Semantics

I was surrounded by them. I avoided looking at their faces, but from the corner of my eye I could see how they talked to each other and laughed, how they checked and compared their guns, how they showed off their gold chains and rings, and how they raised the volume of their respective radios to the point where there was so much noise you couldn't hear anything.

Suddenly, a few of them lit their sirens and took off at full speed, as always. Our stoplight was still red, so the cars currently advancing along the cruise had to stop suddenly to avoid hitting the patrol cars—and to avoid getting arrested for obstruction of justice or something.

The other patrols advanced shortly after. Our stoplight was still red, but the patrols still lit their sirens, went down the cruise, turned off their sirens and sped full throttle.

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I parked at the mall's parking and checked my messages. The buyer who was going to see me there wanted my Jonathan Wild figurine. In the passenger seat I had several figurines from the "Hall of InFame" collection—better known as "Infamous"—that I was going to sell that day. These figurines, as their name implies, resemble various historical figures considered infamous, from Hitler or Stalin to Al Capone or "El Chapo" Guzmán.

I took the figurine. Jonathan Wild. He looked like someone from the history books, with his tricorn and white wig. Who was he and why was his figurine so expensive? Why did people buy these things? Well, selling them put food in my table, so who cares?

I got out of my car and went into the mall. It was still early, so I took a walk and, incidentally, looked for a store with cheap collectibles to sell, but I was not so lucky, nor were all the stores that were closed or going out of business.

Anyway, I went to the place I would meet the buyer and waited for him there.

There were hardly any people at the mall.

Well, at least it wasn't going to be hard to recognize the buyer.

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"Are you the 'Infamous' guy?" someone asked me 20 minutes late.

"Yes, it's me." I put my cell phone away and got up. He was staring at the figurine. "If you'd like to check it out," I handed it over to him, and he proceeded to carefully check each side of the box.

He wouldn't stop smiling.

"Wow, it's on mint condition, and I had been looking for it for a long time. Hey, do you have a store?"

"No, I only sell them on Facebook."

"Ah, ok, so what's your lowest price?" He said and pointed to the figurine.

"$ 1,200. We agreed on that price."

He looked uncertainly at the figurine.

And then he sighed.

"Ok, I guess, well ... Can I make you a deposit?"

I shrugged and handed him my account number.

"Great," he said. "Let me open my bank's app." He took out his cell phone, and I did the same with mine. I opened my bank app and waited for the transfer, but at that moment, someone approached us. Out of the corner of my eye, I could only see that he was wearing a navy blue uniform.

"Fuck," I thought.

"Do you have a vending permit?" asked the police officer.

"It's okay. We're leaving now," I said and turned toward the exit, but the officer placed his hand on my shoulder.

"Do you have a vending permit?" he repeated. "I have to take them both of you to the station."

"No, no, no, wait," I say. "We haven't made any sale, and we're leaving now."

But the officer would not take his hand off my shoulder.

"I'll take care of it." The buyer took a badge from his pocket and showed it to the officer.

"Fuck," I thought.

The officer nodded and left.

"And done," said the buyer, who was also a police officer. "But don't be mad at him; he does it to protect the businesses that remain here."

"Ah, but I thought they were closing because of the constant crime and the 'floor rights' quotas from the drug dealers. At least that's why business where I worked closed down," I said.

"Yeah, well." He typed something on his cell phone and then showed me the screen. "I already made the transfer."

I checked my cell phone and, indeed, I had received the money.

"Yes, I got it. Well, thanks," I said and turned around.

But he put his hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, before you go, could you send me a picture of your entire stock? Let's see if we can make more deals, and if you want I can send them to my colleagues; they also collect these things."

"Yeah, sure," I told him and left.

Back at home, I went to the shelves where I had all my "Infamous" for sale. At the beginning there were 10 that I had bought with a part of my savings. Now they were around 60.

I took out my cell phone and started taking photos.

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I was outside the police station. The buyer of that times, along with several of his coworkers, had commissioned me several figurines—Benedict Arnold, Judas, Marcus Junius Brutus, Robert Hanssen, Antonio López de Santa-Anna, among others—and, in order to close all these deals in a single round, they summoned me there.

"I'm here," I texted the buyer from that time.

"I have tons of work, so come on in," he replied. "Ask for officer Johnson."

So I went in. The only thing there was a desk, a receptionist looking at his phone, and a door.

"I'm looking for Officer Pérez," I told the receptionist. He just glanced at me.

"What's that?" He slightly raised his head towards the box where I put all the figurines I was going to sell.

"These are 'Infamous' figurines."

"Really?" The receptionist immediately got up from his desk and approached me. "Let's see."

I put the box on his desk, pulled out a random figurine, and handed it to him.

He inspected her with a smile on his face.

"They're pretty cool, right?" He told me, looked inside the box and began to take them all out.

"Well yes," I told him while putting back the figurines he had put aside.

"Well, it seems the officers will be very lucky today." He gave me back the last figurines, and I put them back in the box. Then I went to the door and went inside. There were a lot of officers, a few were going from one place to another, accompanying the people they may had just arrested; a few more were sitting at their respective desks writing reports or something on their respective computers; and everyone else was just chatting and wasting time.

Next to me were two officers talking. As soon as I arrived they fell silent and looked at me.

"Hey," I told them and put the box down, took my phone out of my pocket and looked up the conversation I'd had with the buyer from last time. "The officer… Johnson, is he here?"

"Yes, in the back." He pointed to a desk where there were many people.

I took my box and headed there. Everyone there fell silent when they saw me. The buyer from last time was sitting at the desk, and on it were a bunch of "Infamous" figurines.

I put the box in the only free space on the desk.

"What's up, which ones did you order from me?"

"Hey," he said, "do you remember that the other day you were committing ambulance?"

"What?"

"Yes, that's a very serious crime, so we are going to have to confiscate your merchandise." As soon as he said this, the other officers took me by the arms and shoulders.

"What the fuck?! That time you said there was no problem!"

"No," he slowly shook his head. He smirked, "I said I was gonna take care of it, and that's what I'm doing. This is my job."

"Son of the bitch! No wonder you have so many 'Infamous'! You're stealing them!"

"We're not stealing anything." That asshole approached me. He was still smirking. "This is evidence. We're just confiscating it." He pointed to the box while several of his companions were handing out my figurines. "Or prove me those 'Infamous' are yours."

"Ok, I'll do that. Just tell these fuckers to let me go and to leave my figurines alone."

The officers released me. But they did not stop handing out my figurines.

Well, I'd show those fuckers.

I took out my phone and opened the Messenger app; there were several conversations that I had had with the people whom I had bought most of those figurines.

I showed them to that motherfucker.

"Those are just Facebook conversation, not legal documents that prove any purchase, like a bill."

"I have bills," I said.

At that moment the officers finished distributing my figures and removed the box from the desk. In the midst of all the figures of that son of the cock was the Jonathan Wild who had sold him. I quickly walked over and took it.

"Hey, stop there. What are you doing?" The officer asked.

"Nothing, I'm just taking my figure. I have a bill—at home. Or prove me that it's yours," I told him.

"But you sold it to me. Look: here's the transfer," the officer desperately looked for something on his phone, and then put it in front of my face. He had his banking application open and it showed the transfer that he had made to me a few days ago.

"Yes, but that's just a bank transfer, not a legal document proving the purchase, like a bill or something. Also, if the figure's yours, do you have a way to prove it? No? Then it's mine. Excuse me." I turned around and headed for the exit.

But just before I reached the door, someone came up behind me and touched the back of my neck with something.

It was probably a gun.

I stopped and let the two officers in front of the door to come over and take the figure from my hands.

"Now I'm being mugged, and then what? Are they going to kidnap me?"

"This is not a robbery," said that fucking asshole. He was probably the one pointing the gun at me. "We are only arresting a criminal who wanted to take my figure. I have many witnesses who can and will testify." Then he threw me to the ground, put my hands on my back and handcuffed them. "And we're not kidnapping you, we're just arresting you. We're not criminals, we're police officers. This is our job." After saying this, he lifted me off the ground and, along several officers, dragged me to a cell. In front of me, two officers approached the main door and closed it slowly.