ok

the minute it takes..

to trace the call,

to ducktape the suspects ******* face,

is the same minute a family home explodes in a cross section cutscene like 24.

more prisoners escape,

******, pretty, but they're spies.

suckers got forks stuck in their eyes.

the trucker died, his hat now a subtle disguise.

soft talk and the novice gaurd complied.

I told the brass this whole ******* place needed modernised.

shot gun cabinets unlatched,

the last batch of canteen fat contained celephaned grendades.

outside it rains and mud slides thick as the chase vehicles flip onto their sides.

the helicopter follows a costumed imposter through the shadows of a suburban night.

people thrown out the way on the street like extras in a detective series.

"Freeze: get on your ******* knees"

"Ive got nothing to lose, ive got the the ******* hostage and im offering a trade off

don't ******* shoot,

or ill put a hole in this ***** bigger than you can fix pig, twitching at the trigger,listen quick

take a step back or ill do it, push me ******* cop".

blood on the concrete runs thin as it navigates and mixes with no forgiveness or mission.

track back until the dead are insect sized, centred in the wide shot of the city, wait a beat then credits rise.