"Left c-... Sedan!" Luther exclaims, Marty slowing the car down as they approach the intersection and flips on the sirens once more. An oncoming yellow sedan screeches to a stop as it almost collides into the patrol cruiser. Marty forces his finger onto the intersection siren, staring down the driver of the yellow sedan as she raises her hand in a What the fuck? manner, her other hand preoccupied with holding a phone up to her ear. "Oh, how I'd love to throw her up against the fucking hood... Break that fuckin' phone in half." Marty says, returning his attention to the traffic in front of him as he speeds forward. The duo would speed closer and closer to the location of the call, slowing at every red-lit intersection without much of anymore problems. Upon reaching the destination, it'd be clear to spot it with the large crowd forming outside. The fight would seem to be in full swing once more, two african american males going full fists on one another. Marty blows the airhorn to the cruiser, the sound audible for blocks as they come to a quick stop. Kreg grabs the radio to the car, speaking quickly into it whilst his other hand moves to the door handle. "Two-Ten, Radio. 23 at the 10-10. Two number one males out in the street. Send more units." Kreg's door would already be popped open before the vehicle has even come to a halt, the seat belt flying off and Kreg jumping out of the passenger seat. Marty would be in close behind, charging forth.
Kreg's body cam bounces against his vest as he pushes through the crowd, yelling "Get out of the fucking way! Move!", some having already dispersed from the deafening sound of the air horn that was blasted. Reaching the epicenter, Kreg sprints into the first male that's closest to him, his right arm pushing against his chest whilst the left pushes against the other man's to get him back. Marty follows up with the second man, colliding into him as he tries to get a hit onto Kreg. The man gives an audible 'Oof' as he's struck in the mid-section, collapsing onto the ground with Marty on top of him. Kreg looks back real quick to check on his partner before refocusing on the man in front of him, spotting him just in time to evade a punch aimed for his face. Kreg ducks his head down to evade, his hand wrapping around the striking man's wrist and twisting it in an unpleasant manner. The man twists to the pain, getting him off balance before Kreg kicks his knee in to send him toppling down. Sirens approach from the other side of the street as another cruiser pulls up, yelling heard from behind the roaring crowd as officers push their way through the blockade. "My fuckin' arm, man! You're twisting my arm! It hurts!" the man screams out as Kreg places his knee on top of his spine, keeping him pinned. "Don't fucking swing on me!" Kreg retorts in an angered manner. Another female officer moves next to Kreg, quickly getting down to his level and taking the other arm from the perp which he's refused to give to Kreg willingly. "Give me your god damn hand!" Kreg yells out, twisting on the man's other wrist to get him to comply."Alright! Alright, man! Chill!" the faceplanted man yelps out, having both of his hands now in full control by both Kreg and the female officer as they're quickly handcuffed. Around them, onlookers would be filming the entire ordeal with their smartphones and video cameras, yelling out "Worldstar!" and "This goin' on youtube!". Then of course, you'd have the people taking the perps side. "Ay', yo! You can't be doin' that! You're hurtin' him!" and "Police brutality! Fuck twelve!". Shit you'd hear on a daily basis whenever you respond to a call. For Kreg, it was just another day at the office. One of the more exciting days, anyway. He manages to place the man in handcuffs, multiple sirens coming from all directions as other units begin to arrive to the scene. Crowd control would quickly commence as the backup officers motion the onlookers away to give the first responders space. Kreg looks back to Marty, who seem to have a bloody nose. "You good?" he shouts over to him, Marty giving a thumbs up before wiping his nose. "You?" he responds, Marty taking a hold of the man he's in control of and heaving him up onto his feet. Kreg nods in return, "All good. You got ID on you?" he says to the man later, beginning to quickly pat down on his pants to look for anything remotely close to a wallet. "Fuck you need my ID for? Why the fuck you searchin' me, man?" the man blurts out, still obviously intoxicated as he tries to roll around. "Stop moving!" Kreg says in a demanding voice, replacing his thigh onto the man's spine to keep him pinned to the ground before continuing with his patdown. Finding a bulge in the man's right pocket, he leans over to look at the man's face. "What's this?" he inquires, awaiting a response. "My fuckin' cell phone, man. Can you get off?" Kreg shakes his head, continuing to pat the man's trousers down. "Not until you promise to play nice." A man walks out of the bar and to the police line, waving a wallet in the air. "Hey, the guy forgot his wallet on the counter." Kreg looks over, motioning to the female officer to retrieve it. "Mind getting that for me and running him? I'll deal with the rest." The female officer nods in response, pushing off of the ground and moving over to grab the wallet and return to her vehicle.
"Alright, upsy-daisy." The man gives a rough grunt as he hauled up onto his feet, wiggling around as he's brought to Kreg's patrol car. With Kreg's hand clenching onto the man's fingers via the right hand, he uses his left to reach for the handle of the door and pull it open. The man slides in head first, balance really not working well in his favor. He then returns to Murphy, who seemingly has a handle on his suspect as he's just hauling him up onto his feet. Looking down, Kreg notices a few blood drops and scrapes on the pavement. The man Murphy was dealing with definitely gave a helluva bigger fight than Kreg's suspect did. "Next time, you deal with the big guy." Murphy says in a half-joking sense, him and another officer leading the larger #1 male to another patrol cruiser. "Oh, gee paw. I mean, look at me. I've got small arms and flabby muscles." Kreg responds, following the three. "Yeah, go fuck yourself." Time begins to fly without Murphy and Kreg fighting someone, now being confined to the boring aspect of taking statements and information from witnesses in the bar to file a report. T'was a beautiful day on the streets of Denver. With the excitement of the fight over, people returned to their normal lives of doing whatever the fuck. For Kreg, it was just a routine call. But nothing's ever routine in this job, isn't it?
