Locker and Garage
5:55 PM, 8/15/06: Headquarters, Times Square
For the first time since his recruitment to the service, Marcus could look upon his uniform with a smile. It looked far better on a hangar, left to be forgotten in his locker than on his person any day.
His new outfit consisted of baggy jeans, a white hoodie, sneakers and a leather jacket, its back marked with a vicious looking red symbol. Street gear never felt more comfortable. His once clean cut hair was also now adorned with six thick cornrows, grown quickly for the interest of time.
Marcus ran a hand around his head, appreciating the wonders of his Insta-Hair tonic. He gave the locker door an enthusiastic slam and crossed over to the window of the impound garage attendant.
"Reed."
Antoine looked in his late thirties and spoke in a voice that was gravelly and thick. His hair was slicked back in that cheesy Italian fashion, though the man never really played the part.
Marcus placed his pistol in his concealed chest harness and his radio in his left pocket. He gave the attendant an acknowledging nod of the head.
"Sup Ant'. I need an unmarked today."
The attendant started punching in the numbers into his keyboard, then raised Marcus an eyebrow when the request finally sunk in.
"Doing some undercover work?" he asked.
"Full-time." Marcus said with a grin.
Antoine smiled back. "Well hell Reed, congratulations! Or should I say, Detective Reed?"
"Almost man, almost." Marcus replied as Antoine finished punching in the numbers. "Still gotta prove myself; out in the streets."
With the tap of the enter key, Antoine looked back up to the officer. "I don't know what old Navarro thinks you still have left to prove; you're better than any one of us!"
The sudden report of tire on asphalt down the hall announced that the car was ready in the lot.
"Well, hey, you'll do fine. Nothing to worry about."
Marcus gave him a salute as he made his way down the single corridor and through its double doors. Inside of the underground lot, his black unmarked sat parked and ready before him.
"Service."
He let himself in, adjusted the rear view, buckled his seatbelt, changed the clip in his .38 and accelerated up the ramp leading into Times Square.
