Sylas understood Bloom's intentions immediately and didn't say a word.
Mark, though, forever in the dark, tried to pull on her sleeve, telling her to stop. He was just a perfectly useful idiot for this sort of play that Sylas didn't even have to help out.
Bloom ripped her sleeve from Mark's fingers. "Don't try to stop me. Is the fucking government going to compensate me for my broken windshield? How about the fact we almost died three times on the way here? Now when I'm finally about to make it home you've got some shit to say?!"
The soldier stood there, undeterred. He had been well-trained, and a little yelling from a woman that felt half his height wasn't going to move him.
His gaze shifted toward Sylas who was in the back seat. Sylas met his gaze without a word and the soldier couldn't seem to read anything from his expression at all.
"You say Lone Star is your home? Alright, show me your license and registration please."
This seemed to throw Bloom into an even deeper rage.
"You just stopped me at a checkpoint because you felt like it and now you want me to ID myself? Is this even Terranova anymore? Or did my country become a dictatorship while I was asleep?! You need probable cause, don't you think, bozo?"
The soldier frowned.
He wasn't very familiar with these sorts of laws, he was a soldier, not a police officer.
It was impossible for Earth to have been perfectly peaceful in these last 200 years, so even they had to fight battles from time to time, though never against the large, empire-like nations. This was all to say that he was a fighter, not a lawyer.
But none of that mattered.
"We are under martial law, lady. Show me your driver's license and registration, or else I'll have to ask you to step out of the car."
"Fuck you! Arrest me, then! Martial law my ass, just another fancy word for I own you so do as I say. I bet it must make you feel so big and strong bullying a woman like me. How do you even sleep at night?"
Bloom's face twisted with disgust.
The soldier's patience was wearing thin when Mark finally couldn't hold it in anymore.
"Bloom, just show him the damned registration."
Mark was flustered, wondering why Bloom was making such a big deal about such things when they had already prepared them in advance.
He pulled at the glovebox and took out everything before passing it along.
Sylas inwardly frowned. 'Faking a license shouldn't be difficult for the Browns, but how could they have time to make a registration too?'
A registration should have the make and model of the car. They had just randomly picked this one up off the side of the road, so how could they make one in time?
Even if they waited until they came across the right make and model, what about the license plate?
Sylas didn't say a word as the soldier scrutinized the register.
"Look at this fucking idiot," Bloom muttered under her breath. "Do you need an hour to read two lines?"
The soldier took a breath to suppress his temper and passed the two documents back. There was, indeed, nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, just Bloom's actions alone were enough for him to feel like this.
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