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You watch the man fade into the dark as your radio crackles.
"Central this is 1-Adam-1, We spot an officer in distress suspect fleeing westbound towards Gotham Harbor requesting ambulance and an air ship. Trench Coat and Trilby hat, color unknown but dark. Moving to assist the Officer."
The radio crackles again.
"Kimble? Where is this officer down, is it at the front?" Hawthorne's voice comes over the radio.
"Affirm."
"Son of a bitch. Moving to cover, chase the suspect." He orders.
"Copy, Sir. Moving to pursue."
You hear the crunching of gravel and decide to just pull yourself up enough to lean on the car bumper. You swipe bits of gravel from the scratches on your palm, you lean your head back against the cool trunk of the cruiser and sigh.
Hawthorne rounds the corner at blinding speed, Shotgun level with his shoulder, his veteran eyes scanning the darkness.
He sees you and pulls up his radio.
"Officer mostly unharmed, minor scrapes. Show us Code 3, focus additional units on the manhunt. Stand by for additional intel." He kneels down to you.
"You see anything, son? That could help us catch him?"
>"He didn't have a face, sir. Not even eyes."
>Intel can wait, he needs to hear what you 1did. "He told me there was a mole in the GCPD, working for the Bertinelli Family."
>You don't even know if what you saw was real or a reality bleed. "Nothing of note sir, I didn't see anything."
>Write-In
