Remy couldn't see the parked vehicles from the driver's seat easily. He was parked on the left side of the road, and the other vehicles had parked on the right. If he were to peek out, he would risk being seen. The rear view and side mirrors also wasn't angled correctly for him to see anything while ducking down.
OOC,[b]Remy[/b], roll Spot Hidden if you want to try to get a glimpse of the people that just arrived.
Remy realized that they were never going to find anything out hiding as they were. Deciding to take a chance, he leaned forward just enough to get a clear view of what was going on.
Footsteps approached the vehicle, and Remy peeked out and was able to see two men approaching the car. The man in front was tall and in his mid-forties, with dark hair that was just starting to recede. He wore a suit, tie, and brown jacket, and he held a flashlight in his hand. The man following him was older, around sixty years old, but his looks had not yet begun to fade. He wore a tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows. Hanging further back, Remy could see a man in a wheelchair who looked to be about thirty years old, an attractive woman of about the same age, and a man in his early forties. The three vehicles that had just arrived were parked on the opposite side of the street, the side with Dr. Anderson's house.
The two men walked up to the passenger side window, at which point the younger of them lit the flashlight and shined it inside, illuminating the interior of the pickup's cab. Markus blinked, but Remy's eyes adjusted quickly to the sudden light.
"And what are you two gentlemen doing out here at this time of night?" asked the man with the flashlight.
"Oh my Bon ami had a liddle to much to drink. I was tryin to get him home when he started gettin car sick. I figured I'd just pull over for a bit till he get his wind back and can give me directions. I ain't used to de big city and got lost." Remytries to muster every ounce of training he has and hopes he can talk his way through this. He also silently says a prayer that Markus is good enough to play along.
"What's this bullshit?" muttered the old man. "You want to get 'em out and shake them down?"
Markus blinked blearily into the flashlight beam.
"You've got a good nose," said the man with the flashlight to the older man with a smile. "I smelled it a mile away, and boy does it stink! Right." He took out a police badge and pressed it against the glass. "Philly PD. Both of you out of the vehicle." He focused on Remy, his gaze seeming to look right through him. Normally Remy's silver tongue worked wonders, but he had met someone who appeared to be immune - and a lawman to boot. Just what kind of trouble had he landed himself in? "And you, bring your license and registration. And I want the truth about what you're doing here this time."
Remy decided that it was best to continue with the lie rather then come clean at this point. His out of state license and the smell of booze on Markus should hopefully sway them enough to believe him eventually. So waiting until the officer was paying less attention Remy leaned over and quickly grabbed his registration from the glove box. Sliding out of the truck Remy gives the group his best smile and says, "Sorry officers but it be de truth. I'm new in town and met dis fella at a bar. He heard I was looking for work and offered to ask around for me. I figured since he was so drunk I would give him a lift home and dat way it wouldn't slip his mind that he was gonna help me out."
Police Headquarters, Franklin Square - Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 11:15 PM - Wednesday, July 16, 1969
The elevator arrived, and the cop took Markus and Remy inside and pressed the button for the basement. The doors closed and the elevator descended. Soon it stopped and the doors slid open again. The officer ushered his prisoners out of the elevator and down a long, narrow hall to the detention unit. There was a large metal door with a barred window at the end. In front of this door sat another sergeant at a desk. "I need to book these two, Sarge," said the officer.
The sergeant nodded and pressed a switch that caused the metal door at the end of the hall to slide open with a rumbling sound. Beyond it was a guard room. Two uniformed policemen stood guard there, one a young black man about six feet tall, the other one pasty-faced, chubby, and a head shorter. The hallway continued beyond the guard room into a cell block. Several wooden doors lined the sides of the guard room, and a payphone was in one corner. Remy was no stranger to this process, but Markus had never been arrested before. The police fingerprinted and photographed the two of them, then gave them prison uniforms to change into and put their personal effects into envelopes. When the prisoners had finished changing, they escorted the two men into the cell block and locked them in an empty cell before walking back to the guard room. It was a plain, small room with a bunk bed, a toilet, and a sink. The door was composed of sturdy metal bars. Through them, in the cell on the opposite side of the hall, they could see a tall, blond young man of about twenty years sitting on his bunk with his head buried in his hands.
"Just a friend, we may be able to do some business when we all get out of here. How are they holding you when this shit is new? It can't be illegal yet, a good lawyer should have you out of here in a heartbeat.
"No need to be cagy mate. They can't hold you for this" Marcus says quickly "They haven´t made this stuff illegal yet have they? It will be like acid before '66. We have a window to make a lot of money here. I don't know about you but I like money."
Brian sat up straight, his eyes wide. "Really?" he said. "Man, I wish I'd run into you before I got busted. The cops took my sample, and one of them accidentally drank it! I don't know how I'll get my hands on another one. Dad will never let me near the stuff again once he finds out what I did. I knew it would be worth a fortune! My name's Brian Anderson. They can't hold me for the Morpheus, but the other drugs I had on me are another matter. And then there's that crazy old cop who said I tried to kill him. I never saw him before in my life, but he's got something against me! Can you help me get out of this mess?"
Remy raised an eyebrow, but he let Markus do the talking for now. The man's got true talent, he thought. It was obvious that Brian was eating out of his hand now. They had found the perfect mark in him.
"How much were you carrying?" asks Marcus. "If it was just a bit of personal you should be OK. "Accidentally drank it you say? Sounds like tampering wth evidence to me not to mention a drug-using copper makes an unreliable witness. A decent lawyer should have you walking out of here in five minutes flat."
"It was more than just for perosnal use," said Brian, "and the cops busted me while I was selling it to a guy. The cop who drank the Morpheus must have mistaken it for chocolate milk, since that's what it looks like. In fact, my dad uses chocolate milk for the control group in his experiments. I've got a lawyer, some dude named Alan Gains. He couldn't get me out tonight, but my arraignment is tomorrow morning. I hope he can get me out on bail."
"It looks like you have two options then. You can jump bail and get out of state or you can do your time. Doing your time could work out even more profitable. The stuff passes for chocolate milk and makes you go to sleep and have interesting dreams. There has to be a big market for that in jail. With you being to only link to the source it will keep you safe in there too. What do you think?"
"Yeah, that sounds good," said Brian. "Maybe I can survive prison that way, but how are we going to get our hands on it? Dad doesn't make all that much of it, and he's the only one who knows how it's made. If we could get another sample somehow, could you find someone who can figure out how to make more of it?"