Incarcerated!Hannibal for singlesoccermom
It had been just a slight miscalculation. He hadn't expected the local police to be so quick on the mark. Minor setback. The holding cell was a joke. Things promised to get more interesting, though, once they'd had a chance to run his prints. He obviously had to move fast. He was glad he'd been alone when the gunfire had drawn attention. It would have been better, of course, if he'd managed to slip away while the sleazeballs he'd been after had been caught rather than the other way around, but at least his boys were still out there.
On that note, he also had to move before they did something stupid.
He'd taken in all the details of the police station on his way through, knowing he'd need it. Awareness was a habit he cultivated. Knowing your exit ahead of time kept things running smoothly. This was a small town, definitely not overflowing with surplus budget. The facility he was in was old fashioned, the security out of date. The entire front of the cell was barred, yes, but they didn't go all the way to the ceiling. Tall as he was, he could take advantage of that more easily than others.
The mortar in the wall could do with a bit of repair. That meant finger-holds. It'd be tough, but he could manage it. He watched the main room through his peripheral vision, and as soon as there was a moment where no one was in sight, he moved quickly to the front corner and leaped up, digging his nails into a soft part of the mortar above the barred window and bracing his feet against the wall beside him. He levered himself up, wedging himself into the corner by the roof. His muscles ached with the effort of holding himself there. It wouldn't take long. Someone would look over any minute.
And it was just a moment later when he heard a surprised noise and footsteps crossing the room. Then his cell door swung open and an officer stepped inside, peering around the cell. He didn't look up. As Hannibal had judged, the officers he'd been left with hadn't been among the top. And they likely didn't have many breakout attempts around these parts.
He dropped down on the man, taking him to the ground and giving him a calculated blow to the temple. That was simple. He pulled the officer's gun out of his holster and moved out the door. There was still no one else in sight. The poor idiot hadn't even raised an alarm when he'd seen him missing. He slipped the gun into his waistband, not worrying about getting his prints on it--they already had those, anyway. He moved behind the desk and grabbed his personal effects. What he needed most was in the bottom of the envelop. His lips curled upwards as his fingers closed around a cigar. He pulled it out and stuck it in his mouth as he searched for his lighter. Within moments he was puffing away as he strolled down the hall to the front door and freedom. He strode outside and paused on the steps to turn and look at the building. A grin crossed his face. "I love it when a plan comes together," he said.
On that note, he also had to move before they did something stupid.
He'd taken in all the details of the police station on his way through, knowing he'd need it. Awareness was a habit he cultivated. Knowing your exit ahead of time kept things running smoothly. This was a small town, definitely not overflowing with surplus budget. The facility he was in was old fashioned, the security out of date. The entire front of the cell was barred, yes, but they didn't go all the way to the ceiling. Tall as he was, he could take advantage of that more easily than others.
The mortar in the wall could do with a bit of repair. That meant finger-holds. It'd be tough, but he could manage it. He watched the main room through his peripheral vision, and as soon as there was a moment where no one was in sight, he moved quickly to the front corner and leaped up, digging his nails into a soft part of the mortar above the barred window and bracing his feet against the wall beside him. He levered himself up, wedging himself into the corner by the roof. His muscles ached with the effort of holding himself there. It wouldn't take long. Someone would look over any minute.
And it was just a moment later when he heard a surprised noise and footsteps crossing the room. Then his cell door swung open and an officer stepped inside, peering around the cell. He didn't look up. As Hannibal had judged, the officers he'd been left with hadn't been among the top. And they likely didn't have many breakout attempts around these parts.
He dropped down on the man, taking him to the ground and giving him a calculated blow to the temple. That was simple. He pulled the officer's gun out of his holster and moved out the door. There was still no one else in sight. The poor idiot hadn't even raised an alarm when he'd seen him missing. He slipped the gun into his waistband, not worrying about getting his prints on it--they already had those, anyway. He moved behind the desk and grabbed his personal effects. What he needed most was in the bottom of the envelop. His lips curled upwards as his fingers closed around a cigar. He pulled it out and stuck it in his mouth as he searched for his lighter. Within moments he was puffing away as he strolled down the hall to the front door and freedom. He strode outside and paused on the steps to turn and look at the building. A grin crossed his face. "I love it when a plan comes together," he said.