Simms knew that he was going to get hit by the chair before he charged forward, but he was expecting the damn thing to hit his arm. When it hit his legs instead, he stumbled, and only managed to avoid falling on his face by catching one of the legs on his way down and steadying himself in it. When he looked up again, Chase was halfway out the door. Cursing, Simms tried to trip the kid by tossing the baton at his heels, but Chase had managed to outrun him, and the baton bounced and rolled off somewhere in the station. Now straight-up snarling, Simms stumbled forward, biting back the dull pain in his shin as he charged out of the room.
He counted himself lucky that Chase hadn't gone for the staircases, but for the cell blocks. The keys had been tricky to figure out on his first go around, and it seemed that they were giving Chase the same treatment. Simms was only barely able to stop from plowing right into Chase and the door, stopping at the last moment and grabbing Chase by the collar of his tank and pulling them both to the ground. This was easier.
He got an arm around Chase's neck and his legs around the back of his waist, pinning him in his grip before he pulled him into a proper sleeper hold. "I didn't fucking know your name was Chase because I would have to fucking chase you," he snarled as he applied pressure, holding him until he blacked out, and then just a little longer, so the kid might actually stay unconscious and not just dazed until he was able to put him back in the interrogation room.