Jackson Storm

You look at him, not intimidated by his words or his handcuffs, in fact, you seem amused. You raise an eyebrow at him and smirk, as if you know something he doesn't.

You feel the cold metal of the handcuff around your wrist and you try to get out of it, but it doesn't work. You glare at Jackson with a fierce look in your eyes.

I look up at the cop who has my wrist in his grip and I smirk, unfazed by the situation