"Calm down please. She is being detained for the moment because she looks like a criminal we're looking for. I am not saying that she is. But the only way to tell for sure is to get a finger print scan and find out. We don't have the ability to check that here though, so we have to take her in to the jail, and get it done there. She is not in any danger and we might be able to get her out tomorrow or even tonight, provided that she isn't who we are looking for. Even if she is the criminal we are looking for we may be able to find her a bond company that will bond her out so that she's back here again," Keith explained calmly. He didn't seem to worried about the man's size or threatening manner. "I just came to ask if any of you had contact info for any family she has and if so, to contact that family and let them know where she is. I would also like to request some way to contact you or someone else in case we have to call and let you know where she is."
Johnson studied the man for a few moments, unfazed by the onion that had hit him on the head, before he called over his shoulder in a booming voice. "Which one o' you fucks has Eloise's contact information!"
"Kevin?"
"Nah man, lady don't like me much. Maria?"
"Yeah, I do." A woman with dark skin and even darker eyes moved Johnson aside easily, pulling out a communications device. "You need the number, or just want someone to let her know what's going on? Oh, dear. Tim, you might want to let the S.Cs know what's going on. They'll be hopeless without her, unless Gage knows to take over for a day or so." She waited until Johnson had nodded before looking at Keith, not bothering to explain what S.C meant.
"I do not require her info, if you just want to let her know for us she would probably like that more," Keith shook his head to the offer. "If you could do that for us that would be nice and hopefully we'll have her back out in no time."
"Yeah, hopefully." Johnson grumbled, earning him a slap on the shoulder from Maria, who smiled politely at Keith.
"We hope so. She's kind of family around here, you know?" Maria shook her head, a few pieces of dark hair falling from the bun it was in. "Helped all of us out of dark places. Try and keep her from getting herself in trouble?"
"Will do ma'am, we'll see ya round," he gave a slight wave and turned away walking back to his patrol car and getting in it. "Well I will say that you have some nice family here," he glanced back at Morrigan.
Morrigan looked up from her cuffs, which were back in front of her, sprawled over the hard backseat of the squad car. And an actual, soft and warm smile flickered onto her face, as she looked back at the restaurant. "They gave me a place t' stay, when home carried too many memories." She said, shaking her head and resuming fiddling with the cuffs, though it was obvious she wasn't trying to get them off. Just fiddling. "Got me back on my feet, an' I repayed the favor best I could."
"Listen, I want to help but the best I can do is recommend you for getting a bond and getting bailed out," Keith explained, as he started his rig and began driving through the city. "But I can't promise that anyone will take you."
"Don' matter. I already know no one will." Morrigan said, watching the restaurant until it was out of view, before looking down at her cuffs. "Everyone'll be fine withou' me. I'll serve my sentence. Maybe."
"And maybe you can continue helping your farmer family instead of stealing," Keith glanced in his mirror at her again. The next thing both of them knew Keith cursed, swerved and soon both of them were upside down, and fire could be heard crackling. Keith was out cold against the steering wheel.
Morrigan's shook her head as her eyes refocused, glancing around the car quickly to take in the damage. With a single yank, the chain of the cuffs was split, and she was pulling herself off the floor-no, the roof, of the vehicle, wincing slightly at the pain of a cut under her eye. Fire. Shit, shit shit shit. While she could control flames, and make her own, she wasn't impervious to fire not of her making. Just able to stand it a bit more. But she knew the officer couldn't, and despite hating his guts, she had a hero streak somewhere in that criminal exterior she put out. "Wake up, dammit." She grit out, not even realizing she was speaking in an entirely different language as she used her arm to bash the bullet proof glass divider in. The crash had weakened it, making it somewhat easier, even with her disorientation.
Keith shifted hearing the glass break, and realizing what was going on. "Fucking hell, god dammit, son-of-a-bitch," he spat half in pain and half in frustration. He was stuck where he was because he had a seat belt, and it looked like some piece of metal had pinned his arm. "Scarlet! Are you alright?"
"Right as rain." Morrigan quipped, clearing away the glass from the divider before pulling herself halfway through. "How many fingers am I holdin' up?" None, in fact. Nothing but a knife, which she was now using to cut away his seatbelt.
Keith didn't respond to her, but hissed in pain when pressure was put on his arm. His seatbelt was gone but his arm was still pinned in the metal. He looked at the fire and then at Morrigan. "Get, you're not going to be able to get me out in time, you have to get out."
"As fuckin' if." Morrigan grit out, pausing to roll the sleeves of her hoodie up and get them out of the way. She pulled herself the rest of the way into the front seat, kicking at the passenger side door to try and loosen it. "I don' like ya, but I don' leave people t' die." Not again.
"Scarlet, stop moving," Keith was looking through the cracked windshield. He was looking at something but he wasn't sure what, though he could tell that good.
"Why?" Morrigan was very quickly losing whatever calm she had managed, and was more focused on getting out and keeping from bursting into flames than anything. If she did, he'd be dead for sure.
Keith used his free arm to grab her arm. He was still looking out the cracked windshield. "Stop moving. And calm down," he said. "There is someone outside the car I and they are not friendly."
"Don' ever tell me t' calm down. It does the exact damn opposite." Morrigan muttered, yanking her arm from his grasp. Her skin was hot, abnormally so, and she knew that if he touched her for too long it would burn him. "Wha' can ya tell me abou' 'em from here."
"There are more than one, they are all excited, and it seems like they have surrounded the car," he seemed to be listening to them, yet hearing anything over the fire was near impossible. "They have guns."
She closed her eyes for a brief moment, quelling the fire inside her to run through a few half assed plans and ideas. Carefully, she slipped one hand into her open hoodie, pulling out the handgun she'd tossed to the ground just earlier. "Fuckin' a."
Keith looked at her for a moment, half out of shock and half out of annoyance. Then he shook his head and began trying to pull his arm out again. "Wanna tell me what you planned to do with that when we got to the jail?"
"The gun was a gift. I wa'n't jus' gonna let ya shove it in some evidence locker or somethin'." Morrigan said, as though it was obvious. And really, that was true. She didn't use it without reason, and getting out of a jail wasn't a very good reason, at least to her. Shifting the gun to her flesh hand, she used the metal one to carefully help free his arm.
It suddenly pulled free and Keith fell to the ground, or at the moment the roof, of the vehicle. He moved his arm around a little bit and pulled out his gun. "Let's try not to kill anyone, but I would like if we can take control of this situation," he grunted. "I can hear other sirens so we won't be alone for much longer." He kicked the windshield, and it crack some more. Then he looked at Morrigan. "You cross me and I will shoot you, ready?"
"Y'really think you're gettin' outta here without killin' anyone?" Morrigan asked, looking half amused and half disbelieving. Try not to kill anyone. That had to be a joke, right, when they were surrounded by gun-wielding strangers? Shaking her head, the corner of her mouth turned up in a wicked half grin. "Lead the way, copper."
"I said try, not don't," Keith looked at Morrigan. "Let's go!" He kicked the windshield again, and it shattered. Instantly, he rolled out with his gun drawn, hammering out orders loud enough the whole street probably heard him.
Morrigan was out of the wreckage and on her feet in a matter of seconds, already firing off a shot in answer to the one that had been fired at her as she stood, hitting the assailant in the leg. Everything ached, and the stinging pain under her eye only grew with the sudden movement, but she shoved that away for the time being.
"Hey, hey hey," someone called to them. "Everyone just calm down! Seriously you're gonna have a gun fight in the middle of the street?"
"We will if you attack us," Keith shouted.
"I didn't want my guys to attack you, but I will have them do that if your little girl friend shoots again," the voice continued.
"You shot first," Keith pointed out. He glanced at Morrigan through the corner of his eye.
"You shoot, I shoot. Easy." Morrigan said, leveling a slightly-crazed looking grin on the man speaking. Her smile tended to have two uses. Armor, or a weapon. And it was currently the latter. "Now, wha' the fuck d'ya think you're doin', turnin' over cars in the middle o' the street?"
"Just getting your attention," the person replied. "See, I have a problem, with you. And not just the little she devil criminal, no I have a problem with both of you. And I just needed to get your attention, because I am sick and tired of being ignored by people who think they're better than everyone else."
Keith looked at the man in confusion. "Okay, I'd like to have you explain for us in small easy to understand words, so you know what you're saying, how and when either of us considered ourselves above anyone else. Because, have you ever considered yourself better then other people?" He looked at Morrigan.
"Actually, I got cripplingly low self-esteem." Morrigan said, no trace of a joke anywhere on her face, despite the sharp smile. "So I guess it all depends on whether ya think you're someone other people'd think they're better than or not." Sure, passive-aggressive comments that may or may not be insulting weren't the best idea when, you know, staring death in the face, but he'd called her little.
