A Feature Presentation

A Feature Presentation 5: Cops

The driving continued.
It'd been hours.
But, it would appear that the two had become better friends.
Every now and then, a bit of conversation would rise and then would be over.
Quick, easy ending conversations. It was never a time where someone would talk over another or go "Wait- but-" 
There wasn't much to talk about.
It all seemed perfect, really.

Gibson suddenly groaned. Indigo sunk in his seat. "Not again.."
Another siren.
Gibson adjusted the mirror and saw that there were four cop cars, and two a few hundred feet back. "Shit.. I can't go to jail here. They'd put me in some god-awful cell and put you in a normal one.. I'm not human! Shit, who knows what would happen!"
Indigo shook. "I- I- I can't go to jail!"
Gibson tried to laugh it off. "We'll be fine, just throw something out the-"

The brakes screeched and they stopped.
Eight cop cars in front of them, road spikes and all.
Gibson left his hands on the wheel, defeated. 
"Oh shit."

A cop ran over with a gun and knocked on their window. "Open up!" He looked at Gibson in shock and pointed a gun at him. "DON'T MOVE! SIR, COME OVER HERE!"
Gibson rolled his eyes and looked at Indigo. "Fuh-king WONDERFUL." He put his hands up, as did Indigo.
The cop and his boss walked over. "Roll down your window! Keep your hands up!"
Gibson was pissed. "I can't do both! I'm not magic, fuckers! NO STRINGS HERE!"
They understood immediately what he was saying through the window. "Roll your windows down, and then put your hands back up."
Both Indigo and Gibson complied, Indigo physically shaking in fear.
The boss didn't know how to explain, as he didn't even know what entity or being he was talking to. "Now I couldn't care less what crime they called us for, you're definitely worth investigating. You both are coming with us."
Indigo let out a sigh of slight relief. "At least we're not going to prison."
Gibson glared. "We ARE going to prison, dumbass."

The cop pushed Indigo to the back, handcuffed. He moved Gibson to the passengers seat, handcuffed as well. Then, he began to drive to prison, following in the middle of all the cop cars. 

Once they arrived, the car was parked and all belongings were taken off their person.
Gibson and Indigo were sat down in a room as the cops left for a minute.
Gibson sighed. "We need to get out, no funny business. It's not the fact of where, it's WHEN."
Indigo tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"This channel's gonna be static in no time and I don't want anything to do with it."

Indigo remembered and his eyes widened.
Gibson cleared his throat. "Now I don't have much time to say this, but right now you're in charge of getting us out. I'll try my best, but I'm sure they'll secure me with every tool they own. It's up to you, Indigo. This isn't a game anymore."
Indigo didn't like the pressure of both their lives put on him. He was about to speak, before he was dragged away. His last sight in that room was of Gibson pointing at his ass. 
Hilarious.

He was thrown into a small room with very little light. Ah, a cell. Wonderful. Indigo watched as the door was closed and he sat down in shock. This was all happening so fast.. It hadn't even been a full day and yet all this stuff that barely seemed believable when explained had happened. Why him? Why'd this have to happen? Why on a Wednesday? Ah, that made him sad. Remembering the past hours was hard to stomach, he'd actually had some fun during this. It was some of the first real adventure he'd ever had in his small world. Before that it was all the same.. Just wake up, go do whatever it is you do, sleep. Wake up, go do whatever it is you do, sleep. Wake up, go do whatever it is you do, hate life and go to sleep.
What was the point of trying to enjoy life when it was just a non-stop cycle of the exact same day?
From the past eighteen hours, Indigo had experienced more than he'd done for the other years of his life!
Why'd it have to end here?
Well, it didn't if Indigo got off his ass and did something.
Speaking of which, something was in his back pocket..
Probably some citation or something.
He pulled it out. A box cutter?

It took Indigo a few minutes to realize that Gibson must've put it in his pocket. That's why he was pointing- 
Suddenly Indigo felt more fixed on at least trying to get out of here. It really couldn't get much worse, the world was supposedly going to end soon anyways.
Indigo jabbed the box cutter into the ceiling.
Showtime.