My registration is in the glove compartment. May I reach for them? Stanton leaned in, his face inches from the window. Just hand them over and don't make any sudden moves. Arthur slowly retrieved his civilian cover ID, a meticulously backstopped driver's license.
Bearing his alias and the vehicle's paperwork, Stanton snatched them from his hand, shining a harsh flashlight into the pristine cabin despite it being broad daylight. Whose car is this? Stanton barked, examining the registration. Mine, as the registration indicates, Arthur stated plainly. Step out of the vehicle, Stanton ordered abruptly.
Officer, for what reason? I haven't committed a traffic violation, Arthur calmly inquired, his situational awareness fully heightened. He needed to protect his cover, but he also refused to be subjected to an illegal search. I smell marijuana. Step out of the car right now, or I will drag you out, Stanton threatened, his voice rising in volume.
Arthur knew the smell was a complete fabrication. The only thing the Ferrari smelled of was expensive Italian leather and a hint of Tom Ford cologne. However, escalating the situation on the side of the road would compromise his undercover status. Complying was the tactical choice. Slowly, gracefully, Arthur opened the door and stepped out, towering slightly over the aggressive officer.
Stanton shoved Arthur forcefully against the side of the pristine vehicle, kicking his legs apart. Hands on the roof. Don't move. Rookie Kemper stepped out of the cruiser, looking incredibly uncomfortable. Greg, do we need backup?
Just watch him, Kemper. Stanton snapped. Without Arthur's consent, Stanton dove into the Ferrari. He wasn't just searching. He was pillaging.
He ripped through the center console, tossing expensive sunglasses and documents onto the floorboards. He violently yanked at the digital dashboard panels, convinced he would find a hidden compartment filled with narcotics. Officer, I do not consent to a search of this vehicle. Arthur stated clearly, looking at Keer, ensuring the rookie heard the formal declaration. Shut up, Stanton yelled from inside the cabin.
Frustrated by finding absolutely nothing in the meticulously clean interior, Stanton's rage boiled over. He decided he needed to check the digital interface for any modified systems. In a moment of pure reckless frustration, Stanton slammed his heavyduty boot onto the brake pedal and hit the ignition button. The twin turbo V8 roared to life with a ferocious snull. Stanton, sweating and agitated, leaned aggressively across the center console to rip open the glove box.
As he did, his bulky utility belt snagged on the unique togglestyle gear selector. At the exact same moment, his foot slipped from the brake and slammed down onto the accelerator pedal. The Ferrari, packing over 600 horsepower, did not hesitate. With a deafening screech of tires, the vehicle launched forward while Stanton was half draped across the passenger seat. The open driver's side door violently slammed shut as the car caught traction, hopping the concrete curb with a horrific crunch.