If I'd been in his spot, I would have just stood my ground, steadied my aim, and let loose with the whole clip in the hopes of bringing down an enemy that clearly outmatched me. Lawrence, however, seemed like he was hopped up on something, either drugs or adrenaline, and wasn't thinking, just reacting. Of course, he had not only hurt an officer but had just fired on one, so he was in for a world of hurt one way or another.
There was more sound from my radio, but I'd turned it down so much I couldn't understand the words. I could definitely understand the tone, which was not happy with me. I continued to ignore it as I ran after Lawrence, who again decided to shoot at me over his shoulder. Ironically, his aim while moving was slightly better than when he’d been standing still and aiming at a target stuck in a narrow space. The next two shots only narrowly missed me, and I swore I felt the breeze from one of them on my neck.
The one thing that bothered me was that he was headed straight for the next opening between the buildings, which would put him on the street. He was obviously already stressed and willing to fire wildly to try to kill or hurt me without any regard to what he was doing, which meant he probably wasn't too worried about other people. And I knew the area well enough to know that we were coming out into a pretty condensed area, and many people were going to be on the streets for their lunch.
I needed to get him under control before he decided even more lives were worth sacrificing for the chance of his freedom. Yet I didn't dare draw and fire my gun while he was running toward the mouth of the alley. My aim might have been great,but there was always the chance I would miss and hit someone who happened to be walking past. I couldn't use the taser either because I would just waste time trying to make sure it landed and trusting that it would bring him down while he was so hyped up.
That meant I had myself and whatever else I could think of, unless, of course, I wanted to let him go because I didn't want to risk civilians getting injured. It occurred to me that might be the reason they told me not to chase him. That or it was something else I was going to be told later when they inevitably chewed me out for 'not hearing' the order through the radio.
That all washed from my head as I looked around the alley and felt a grin forming. Never was I more thankful that someone in the city was climate aware and decided that metal was the way to go rather than plastic. I snatched the lid off a can, glad to find there was a heft to it. I wound it up, sent up a prayer to whoever might be listening that I could use some latent discus abilities, decided to aim low rather than high, and let it fly.
It sliced through the air, and I had only a moment to wonder if maybe I’d thrown it too hard before it slammed into the back of his knees. The only noise was when it hit the ground, but he yelped like a kicked dog as his knees betrayed him and collapsed, sending him sprawling face-first onto the ground with a cry of pain. Before he could do more than flail on the ground, I was on him.
I snatched his arms up behind his back, and he started yelling. “You broke my nose!"
"Happens when you fall and hit the ground," I told him with a grunt, pulling out my cuffs and slapping them over his wrists. "Don't worry, we'll get that looked at right before we take you to a cell."
"My legs, man, my legs!"
"Yeah, sure that stung."
"You broke 'em!"
"Probably not, hope not. But that's what happens when you attack two officers and then start firing wildly as you're heading toward a busy street. Sometimes your legs get taken out from under you."
"I didn't do shit, man. And you broke my legs."
"You did," I grunted, pulling him to his feet. "And I didn't."
Not that I could be sure since I was no medical expert, but it certainly looked like he was managing to get to his feet. Sure, he was a little wobbly and kept whimpering, but when I let him lean against the wall while I called it in, he was still standing. I wasn't surprised to hear a curt reply from the operator, but at least I'd managed to nab him without anyone else getting hurt in the process.
I watched, brow raised, as he slid down the wall to sit on the alley floor and snorted. “That's a little dramatic."
"Ya broke my legs," he whimpered.
"You were standing on them just fine," I pointed out. "You're just sore from the fall, don't get yourself worked up."
Which, of course, fell on deaf ears as he groaned and writhed on the ground. You’d have thought I’d taken a bat to his kneecaps from the way he was acting, when it was his face that looked rougher than anything else. Apparently, he hadn't caught himself all that well when he'd gone down, and there was a good chance his nose had been broken in the fall. I really hoped that wasn't the case because I knew I was already in trouble because of his stubbornness.
The first person on the scene was, amusingly enough, my partner. Kayden's face was, unsurprisingly, swollen and red, and he looked like he was having a hard time seeing as he walked down the alley toward us. He stopped a couple of yards away, glaring at the man still groaning on the ground and then up at me.
"Dispatch said to back off," he said wryly.
"Did they?" I asked in what I thought was a perfect facsimile of innocence. "I was a little busy running and getting shot at to hear."
At that, he straightened. “Damn. I heard the shots, but I hoped it was something else."
"Nope," I said, looking down at the gun that lay in the middle of the alley. "Took a few shots at me, it's a shame for him that his aim isn't the best."
"Uh, looks like he got awfully close."
"Nottooclose."
Kayden approached and grabbed hold of my shirt, and I felt the presence of skin against my shoulder before he pulled back. “Tooclose."
"Damn," I muttered. Bad enough that I’d disregarded orders, but I'd come incredibly close to getting injured in the process. "Skin?"
"I don't see any blood, but?—"
