2019-09-12 - Breaking Bad

Shauna Ciara Carrick had one speed. Fast. She's had plenty of tickets in the past whether from speeding or parking to 'just run in for a second'. Gray Harbor wasn't her original home, she was born in Galway Ireland. A Galway girl through and through. Pubs were frequented early around those parts. Especially when your da owned one and her ma waitressed there. Whatever had brought her to Gray Harbor hadn't changed her. She still drank too much, drove too fast, listened to music too loud. Everything was in excess.

There was really no place she needed to be in such a hurry but the personal challenge on getting by with something she wasn't supposed to was always an adrenaline rush. Her foot down on the gas of the used Jeep she drove, a familiar flash of red to some, Shauna tests her limits and she skids around a turn from the outskirts of town headed into town.

Today, unfortunately, seems to be Shauna's unlucky day. She's just careening around that corner when she passes a dark car headed the opposite way. Aggressive looking piece of machinery that's clearly been built to go fast, though it slides by at a relatively languid pace. If she's glancing in her rear view mirror, however, she might spot it do a 180 about a quarter of a mile down, undercarriage slung low as it corners with a growl of all 8 cylinders and swings in on her tail.

Shauna missed it at first or she would have at least pretended to slow down and apologize to the nice officer with a wave of 'I'll never do it again'. Then when out of sight plant her food down. He or she had already turned around though so there was only one thing to do. One viable option. Lose him. Praying for traffic to dodge in and out of she presses down harder on the accelerator. "C'mon baby," she croons to the Jeep, the music still thumping. She turns it down a little even as her foot presses harder on the gas and she takes a late and sudden right which leads her away from downtown, where she might have been going. Another quick right she hopes puts her out of a visual for the officer behind her.

In all fairness, the car isn't obviously a cop car at first glance. No markings, no siren mounted on top; just the bull bars bolted on the front that might set off alarm bells.

It hangs back initially, matching the Jeep speed for speed, its driver waiting to see if his quarry will take the hint and pull over. When she doesn't, there's a growl of the engine in response; it moves in aggressively, tailing her at enough of a distance to be able to stop without a collision if she should put on the brakes suddenly, but little more. This, incidentally, is more for Shauna's benefit than his own; likely unbeknownst to her, that car is rated for collisions up to an ungodly speed.

If anything, Shauna increases her speed when she hears the growling engine behind her. It's a flight or die reaction, only thinking of the flight part of it. She's a fair driver, taking corners as fast as she can. Another quick right takes her back to the road she started on and she presses for it, the road out of town. It was long, she could go wide open and maybe the cop would give up and let her go.

Wishful thinking, but if he was in a hurry it was possible.

Narrowly missing a car as she speeds through an intersection, she guns it. There's a road outside of town if she can make it. Her Jeep would handle it better than his low slung car. "Woo!" she celebrates, feeling the wind whipping through her hair.

If she can make it. And that's a big if. He's in the process this very moment of radioing in help, and some of that help is very likely to be in the form of an SUV patrol vehicle.

The Charger swerves through the intersection, hot on the Jeep's heels, horn blaring moments before it runs the red. Then a snarl of that big, mean engine as the pursuit vehicle does what it does best, and roars in alongside the smaller offroader. Close enough to get a plate number as he passes; and then he throttles back so they're driving abreast for a few moments. A jerk of the cop's head so he can get a glimpse of the other driver. From what she's likely to see of him, he's middle aged, Hispanic looking; dark hair and hard, weathered features. He doesn't look terribly amused with all of this, either.

The Jeep careens through the intersection followed closely by the big, dark car. Hers is doing pretty much all it can do, sensibly, without blowing her motor. The cop car just comes casually up beside hers like she's crawling at a snails pace. She can feel eyes on her and the red headed driver with the green eyes glances over and flips out her middle finger and jams it against the window just to be sure he saw it. "Fuck off." The girl mouths, just getting in deeper.

Maybe she's high.

"God damn it I would get the pissed off old geezer." She doesn't let up any, he's not tried strips or the old tap and get them sideways trick. Staying at her current rate of speed, mostly because she had no other choice, she doesn't pull over.

The cop car's siren whoops. Just once, more of a scare tactic than anything else. And, possibly, to let her know that it actually is a cop car and not some civilian impersonating an officer. Oddly enough, the middle finger against the window causes him to grin slightly. Is he actually amused by this? Well, maybe. Maybe he's not quite right in the head, either.

He does however drop back once it's clear Shauna's not going to listen to reason. The Charger's engine almost sounds disappointed that it's being asked to throttle down, but complies with a low whine as it's bulldog-like frame slots back in on the Jeep's tail, smooth as butter.

Up ahead, Shauna might or might not notice the flash of multiple sets of lights; a couple of other patrol vehicles have set up a barricade, and very likely road spikes. Which leaves her with two choices: pull over now, or risk wrecking her vehicle and having a whole bunch of cops take her down.

"Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!" Shauna notices the car but not until after she caught that grin. Spooky, "What to do? What to do?" He was behind her at a pretty good clip which meant they were approaching the block at the same pace. Dealing with one officer was better than many. She checks the mirror first, runs a hand through those red locks then checks her cleavage in the vest style shirt she's wearing with only a bra beneath.

"Fine!" Her foot hits the brakes and the back of the Jeep fishtails before she straightens it and comes to a complete stop. With her foot on the clutch she puts it into first and turns off the engine and sits there with her hands on the steering wheel. "Hurry the fuck up, old man."

The Charger grinds to a halt, spraying gravel as it slings in at an angle and comes to rest almost sideways. A thick puff of dust unfurls slowly from its undercarriage, drifted away in the slight, rain-spattered breeze, followed by the sound of the cop climbing out with his weapon in hand. He approaches the Jeep carefully, muzzle held at about 45 degrees, safety off with a soft click. "Out of the car, ma'am, hands on the hood," is barked with enough volume that she'll have no trouble hearing it even with her window up.

So they were going to play it this way. Shauna glances out at him and rolls her eyes, reaching for the lever and slamming the door opened. The door wobbles precariously close to slamming back closed. She stops it with a combat style boot by sticking it out against the door. She gets out of the Jeep. The vest top leaves plenty of skin exposed, front and back. Her camo pants ride low on her hips showing off her lower back tattoo. Slut tag, she'd heard it called. She didn't give a fuck.

"Was I speeding officer?" The question asked innocently enough but with a growl added after. Someone's pissed off. Taking her time she walks around the door and smacks both hands on the hood, spreading her feet shoulder width apart. She must have done this before. "There's a knife in my boot. And there's a gun in the glove box."

There are plenty of other tattoos along her arms, up and down, her pierced navel and other piercings.

Heavy footsteps approach at a measured pace, the cop scanning the immediate area to make sure she doesn't have a friend hiding out in her car waiting to put one in his head, followed by a quick update into his radio. Likely to get this section of road cordoned off until the situation's been resolved. With the girl complying with his order, Ruiz shoves his gun back into its holster and steps in close to frisk her briefly. No improprietous touches; he's also done this a time or two before, likely with far more scantily-clad women (and men). The knife is found and slid out, and he takes note of all the ink before ducking inside her vehicle to check the glove compartment.

"Yes, ma'am." He isn't buying the innocent tone in her voice. He's also got plenty of ink, which might become obvious once she can actually see him. Two full arms' worth are visible under the short sleeves of his uniform, intricate black and grey linework for the most part.

There is no gun in the glove compartment. "There's a body in the back too, it's covered in a blanket." Of course he won't find that either. "And the Jeep is stolen." It's registered to Shauna Carrick which matches the identification he finds in her back pocket when he frisks her. Just a plain license, nothing else with it.

The frisking does find the knife though, a good sized hunting knife probably with a five inch blade. A wad of cash in her pocket. A joint down on the ground after it rolled out of her Jeep. "Is this seriously the best thing you've got going on today?" When she can manage to see him she does notice the ink he wears too. "Nice," a nod towards it. "Someone 'round here do that?"

He looks vaguely amused when a brief search of the glove compartment turns up no gun. The back seat's given a cursory glance, though he doesn't really expect to find a body back there. Once he's called in the registration and checked over the license briefly, he climbs back out again. Definitely looks a little on the older side to be pulling patrol, but small towns do things a little differently. Must be his once monthly required beat shift. She can probably guess how thrilled he is to have to deal with her attitude, too.

"No," in answer to her question about his ink. His accent is unmistakeably Spanish, and paired with his appearance, it points to some sort of regional Mexican. Softened consonants and a rough, sandpapery warmth that's probably partly attributable to having smoked too much in his fourty-odd years. "License and ID?" he queries briskly as he climbs back out. Probably he didn't find those in her back pocket. Because that would have required getting a little more handsy than he was apparently prepared to.

"I mo phóca. Thig leat é a fháil." Shauna tells him knowing damn well he wouldn't know her language. Facing the vehicle she gets to the toes of her boots and wiggles her butt. "In my pocket. Or am I allowed to get it?" Not taking her hands from the hood. "I have to apologize to you for not pulling over immediately before. You see, my boyfriend left me for a cop."

There's a long beat in which she doesn't produce the license yet. Finally she fishes it out and holds it out for him between two fingers. "I thought you were her bringing him back." Her lips quirk. up a little, amused by her own joke.

Of course has has no fucking clue what she just said. The butt wiggle doesn't seem to garner any kind of response, either; he's annoyingly patient. "I'm sure you can explain it to the detective who questions you, once we get back to the precinct," he answers levelly. He seems about to go fishing for the thing, when she pulls it out and hands it to him. Wordlessly, it's checked over. Picture matched to her face, license and plate number verified. The confirmation from dispatch regarding her registration comes in just as he's handing the ID back, and he acknowledges somewhat gruffly into his radio.

"Let's go." Hand on her arm, his grip is firm and a little rough to the touch. Assuming she doesn't fight him, the rear passenger door is tugged open, and she's directed inside.

There are so many options right now. Her license was matched up and she slides it back into her pocket. He takes her arm but leaves her uncuffed. Resisting arrest, was that a felony or a misdemeanor? The thought actually goes through her mind. Well, here goes nothing. When he gets closer and opens the back door she 'twists' her ankle and falls, but not really falling, just using the opportunity to try and pull away from him and literally run, roll or kick free.

Oh, for the love of god is likely what's going through his mind when the girl makes a break for it. Why does he always have to get the runners? He is way too old for this shit.

When Shauna drops to the ground, some sort of instinct kicks in and he goes low to try to tackle her, and maneuver her facefirst on the ground so he can slap a pair of cuffs on her. So much for playing this easy. He's got probably 50 or 60 pounds' worth of weight advantage over her, but she's got the benefit of youth and speed on her side. He's pretty good with his hands though, for a guy pushing fifty.

Fuck. It was over. Cuffs. There was no more resisting it, she'd been got. Her temper was even holding out for her. Wasn't the cops fault after all. With her hands behind her she stills her body, the rocks of the road biting into her stomach and her face. There's no more fight in her at the moment. "You cold have just let me go with a ticket. Have some compassion."

"I thought surely not having a gun, a body or a stolen vehicle, that just speeding would sound like so much less than all that other shit and you'd let me off with just a ticket." Shauna stays where she is until he tells her to move or assists her in getting to her feet.

"Next time," grunts the cop as he gets the cuffs slapped on, and hauls at the girl's arm to try to pull her to her feet, "just pull the fuck over, and don't try to outrun us, hm?" Especially not one of us in a car like that beast. It looks like it eats other cars for breakfast. "In," he growls, giving her a shove toward the open door again. More back-and-forth into his radio while he's trying to get her inside. There's a grille separating the back seat from the front, of course, in case she gets any bright ideas.

"Like I said. My boyfriend left me for a cop. I thought you were her bringing him back." Shauna lies again. She knows it's not believable. A random joke she'd read online like everything else she'd said. She's hauled to her feet and she slides into the car without argument, even leaning over so the door can shut without hitting her.

She'll wait until he gets in. "Is there any bribing an officer at least? Would you even take any bribes?" Not that she has anything good. "Can I at least have a cigarette before I'm locked in the cell?"

Laughter from the cop as he slides into the driver's seat and slams the door. He makes one more call in to have a tow truck dispatched for her Jeep, and belts himself in before pulling back onto the highway, and swinging an aggressive U-turn. The car really does like to move fast; the growl of the engine is even more apparent when riding in it. Shauna might also spot the impressive arrangement of equipment up front, including a notebook computer streaming data real time, and all sorts of cameras and security features and sensors relaying data to the digital dashboard. Must have cost a pretty penny, this machine. "I'll pretend I didn't hear you ask me that." As for the cigarette, "We'll see." Then they're off.