@melsworldofmuses said: ❛❛ freeze! police! put your hands where i can see ‘em!
he should’ve been more careful. he had been assured that the alarms were disabled but he should’ve triple-checked them himself. but he didn’t and the moment he heard the door behind him swing open, he knew he had been caught. the safe in front of him is almost opened; he had felt the lock just about to give when he was interrupted. he stopped and glanced over his shoulders, seeing a cop behind him. fuck. he drops the lockpick and raises his hands up, eyes already scanning the room for an escape. there was a window to his left, a door behind him (though whether it was just a closet or if it led to an escape, he wasn’t sure), and the door behind the cop. he didn’t really have many options, it would seem. he’d have to see how things went.
his eyes go back to the cop, holding her gaze with his hands by his head. he had his gun in his waistband, if things escalated. he only hoped it wouldn’t. he was a criminal, a terrorist, but he didn’t want to be a murderer. he didn’t pull the trigger on anybody; anyone who died during a heist was a victim by association, whether it was from destruction or an explosion or caught in the crossfire with law enforcement. he wasn’t innocent, of course, but he didn’t want to watch someone die in front of him like that. he could justify a lot of the stuff he did, but nothing like that.
She had already been on edge tonight with the official ruling by her superiors that the homicide case she had been working on for months was determined to have gone cold, meaning that Kimberly had no choice but to step away from the case. It always hurt when that happened, but the detective took this one more personally than others because of a promise she made to the victim’s daughter, a little girl no older than ten years old - the same age she had been when her own mother was murdered.
She decided to go out for a long drive to clear her head, purging her racing thoughts from cycling through every single piece of evidence and clues and leads that they collected in the hopes of finding something they might have missed by focusing on the road, the darkening colors above and around as night began to fall. But during this drive, her police-issued radio suddenly sputtered followed by the voice of the police dispatcher informing all officers who were listening of a potential break-in and robbery happening currently - the location was one Kimberly recognized as she was not too far from there now.
She stepped on the gas and drove her 67′ Chevy Impala vehicle to the location, drawing her gun as soon as she stepped out from her car. In the back of her mind, she knew she should’ve waited for the back-up that signaled they were also on route, but Kimberly’s instincts told her that time was of the essence.
She entered the building, quietly and cautiously, and found what she was willing to bet was the perpetrator, but one could never be too careful even when apparently catching someone red handed. She kept a steady aim on her gun in one hand, a flashlight also trained on the man in the other; he appeared to be in his early to mid 20s, light brown hair, a stature of approximately 6′0″ - details she memorized in the event she needed to put out an APB in case he decided to run.
“If you have a weapon on your person, toss it aside,” she demanded, keeping her eyes sharply fixed on him. “Do it slowly - one wrong move and I won’t hesitate to shoot you.” To incapacitate, of course, she rarely aimed to kill unless it was to defend a life - her own or somebody else’s (but more somebody else’s for the most part). “What do you think you’re doing, hm?”
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