"Stiles, I don't know about this. We've got yearbook photos tomorrow and-"
"Scott, I swear this time. A call over the radio said they have a 10-64. That means a robbery in progress!" Stiles cut him off while speeding onto the highway, finally seeing his target.
"That's not supernatural though," Scott reasoned from the passenger seat as the jeep pulled up behind the white van, "and it's not exactly good for this robber to know that I'm a werewolf."
"Just do your thing, big guy," Stiles told him as they pulled around and in front of the van, "I'll be just ahead."
Stiles pulled his eyes away from the road to watch Scott jump out of the passenger side of the jeep, hearing the petrified screams of "demon!" behind him from the driver; he couldn't help but chuckle just a little bit from the criminal's panicked scream. That was short lived, however, when the van hit the back of the jeep and Stiles had to grip tightly to the wheel in order not to crash despite slamming on the brake as soon as the jeep hit the dirt.
When the car stopped with an intense lurch, he felt two of the fingers in his left hand snap around the wheel followed by the immediate intense pain radiating up his arm from his hand.
"Ow ow ow ow ow-"
"Are you okay?" Scott asked as he opened the door to the jeep, but Stiles couldn't help but be more concerned about the fact that Scott was covered in dirt and despite the searing pain in his hand and now his arm, he had to ask the same question, "Yeah, just got thrown off the van. The cops pulled him over and there are EMTs. Your hand does not look good at all."
Sure enough, Stiles looked down at the red, rapidly bruising and slightly bent digits on the end of his hand before looking back up and seeing that his dad was just now getting there to deal with the situation that had been thoroughly escalated by the two of them.
'Just perfect.'