Rev it Up

Rock Bottom

Bakugou always thought he would be on his bike when it got wrecked; not sitting in a diner over a black coffee, listening to some old guy talk to some other old guy about his old guy day. But there he was, halfway through his third cup of the night, trying to stay awake as he waited for a person he was sure had stood him up.
"I'm telling you, ska is gonna come back. It's inevitable."
"Yamada, you said that about dubstep last week. The kids stopped listening to it in twenty thirteen."
"What if I combined the two into a new genre. It's innovative."
"It's unholy."
As interesting at the conversation between the cockatoo looking guy and his greaseball friend was, Bakugou would never admit to that fact. Instead, he hunched over a newspaper he wasn't really reading and waited for the right time to leave.
He couldn't do it yet. He was supposed to meet this guy at midnight when he got off work, so he couldn't leave until at least half past. It was eleven and he was dying to go home and crawl into bed. Despite his appearance, dark and hunched with messy hair and angular eyes, he wasn't a night owl. He liked to be in bed by nine at the latest.
So when he heard that crash coming from the direction of the spot where he had parked his bike, he was already too tired to deal with this shit. He whipped his head around to see what had happened and nearly crushed the mug in his hand. He didn't see the car that had done it, but his bike was on the ground, wheel twisted and paint likely scratched. It was also a few parking spaces down from where it had originally been parked. Bakugou knew, even from a distance, that his precious motorcycle was in for some serious work.
He wanted to throw a fit, but he knew he had to stay calm. He took his phone from his pocket, unsure if his best option was to call the police or his insurance first.
Surely, at this hour, his insurance guy wasn't in. He could deal with that in the morning. The cops would be the first to know.
But, before Katsuki could dial the number, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"That was your bike, wasn't it?" The scraggly guy from before asked.
"How's it any of your business?" Bakugou retorted. He didn't need a lecture about parking in better spots when the place he had chosen was perfectly legal.
"I'm a cop. I can help you sort this out."
"Aw, Shōto, you're not even on duty." His friend whined from his booth.
"If you're a cop, prove it."
"Here's my badge. Do you want to file a report on this?" The black haired man showed Bakugou an authentic city police badge, confirming the story.
"I'll file a report. I didn't see who did it, though."
"Neither did we, I'm ashamed to say."
"Well, what am I supposed to do about it?"
"Just file with your insurance for now and we'll try to do our best in finding the culprit. It was most likely just a drunk driver, but we can't be too sure. Was there anybody who would want to bring harm to you or your bike?"
"Not that I know of. I'm not in a gang or anything if that's what you're implying."
"Anything that might help with the case is worth asking."
Right.
"If you don't mind, I'm going to need to call my dad to give me a ride home." This night had been long already, and it was about to get MUCH longer.