"Yeah, I get it." Brian had plenty of his own bagfuls to hide. He wore long sleeves now, because yesterday his tattoos were a scene of punk rock skulls and graffiti. This morning, they were a Japanese geisha scene, something out of a Hokusai print. They'd probably change in a couple hours to something else. His hair was gone because there was a white lock in the middle of the dark. It happened one day. These things got a person in a lot of trouble.

"You got some kind of ID? Something you can fake? If they ask for your license, you might get caught that way." 

It would be easy, [i]Says here you're a brunette, missy, and you sure look awfully tan in this here picture...[/i] A lot of the cops were getting tougher. Sheriff Luntz was in charge for now and keeping them reigned in, but there was an election coming up and a lot of people wanted someone that seemed more aggressive. A person that took drastic action to reassure people. It was bullshit, of course, but that didn't change the craving for something more forceful if only to reassure. 

Tim was starting to stir, of course, but he was still pretty out. Painkillers and something for sleep, he seemed groggy. Perhaps, due to the chemicals interacting with an altered physiology, he was hit particularly hard. Brian tried to nudge him awake, but didn't get very far.

"Might need some help out to the truck," he observed wryly. Meanwhile, outside, there was the sounds of car engines and movement out nearby. It coincided with the dawn. The authorities got the calls last night but waited until the morning to send patrol units out to check everything. It was eerily like "The Purge." Services resumed at sunrise...

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