Risk it

Deciding to risk it you keep running, with the next corner not far away and your adrenaline pumping. You have the presence of mind to zig-zag a bit to try and dodge whatever armaments the police hover-car might use, though the searchlight seems to track you effortlessly.

Suddenly something enters your peripheral vision on either side and before you register the fact properly you are tumbling forward to the ground in some kind of thin mesh netting. The siren blares one more time then falls silent behind you, to be replaced with the whine of the hover-cars engine and your heavy breathing as you struggle against the netting.

Footsteps herald the approach of the a couple of pairs of boots, about all you can make out as you twist your head to one side to look across the concrete paving. They stop beside you.

"You think we haven't got anything better to do than chase some stupid prick out during curfew?" one says angrily. You tense up, half expecting her to kick you from the venom that is in her voice.

"Usually, we have to wait til after our duty shift before we get to chase after prick," the other says, with a laugh. They are both laughing as they haul you to your feet between them. The one on your right has short, close-cropped blond hair, and the one on your left shoulder-length, curly dark hair. They are both tall... and quite physically imposing, certainly very fit.

"We could let him off with a stiff warning," the first one says on your left, placing a rather strong emphasis on the word stiff, her apparent anger subsided.

"Would have to keep him under watch til after curfew, of course," the other on your right says. She continues, this time addressing you, "otherwise, we'll have to bring you in for resisting arrest as well as breaking curfew. You'd spend a long time in the pens for that."

"Do you want to get off...?" the dark-haired female cop asks.

"Are you asking me or him?" the blond laughs, eliciting another round of laughter from the pair of them.