05-01-2014, 07:58 AM
No matter how hard he pushed the gas in his sedan the car wouldn't go fast enough for his liking. He drove with one hand and kept the other on his radio. Police code and jargon bounces back and forth between the crackle and pop of dead air. It didn't matter how many guns were trained on Kingsmith, Cutter's just added another ounce of intent to the entire capture.
He's itchy while waiting for the man to take himself out of the blast radius of whatever bomb he might have rigged to himself or the car and it's Cutter that pushes his way through the line of dark blue uniforms, each man and woman angry but none as frustrated as Rex Cutter.
The gun is holstered and handcuffs are slipped from the back waist of his pants and he's none to gentle in flipping the man around and over to slip the silver bracelets on his wrists.
Oh dear friends, you know who you are... You know what happens if this goes forward!
"Shut the fuck up." He rumbles at Kragen, his lips reciting the memorised Miranda rights due to every suspect in these United States of America.
Somewhere in Denver a pretty blond haired woman is watching the chase between the bombing suspect, half the DPD and one homicide detective. In the middle of folding laundry she is frozen by the images flashing on the television and it doesn't matter that the man in the hat's face is obscured by shadow and bill, she knows without a doubt that that is her husband.
He's itchy while waiting for the man to take himself out of the blast radius of whatever bomb he might have rigged to himself or the car and it's Cutter that pushes his way through the line of dark blue uniforms, each man and woman angry but none as frustrated as Rex Cutter.
The gun is holstered and handcuffs are slipped from the back waist of his pants and he's none to gentle in flipping the man around and over to slip the silver bracelets on his wrists.
Oh dear friends, you know who you are... You know what happens if this goes forward!
"Shut the fuck up." He rumbles at Kragen, his lips reciting the memorised Miranda rights due to every suspect in these United States of America.
Somewhere in Denver a pretty blond haired woman is watching the chase between the bombing suspect, half the DPD and one homicide detective. In the middle of folding laundry she is frozen by the images flashing on the television and it doesn't matter that the man in the hat's face is obscured by shadow and bill, she knows without a doubt that that is her husband.