False Identification

I've been handcuffed, and not in a fun and sexy kind of way. It could be, though, because these gentlemen are very hot. Too bad they're arresting me for Very Ambiguous Reasons.

"Hi," I blink up at them with my best I Am A Good Person face. "What the hell is happening?"

"You know what you did," The hotter one says, his very unfairly chiseled face twisted into a solemn expression.

"I very much do not, Mr. Stick Up My Butt" I say, even as they drag me towards a sleek black car. "I'm pretty sure you have to read me my rights...right?"

"Just get in the car" Hotter Guy says, opening the door and shoving me in. I open my mouth, and it snaps shut when he gets in after me. The car peals off, and I hit my head on the window. Ow.

"Can someone do up my seatbelt?" I ask, my cheek still smushed against the glass. Hotter Guy rolls his eyes, I think. I can't tell due to the smushed face.

"Can't you just go without?"

"Road safety is no joke," I complain, using my scant core strength and elbows to push myself upright. "I would do it myself, but I have these fun silver bracelets that are stopping me."

"Are we sure you picked up the right girl?" Hotter Guy asks, and the other one grunts from the front seat.

"Yeah"

"Fine," Hotter Guy grumbles, combing his dark hair away from his blue eyes as he leans over to undo my handcuffs. The second my hands are free, I fling my fist into his nose.

"OW!" We screech at the same time, for different reasons. I clutch my hand, which feels like it's broken, while blood leaks through the long fingers covering his nose. He glares at me, and I glare right back.

"Serves you right for kidnapping me," I sniff, "Now can you let me out before we go so far away I can't find my way back home? My friends will be wondering where I am."

"You have friends?" Hotter Guy mutters, dabbing at his nose with a tissue. I raise my other fist and he makes a concessional gesture.

"We just want the microchip back."

"The what now?"

"The...microchip?" Hotter Guy's eyebrows furrow together, "I'll beat it's location out of you if I have to?"

"That is the least intimidating thing anyone has ever said to me," I deadpan, "What microchip?"

"You know which one, Lauralie"

"My name is Claire"

Hotter Guy blinks at me, "..what?"

I dig around my pocket and pull out my drivers license, showing it to him.

"Look," I point at my name, "Claire Tillery."

"That must be fake. Or wrong" He peers at it from every available direction, until I snatch it back.

"That's not what the government says." I tuck the card away, "Not the government isn't fake or wrong, but that's a whole other can of worms. So, who's Lauralie?"

"So your name is not Lauralie Stevenson?"

"No,"

"Does the name Gavin Cooper mean anything to you?"

"Nope,"

"And you weren't born in Dover, England?"

"Does it sound like I was?"

"okay, okay, okay..." Micah rubs his eyes, his nose still bleeding, and I snicker a little inside, "Do you know anything about the Slivers? Or the Dags? How about the Libras?"

"I couldn't tell you what that even means." I try the door, but it's locked, "Can I go now?"

"Are you sure?" Micah's sweating bullets now, "What about-"

"Micah, you idiot!" Other Guy screams suddenly from the front seat, and I see his eyes looking at me from the mirror, "You grabbed the wrong one! She doesn't look like the picture at all!"

"Sorry, Simon, do you want to do the grabbing next time?" Micah hollers right back, "When I say, 'hey, look, that's her, look at her hair' and you say 'yeah, okay', you lose the right to yell at me! You confirmed it!"

"She doesn't even have an accent like she's supposed to!"

"And who's fault is that?"

"Hi, still here. Still technically kidnapped, because you don't look like cops," I say, breaking up their argument, "What's happening?"

"Are you sure your name is Claire?" Micah asks seriously. I pretend to think.

"I have been for about twenty years, yeah," I say, and Micah rifles around his pockets for his phone. On it is a detailed, colored sketch of someone who looks like me, but the nose is a little wonky and the eyes are a little weird. She's pretty, though.

"Is this you?" he asks, and I snicker.

"I wish, she's hot. What'd she do?"

Micah groans, pocketing his phone. "None of your business," he grumbles, and I send him a pleading look, one I know makes straight boys a little stupid. He sighs, blushing a little.

"She stole something from my boss," he mutters, and Simon throws something at him from the front seat.

"Stop that!" he turns to look at me, his eyes weirdly pleading, "Please don't tell anyone about this, we'll drop you off where we picked you up"

"Eyes on the road, bucko," I deadpan, "And only because you boys are pretty. But I won't forget this. If I see you again, I will tell the cops."

They shove me out of the car at the same intersection they picked me up and peal off with a squeal of tires. I watch them go, shaking my head in shock, before proceeding to my apartment. Inside, Georgia is waiting by her hulk of a computer.

"You look funny," she says immediately, and I smile slightly as I toss my coat onto the hanger.

"Someone came after me today," I tell her, stretching out my arms as my voice slips back to normal. "Stupid guys. Himbos, if you will."

"How many? Do we need to skip town?" Georgia asks warily, and I wave her off as I collapse on the couch.

"Nah, your fake ID worked like a charm, and like I said, they were stupid." I yawn, "How much left?"

"About forty gigs left to un-encrypt" Georgia muses, chewing on a toothpick, "Are you sure this'll work, Lauralie?"

"Positive. I'll be running this city before the day is out. Every gang in the palm of my hand. They'll never see it coming. "