[ IP ] Stained

The police grabbed me by my hands, and held them up to the light. As if that made me any more guilty. 
 
 `` And I'm telling you, I did n't do it!'' 
 
 `` Ya hands say otherwise, Miss. The same color as the graffiti coverin' the mayor's, uh, billboard.'' 
 
 Okay, maybe I was a little guilty. And maybe this cop was a little more handsy then he should have been. Still, he had n't checked my pockets yet. He had n't found my ace in the hole. He has n't found my trump card. He has n't -- 
 
 That's a mighty nice graffiti on the wall behind him. A giant bulldog, painted with vibrant purples and blues. A bit shoddy when it came to line work, so definitely not mine. But it was painted, and that's all I needed. I wonder who did it. 
 
 `` -- Rat, you listening?'' The cop says. I sigh. I've heard that three times this week. 
 
 I twist my arm, and pull away from the policeman's less than stellar grip. He's surprised at the rat's strength. As he fumbles for his weapon, I push him back with. Far enough that he's pushed back against the wall. I pull out my ace in the hole. My trump card. my -- 
 
 `` What are you going to do with a stupid paintbrush?'' The cop sneers. He must be new to the job. I give it a good twirl around in my fingers. It's enough to make the copper laugh. 
 
 The pupils of the bulldog behind him light up the dark alleyway we're in. The cop spins around, to see he's face to face with a living, breathing, graffiti. And the graffiti does n't seem too happy about being woken up. The bulldog's growl is louder than anything I've ever made before. I'm going to *really* need to find this artist soon. 
 
 I'd watch the cop become acquainted with his new friend, but I have places to be. 
 

