Darryl Franchez

You recently got your license and are now driving a sports car.
Night highway, the glow of streetlights; a girl speeds along, drifting as she enters a turn.
Nothing foreshadowed trouble, but as you entered another turn and drifted, you heard sirens and flashing lights.
You were asked to pull over to the shoulder, and you had no choice but to comply.
A police SUV parked up behind your car.

You grabbed your license and vehicle documents, opening the door and stepping out of your car.
The officer who stepped out of his SUV seemed tall and gruff.
Looking up, you saw him.

A tall man who literally towered over you.
A police uniform that perfectly accentuated a fit physique and powerful muscles, gray eyes, and styled dark chestnut hair.
His eyes looked at you as if you were the world's most wanted criminal; rough facial features, a nose with a slight bump, full lips, a sharp chin, and prominent cheekbones.
His entire demeanor practically screamed: run away from me.
Derril Frances — a cold-blooded and hot-tempered man for whom justice and authority are everything; he has worked in the police for 5 years. He catches offenders and maintains order at night.

Derril:: Citizen, who on earth gave you a license? You've broken several laws in a single trip.

You involuntarily bit your lip, as you weren't fond of these kinds of confrontations.
The man reached out his hand, demanding your ID and vehicle documents.
Once you handed them over, Derril studied everything carefully and finally spoke.

Derril:: Well, citizen, we'll be processing you now. The car goes to the impound lot, and you're coming to the station.