Disclaimer:
See part 1.
Author's notes:
My deep and heartfelt thanks to everybody who reviewed; this is what makes writing fanfic worthwhile (well, this and being able to fantasize about Goren taking Eames in his arms and... ahem. I digress. Back to the story) :)
~*~*~*~*~*~
Incalzando: to play in a pressing, chasing manner
The cars screech past each other; black skid marks blister the pavement as the engines growl. The black Ford speeds off down the road in a wheeze of dark smoke, and the police car darts after it in pursuit.
They are tearing after each other like mad cats, spitting and yowling and baring their teeth. They zoom down the streets, swerving around curves, crashing through garbage-infested alleys. The wail of the sirens fills the air above the roar of the rumbling engines.
The car suddenly goes into a wild tailspin and slides to a jarring stop, the tires squealing. The driver-the suspect-scrambles out of his car and leaps onto the pavement, stumbling to his feet and limping away. The driver of the first car, Officer Kendrick, relays a message through her radio: "Suspect is on foot, everybody move into position!"
But the suspect dodges the pursuing cars, diving into traffic amid blaring horns and shouted curses. The cars drop back and slow down into a standstill, some officers swearing while others calculate and strategize frantically. Sitting in the backseat of Officer Kendrick's car, Goren lunges at the door and shoves it open with a forceful kick, slamming it shut behind him as he follows the suspect; in a heartbeat, Eames is following after with her heart pounding in her mouth.
The suspect shakes off the traffic snarls and the crowded streets, darting down a narrow side street. Goren gains on him, growing closer and closer by the second, and the criminal fakes a sharp turn to the right before shooting off to the left. Goren doesn't miss a beat; he veers after the suspect and they both disappear behind a building.
Eames draws her gun as she approaches, her fingers clenching convulsively around the handle, and rounds the corner.
~*~*~*~*~*~
See part 1.
Author's notes:
My deep and heartfelt thanks to everybody who reviewed; this is what makes writing fanfic worthwhile (well, this and being able to fantasize about Goren taking Eames in his arms and... ahem. I digress. Back to the story) :)
~*~*~*~*~*~
Incalzando: to play in a pressing, chasing manner
The cars screech past each other; black skid marks blister the pavement as the engines growl. The black Ford speeds off down the road in a wheeze of dark smoke, and the police car darts after it in pursuit.
They are tearing after each other like mad cats, spitting and yowling and baring their teeth. They zoom down the streets, swerving around curves, crashing through garbage-infested alleys. The wail of the sirens fills the air above the roar of the rumbling engines.
The car suddenly goes into a wild tailspin and slides to a jarring stop, the tires squealing. The driver-the suspect-scrambles out of his car and leaps onto the pavement, stumbling to his feet and limping away. The driver of the first car, Officer Kendrick, relays a message through her radio: "Suspect is on foot, everybody move into position!"
But the suspect dodges the pursuing cars, diving into traffic amid blaring horns and shouted curses. The cars drop back and slow down into a standstill, some officers swearing while others calculate and strategize frantically. Sitting in the backseat of Officer Kendrick's car, Goren lunges at the door and shoves it open with a forceful kick, slamming it shut behind him as he follows the suspect; in a heartbeat, Eames is following after with her heart pounding in her mouth.
The suspect shakes off the traffic snarls and the crowded streets, darting down a narrow side street. Goren gains on him, growing closer and closer by the second, and the criminal fakes a sharp turn to the right before shooting off to the left. Goren doesn't miss a beat; he veers after the suspect and they both disappear behind a building.
Eames draws her gun as she approaches, her fingers clenching convulsively around the handle, and rounds the corner.
~*~*~*~*~*~