Red Handed

[JJ Johnson]

The kid did damage. Everyone did when they got that panicked, even strung out addicts like this little twerp. JJ was dimly aware of scratches on his arms and blows that were definitely going to leave severe bruises in good time. He knew only dimly, however, because the adrenaline pumping through his veins practically intoxicated him. that same bodily produced drug drove JJ's fist into Jackson with increasing ferocity and speed, not caring what kind of damage he did. JJ didn't even care if his blows connected, let alone how much damage they managed. He swore he felt his fists connected with the ground at least once, the knuckles tearing and bloodying.

Unlike Jackson, however, JJ could still manage to produce noise, and he mostly produced just that: noise. However, after several seconds of punching and kicking, he'd finally managed to pull back a little, his chest heaving. JJ stared down at Jackson, then spit, likely hitting the boy. JJ sneered then, adding another short kick. "Gonna keep resisting arrest, punk?" he asked, practically snarling the words. JJ's body screamed at him to do something, anything, though preferably something dangerous and stupid that would result in someone, hopefully someone else, getting seriously hurt. "Or do I get to play with my latest punching bag some more?"

JJ slammed one fist into the palm of his opposite hand, not caring at the shock of pain the blow produced. he grinned a feral, adrenaline fueled, grin, his eyes practically glowing with violence.

[Jackson Pierce]

Jackson wasn't sure when it happened, or how, but his back was against the ground, and he brought his arms up to try and shield his face from the worst of the blows. It bothered him a little that this cop was so strong, it didn't seem natural, or right, and it wasn't until he vaguely noticed the beating stop, his senses misconscrewed because of the blood pounding in his ears, the ringing barely allowing the words to come through to him, and another moment of realization that he had been asked a questions. He probably would have given in, if it wasn't for the spit that hit him in the face, and he rolled onto his side, coughing out his own red tinged saliva from where the inside of his mouth cut against his teeth. Bracing himself up on one arm, his hips rolled to the side, trying to protect his chest and face again from JJ. Looking over his shoulder, he snarled slightly. "Fuck. You. Pig." He hissed out, gripping the ground tightly, bracing himself for another hit. Maybe he could get just the cop to kill him, would save having to get carted down to the station.

[JJ Johnson]

The kid just kept bracing himself. Were JJ not so wrapped up in his own adrenaline near-overdose, he might have stopped to admire the kid. Even as it was, some part of him recognized that as being a little different from standard druggie behavior. That part didn't get much say so, however, especially as the kid insisted on spitting out more crap. JJ opted for a few more kicks, before a particular fact came through his adrenaline addled brain: he had weapons. JJ rarely wanted to use those, especially when his power kicked in, but it made a lot of sense right now. True, there would be paperwork, which was at least part of the reason why JJ rarely used them. Yet the part of him just barely thinking knew that unless he did something phenomenally stupid, he had a better shot of just wounding the kid with his weaponry.

Especially the taser, which JJ had only gotten recently and hadn't even been able to use much. "Your loss, kid. I hear that people shit themselves when they're hit with this," and with that, the officer leveled his taser at the kid. It fired, two wired rods likely sinking into the boy's flesh and delivering its shocking payload very quickly.

[Jackson Pierce]

The prongs dug into Jackson's lower back, on his left hip, what little flesh there was there to dig into. Arching back, he let out a slight scream, before the spasms of his muscles stopped the noise coming from his throat. It felt like an eternity, the white hot pain shooting through him and up his spine. He would later be embarassed, at the fact that he did piss himself, no longer having control over his bladder. Fingers clenching into the grass, the fifteen seconds that the taser timed out off had him finally able to breathe, panting and gripping the ground. The world was spinning, but he didn't feel the prongs in his back anymore, the fight escaping Jackson.

"Please..." He finally managed to groan out, not moving to stand and continue the fight. "Don't... no more... anything but.." He gasped his words out, panting against the ground, his cheek pressed into the soil.

[JJ Johnson]

wow, the kid's reaction to the taser was fucking intense. They'd told JJ and his cohorts in training what  could happen whenever they tased someone; the details had been pretty graphic. Then everyone had taken turns getting shocked with it to realize what it felt like. JJ knew that it hurt like hell, but he hadn't seen anyone react quite like this kid. Fuck, it looked like the kid had even pissed himself.

JJ chuckled darkly, nudging the pathetic lump of flesh with his foot. "You're a fucking waste of space," he said, moving to spit at the kid's back. He took a step back, not wanting to get his shoes soaked with the man's urine. JJ stood quietly for a while, no longer tazing or fighting or doing anything to Jackson. He just stood, staring down at the pathetic wretch. JJ was beginning to wonder if it was even worth bringing him in. Kid was probably underaged and protected by the school.

So JJ kicked Jackson one more time before walking back to where the kid's paraphernalia had been. "You ain't fucking worth shit!" he called over his shoulder. "I ain't gonna even bother taking your piss-coated ass in, fucking junkie. I'm just gonna take your shit in and claim I found it. Still get credit, and I won't have to deal with your ass," JJ worked at collecting the stuff, leaving Jackson to wallow in his own filth while he did so.