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!Q7t.srvWZ6 02/05/12(Sun)00:09 No.17810735 File1328418588.jpg-(92 KB, 805x993, 1327686666425.jpg)
>>17810507 >>17810479
You sigh, and sit down at one of the tables outside, while Officer Bob and his partner, named Jim, run some caution tape over the broken window and areas of the coffee shop. You give Roxane five dollars and tell her to get the two of you and the officers some donuts while you wait.
As you eat your donut, almost simultaneously, two unmarked cars come tearing down the street. One is a blacked out government issue SUV, the other is an unmarked Crown Vic. Both have the little portable sirens sitting on their dash. The two vehicles screech to a halt in opposite spaces, both clearly marked "no parking".
Out of the SUV piles (Special) Agent(s) Johnson, looking like typical G-Man, black suits and black sunglasses, with a black hat on shortbus Johnson's head, and non-snowflake Johnson in his typical creepy shaven baldness. Out of the crown vic step a couple of neo-noir detectives, one male, one female. They have LCPD vests on under trenchcoats, with big revolvers in shoulder holsters. As they exit, they simultaneously light cigarettes and put on fedoras.
The two parties approach your table like characters in a western showing off, only when they get to about five feet from you, what they draw are badges instead of their sidearms. The FBI goes first. "I'm Special Agent Johnson, and this is Agent Johnson, no relation. FBI Department of Metahuman Affairs." The detectives show their own badges, which were dangling around their necks. "I'm Detective Howard, this is Detective Philips," says the man. "Liberty City PD, Metahuman Crimes Division." They commence a staring contest. |