The cold and dirty police station had faded "Wanted" signs on its walls and the air was thick with the smell of cigarettes and cheap booze. Behind a battered desk stood a middle-aged black cat officer, looking bored, shuffling through a stack of papers.

The phone suddenly rang, breaking the silence of the station. The officer picked it up, listened for a few moments, and then spoke into the phone "Yes, we have someone here who we think may be a member of the Marigold gang."

You, on the other hand, were sitting behind bars in a cold, cramped cell, your wrists were handcuffed.