If there was one thing Gilbert didn't understand about criminals, it was why they'd risk breaking into banks in the middle of the night.
As midnight approached on the warm early August evening, they were in heavy pursuit of a group who had broken into a local credit union, cracked open the vault and taken the cash. Their van was now racing down the streets, flanked by two motorcyclists who both had their blonde hair hanging out the back of their helmets. The police were following closely, with Gilbert driving the car while Lars paged orders on the radio.
As they pulled through another intersection, Gilbert spotted another police car about to turn left onto 12th Street and join them.
"Bielschmidt, Honda, follow us closely," Lars paged to the other car, "Be ready to follow them if either of our motorcyclists split off."
"Roger that, Lieutenant," Ludwig replied from the other vehicle.
"Sergeant Maes reporting in, we're still several blocks away," Bella relayed, "We should expect to merge routes with you in 3 minutes."
After a few more blocks of going straight, the van suddenly turned left at the intersection to head down Birch Avenue. The motorcyclist on the right had plenty of space to turn, but the one on the left was forced to stop so that they wouldn't hit the van. The motorcyclist began swerving like crazy, losing balance of the bike before finally falling sideways to the pavement.
"Honda and Bielschmidt, apprehend the driver," Lars ordered, "We'll continue after the van and the second motorcycle."
"Roger that," Ludwig answered as Gilbert turned left through the intersection, slowing down a little bit in order to make sure he avoided where the motorcyclist had wiped out.
"Sergeant Maes, we're heading south on Birch Avenue after the van and one motorcyclist," Lars passed on, "We need immediate backup, as quickly as you can get here."
"We're almost there, Lieutenant," Bella checked in, "We're taking Elm Avenue, and will turn onto 20th to intercept your path."
"So we have to make sure they keep on this road to 20th then, eh?" Gilbert asked.
"Sounds like it, let's hope they don't turn again," Lars confirmed.
The van and motorcycle stayed true to the straight path until about 18th street. The motorcyclist finally moved from their original position to the right behind the van, picking up speed to pass the van and go out front, making Gilbert lose sight of it.
"What's going on up there?" Lars remarked, trying to lean over to see around the van.
As Gilbert refocused on what was ahead of them, he suddenly saw the motorcyclist come out to the left side of the van, having cut across the lane. As the van continued forward, the motorcyclist suddenly spun into a donut in the next lane over, barely keeping from tipping all the way over as they appeared not to have slowed down. Once they came out of their spin, they sped up in the opposite direction, heading straight towards the police car.
"What the fuck are they doing?" Gilbert muttered.
"Gilbert, move, they're going to hit us!" Lars demanded urgently, reaching over to try and turn Gilbert's steering wheel for him.
Gilbert finally snapped out of his shock and spun the wheel clockwise, swerving their vehicle to the right and narrowly missing the head-on collision with the motorcycle. Gilbert finally gained his bearings in time to see the telephone pole they were about to hit on the side of the road.
"Holy shit!"
Time seemed to slow down at the moment of impact between the vehicle and the pole. Gilbert felt himself lunging forward, despite the best efforts of his seatbelt to keep him against the back of the seat. His chest was about halfway to the steering wheel before the airbag emerged and inflated from the wheel's centre. The cushioning halted Gilbert's forward momentum, and combined with the stopping of the vehicle's motion to push him back against his seat.
Gilbert felt the wind get knocked out of him as his back and neck made their backwards impact, and noticed a slight pain from the whiplash. However, as he got his breath again and calmed himself down, he realized that he was completely fine otherwise. As his brain began processing sounds again, he could hear Lars groaning, and turned to see that the Lieutenant was trying to reach for the radio.
"Are you okay, Lars?" Gilbert asked, noting that the man appeared to be in pain.
"I banged my head hard, and my neck got it bad too," Lars moaned, finally grasping the radio and bringing it up to his lips, "How about you?"
"A small amount of whiplash too, but I'm good otherwise," Gilbert reported.
"Dispatch, we need emergency services to Birch Avenue between 18th and 19th right now," Lars paged, "The second motorcyclist attempted to cause a head-on collision, and we swerved into a telephone pole. Gilbert says he's okay, but I'm going to need a medic for whiplash and a possible concussion."
As Lars spoke to dispatch, Gilbert heard the revving of a motorcycle engine behind them somewhere, and remembered they had been in the middle of a pursuit. He reached over and pulled on his door handle, pleased to find the door still answered him and opened properly. Gilbert removed his seat belt before pushing himself out of the vehicle, squeezing himself out from where he was wedged between the seat and the airbag. As he finally released himself from the confines of the crashed vehicle, Gilbert stumbled onto his two feet, and looked up to see the motorcyclist watching him from a few feet away.
"Oh, you escaped without a scratch," the motorcyclist jeered with a clearly feminine voice, "What a pity."
Before Gilbert could respond, she revved the engine and began to turn the bike away to escape. Realizing he couldn't let her escape, Gilbert pulled his gun out of the holster at his waist, aimed at the key spot, and fired.
It was a perfect shot.
The motorcycle's back tire only took a second or two to start visibly deflating, and only a little longer before the hubcap popped off. The motorcyclist quickly lost control of the bike and was forced to the ground, leaving her seat and rolling onto the ground.
"Dispatch, this is Sergeant Gilbert Bielschmidt reporting in," Gilbert paged on his radio as he approached the woman, "We lost track of the van when we crashed, but I am apprehending the second motorcyclist right now."
"Dispatch, I have the ID here for the first motorcyclist," Gilbert heard his little brother report to dispatch on the radio channel, "Driver's licence 7843541, last name Arlovskaya, given names Natalya Maria."
Gilbert reached the side of his motorcyclist and pressed his foot against her back, pinning her to the spot so that she couldn't flee. He pulled both her hands behind her back, and swiftly secured them in handcuffs. Once she was bound, Gilbert removed his foot from her back, before pulling her up by the shoulder into a sitting position.
"You're under arrest, miss," Gilbert stated as he kneeled to her side, "Now, let's see your face."
Despite her fidgeting, Gilbert got his fingers to the neck straps of her helmet and began undoing them. Once they were loosened, Gilbert pulled them out of the way before lifting the helmet. Blonde curls immediately fell free from their confines inside the helmet, and a fair face glared at him with familiar indigo eyes.
"Have we met before?" Gilbert immediately queried, "I could swear I recognize you from somewhere."
"I'm pretty sure I'd remember meeting an albino copper," the woman retorted with very little enthusiasm and a hint of sass.
Gilbert shrugged before standing back up. Noting that she didn't have any pockets on her riding outfit for any identification, he went over to the fallen motorcycle and opened the small trunk behind the seat. A wallet was inside, and Gilbert opened it to find her driver's licence clearly displayed.
"Dispatch, I've got the second motorcyclist's ID here," Gilbert paged on the radio, "Driver's licence 8172349, last name Williams, given names Madeline Aurelle."
As Gilbert finished his transmission, a couple police cars immediately pulled up, alongside an ambulance that immediately went to his crashed vehicle to help Lars out. The officers climbed out of their vehicles, and quickly approached Gilbert and his captive.
"Take her in, I've already given dispatch her ID," Gilbert instructed.
He watched curiously as the officers forced Madeline onto her feet, and he didn't miss the distinct glare she sent his way as she was led off. Gilbert watched suspiciously as she was put into the car, leaving his line of sight.
He had definitely met her somewhere before, Gilbert was certain of it.