"Ah… Excuse me?"
"Ah!"
The cop jumped in surprise, and Carter called on all of his strength to resist the urge to smirk. He hadn't resisted the desire to sneak up on the man, and oh boy had it paid off.
On the offside, though… well, no matter. Carter smiled, a little embarrassed, at the face of the man who had turned to look at him and let some worry bleed into his voice as the man's face took on a scowl. He was young, Carter noticed, not a year above 25, with short brown hair and a well-sculpted chin. The tone of his skin made Carter believe he was of Mediterranean descent somehow; perhaps Greek?
The man looked him over quickly, probably to compare his profile to the thief's — but Carter had, however hesitantly, prepared for such a situation. The pants he wore had been transformed into shorts by ripping half of their legs off with the aid of a piece of glass he had found, and his shirt had been discarded altogether. Both the walkie-talkie and the holo-transmitter were kept on the front pockets, which were now on the back since he had also worn his pants on the opposite end.
He noticed a flash of realization cross the cop's eyes the moment he gazed upon the collar around Carter's neck and repressed a frown.
"What is it, kid?" The man questioned, his tone harsh — but not aggressive. Which was good.
"I, ah, was wondering if you had anything I could cover myself with? My jacket was ruined yesterday… I'll, ah, meet you to work on whatever you want for a week! N-No, two weeks!"
Desperation bled into his voice at the ends, and he made sure to widen his eyes. Though as disheveled as he always was, Carter was pretty sure he could pull off the 'woe is me' cute kid look decently well.
The man only raised an eyebrow, however.
"That so? Huh… wait." He squinted. "Red eyes, brown hair..."
— Carter blushed, looking away to mask his genuine reaction.
As he'd guessed — they'd been instructed to specifically look for him. Fucking Grandfather.
"I-I know they look weird."
The man's lips twisted into a grin.
"Tell you what, kiddo. Come with me and I'll get you a jacket. I'm feeling particularly generous today… and I want this shift to fucking end already. Deal?"
He turned back to excitedly nod.
"Deal!"
And that was the story of how Carter got to get in a Police Car for the first time. He didn't get to ride it since apparently, the Captain was on his way there, but it was admittedly still a cool experience. A little odd to think, though, that the Captain himself was moving — Carter had assumed that The Rift was chosen as a location solely for how easy it would be to explain local Police presence, but perhaps there was more to it.
On the bright side — as had been promised, he did indeed get a jacket for his efforts. It was a few sizes too big, coloured navy with some highlights in bright green, and Carter found himself having to push back the sleeves a few times before it stuck. The warmth it provided would be welcome, and it was by far the nicest piece of clothing he had ever owned.
— Knock, knock.
Dull knockin' the door window, calm and polite, alerted Carter to another's presence — and then, it clicked open and a man stepped in, instantly taking the driver's seat while Carter was left in the backseat.
He was surprisingly short, though not as short as Carter himself — with white hair and a worn face denouncing advanced age and a pair of stern black eyes contrasting his pale complexion. He, like every other policeman he had met, wore body armor from neck to toe, but his was more decorated; spirals in gold and purple ran across its surface.
"— You're the Captain, right?"
He questioned the man, mouth running faster than his brain. Before he could properly feel horrified, the man nodded with a chuckle.
"Indeed."
How interesting, Carter noted — not a moment's hesitation.
His voice was deep but not as rich as that of the man whom he had heard talking to Grandfather. There was, however, a certain steel to it — an undertone of aggressive amusement — that had been absent from that man's voice.
The captain shut the door of the car and, with a snap, locked them both inside. Carter's eyes widened slightly, but he was careful not to make any sudden movements.
The Captain settled into the driver's seat.
"You, boy. What's your name?"
— Thus were the captain's words, but Carter noticed the corner of the man's lips twist slightly. It was hard to catch, since he was now staring at him from behind, but it hadn't been an illusion.
He knew precisely what his name was.
"I'm Carter," he settled for saying. His attempts at sounding scared succeeded, though perhaps for the incorrect reasons.
"Hm." A pause. "I am caller Captain Halt."
Really — By all accounts, he should be panicking. Here he was in enemy territory, so to speak, face-to-face with someone tasked with 'breaking' him. The man's posture was relaxed; his back was pressed comfortably on the leather seat with an arm draped over the shoulder of the shotgun seat. This told him a few things — namely, that the man's confidence in Carter's weakness was such that he felt comfortable turning his back to him without as much of a second's thought.
He wound belabor on that, though it was in his nature to delve into all that caught his eye, but it felt off. The notion of a 'relaxed crooked captain' might work in the novels he'd scavenged and read throughout the years or in the movies, some of the System-bearers saw now and then, but it wouldn't survive life in Morpheus.
… Only one conclusion remained — this was a test. And, he remarked with no small amount of begrudging respect, a surprisingly effective one. Were he not as paranoid, he wouldn't have caught on. As it was, however, Carter smiled.
"It is very nice to meet you, Captain Halt." He made sure to speak with as much clarity as he could. "What did you need me to do?"
Halt smiled. It was a grim sight.
"Oh, believe me," he enounced. "The pleasure is all mine."