Lionel took off running after the escaped halfling, knowing that he won't have anything on him to power himself up, and that even halflings born to first-class exiles can be single-handedly apprehended, especially when boosted with Shrapnel.

Not to mention that no one would stick their tail out for a halfling, even when chased by an armed officer.

The streets around him blurred into a warped tunnel vision as he locked onto Rædnael's back, focused enough to hear the halfling's panicked breath, keeping track of every attempt to make a sharp turn to try and lose him, stopping himself from lunging ahead when the runaway nearly slipped on several turns, losing footing on wet asphalt or cobblestone.

Lionel knew he couldn't use any firearm to slow him down, since he wasn't under any threat to justify ADA use, but perhaps he could've tried to corner him to stop the halfling in his tracks for a proper arrest.

Usually Lionel didn't mind a chase, but tracking down a halfling while they had two confirmed second-class smugglers at hand, but he couldn't let another one slip just because he acted scared.

Maybe he'd even lead him to a refinery.

A little farther ahead, Rædnael was doing his best to weave between people on the street and through alleys, anything that wouldn't slow him down but would potentially keep his pursuer off his tracks.

Oh, how he wished he was born with wings to help him jump higher to the tops of the building around, up to a vantage point to find somewhere to hide. He couldn't even pay his mind to the sinking realization of how this must've all been planned, how those exiles must've known he might turn down the offer, and wanted to make sure he'd be associated with them one way or another.

"Ooooh no oh no oh noooo—" Rædnael wheezed, making another blind turn and hoping he wasn't starting to run in circles, not even having much of a breath to waste on whimpering to himself in his growing distress. He knew he had to endure for a little longer, that Shrapnel wears off and he could run a bit faster, hide a bit better, anything to lose the police officer that felt so close behind him that he was afraid to even look back.

Close enough for him to hear the thundering footsteps charging in his wake.

Close enough that he'd be spotted if he tried to slip into hiding.

Even with their demonic strength, Rædnael wasn't much of a runner and couldn't keep sprinting for so long. His own stamina might not be able to carry him for long, or it does and he'll reach the district border, where he'd have even more of a reason to be stopped.

"You're only making this worse for yourself when I get you!" He heard Lionel roar behind him, as though he was breathing down his neck by the way the halfling's muscles nearly seized up in panic.

There wasn't even a question about it.

It wasn't a matter of 'if' to him, but 'when'.

And anything he might try and use to push back this 'when', even something that was more akin to party tricks than real innate magic powers, will just give the cops more ammo against him.

Breathing became more difficult as he felt his throat tighten and threatened to choke up while thoughts of incarceration raced through his mind as fast as his legs raced through the streets. He didn't know how much longer he could keep this up, and felt like the pursuing officer would simply not back down.

Maybe he's just normally fast like that.

Maybe the Shrapnel wore off already and the officer just never stopped running.

Maybe it was Rædnael that was slowing down.

"Pesky halfling..."

As this pursuit became the longest in his career in the police force without him even realizing, Lionel fought to keep Rædnael in his sights as his tunnel vision became increasingly blurred even at its center.

He could feel his breath becoming labored and his muscles pulsating in pain with every running step as the Shrapnel faded from his system.

But he was so close to the little nuisance, he couldn't give up now.

Who knows what happens if halflings manage to get their grubby little claws on something like Tartarus. If exiles that used to be full fledged demons could go on a mindless, destructive rampage, those who are partly human might not be as mindless and even more dangerous at that.

He couldn't let a halfling get away with being involved.

They don't get a pass just because they're even weaker than most exiles.

Just because they're part humans.

The thoughts swam in Lionel's head as much as his vision did, realizing he's only been following a blurry patch at this point.

But...was it getting closer?

Allowing himself to slow down just a little as he kept fighting off the exhaustion, Lionel's vision has cleared enough to see the runaway halfling has finally ran himself into a dead-end, looking like a cornered animal ready to tear its claws against the bare brick wall for its last chance to survive another day.

"You...hands...hands where I can see them!" Lionel didn't know when was the last time it was so hard for him to stand on his own two feet. To even talk. To keep his breath steady.

But it was almost over.

His hand hovered above his gun as Rædnael slowly raised his hands and started to turn around from his shoulder, avoiding eye contact for as long as possible. At least Lionel thought he did, being too far from the halfling to see where he was looking.

"Sir...O-officer, I—"

"Not a word!" Lionel cut him off once more, not interested in the halfling's excuses or any attempt to appeal to his 'good nature'. He didn't have the time for it. As he started approaching, he slowly became aware that the architecture around him felt...foreign. Shrapnel withdrawal didn't cause hallucination or amnesia, and he could just barely wrap his mind around the fact that he was deep in the demon district, where regular patrols don't usually go through.

And he was alone.

Carrying components to create Tar.

With one hand still frozen over his firearm, Lionel reached to his communicator, not taking his eyes off Rædnael. "Dispatch, this is Private Young," he started off, finding himself having to focus more energy now on not slurring his words. "I need backup at my location, and a biohazard container," he continued, bearing his teeth at the flailing, fidgety halfling that for some reason decided to try and flag him down. "Magic won't help you now...you're...in enough trouble as...as it is," Lionel grit his teeth, frustrated at how he couldn't even hold his words together, but at least the halfling looked sufficiently scared.

Not a moment has passed when he just barely registered Rædnael cower and yelp when Lionel felt something slamming into the side of his body and knocking him to the ground, seeing stars. Something hissed around him as he managed to roll on his back, finding himself facing the thorny silhouette of an Ariton through his darkening vision, hovering over him.

They spoke in hisses at someone else nearby, and they hissed back. 'Two Aritons, great...' he grunted, trying to lean up before he passed out, but the reptilian exile leaned against his body with ease, pinning him down, starting to claw through the vest.

'There are better ways to—' the thought was halted dead in its tracks as Lionel managed to put together what they were getting at. They were out to complete the delivery that the halfling was meant to do.

"Urgh...No. You. DON'T," through sheer force of will and one last rush of adrenaline, Lionel managed to grab the baton off his waist and swing it at the Ariton, stunning them for long enough to kick them off and just barely mustering up enough strength to get to his feet.

Seeing something move in the corner of his eye and worrying it might be the other Ariton, Lionel quickly looked over to see Rædnael taking the opportunity to scramble out of there and into an alleyway nearby.

Cussing under his breath, Lionel had no strength to resume his pursuit, knowing that whatever ounce of it that he had left would have to go into fending off the ambushing Aritons, seeing as the one he managed to hit was gradually coming to, not as dazed as Lionel had hoped they'll be.

“Private Young, this is Dispatch,” Lionel's radio came to life, “we have your location and reinforcement is underway.”

"Good!" He growled, strained, into his communicator, "I got two third-class exiles on hand and I'm dulled out, make it count."

“Hang tight, Private.”

The next thing Lionel knew was that he was sitting at the back of an armored police cruiser. He could tell by the near claustrophobic feeling that first dawned on him along with the scent of smoke and metal. He wasn't sure whether he was asleep or had collapsed and passed out, but the only pain he felt was in his overexerted muscles, and no sirens were blaring at high speeds. He wasn't injured, that Ariton didn't even break the—

A wave of anxiety flushed through his entire body and he sat up in panic, patting his clawed vest.

"Easy there, Young," the driver called to him, noticing the frantic movement, "you were really out of it when we got you. Got the biohazard container for the T.Pres, already shipped it to forensics."

Lionel paused, taking a long, slow moment to process what he's been told as he carefully leaned back in the seat. "Right...right that's...good," he closed his eyes again, trying to recall anything that he could pull to the surface of his mind. "Have you seen any halflings on your way?"

"You mean the one you were chasing halfway across the district? On foot?" the officer next to the driver chuckled, glancing back. "Nah, we didn't have time to ID passerby residents, especially with you having two exiles in your location. But we got the halfling's ID from the Withering Lilly report, if we need to track him again."

"That's...something..." Lionel grumbled, brow furrowing. "I was so DAMN close!"

"Calm down, it's not like he made it with the preserving agents," the driver dismissed, laughing, "but you sure as hell gave him a scare with that chase, doubt he'll ever try that a second time."

Lionel huffed, opening his eyes. "He better not. He'd be lucky if I never come across him ever again."

Little did he know that Rædnael would agree with him, for once.

So much, in fact, that he was still running for a while to get as far away from the scene, cowering behind bus stations and garbage cans when a patrol zoomed by, feeling his whole body pulsating with fear.

He couldn't break yet, though. Not with so many other demons going about their day in the street, probably thinking he's madly paranoid by the way he was skittering around.

His humble abode was all the way on the other side of the district, but he didn't want to go back yet.

Even if it was right around the corner.

They had his ID, they could be waiting there...

Now that he wasn't in active pursuit, Rædnael slowed down and allowed his mind to drift, to think of anywhere he could at least spend the night that's not on the street.

Only one place came to mind at this time.

At least this one was close by.