West Dallas
West Dallas is a largely blighted area of poverty. Several geared-to-income housing projects are in the beginning stages of springing up along the streets in these neighborhoods. For the most part, the area is classified as 'industrial' and plays home to quite a few warehouses, bars and salvage yards.
Oddly enough, it is also home to the historic Belmont Hotel which rests on a beautifully landscaped bluff overlooking Oak Cliff.
This is not a good night.
That's all that the man can think of. He's not a man of any importance, really, but is in fact just a man, running at breakneck speed with a backpack on his back, tied on snug. Jeans, sneakers, hoodie. Just like so many hooligans. Only this hooligan is the one in the spotlight currently.
It's like a scene from cops. The liquor store had a silent alarm, so when he broke into the place he didn't even realize the cops were coming until he saw the flashing lights. And now he's running, darting out of the broken window with cash and bottles, trying to get away as fast as he can.
The first cops on scene will see the man fleeing the premises in just this manner.
James whistles lowly under his breath as he glances down and then looks over to his partner. He shifts the patrol car into park, all the while drawing out the driver's seat door and placing shoes onto the pavement in one fell swoop. "Ethan, check the store, radio in back-up," two orders the man calls out with a brief pause in step to look over his shoulder to his partner climbing out of the vehicle. The man croaks out in reply with a roughened, "Got it," before heading for the store's front entrance with firearm drawn.
Meanwhile, the werewolf of the two sprints forward after the fleeing suspect. He's built for this and he's quick on the man's tail, following after the man's wake.
The man, it seems, is lithe and quick in his own way - maybe he ran track in high school or something, or maybe he's high. Maybe both, maybe neither, but seeing that there's a cop on his tail, the man turns and darts down the next road, across a line of traffic. A Lexus swerves and skids to a stop in order to avoid an accident, and an accident is avoided. The suspect continues to flee, at this point ditching his backpack and throwing it haphazardly back toward the cop.
Meanwhile, at the site of the break-in, the other police officer will find nothing out of the ordinary. A broken window, some missing bottles, a register that has been forced open and is missing all of it's bills. At least he left the change. Obama was enough for some people, it seems.
Officer Young growls out a simple order of urging the other man to stop given his authority within the law, but that seems not to work all too much. Instead, he ends up glancing aside to oncoming traffic and then jumping forward in order to slide a thigh over the hood of the stopped Lexus. He's quick on his feet and soon enough dodging a backpack that is only given the slightest of attention. Still running, James radios it in as well as the progress made thus far.
Ethan mutters under his breath at the sight of a trashed convenience store but he at least calms up enough to holster his sidearm and catch hold of his partner's voice. The officer steps around the store in securing it while calling everything in. "I need that patrol in thirty seconds, Betty, thanks, yeah, on it," he then curses and moves to step out of the building in order to trail after his partner. "Why he can't wait for some damn back-up!"
Like hell is the man stopping now that he knows there's a cop up his ass. Maybe, just maybe he can still get away.
With that in mind, the suspect darts between a bar and a fast-food restaurant, knocking over metal trash cans behind him, which hit the ground with an ear-shattering resonance. He darts past a waitress off work, making out with her boyfriend - both whom look stunned, but also make no move to become involved.
The suspect, so close to being caught and so desperate to be free, makes another quick dart of a turn - switching directions and barreling down an alleyway at break-neck speed. It's a T-intersection, and he takes a left…but what is odd is that there's a sudden blur that crosses the path from right to left - another person running. What the hell?
James easily follows after the man, counting the strides taken. They're a half of a block into the chase and he grinds his gears further, speeding forward and decreasing the distance between the two of them. He easily lifts over a trash can and then another without breaking pace. Nothing is said to the couple at the rear of the restaurant, he's too busy hunting his prey. It's that animalistic side of him taking over, claiming his body, fueling it, and powering him forward and around the bend. His gaze flicks only briefly to the side in noting another, a different scent, but it lingers near to him and his jaw sets itself. He's just beyond arm's reach, if that much.
And that's all he needs to be.
The other blur, not nearly as fast as Young himself, but apparently who just had better luck and didn't have to flat-foot it as far, is suddenly throwing her weight - because at this close of a place, it's rather easy to see that this person is, in fact, a woman - against the suspect, tripping him up and rather, throwing his weight into Young in what is about to be a very large mess. The waitress left behind screams in surprise at the impending triple-collision.
As for the woman herself? Young may pick up on some things, like her thigh-length trench-coat, her flat dress shoes, and her perfume and the smell of…dog kennel? Very strange, that. And yet here she is, apparently intent on doing serious harm to this suspect. Perhaps an ex girlfriend? A good Samaritan? Or maybe an accomplice?
James narrows his gaze at the interruption and he takes a half-step back, awkward only long enough for him to shift his momentum to the side while swinging his arms forward in order to slip around and circle the pair. This isn't the first high-speed collision he's been a part of and in the process of moving around he reaches for his pistol and draws it free from his side. "Okay! What god damn part of 'freeze' do you not understand?" He's yelling, and cursing, and the cop has a gun drawn on the pair of them, still unsure what half - the female half - of the pair is beyond, indeed, a woman.
The woman lets out a yell, her voice somewhat scratchy when caught off-guard like that. All three of them go rolling to the ground, and the suspect ends up with his leg over top of the woman. But she doesn't seem to take that lying down.
While the suspect lets out a loud cry (something along the lines of "My arm!") the female suspect clambers on top of the man, almost oblivious to the cop's gun. As though it weren't a threat, like it would be silly or insane to consider a cop with a gun a threat. There's just a surprising level of comfort as she struggles to get atop of the man, even straddling him from behind while trying to pin him. "Stay still!" The woman orders, her voice tinted with some sort of Latino accent.
James inclines his head to the side and then holsters the gun before moving forward. He has aces up his sleeves in the form of his strength now being used to hold down the struggling man, pinning legs with ease of brute force and sweeping a hand to his side before retracting handcuffs and holding them aloft for the woman to claim. There's a difference between random saviors and people who know what they're doing; he follows instinct and intuition with this move.
"Thaaaaaannk you!" The woman says, rather…cheerfully, even as she seems out of breath. She doesn't need to use force to keep hm down - Young seems to be quite helpful with that, and so all she does is cuff him - which she also seems to do with ease. Sliding off him from her straddling pose, the black-haired latino woman grabs an arm and proceeds to try and haul the suspect up, pushing his face toward a wall while she tries to catch her breath.
"Got him?" She asks of the uniformed cop, making sure not to let go until she's sure he's got the suspect in hand. She is all professionalism, with a bit of an amused grin on her face. At last she'll look over at the cop, sweeping a bit of hair out of her eyes. "What did he do, anyway?"
James inhales at the passing over of handcuffs and he glances aside down the length of the alleyway and then down the other end before easing back into the fullness of his height. He shakes his head a bit and moves up to secure the handcuffed suspect, glancing over to the woman; "Yeah," he replies, "I've got him, thanks." He directs his attention back towards the handcuffed man and carefully, swiftly, pats him down for any weapons. "You better not be armed, making me run like that," he glances over once more, "Fleeing the scene of a crime, ditched whatever he took a street back," which is then followed by his reading of rights while pinning the other man there against the wall as sirens pick up in the distance.
"Fuck you!" The suspect retorts. He is, in fact, not armed - just some street nobody looking to score some money and booze for the night, it seems. He squirms against the cop's hands while they search him, but otherwise remains rather quiet, knowing himself to be in a great deal of trouble at this time, enough where that being a jackass isn't going to help him get out of it.
"He does have a set of legs on him," the latino woman admits, leaning a hand against the nearby wall and pausing to take a few more deep breaths. Being human has some drawbacks, after all. "I heard you call out to him while he was running, saw a quick way into the alley. I hope you don't mind."
"Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?" Growls out the man, only to be cursed at, which forces Officer Young to lift his shoulders into a brief shrug and lift his right hand and press it more firmly against the man's upper back. With the werewolf forcing the man against the wall until back-up arrives, or at least more than just a woman, he turns to face her with brows knitting questioningly. He breathes more openly but still he isn't tired just yet. "No, no, thanks. I mean, you are?" Not that he's inclined to introduce himself at the moment.
Seeing Young man-handle the man only seems to warrant an amused smirk from the woman as she stands back, crossing her arms and giving the whole situation an appraising eye. "Detective Penny Garnez," she explains, nodding to him. "I've only just transferred, which might be why we haven't met yet. I'm sorry, it just occurred to me that seeing a stranger chasing your suspect might be a little off-putting."
There has been some talk around the station of a new Detective transferring in. Rumor has it that whomever was coming was former DEA, did quite a few years under deep cover in which a lot of bad things may or may not have happened, according to the rumors. There's also been talk of rehab and a possible disciplinary action or two - if you believe all the rumors.
"James Young," replies James in turn before stepping away and dragging the handcuffed guy with him, all the more now that Ethan has come jogging quickly around the corner. James inclines his head towards his partner and releases the man in order for his partner to grab hold of him and begin taking the handcuffed man onward to the exit of the alleyway where patrol cars are pulling up. James turns his focus on the detective though, wincing somewhat. He gestures for the two of them to exit the area as well.
"I've had to handle worse, don't worry about it." He folds his arms over his chest in the process of speaking up and then glances skyward. "Welcome aboard, or some such," he pauses to speak up further and then leaves it at that, wryly smiling and holding out a hand to her.
Her own hand is soft - not much physical labor in recent months - but her shake is firm and professional, and perhaps a little firmer than that. Women in tough lines of work tend to try and be a little more masculine in order to prove that they can 'hack' it.
"Glad to be here, and glad I could be of help." She nods to Ethan, giving the suspect a little wave before she turns, following James out of the alleyway.
"Handled worse? Much worse? How bad should I be prepared for it to be?" She asks, beaming an odd, bright smile. When she frowns or pouts, she could almost be a seductress or some sort of steamy model. But her smile transforms her into the girl next door.
James offers a thoughtful sound from the depths of his throat before easing his shoulders into a simple shrug, thinly grinning, "Much worse, yeah. It's not a rough city, but it does have its rough neighborhoods, cliques, gangs, packs, just don't expect a simple walk in the park." He leaves it at that for now and offers a reassuring grin before stepping onward, pocketing his hands in the process and then coming to walk back onto the streets rather than the nooks and crannies of moments prior. The flashing lights are bright enough of a greeting for him. "Welcome aboard, detective."
"Oh I think I can handle the toughest thing you Texans can manage," the woman says with a sense of confidence, but not so overwhelming as to make her seem cocky. Well, maybe a little cocky, but not much. The lights cause her to lift a hand, shielding her eyes until they adjust to the flashes of bright amidst the darkness.
"Though if everyone's as fast as you, there won't be much for me to do. I don't think I have ever seen someone run so fast, that was crazy."
James lifts up a bit and inclines his head to glance sidelong towards Penny, chuckling soon after and moving his hands to his hips with a penultimate labored breath. He clears his throat and holds up a hand to signal to a nearby officer's approach. Not that he's a Texan, the British accent is good enough to point that out, but he doesn't mind; here's home. "No one injured, right?" He receives a nod and at that he looks back to the detective. "Years of practice, or maybe I'm just a step-above, but I'm sure we've got plenty work for you around here, detective. Trust me."
She chuckles, nodding and reaching up to pull her hair back - loose and bone straight and fluttering in the lightest of breezes. At least, until she pulls it up with a tie, letting out another sigh. "Well then I hope I get to work with you more, you seem to have a very good handle on the place." With her chin, she gestures to the police car, and the suspect. "But I'll let you get to all the fun paperwork you have in store tonight. I wouldn't wish to keep you."
James grins and turns to better face her rather than anywhere else, nodding once. "I hear they'll be rotating positions around in a week or so, might find me finally promoted to something above and beyond Sergeant," he pauses to cast his gaze downwards. He looks over to the patrol car, miming Detective Young in the back of his mind, "Paperwork, that's going to be -excellent-. Nice working with you though."
