Robot Rock... In The Ghetto?

[Obelisk]

There was a reason behind Alistair's dedication to getting his badge back. It might've seen like the smarter thing to just let the kid go and replace it. However, the badge wasn't just a shiny metal symbol of "authority." Inside was not only a tracking device but also information on the officer himself -- where he lived, his full name, the works. Granted, one would have to have the proper equipment to access said information, but it wasn't wise to take any chances. Besides, it wouldn't look too good for him to have lost his badge. He'd be mocked and berated. At least if he forked over his gun, Alistair could use the excuse that his injury had crippled him and allowed the "bad guy" to get his gun. Most criminals went after firearms as opposed to badges, anyway.

The decision was made and though Alistair was not amused in the least, he would have to deal with the situation he had bungled like an idiot. Fixing his sharp, frigid gaze onto the youth Alistair supplied a scowl before speaking.

"Alright kid, you have a deal." The cop upholstered his gun and took out all the bullets save one. Blue eyes flashed up to meet Isaac's and for a change the cop looked gravely serious. " But we're gonna have to make this convincing. You give me the badge and I give you the gun. Then you shoot me, you hear? But not in the face, cause, come on, it's already scarred to hell." If Isaac refused to do it then hell, Alistair would do it himself. The boarder wanted to play rough, to play hardball, and the cop, as sadistic as it was, wanted to see how far the kid could go.

Alistair waited for the boy to answer while grasping the gun by the barrel and holding it out towards Isaac. His ice-blue eyes did not leave Isaac's for an instant.

" Come on, I triple-dog-dare-ya." A quirk of the lips. Should the kid try to just take the gun and jet off he would find it impossible to wrench it out from the cyborg's grip. He would have to hand over the badge first, that much was evident.

[Rip]

He was surprised that his demand was met without a struggle. Usually these people tried to pull some spur of the moment psychology mumbo jumbo and empty threats that could only be fullfilled if he stayed in one place. Luckily for Isaac that was rarely the case, and they usually had no ground for their own rules other then 'do this or i'll arrest you'. Obviously, the idea of being arrested failed to make quite a few hearts quake in fear. Isaac noticed an increased amount of rebels and cocky idiots around these parts, so the jail system probably wasn't overly cruel like in some places.

He was also surprised at the 'condition'. Both eyebrows shot up, and his murky brown eyes opened wider. He had to do what? Looking concerned, perhaps suspecting a trick, he slid his hand into his pocket. His fingers bumped against the soft little body of the kitten, who purred quietly at the touch, before he grasped the badge and pulled it out, just to show he wasn't bullshitting. It didn't look like the cop was shitting around either. Isaac watched him empty the bullets and hold it by the barrel. When it was offered, he couldn't help but to look at it, suspicion obvious. It was never safe to trust anyone these days.

The gun might fire backwards- how the fuck that was possible he didn't know-, fucking explode, release some kind of toxic gas...

He blinked twice and cleared his throat. Stupid thoughts. "Fine."

The kid held out the badge and took the gun by the handle. Shooting someone was a big fucking deal. So what if the guy was an android and so what if he wasn't going to kill the dude? Isaac wasn't a calloused, anti-social creep who went around unwraveling slugs into random people. He wasn't a violent person.

But fuck, a gun was useful and he was going to take it.

He didn't wait for Robocop to let go of the barrel before holding onto the handle and fireing. Not like getting a hole in the hand would kill you.

[Obelisk]

Alistair watched Isaac with a trained eye, searching his face for any and every emotion. The kid was hesitant but who could blame him? It wasn't often that a cop handed you his gun and told you to shoot him. It certainly wasn't protocol or standard in the least, but Alistair was never the most predictable (or sane) cop on the block. Isaac was fortunate that none of his worries rang true. The gun the cop offered was simply that, a gun -- a weapon meant to send a projectile screaming out its barrel.

There was a sliver of surprise that sparked within the agent's eyes when the shot rang through the streets. The blast had loosened his iron grip and Alistair's hand fell from the barrel of the gun. He brought the wounded appendage up towards his face for examination. Flipping his hand several times Alistair pursed his lips at the gaping hole in the middle of his palm then whistled lowly. The bullet had passed through his hand and lodged itself into his forearm. It left his hand twitching, which, for some fucked up reason, Alistair found mildly amusing.

The cop grabbed his badge with his working, mechanical hand and replaced it in his pocket. Alistair gave one of those hate-inspiring cocky grins of his and quirked a brow at the boy.

" I didn't think you'd have the balls. You proved me wrong, kid. Congrats." His grin faded into a smirk and Alistair waved -- making sure to use the hand that now had a hole in it-- before turning on his heel. " A deal's a deal, you're free to go." With that the man stalked down the streets. His destination? The precinct so he could have his wounds patched up. It was a reasonable distance away, which meant Alistair would have plenty of time to fabricate a story about his missing gun and wounds. He'd be sure to make it -real- interesting.