bakerstreet | Woke Up In Jail

Woke Up In Jail

[ WOKE UP IN JAIL ]

Where are you? Why is your bed so hard? Why is someone peeing right by your head?
Oh right. Because you got pinched last night. Welcome to the slammer, baby.

• Post with your character name/fandom/options preferences.
• Use RNG to pick your possible scenario - or just go with what you'd like most.
• Reply to other people's tags. Use RNG or decide what your part in the whole kerfuffle is.
• Enjoy the confusion.

Reason(s) you're in jail:

1. Indecent Exposure
Nobody wanted to watch you strut around with everything hanging out, and someone called you on it. Hope they gave you a jumpsuit or you're going to be prison eye candy.

2. Drunk and disorderly conduct
"Wassat, occifer? No... I'm not dru-*hic* drunk. I'm unner the legal limit. Wooo!" No, no you're not. You're way over. Sleep it off, buddy.

3. Vandalism
Oh, you naughty thing. You got busted stealing that 'Chickens X-ing' sign. Or was it drawing boobs on the drive-thru clown? Either way, tsk tsk.

4. B&E
Apparently your friend didn't think you kicking in his window to sneak in and leave him a 'present' was as good of an idea as you thought it was. Well, no love for HIM. *hmph*

5. Grand Theft Auto
The car was BEGGING to go for a ride. It called to you with its sireny car-call. And you just had to answer. If it hadn't been for the damn spike belt...

6. Kidnapping
Trust me, there are better ways to get money to pay for your Bieber concert tickets.

7. Murder
Talk about being caught red handed. You got caught red armed. And faced. And front. You're messy.

8. Any/all of the above
Ooooh... You've been REALLY naughty, haven't you? Actually, you kind of scare me.

Relationship of the person tagging:

1. Cohort in Crime.

2. Person coming to bail you out. (or not)

3. Jailer/Warden.

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Ben stepped up to the cell again, arms crossed in front of him as he looked in on Lindsey. This kid nearly blew his cover, and it did not matter either way, because as soon as the kid was back on the streets he was going to get dragged off the case. It was too much of a risk to let him go back in when someone knew he was a cop. It would be suicide to try, or so the chief had insisted.

Just great. Long months of wasted time with nothing to show but a boy, far too young to be involved in this, yet he so clearly was.

"All right, kid. Here is the deal. You and I both know I can not keep you here long, but I can keep you over night, and make this a very long and boring night of lecturing you on why what you are doing is going to get you to an early grave or worse. Why don't you just give me a name and we can start to get this over with."

Lindsey got off his cold bench and walked slowly up to the bar where the cop stood. This guy was positively the worst client Lindsey ever tried to turn trick, right up there with the one who hurt him so bad that he had to stay in bed for a full month in recovery. At least that one didn't book him in and have his face marked by the coppers.

Damn the guy had a nice smile that fooled him into thinking an easy mark!

"I don't see why I should," he answered sharply, stopping before the bars to to look the man in the eyes. Lindsey's were like broken blue glass, all sharp edges and cold to the touch, much too aware of the world than any teen should be.

Beneath them were fear though because Lindsey knew he really screwed up getting himself caught by the cops. He wasn't aware of the fullness of how much trouble he was in, here or with Holland, but he had been warned, repeatedly and with utmost clarity, that he should be avoiding the coppers. Even if he got out, he wasn't sure if Holland would take him back in now.

"Because if you help me, then I can help you.Otherwise, you get a big fat, screw you, kid. And not the kind you were fishing along for."

Benjamin tried not to guess how old this kid was. Not legal, that much he could guess. He kept his eyes firmly on the shorter of the two, not as surprised as he should have been by what he saw there.

He had seen a lot in his time on this job.

Worse things than a kid turning tricks.

"You can keep up the combative attitude, tough guy. I know your type. I've been pulling kids like you off the street long enough to see the signs. Look in your eyes, you've either resigned yourself to this, you think you can't get out, or you've gotten so used to it you don't want to."

His tone was even, devoid of disgust or pity. Just factual.

"I'm not some lackey cop going to tell you how it doesn't have to be this way. I'm here to tell you it doesn't get to be this way. So. Option A. Your photo and your finger prints- " He pulled the folder out from under his arm and waved it slightly. "Go into the system. We either find your name or we give you one. Next time you get caught, you go to juvie. Time after that you get a nice cozy cell in prison where you get to rot away, eventually you get out, and you are either too old or too known to turn tricks again. Criminal record, no formal education, no useable job history, and you get to be another homeless bum on the streets while your teeth rot out of your head and you slowly starve."

He paused, dropping the folder onto the chair.

"Option B. You give me a name. Yours, or the one pulling the chunk out of your trick fees. You get a nice check up with our resident doctor, make sure none of your tricks gave you anything. Then you get put into probationary custody until we either find your family or the one selling you out. So you tell me how this is going to go, kid. Because either way, when you leave here tomorrow, you'll be on watch for strike two, and you can try to slip it all you like. I am sure I will enjoy the attempt at making it a challenge for me."

Edited 2012-10-08 08:06 (UTC)

Lindsey usually could manipulate his way out of things. Even if not, in the world he lived in, things would still be solved by turning his tail and spreading his legs. The man on the other side wasn't like that though, and that made Lindsey at a loss at what to do.

The man didn't belong in his world. What had he gotten himself in?

And the things he was saying were truly frightening Lindsey. Most of it went over his head, but he had heard of some of the terms and he knows it meant bad news. The confidence wilted away a bit as the younger man's vulnerability started to show through. He fidgeted slightly, shifting from foot to foot, and looked up with wide eyes at the man.

Maybe he'll stop if he fell for Lindsey's guilty boy act? He was very good at it, it usually got him pleased johns, enough that he'd give it a try here too. "But sir," he said even though only half of his fear was an act, "I'm sorry. Please, I know I've been a bad boy and need punishment, but don't... don't do that." Placing a hand over the bar, he naturally started rubbing it in a slow seductive manner.

"I'll do anything."

Benjamin scoffed slightly at the reaction. Whether it was an act or not, it was ridiculous. He was not that easy to manipulate or sway. And Lindsey was not the first to try, either.

"Cut the crap now, kid. You are not winning any favors with that. I might be inclined to believe you really are scared, and that's good. You should be. What you've been doing is illegal. But you have a bit of leeway. You're a kid. You don't have to be held responsible. All you have to do is tell me who is. You give me a name, you get to be free of all this soon as he's put away."

Not entirely true. They would still have to find out who the kid was and whether or not he had a family to get sent back to. Ben doubted any family that let this happen would give a shit about getting him back.

"Otherwise you get to try and go back to him with your face on the news." Also a lie, but he could pull it off if he thought it would do anything but get the kid potentially killed, definitely roughed up. No. They would not actually do that. But scare tactics always seemed to work better, and he could be very convincing.

Lindsey was scared, and he did stop with his act as soon as he saw it wasn't working. He honestly didn't know what else to do, and that last bit about his face being known to everyone? That actually got a genuine down to earth whimper from him. Lindsey didn't usually shake easily, but even he could see that was a career, possibly life, ending move.

"Don't," he said softly, hand dropping from the bar to hang uncomfortably by his side. "I don't want to be dead... don't put me on the news."

He really was so, so, so screwed.

"I don't have anywhere to go if he's put away." Not that he had anywhere to go if Holland got news that he was arrested either. Honestly, he suspected he had nowhere to go no matter what happened.

"Like I said. Probationary custody. You cooperate with me, then you will stay with me until this is sorted out." In actuality it was supposed to be a process. There were specific people assigned to watch kids like this one. Glorified babysitters who either looked down on or pitied their charges. Neither helped, in Ben's opinion. But then, his opinions and the precinct's rarely meshed.

But they would not fight him on it, if he spoke up to being the one in charge of the kid's safety.

"If you're too frightened to give me his name, you can give me yours, and that folder, with your picture and your identity, it will go away for good."

He let his arms slide loose and stepped forward, up to the cell.

"You don't want to be dead, that's good. We don't want you dead either. But we can't protect you if you don't help us. Got it?"

It didn't look like Lindsey had any choice on the matter. He either gave up Holland, which Lindsey doubted would actually do much good towards catching the man, or he gave himself up and be taken away from everything he knew to be thrown into a vast, strange unknown.

But, living with this guy, was that what this really was about? The guy just wanted him to himself?

Still, since he didn't have much of a choice, Lindsey sullenly agreed. "Lindsey," he whispered, "I'm Lindsey McDonald." He looked from the man to the folder on the chair as if he expected the item to disappear now that he gave the man what he wanted.

"You're going to let me out now, right?"

Ben picked the folder up, shifting the chair back to the wall as he did and laughed slightly.

"No. You still get to sit in there for another six hours while I go do paperwork and shred these files. Thanks to you, I've lost the biggest lead I've had in two months."

His words had a growl near the end, glancing narrowly at the kid. What was he thinking putting the kid in his own care? Well, possibly he was thinking it beat desk duty for all the filing and paper work they would be shoving down his throat the next few weeks. Cover blown by a damn kid. Figures.

"You sit tight, Lindsey, and maybe I'll let you get a burger on the way to your new place."

This was a good opportunity, really. If this kid was part of the group they'd been working at, it was still possible he could end up giving up the man behind it, whether intentionally or not. He could really use a break like that.

"Might as well get comfortable. I'll be back to get you in a few hours."

Lindsey instantly stiffened when the man got up and said he was going to leave him in there. "But you said!" he cried out, fear and anger mixing together to bring him up to the bars as if that would help him to get out.

He did flinch in a reflexive reaction at the other man's slight growl, but he stood his ground and looked out at the other guy with determination in his eyes.

"Let me out," he called, his voice automatically slipping back to vulnerable tenor that did so well with his clients. "It's cold in here... and uncomfortable." He looked briefly over his shoulder then back at the man with large wide eyes. "Let me sit beside you while you work. I'll be staying with you anyway, right?"

Yet when the man was turning to leave anyway, Lindsey cried out quickly, "Wait, don't go! I don't even know what I should call you yet." He flashed a weak hopeful smile.

"I think for now we can work with 'Officer Short'." Ben had glanced over his shoulder and offered Lindsey just a quick reply before he was gone from the cell, back to his desk out in the station to work on the paperwork and argue with his boss and half the precinct about his terrible ideas.

It was four hours later before he returned, keys in hand, as well as a tracking anklet resting open on his wrist. He clicked the cell unlocked with a simple twist and pushed it open, eyes on the young man in the cell.

"Alright, Lindsey. Time to go."

By then Lindsey was seated on the bench, legs curled up to his chest. He got up quickly when he saw Short's approach and eyed the man warily. He still didn't like anything about this, but as stated so clearly, he had no choice about this either.

After the man announced they were leaving, finally, Lindsey was halfway to the cell door when he saw the strange device that he man held in his hand.

"What's that?" he asked, lingering back distrusting of the technology and this troublesome cop.

"Call it insurance against you bolting on me the moment we leave the station. Now come here or I am coming in there, and I guarantee you will not enjoy that."

He picked the ankle bracelet up, the keys dropped back in his shirt pocket. This kid was going to be nothing but trouble. Ben knew that. But he was going to give the kid the opportunity to cooperate first.

Partly because he had to and partly because he did at least partially want to help the kid out. Even if he obviously was making bad decisions and clearly fucked up. He'd give him a few chances.

It wasn't a bad decision if it was choosing familiarity and consistency that he knew for a decade. He was well cared for and prized, and in exchange he had to only offer his body in acts that he enjoyed too... most of the time.

That wasn't part of the choice he was given though, not a safe unconditional one, such that what he was left was this cop and that strange thing the cop held.

"I can't go with you yet," Lindsey tried instead. "I have things I have to pick up.

"I don't remember giving you that option. Get over here. Now." There was grit to Ben's tone of a man who would not be argued with. His voice gravelly with years of exhaustion in a job that was about as rewarding as slamming the pointy end of a fork through your hand. He narrowed his eyes, waiting for the fight, and thumbed over the device in his hands.

"You go back, you could never come out, or be killed, and in either case you're my responsibility right now. Which means you do things my way. No 'Or' included."

Lindsey glared and sullenly took a step forward. The cell only had one exit, and that was through the door that the officer was parked outside of. With no other choice, he came through the door, but looked about as willing as the cop was with taking him in, probably a few times less.

"It's easy for you to say, it's not your life being ruined." Which was exactly how he viewed what was happening now. The cop was destroying everything he knew.

"I have things I can't leave behind. If I'm going somewhere, I need to go back for them," he insisted.

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Woke Up In Jail

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