Tom
Well-Known Member
The two officers had brought the bum into one of Funky City's several police stations. The building was a multi-story, somewhat run down but still operable facility. A flurry of activity greeted the three as they entered the station. The atmosphere was simply chaos. Arrested criminals sat on benches, yelling obcenities at police officers who threatened them with rifles. The phones flew off the hooks, and the loud crackling noise of the dispatcher radio seemed to never stop on the intercom. The two officers took the bum and threw him onto the bench.
"Stay here. What' s your name?" The seemingly-polite-but-turned-bad officer said.
"Makter Feltly." He gave another twitch of the eyes while he went back to scratching his head. Though his eyes still jittered side to side to keep up his constant act he was scanning the entire station, well at least the parts of which could be seen from the bench. His thoughts then wondered to his things still hidden in a cooler back in that vacant building. He'd have to trek his way all the way back to them and hope they were still there. He didn't move much at all except for maybe a lean that could have been caused by his lack of attention to his motor functions.
The officer nodded with a grunt and went to a desk, where a Nepleslian man in casual clothing sat. With a nod, the seated man pulled out a series of papers and put them on the desk. The officer who pulled Makter in returned to his suspect.
"Go to that man over there and fill out those papers. If you don't, there's going to be a world of hurt for you."
He stood up to do as he was told ignoring the threat as just a regular comment for the situation. He wouldn't have to lie about much of anything he was after all a bum. Standing in front of the desk with the papers he picked up the pen and stared blankly down at them filling in at least his name before scanning over it.
The papers contained all the basic questions one needed for proper identification: Name, age, occupation, address, etc. The person at the desk was a pudgy, middle-aged man with short black hair and a cold glint in his eye. "You gonna stare at that shit all day or fill it out? I got dozens of people behind you. Get moving."
The nervous tapping of the pen helped him block out the noise of the surrounding environment as he thought. The entire smell of the station was kind of bothering him as was the dirt he could feel on his face and arms. He normally liked to keep as clean as possible but he needed to keep up this look.
"Sorry man but I can't answer some of these cuz I ain't got no home or job and what not..."
He filled in his age as 23 and left out a lot of other info like his parents names since he really didn't know theirs which kinda made him depressed.
"Man this sucks I just wanted a beer..."
Pushing the papers forward filling out everything the best he could he went back to scanning what he saw behind the desk looking for the computer.
"You'll want whatever the fuck we tell you to want." The man snatched the papers and scanned over them quickly. "Yeah, another parasite on our society gets himself thrown into jail. You ever thought about getting a damn job instead of wishing for beer or getting thrown into jail?" As he spoke, he motioned over to an officer.
He wanted to comment about having to be born into the society first to be able to have decent credibility to be hired for a job but didn't thinking that would just be asking for trouble. Instead he just nodded his head turned toward the direction the man was motioning to. Taking in the new appearance of the officer rather quickly he cast his eyes down and away from his face like he didn't want to hold eye contact to keep from being verbally assaulted some more.
The fat man laughed. "You're a smart one, you know? A real fucking genius. At least you know how to keep your goddamn mouth shut, UNLIKE SOME OF THESE OTHER ASSHOLES!" He said as he sharply stood up and aimed his anger at the unruly criminals seated on the bench. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
Frustrated, he spoke to the officer who had come to the desk, a burly ID-SOL. "Take genius here down to cell block 5."
The ID-SOL grabbed Makter by the arm and yanked him down a set of stairs.
The jerk hurt more then he let on the jump down the side of the building earlier today had given his body a bit of a sore back. Trying his best just to keep the steady pace so he wasn't jerked around as much he followed suit. He had to behave himself because the sooner he got out the sooner he could get back to his things "and get the fuck out of dodge" as the old saying goes.
The corridor was obviously underground, moss growing on the corners of the ceiling and a constant dampness permeating the area. The ID-SOL took Makter past four cages all filled with people. His cage was nearing capacity as well, and the closer one got to it, the more the foul stench of dirt and sweaty human flesh attacked the nostrils.
The ID-SOL pulled out his pistol with his free hand, shoved Makter against the far wall, and opened the cage.
"Get in. The rest of you know the drill. Move and you die.â€
"Stay here. What' s your name?" The seemingly-polite-but-turned-bad officer said.
"Makter Feltly." He gave another twitch of the eyes while he went back to scratching his head. Though his eyes still jittered side to side to keep up his constant act he was scanning the entire station, well at least the parts of which could be seen from the bench. His thoughts then wondered to his things still hidden in a cooler back in that vacant building. He'd have to trek his way all the way back to them and hope they were still there. He didn't move much at all except for maybe a lean that could have been caused by his lack of attention to his motor functions.
The officer nodded with a grunt and went to a desk, where a Nepleslian man in casual clothing sat. With a nod, the seated man pulled out a series of papers and put them on the desk. The officer who pulled Makter in returned to his suspect.
"Go to that man over there and fill out those papers. If you don't, there's going to be a world of hurt for you."
He stood up to do as he was told ignoring the threat as just a regular comment for the situation. He wouldn't have to lie about much of anything he was after all a bum. Standing in front of the desk with the papers he picked up the pen and stared blankly down at them filling in at least his name before scanning over it.
The papers contained all the basic questions one needed for proper identification: Name, age, occupation, address, etc. The person at the desk was a pudgy, middle-aged man with short black hair and a cold glint in his eye. "You gonna stare at that shit all day or fill it out? I got dozens of people behind you. Get moving."
The nervous tapping of the pen helped him block out the noise of the surrounding environment as he thought. The entire smell of the station was kind of bothering him as was the dirt he could feel on his face and arms. He normally liked to keep as clean as possible but he needed to keep up this look.
"Sorry man but I can't answer some of these cuz I ain't got no home or job and what not..."
He filled in his age as 23 and left out a lot of other info like his parents names since he really didn't know theirs which kinda made him depressed.
"Man this sucks I just wanted a beer..."
Pushing the papers forward filling out everything the best he could he went back to scanning what he saw behind the desk looking for the computer.
"You'll want whatever the fuck we tell you to want." The man snatched the papers and scanned over them quickly. "Yeah, another parasite on our society gets himself thrown into jail. You ever thought about getting a damn job instead of wishing for beer or getting thrown into jail?" As he spoke, he motioned over to an officer.
He wanted to comment about having to be born into the society first to be able to have decent credibility to be hired for a job but didn't thinking that would just be asking for trouble. Instead he just nodded his head turned toward the direction the man was motioning to. Taking in the new appearance of the officer rather quickly he cast his eyes down and away from his face like he didn't want to hold eye contact to keep from being verbally assaulted some more.
The fat man laughed. "You're a smart one, you know? A real fucking genius. At least you know how to keep your goddamn mouth shut, UNLIKE SOME OF THESE OTHER ASSHOLES!" He said as he sharply stood up and aimed his anger at the unruly criminals seated on the bench. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
Frustrated, he spoke to the officer who had come to the desk, a burly ID-SOL. "Take genius here down to cell block 5."
The ID-SOL grabbed Makter by the arm and yanked him down a set of stairs.
The jerk hurt more then he let on the jump down the side of the building earlier today had given his body a bit of a sore back. Trying his best just to keep the steady pace so he wasn't jerked around as much he followed suit. He had to behave himself because the sooner he got out the sooner he could get back to his things "and get the fuck out of dodge" as the old saying goes.
The corridor was obviously underground, moss growing on the corners of the ceiling and a constant dampness permeating the area. The ID-SOL took Makter past four cages all filled with people. His cage was nearing capacity as well, and the closer one got to it, the more the foul stench of dirt and sweaty human flesh attacked the nostrils.
The ID-SOL pulled out his pistol with his free hand, shoved Makter against the far wall, and opened the cage.
"Get in. The rest of you know the drill. Move and you die.â€
