Headin' Downtown

"Thank God you're here! They are trying to kill me!" Doc shouts as he drops to the ground, placing his ID at the cop's feet and putting his hands on his head. "Just ask the dolphins!"

"Please reserve all statements until formally questioned, sir. Anything you do or say may be used against you in any possibly forthcoming legal proceedings," the security officer parrots from her handbook. He scans the ID card with a laser, which intones a reassuring confirmation.

Doc looks over into the Lounge. The other patrons are all on the ground getting their IDs scanned. The two men in black are on the ground, too. They are let up. An officer takes their statements. Doc can't make out what's being said.

"Okay, sir, please stand but do not move from this position. Keep your hands on your head." orders the officer standing over Doc. Doc complies. The name MacDougle-Kawalski is crammed onto on her lapel. "Do you consent to a search? If you do not consent I will have to arrest you."

Doc nods. "Go ahead."

She disconnects his satchel straps and sets it aside. Then she frisks him, pulling out everything she can find: his pain gun, the switchblade, the I-Browse, his chew, the multi-tool, his pen, comb, and wallet, everything. Then she goes through the nylon satchel. After examining the contents, she places his effects inside it.

She extends her forearm towards him, activating a recording device in her computer-armband. "Please state your version of the events. Speak loudly and clearly."

Doc tries to look her in the eyes, but her tinted riot mask hides her face too well. He recounts the tale of the last few minutes, starting in the hanger all the way to the present. There are a few slight alterations. "Well, I decided to come out of the bathroom and face them, find out what they wanted. But I needed to calm my nerves. So I bought the strongest bottle of alcohol I could find," and, "When they hit me with the pain gun I accidentally dropped the bottle and soaked their pants in Everclear," and "I thought I was safe with the lock on, so I crouched down against the door. I needed a smoke to clear my head so I got out my lighter, but I forgot I had run out of cigarettes. When they unlocked the door and pushed it open, I was startled and I accidentally flicked the lighter. Well, the one guys pants caught fire because of the alcohol, but the other one pushed in anyway."

Doc finishes up his story. Officer MacDougle-Kowalski switches off her recorder. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate your cooperation. Unfortunately, I will need to escort you to OUE Security Offices to be detained until your statements can be analyzed by our detectives. Your effects will be returned to you if there are no charges filed against you. Except for your switchblade, which will be confiscated. You will be cited for carrying an unlicensed concealed weapon. Now, please turn around and place your hands behind your back." She pulls out a pair of magnetic handcuffs.

"What am I being charged with?" Doc asks.

"It has not yet been determined that you will be charged with anything. We are merely holding you under suspicion until our detectives can analyze your case."

"You can't detain me without charging me."

"Yes, we can. Section 142.A-60.1MP-Q of Article 8.932 of the Earth International Orbital Code of Regulations and Bill of Rights states that any person under suspicion of committing a violent crime must be detained until cleared of said suspicion."

"Okay, what am I under suspicion for?"

"Public brawling, attempted arson, mishandling of volatile substances, possession of an unlicensed fire-starting device, carrying a concealed weapon, and destruction of property without a permit."

"What property?"

"There's Everclear and broken glass all over the floor, your boot print on that chaise lounge, and you knocked over a beer glass. Now, please, turn around and put your hands behind your back or I will be forced to neuralize you. I don't want to do that, sir, you seem like a nice guy."

Doc doesn't like the sound of being neuralized, so he turns around. The cuffs go on. She leads him to the back seat of her hover scooter. Her partner joins them and they drive off down the corridor.

----------

The OUECS office is extremely white and blue. It's hospital like in its sterility, with a waist-high streak of blue paint along the walls in a straight, robotic line broken only by white text and arrows leading one to the various sections and offices within the station. The place is brightly lit, with no discernible source. It's simply ambient.

"Do I get a phone call?" Doc asks.

"A what?" replies MacDougle-Kowalski.

"A phone call? You know, can I call my friends to bail me out?"

"Phone? Bail? Oh, wow, I haven't heard that one in a while. Haha! Good one."

"Is that a no?"

"You will have the opportunity to notify your contacts of your incarceration once you've been processed."

After a quick laser fingerprinting, mugshot, retinal scan, and cheek swabbing, Doc is placed in a holding cell. The holding cell is also white with the blue streak and cell number. The walls are thick, clear acrylic. There's two small bunks, a chrome bench, and a combination toilet-sink.

Mark and Thunderhorse are sitting on the bunk. They greet him as the door closes behind him.

"Hey, partner. They finally catch you, too?" Mark asks.