anyways it was a little difficult to fathom. He didn't have too much regret telling the cop how much currency he had. He did however wish Marcus wasn't in the room when he had said it. Information like that, on the streets... He'd be hunted down before he knew it. Which he could deal with a few aggressive boarders. Not that many though.
Officer Brantley attempted to probe him a couple more times for his actual name. He still refused to give it, and the man ultimately gave up. He pulled up a hologram with the previous ultimatum. The cop formally reminded him that it was still in effect, and next time there wouldn't be a freebie.
Just like he thought though, the processing wasn't over. Despite his protest the cop scanned his face to update in their database for Lorde. Which he now noticed was labeled "Lorde" Brixton. They could have his last name, it wasn't like they could ask any of his family after all.
Grayson returned Marcus' sneer with one of his own. "How kind of you..." The words came out in almost a growl. Officer Brantley had seemingly forgot about the apology he had wanted to be exchanged. The cop slowly unlocked the cuffs, and almost instantly Grayson was on his feet. He turned though back towards the cop. "My board?" The cop told him to go to the front desk on the right. Which was where his was currently being held. He was out the door in the next moment and headed straight towards the location. The woman at the front retrieved his board from the back before giving him a slip of paper. 'Deactivated' 'Accelerator Damage' That was just great. Outside the station was already a 'no fly' zone. Yet, now he'd have to walk around to the nearest place he could find a new accelerator, there was a slight chance there wasn't too much damage and he could fix it himself. He didn't even know how it had damage.
With that, the boy hoisted the board underneath his arm and quickly headed out, as if they would try and bring him back in. He started down the slim sidewalk at a choppy pace until he was almost out of the stations 'no fly' zone. |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
Marcus Kingston | M | 19 | Lions' Blocker | Mentions: n/a
Marcus had no points, no board, and no way of earning a bit of honest coin. He also had no food, and those time-wasting cops at the station hadn't offered him anything, which was annoying but not debilitating.
Walking was so not his speed. It was awkward and painfully slow, not to mention downright humiliating. Fortunately he hadn't seen anyone he knew, and he could at least be somewhat grateful that he didn't tag his clothing with the Lions logo along with his board, too. That would look really bad. A Lion moping around on the sidewalk like a common pleb. His sulky manner was enough to make most people mind their own business as he passed by, or at least he liked to imagine that was the case. Most likely, Marcus just wasn't that interesting beyond a quick glance at those brightly colored clothes to check that why yes, that is a jarring combination of blue and orange together.
At first he dragged his feet, but quickly stopped and tried to pay more attention to what he was doing, if only to save the toes of his bright orange shoes. The sidewalks were getting a bit busier now that the day was moving along - how long had he been stuck in that station, anyway? It felt like forever. He knew there was a boarding shop somewhere several blocks down from the station, because there was almost always some sort of trouble in the area. Usually thanks to rogues or newbies who felt entitled to create their own chaos. It had been a poor choice of location for a boarding shop, but the place mostly skated by under the radar by keeping odd hours and not being too lenient about their evening activities. It wasn't illegal to sell hoverboards and equipment, after all.
It was a little out of the Lions' usual territory, so Marcus didn't know this shop as well as some of the others, but he was hoping he might strike it lucky if he could turn up the charm.
A sort of chime made from a bunch of parts strung up on the door sounded his entrance with a tinny jangle as he pushed his way inside. He spent a few minutes pretending to browse the narrow, crowded shop before making his way to the counter. It was covered with smaller hoverboard parts and clustered with a patchwork of stickers. There was even a Lions sticker and, he noticed with a scoff, a Spartans one off to the left. Hounds, Watchers, and more miscellaneous stickers belonging to rogues or short-lived crews than he could count.
"I need a board." Marcus stated to the tall, skinny guy in his late-twenties who came over to the counter. Looked like a typical overly-obsessed boarder gone to seed, the kind who would probably make casual conversations about gear really annoying. Charm, right. Politely convince the guy that it would be super beneficial to both parties. He was so not made out for this. "Just for a few hours." |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
Grayson "Lorde" Brixton | Male | 15 | Mentions: NA
Grayson took no time trying to get away from the station, he didn't want them to magically find something else to charge him for. Anyways, he could tell the cop was stunned when the transaction took place. He didn't rob the economy base, not to say he couldn't hack into it, but the point was that he hadn't done it. 2000 was a hefty fee though, and he wouldn't be able to bet as much today as he usually did. He had to pay someone today, and they had been waiting for a while. He most likely wouldn't lose the 8000 remaining in a race, but who knows what would happen. His next stop though, was to pay them before they came for his head.
As soon as he had entered furthermore into the main part of the city he set his board down and powered it on. The back end created quite a ruckus as it tried to start up. It failed to start all the way into a higher gear, but he could still ride it.
Which was what he did. He rode it down a few roads until he could see a board shop. He didn't go in it though. They didn't have what he was looking for. Across the street was a sort of hardware store. The girl who owned it owed him, and she just so happened to sell untraceable accelerators.
Upon entering he hopped off his board and went up to the front. She instantly recognized him, and after she brought out what he needed she looked at him with a relieved smile. "Now we're even. A pleasure doing business with you."
That was about it, then he left. He'd head to the backstreets before he'd put it on. You're quite likely to get attacked when trying to repair a hover board out in the open. As he turned out the door and hopped onto his board he realized the flow of traffic. He'd be delving into the bulk of it. Nonetheless though he did. He had been given a second chance today, and he wanted to get away as fast as possible. |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
Marcus Kingston | M | 19 | Lions' Blocker | Mentions: Grayson
Well, if Marcus had learned anything in the short time he'd been without a hoverboard, it was that he definitely wasn't cut out for this no-boarding life. It sucked. People looked at him different, or at least he imagined that they did. Maybe he was just hyper aware of everybody now that he was moving along at what he imagined was a pace only for octogenarians. He was fuming as he stomped along, shooting furious glares at anyone and everyone he could.
That guy at the board shop had been useless. He hadn't even believed him when he'd explained that he belonged to the Lions and only needed a board for a day or so, just long enough to score some points on a few races. No, the guy had just laughed him off, no doubt expecting that if he lent him a board, he'd never see it again. Which would, honestly, knowing Marcus, probably be the case, but what was the point of belonging to the top racing crew in Xona if one couldn't cash in a favor every now and then?
His mood was not at all improved as the streets grew busier and the traffic denser. It just meant that more people were out here, and more people meant more attention, and increased the likelihood that he'd be recognized by some rogue or another. The last thing he needed was some rogue to see him without a board. The only thing worse than some no name rogue seeing him would be that wannabe Spartan seeing him without a board.
Which, as it turned out, would be the case as he stalked irritably down a side street and spotted the rumpled sweatpants and overall grungy appearance of the kid known as Lorde. He had retrieved his board, he noted with displeasure. Well wasn't that good for him. He dug his hands deeper into his pockets and hunched his shoulders in some subconscious attempt to render himself inconspicuous for whatever good it did him. Maybe this was a chance to make things even, he mused as he glared sulkily in the kid's direction.
It took all of a few seconds for him to roughly formulate a (very blocker-oriented) plan, and back off a few steps so that he could stand near what he hoped would be a quiet backstreet away from the worst of the foot traffic and short on witnesses. |
|
|
Spring Month: 2 
Day Weather: 
Flood
