People walking the wrong side of the law could be found almost anywhere in New York City if you just knew how to look. Near the tourist areas you would find pick pockets, vendors selling fake or hot merchandise, and even a few con men. In the alley ways you could often find drug dealers, black market vendors, and even the occasional mercenary for hire. It was all about having the right contacts and knowing the place to approach. For this particular deal Paul found himself in Queens, the neighborhood of Jamaica to be precise. Using the front of an actual cell phone dealer, these particular entrepreneurs specialized in cloned cell phones. With the easy availability and legality of burner cell phoned the cloned phone market had begun to shrink but there were occasions when a person needed something clones instead of just a disposable.

"Do you have them?" Paul asked bluntly as he walked up to the counter and approached the woman he knew as his contact. He had never bothered to learn her real name, accepting her handle of 'Dolly' as good enough. She had been surprised at his request to clone six phones to the same number using an actual cell phone account under his name as a base. Every request she'd ever had previous had been for someone that wanted to be able to avoid paying a bill never for someone that wanted the bill for all the phones to come to him but when he waved the wad of cash in her face she hadn't asked questions.

"You sure this is all you want?" She asked as she lifted a sealed box from behind the counter and set it down in front of him, "I've got some friends that have skills in other areas. You name it and we can probably make some sort of arrangement."

"I'll keep that in mind." His answer was short and to the point as he opened the box and examined the contents. On the top was his original phone which he turned on and then quickly pocketed. One after another he turned on the six spare phones to make sure they were working as well as programmed with the correct information. Christmas Weekend had shown him just how important a cellular phone but with his own personal issues to consider a unique solution had to be thought up. "If I need more made down the road, there's be no issue with that?"

"Anytime... just come by and we can work something out." Her answer was without hesitation and though Paul did not except he would need more for quite some time, it was good to know that it was always an option. After all, death and rebirth were not exactly predictable.

This one was supposed to be simple, and Quin was ready to put an easy win in the books. The MRC had traced a couple of mutant identity thieves back to this particular little phone shop in Queens. Usually, it would have been out of the Precinct’s jurisdiction, but since they’d done all the leg work, the boys in the local precincts had agreed to let them take this one down.

Quin was running point on this one, and she checked with the surveillance team to see how things were progressing. Ashton was working with them, and when word came down the wire that a sale was currently in progress, Quin gave the signal to go. Catching someone in the act was even better than just taking the place down on gathered evidence.

It was a small crew going in, no SWAT gear necessary. Just cops in vests with their guns drawn and ready.

Three through the front, three through the back to keep anyone back there under control, and anyone in the front from going out the back.

Quin went through the front, leveling her gun on the con’s patron. ”NYPD! Put your hands up and keep them where we can see them! Get down on the ground!”

The transaction was wrapping up and Paul was once again closing up his box when the door suddenly swung open and he heard those four little letters that he had hoped to avoid for a long, long time.

"NYPD!"

"Crap." Was muttered under his breath as he set the box down and slowly lifted his hands. The sales woman was cursing up a storm while demanding to see what warrant but she was also lifting her hands to show she wasn't a thread. From the back of the store Paul could hear small scuffles and more yelling as apparently another team made sure no one escaped through the rear exit. Behind him, Paul could hear orders being barked about getting down on the ground but he had no intention of complying. Instead he stared across the counter at the reflective glass of the display case behind 'Dolly'. It looks like there were three, two men and one woman, all with guns drawn. They were ready for trouble but at the same time Paul thought he could read just the slightest bit of relaxing in their muscles as they saw that neither he or 'Dolly' was armed. Perfect.

Paul began to slowly bend his knees, as though he were going to go down to the floor while he counted off seconds in his head. "1... 2... 3!" His knees had only flexed slightly, giving him the opportunity to spring and spin while sweeping the box off of the counter with his hands. One extended leg sent one of the male officers sprawling to the floor and then Paul was off, running with the box cradled like a football. His shoulder hit the woman but since he had been braced for the impact it barely slowed him down. In a matter of seconds he was outside and charging down the sidewalk. His runners physique and experience meant that if anyone would gives the cops a slip in this situation, he would be the one. At least he probably wouldn't get shot, even if he was caught. The police had all these rules and regulations they had to follow... he had none.

Quin was admittedly shocked when the perp with the box took out the officer on her left. Why couldn’t they just get on the ground and keep their hands in plain sight? The crap thing, was that the guy was obviously unarmed, so shooting would be a bad idea.

She hadn’t been ready for the impact, and when the guy shoulder checked her Quin stumbled and fell, using the momentum to shoulder roll and regain her feet. Then it was off to the races. The guy was fast, but Quin hoped she was faster, or at least had more stamina.

”NYPD!” she shouted as she ran. ”Stop. Running!”

If Paul hadn't been in the midst of fleeing from the police then he might have actually found the woman's shouted warning amusing. Did she really expect that to work? Once a person started running they weren't likely to stop just because the police told them to. But then, she was probably one of those police officers that had been beaten over the head with the rules and regs until she could actually quote them while sleeping.

Turning the corner, Paul had fallen into his normal long legged jogging pace that could eat up the ground deceptively fast. It was more than enough to out distance most cops, especially those that enjoyed curling donuts all the time, but a quick glance over his shoulder told him that this woman was an exception to the rule. Even with her vest and gun belt she had the form of an experienced runner. It figured that he would draw one of the few cops that could actually maintain a pace like this for any length of time.

Turning a corner into an alley, Paul skidded to a stop and hugged up against the wall. He didn't want to hurt the woman, in fact if his wish came true then she would run right past him without realizing it and he could make his escape. Unfortunately a person that was trained as a detective and wasn't completely exhausted and brain dead from running in a manner they weren't used to was not likely to fall for the trick but, "Here's hoping..."

Ha. Like she’d fall for the oldest trick in the book.

The guy could run, Quin had to admit, but he couldn’t run fast enough to outpace her. This was why she ran every day, work or no work. Sometimes they thought they could get away. She had to prove them wrong so they’d think twice the next time they wanted to run.

Quin followed the perp down the alleyway as he turned and stopped a fair distance away, gun still drawn. Just because she hadn’t seen a gun in the shop, didn’t mean he didn’t have one somewhere.

”One more time. Put your hands up and keep them where I can see them.”

The trick failed, just like Paul had expected that it would. He had hoped for better but he wasn't surprised by the actual result. Now he found himself standing in front of an overly cautious police woman who had her gun drawn and was obviously pissed off. For a moment he toyed with the idea of charging and trying to disarm the woman but that didn't seem like the best option... especially since she was already ticked.

"You're really cops? I thought you were some sort of gang disguised as cops or..." His voice trailed off as his yes focused on the gun that was pointed at his chest. Audibly gulping he dropped the box he was holding, cushioning its fall with his foot before lifting his hands up over his head. Perhaps he was selling the story with a few to many dramatics but it was the only place he saw. As it was he was probably going to end up being charged with resisting arrest or some such thing. Of course, when they found out he hadn't actually done anything illegal the DA would probably drop those charges as not worth prosecuting but there was no guarantee. Best to plead ignorance or just plain stupidity.

"What'd I do Officer? I feared for my life and fled the scene. Was there something else going on?"

He was starting to sound like a babbling idiot but that fit the situation just fine. He had to play as nice and innocent as possible to keep things from getting worse. And of course, when it came down to it, a high priced attorney would be great help once he got down to the precinct.

Yeah. The guy was still trying to play her. Quin kept her gun trained on the perp as he rambled about feeling like his life was in danger, and asking what he had done wrong.

”Turn around and assume the position.” Quin said, keeping things all business. With a guy like this, that was key. He was establishing the fact that he’d felt endangered by the raid, and making up excuses for why he’d ran. This wasn’t this guy’s first rodeo.

”Hands on the wall, legs spread.” the redhead said.

Playing dumb didn't seem to be working all that well but Paul had chosen to take this route and so he was going to stick with it. "Assume the position? What position? You mean the one you see on all those cop TV shows?" He was still babbling but he was also still in control. He knew what he was doing and he knew how he was making himself look. Whether this particular officer believed him or not didn't really matter, what did matter was that she had heard his story and would have to list that in her report which was exactly what he wanted.

Slowly turning so that his back was to the redhead, Paul placed his palms flat against the wall and leaned up against it with his legs spread about shoulder width. The semi-incriminating box was still sitting on the ground near his feet and while it would definitely raise a few questions Paul was pretty sure that it wasn't illegal. Of course, the way they changed laws all the time, there was no way to really be sure.

"Do you run a lot, officer? From what I saw you have great form. Ever think about entering a marathon?" OK, now he was starting to sound like something of a smart alec. Time to get quiet and at least maintain the idea of some intelligence. There were times that having the hormones and urges of an eighteen year old was a major pain. He was supposed to be older and more mature... how in the world did he let himself get in this situation?

Man what was this guy’s problem. He was already going to get pegged for resisting arrest and whatever he’d been doing in that shop. Standing out here and running his mouth was only going to get him in more trouble, and if he messed around for too long, other officers would arrive who weren’t as gentle as Quin was planning to be during the arrest.

Confident that the guy did indeed know what ‘assume the position’ meant, Quin waited for him to comply then slowly approached. She was by herself still, and holstering her gun was probably dangerous, but if the guy was a mutant it wouldn’t matter. Getting him cuffed was priority one.

More words, and Quin shook her head, starting up conversations was bad news. The way this guy was acting, and the way he’d reacted in the store set off warning bells for Quin. Engaging in banter wasn’t something that would benefit the force. ”Often enough to run you down.” ...but it made her feel a little better.

Within reaching distance, Quin stopped and started her pat-down, all her senses on high alert. Her powers were tingling, as they almost always were, but Quin didn’t feel anything that seemed to be a part of a firearm. Still. Protocol was protocol. ”Anything in your pockets that’s going to stick me?”

"Often enough to run you down."

Now that was just a low blow and it was worthy of only one reply. A slight snort of derision said it all. If Paul had actually done something wrong he would have kept running and tried to see just how much stamina this little lady actually had. With his years of experience and youthful energy Paul was willing to lay money on the fact that he could have run this woman into the ground and still been smiling as he ran off into the sunset. Yeah... actually that comment even deserved a second snort, which he supplied.

For a moment, the alley was pleasantly silent as the officer began her pat down but then she just had to break the silence. Paul was actually beginning to relax and get the chemical balance in his body back where it was supposed to but she just had to interrupt the process. Any thoughts of maintaining silence went out the window. His mind was screaming at him to just stay quiet but he couldn't help himself. It was just so easy. "Nothing to stick you unless you want to get stuck... maybe after the cuffs are on."

Mentally Paul was cursing at himself over and over. He sounded like a teenager and while technically that might be accurate it just didn't fit with his personality. He should have put this purchase off for a few more days so he could have spent more time in meditation and control exercises. At the moment Paul was wishing he had the ability to just melt down into the ground... at least then his embarrassment could be over!

Quin rolled her eyes at the comment. ”Yeah...as if it’s the first time I’ve heard that one. At least try to be an original pig.” she said as she continued the pat down.

That said, she finished the pat down, reciting Miranda Rights the whole time. Now he had the right to remain silent. Hopefully he’d exercise it, the redhead thought as she reached behind her back and pulled loose a set of plastic riot cuffs that absolutely sang in her fingers.

Around the perp’s wrists the cuffs went, and Quin tightened them without ever touching the things. Finally, at a touch the slides melted into the rest of the cuffs, making them a solid piece. It was kind of Quin’s specialty.

”Still feeling frisky?” she asked as she gripped him by an arm and turned him around.

”Take a seat.” she said while she reached for her radio.

”I need a wagon...” Quin requested through the radio, then rambled off the cross street.

"You started it Miss Poke In The Pocket." Paul snapped back without the slightest hesitation. What sort of answer had she been expecting? All she needed to do was ask if there was anything sharp in his pockets but noooo, she had decided to ask if anything was going to poke her. It was like she was asking for piggish comments. It was probably some sort of psychological issue. Maybe way down deep in her psyche she actually liked it when men acted and talked like idiots. Maybe she wasn't even really aware that she enjoyed that. Sure... that had to be it. At least it helped Paul feel a little bit better about himself.

"Still feeling frisky?"

"Are you?" He was on fire and actually felt proud of himself. Sure, he wasn't enjoying his right to remain silent but he was coming up with some decent zingers. When she told him to sit down Paul looked at the ground of the alley some what disdainfully and chose to simply crouch instead. If she felt like kicking his feet out from under him and forcing him to sit then she was free to do so but that wasn't his decision. She should be happy that he was cooperating... somewhat anyway.

"Do you know why you call those vehicles wagons?" It was time to provide the woman with some education though she probably wouldn't appreciate it the way that she should, "It's a shortened version of the term paddywagon. Paddy was derogatory slang for the Irish people who made up a large percentage of the police force in the early days. Because of this common ethnicity, vehicle driven by police came to be referred to as paddywagons." Take that little miss officer... maybe your arrestee isn't as stupid as you first thought.

Sheesh. The guy had a one-liner for everything.

”You wish.” she said with a grin at the most recent one.

The history lesson was interesting but unnecessary and when the perp finished, Quin chuckled and rolled her eyes.

”Mmhm. School the redheaded cop in the Irish history of police work.” she said, the deadpan obvious in her voice.

Man. He was even dumber than she’d thought, and ignoring his Miranda rights.

Where was that wagon?

Eyes falling to the box the guy had dropped, Quin moved forward, pulling on her gloves before bending to retrieve the package from the ground. ”Hope it was worth it.” she said.

Did the woman really think that just because a person had red hair they had to be Irish? Apparently she was less intelligent than he had thought. Deciding that now was probably a good time to exercise his rights, Paul fell silent.

Although Paul would have preferred the officer to miss seeing the box he had set down, he wasn't particularly worried about the discovery. In fact he even gave her a sly smile when she made the comment about it being worth it. Apparently she still hadn't realized that he wouldn't be doing any jail time. He would have to research the laws a little more carefully just to be sure but as he understood it, since he really wasn't doing anything illegal then he couldn't be charged for fleeing or trying to evade arrest. The only thing he would have to worry about was his foot sweep of the officer but a closer examination of what exactly 'Assault' was in the state of New York might just give him the loop hole he was looking for.

For the moment Paul leaned back against the wall and tried to relax as best he could with his hands fastened behind him. But as he sat there, and the adrenaline of the moment began to fade, a thought suddenly struck him. What if the police found out his connection to Lumen... that could put her in a very bad place. For a brief moment, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he ran over things in his head. As far as he knew there were no official records that would connect him to Lumen so as long as he didn't accidentally bump into her down at the precinct then things should be OK.

It took a few more minutes but eventually the police wagon pulled up next to the alley. Slowly rising back up to his feet, Paul stretched as best he could while he waited to be grabbed and escorted over to the vehicle. "It was nice meeting you officer... congratulations on getting such an awful criminal off of the streets."