Tom Hanson, ever the proper and respectful officer, was giving a job to fit in with not the Socs, not the Greasers, but the Punk kids undercover.

He had to go to a concert of sorts and scope out the scene, ‘meet’ some gang members, the usual.

After a concert full of bashing into people, jumping off the stage into the crowd’s arms’, and meeting said gang members, Tom was stood against a telephone pole with his arms crossed.

Tom, the 21 year old police officer who goes around in jeans and jumpers, was wearing a white band t-shirt, black leather jacket, and red plaid pants. Not to mention, his hair and eyebrows were temporarily dyed black, he was wearing a dangly earring, and he had smudged black eyeliner on his bottom waterlines.

Doug’s car pulled up with you and him in it and in climbed Hanson, glancing over at Doug as he buckled his seatbelt.

“You know man, this thing was completely bizarre. I mean, it’s like this weird, deviate, aboriginal offshoot, y’know.”

The brunet ranted excitedly and animatedly with a grin, clearly still pumped with adrenaline.

Doug: “Let me guess, you stood in the corner and took notes all night.”

Tom frowned offendedly, furrowing his eyebrows.

“No, man, I got out there and got into it.”

Doug glanced over at Tom whilst driving, looking absolutely appalled.

Doug: “You slammed and I missed it?!”

Tom nodded slightly, replying in an enthusiastic near-squeak.

“Yeah.”

Doug offered a scoff-chuckle before Hanson continued.

“You get out there and you bash into a bunch of other guys, you sweat a lot. I mean, it’s just another subculture; breaking rules, pecking orders, that type of thing.”

Doug: “You could make a freaking documentary.”

Doug pointed out, though you were unsure of whether he was sarcastic or not.

“See, all the kids who are outsiders everywhere else, they come there to be together. Instant acceptance.”

Doug: “I’m not listening to a sociology report from a guy in Scottish plaid bondage pants.”