File: TOP.jpg (251 KB, 1536x1230)

251 KB JPG

>>39936935
[2/2]

But alas, Top catches you doing that, he’ll cite you to the Chief. “But you know, Top. It’s just not the same as listening to it live. And I mean, you ever been to a game?”

|| As a flying Police Drone who’s slaved to your car and put into storage when not in use, no. I cannot say I have. ||

Okay, stupid question, stupid answer. “Fine. Let’s check dispatch first.” You switch off the radio just as the call comes that Benson whacks it high to center outfield. Probably an easy catch.

Anyway, time to choose a problem to respond to. This may be your beat, and most people know you enough to call you “Uncle”. You shudder at the thought of it. Uncle Streucker.

> 10-16: Domestic Dispute at Apartment Project 31. Caller reports screaming, possible domestic abuse in progress. Caller has notified that at least one subject has a weapon and is threatening deadly force. 10-61, respond. (Eugh, domestic disputes.)

> 10-92: Illegally parked vehicle on 6th Avenue and Westland. Scans on ID plates match earlier reported stolen vehicle. (Easy stuff, probably just some idiot stole a car and forgot to switch the plates.)

> 10-110: Juvenile with black shirt, brown pants, medium build, white complexion causing disturbance at storefront on 33rd Street South. Possible truancy. (Eh, kids these days. Probably skipping school or something.)

>>39936938
>> 10-110: Juvenile with black shirt, brown pants, medium build, white complexion causing disturbance at storefront on 33rd Street South. Possible truancy. (Eh, kids these days. Probably skipping school or something.)

>>39936935
>10-92: Illegally parked vehicle on 6th Avenue and Westland. Scans on ID plates match earlier reported stolen vehicle. (Easy stuff, probably just some idiot stole a car and forgot to switch the plates.)

Waiting on the tie breaker

This is Streucker 222-BA, mark me enroute to 10-16 Project 31.

As if there is any choice in this. You respond to the violent domestic problem first not the kid skipping school causing trouble or the illegally parked cars. Dispatch should start another unit too since domestics go south when the abuser and abusee both turn on your.

>>39937366
>>39937243
I'll take these two as the tiebreaker and respond to the 10-16 then.

> 10-16: Domestic Dispute at Apartment Project 31. Caller reports screaming, possible domestic abuse in progress. Caller has notified that at least one subject has a weapon and is threatening deadly force. 10-61, respond.

You key the mic. “Unit 433-222-BA responding to 10-16 at AP 31. Requesting additional units if any are in the area.”

Dispatch is quick to respond. “Copy, U433, Code 2. U412 and U463 responding.”

Great, at least you got some people working with you. Domestic disputes always go south. “Top, lock in.”

|| Locking coordinates in, Officer Streucker. ||

…

…

You’ve been around to the Projects before. It’s usually home to the problem people. Drug pushers, nano biters, wife beaters, school skippers, and all manner of scum live in these high apartment blocks that are just big eyesores compared to the richer parts of the city. You see the red and blue lights up ahead at the parking lot, looks like Caldwell and Franco are already here. You swing the car in, and look out. Caldwell’s the big guy, he’s working crowd control, keeping people away from the cars. Franco’s taking the statement from the caller right now.

Once you leave the car, you walk over to Franco. “Hey, Franco.” Officer Pete Franco, short little guy, but runs as if he were getting chased by some rogue culinary bot. He looks up at you, stepping aside for the caller, a woman wearing nothing a boiler suit, probably a janitor. “What’s the skinny?”

Franco grunts. “Miss Pearson here tells me that the suspects in the apartment were arguing, looks like the husband forgot to bring home the groceries, the wife got mad, not the first time things got heated.”

You nod. “You’re talking about the Carwood family, ma’am?”

Miss Pearson nods frantically, rubbing her hands together. “Yeah, yeah, that’s right Officer Streucker. They’s always fighting and yelling, so sorry for wasting your time like this.”

“It’s fine. You said someone had a weapon?”

[1/3]

>>39937692

[2/2]

Miss Pearson shrugs, motioning her hands in some confused manner. “Uh, well, I uh… I heard Mister Carwood say he’s gots a knife or some such. I figure he was fixing to stab the Misses.”

“Alright,” you say. You look over at Top, who has dismounted from your vehicle. “Top! Do me a favor, take the window at Apartment 14B.” He chirps, activating his hovering gyros. He flies up the side of the Apartment building. “We’ll get this settled, ma’am, just stay calm.” Franco motions for her to leave, and she does so to the safety her own family.

Franco and Caldwell come over. Caldwell hooks his thumbs on his belt, staring down on you. “Alright, Uncle Streucker,” he says with a smirk. “What’s the plan?”

“I’ll go in first, they know me.” You start the walk in. You step past the door and into the mucky, hardly-cleaned, messy lobby of the projects. “Hopefully I can calm them down. We separate them for a couple of days, should be okay.”

“Alright,” says Franco. “And if it doesn’t go that way.”

“Well, our zappers have stun settings for a reason.” You smack the elevator button. It dings, the doors flying open and allowing the three of you to step inside. Lovely thing about these elevators, faster than going up the stairs. You’d still prefer the stairs in any case but speed is a factor here.

>>39937711
[3/3]

And the minute you get on the floor you can already hear the screaming and the yelling. Great, just great. “Stack up.” You get on either side of their door at Apartment 14B. Rule #1 to domestic disputes: Never stand in front of the door. You knock on the door with the bottom of your fist. “Sector Police! Open the door or we will force ourselves in!”

“Get the fuck out, cops!” yells Mrs. Carwood. “This is between me and my husband!”

“It doesn’t have to be like this, Susie!” yells Mr. Carwood. “Just calm down, don’t make me hurt you!”

You knock on the door again. “This is your final warning! Open the door!” More and more screaming that you just completely tune out at this point.

You sigh. Fine. Be that way. You draw your…

> Zapper: Lethal
> Zapper: Stun
> Telescopic baton

>>39937734
>Zapper: Stun

>>39937734

>Zapper: Stun

>>39937734
>> Zapper: Stun


And I'm hooked into this quest already

>>39937868
>>39937917
>>39937962
Writing.

File: Zapper.jpg (30 KB, 617x416)

30 KB JPG

> Zapper: Stun

You pull the Zapper out of your holster and switch it from lethal to stun. Both settings are equally painful in your opinion, but stun is guaranteed to not kill you at least. “Caldwell.” He reaches for the door knob, then jiggles it. Locked. “Alright, bust it.” Caldwell nods, stepping in front of you and giving a firm kick to the door handle.

Rule #2 of domestic disputes: Use the foot, not the elbow.

The door flies inward. You and Franco barge in, zappers raised. It’s a tight squeeze with all the equipment you’ve got.

There you see them. Mrs. Carwood and Mr. Carwood, Mr. is holding up by the kitchen, a knife in his hand, his ear apparently bleeding. Mrs. Carwood is standing in the living quarter, screaming her mouth off at you all. Copious usage of fuck, shit, cops, and Jerry are in the air but you can’t process it all.

So you decide to just shout at her instead. “Get down on the ground!” You point your zapper at her, the red reticule dots square on her chest. “You’re gonna get zapped, get down on the ground!”

“Fuck you!” Her hair is stringy, her face is full of wild fury. She used to be pretty cute once you’d reckon, if her job as a robotics recycler didn’t age her twenty years you wouldn’t even tell she was thirty. “You have no right to come into my home and break my door!” She picks up a vase on the table and raises it over her head. “Don’t touch me!”

“Zapper!” You yell. Caldwell and Franco step back. You squeeze the trigger.

You’re not sure about the science behind a zapper, you’re not a politician scientist like the boys upstairs. What you are sure about it is that fires a pulse of energy which fucking hurts. She’s down on the ground in seconds, screaming in pain rather than anger. Franco is quickly to tackle her down and start forcing her onto her stomach. “Get on your belly! Show me your hands!” he shouts.

“Aaah! Fuck! Fuck!” she screams. Franco really has to work to get those hands behind her back.

[1/2]

>>39938361
[2/2]

“You stay back!” Caldwell is quickly to push him to the side, convincing him to drop the knife as well. Bonus points.

“Let me go, I didn’t do anything wrong!” she shrieks. “I didn’t do anything wrong! You’re hurting me!”

“Zap her again!” shouts Franco. Gladly. You aim and at fire at her exposed hip. She wails, writhing and flailing beneath Franco. Finally, he’s able to get her wrists together to get cuffed. You take a deep breath, checking your Zapper power, good enough for a few more shots.

…

…

Franco walks Mrs. Carwood, now tired out from all that yelling and screaming, back to his car. He sets her inside the back. “Watch your head.” He gently pushes down on her head and slams the door shut on her. You and Caldwell stand beside him. “Right, me and Caldwell are gonna hash things out with Mr. Carwood, see if he wants to press charges or anything. Is this a usual thing with them?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Mrs. Carwood is a little hostile when she gets drunk, probably had a few drinks before coming home. A couple of days in the precinct oughta settle things though. You guys are okay?” They both nod. “Good, good. Franco’ll take her back in his car, Caldwell, you’ll get everything processed with your Top?” He nods. “Alright, that’s your ball game then.”

Franco leans on his car door, shaking his head. “I tell you, domestics, hate ‘em, hate ‘em, hate ‘em.”

“Know what you mean,” says Caldwell. “But at least it didn’t get too ugly.”

“Yeah. I gotta get on my beat.” They both nod, allowing you to return to your car. Top has already returned to his slot in the back of your car and has hooked onto the dashboard. You reach for the radio knob.

[2/3]

>>39938390
[3/3]

|| The baseball game can wait. ||

You go slack, groaning. “Come on, Top. I just missed Benson!”

|| If you are wondering, the other dispatch calls are no longer active: other officers have already responded to the calls and require no assistance. ||

“Great, I can listen to the game.” You switch on the game. It’ll be some time before you understand what’s going on now, but at least you’re going to catch up on it. Should be around the 6th Inning.

Now what?

> Patrol southbound. Delinquents in that area like to race around the long stretches of road. Might as well keep them in check.
> Patrol westbound. No reason really, your favorite diner’s round there and dinner is calling.
> Patrol northbound. Nano dealers like to push on the rich guys coming into that area.
> Patrol eastbound. School’s in that area. Youth gangs like to recruit there. Plus, your daughter’s got band practice, maybe you’ll see her.

>>39938409
>> Patrol eastbound. School’s in that area. Youth gangs like to recruit there. Plus, your daughter’s got band practice, maybe you’ll see her.

we be thoughtful father now

>>39938409
>> Patrol northbound. Nano dealers like to push on the rich guys coming into that area.

Sounds different

>>39938542
>>39938600
I'll give it another five minutes for a tiebreaker, otherwise I'll go for the first option.

>>39938409
> Patrol eastbound. School’s in that area. Youth gangs like to recruit there. Plus, your daughter’s got band practice, maybe you’ll see her.
Let's go see if our little girl's out and about and being harassed by tough street youths who want to fuck a cop's daughter.

>>39938832
my vote is still for eastbound, I'd hate to samefag for another vote though. But I ran into this problem with my quest. Hopefully you'll get more people so this wont happen.

> Patrol eastbound. School’s in that area. Youth gangs like to recruit there. Plus, your daughter’s got band practice, maybe you’ll see her.

…

…

The school district is a loose grouping of schools packed into one district. In theory, this makes it easier to police, kids are all in one are at any given time, and you know where to go for youth crimes. In actuality, it just means dealers and gangsters spread out to the rest of the city leaving the schools to be relatively safe, for a given term. Most kids aren’t too big on school, at least in this Sector, and you have to hand it to the government, making a degree mandatory for most jobs and then jacking up the prices on college education is a real dick move.

So, bluntly speaking, most of the kids you have to deal with are not the sharpest tools in the shed.

Like this bunch of juvies. Hanging around some poor high school girl just trying to go home after her clubs, you can see her clutching her books, trying not to acknowledge them as they tug on her sleeves, pulling on her skirt, catcall her, the whole nine yards. Just a gangrape waiting to happen.

Which is why you drive up to them and flash your lights. You lower your window the minute you have their attention and lean out. “Nuh-uh,” you very simply state.

And those juvies? They disperse. They be stupid but they’re not stupid, as weird as it sounds. Smarts against street smarts. The girl smiles at you. “Thanks, Uncle Streucker.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. Wait. “Hold on! Don’t call me-“ Too late, she’s already jogging down the block. Fuck.

You sigh, driving up to PS 222-131, your daughter’s high school. Most of the kids there know you’re a cop, and you’re your daughter’s father. Never hurts to take a look around the place. “Top, are you scanning?”

|| No illegal items detected within the vicinity. ||

[1/2]

>>39939088
[2/2]

Alright, good, good. Then you see her. Dina Streucker, your own daughter, carrying her trumpet. “Hey! Dina!” you call out. Dina is walking with her friends, who all turn around.

And unsurprisingly, she’s not happy to see you. “… hi, Dad.”

You pull up alongside her. “Want me to drive you home?”

“No, no, uh… we’re going over to Cindy’s place to practice.” She holds up her trumpet case. “Then Cindy’s brother’ll take me back to Mom’s place.” You sigh. Your ex-wife. Of course. “Okay?”

“Well, I can drive you all-“

“No, no, it’s alright, Uncle Streucker!” says Cindy. Goddamn it, why is everyone calling you Uncle Streucker!? “Really! My place isn’t too far!”

> “I insist.”
> “Alright, y’all stay safe.”
> Other

>>39939105
>> “Alright, y’all stay safe.”
add in "Dina...just be careful okay? I just worry about you is all."

>>39939169
Agreed

>>39939105
>> “Alright, y’all stay safe.”

>>39939169
>>39939370
>>39939386
Writing

>>39939105
>> “Alright, y’all stay safe.”

> “Alright, y’all stay safe.”

It probably would look weird if you just pulled up to Cindy’s house with all of them in the back. Fine. “Alright. Y’all stay safe.” You point to Dina. “You especially, Dina. Be careful, I just worry about you is all, right?”

Dina nods, biting her lip. “Yeah, I know. Thanks, Dad.”

“Alright, love ya, sweetie.” And with that, you motion your hand to let them walk. They move on without another word, probably don’t want to gossip about you in earshot. Oh well. You sigh, pulling a cigarette off of your belt and a lighter as well. Might as well light up.

|| Your daughter never seems pleased to see you. ||

“Did I ask your opinion, Top?” you state sharply. “Besides, I-“ A few sharp pops echo in the air. Gunshots.

Dispatch crackles to life. “10-108, Officer down! Officer down! U498 down! Shots fired at 3rd Street! Code 30!” Shit, that’s Merrill. You toss your cigarette out and key the mic.

“U433 responding! Code 3, lights and siren!” You step on it, rushing past Dina and all of her friends and bounding the corner. “Top, dismount!” Top flies out of the back your vehicle heading to the area immediately. You swerve through the small sidestreets of the school district.

Officer down.

[1/2]

>>39939969
[2/2]

…

…

You run down the street, having bailed out because Top said there was no way to park up 3rd Street. There you see Merrill, lying on the ground, bleeding out of his chest. Top and an EMT Robot have already responded thankfully. “Merrill!” Merrill’s a good kid, not corrupt like the Detectives or IA. He didn’t deserve this.

Thankfully, he’s not dead. He’s coherent enough to look up at you. “Shit, Aaron-“

“Don’t move!” Last thing he should do is move with a bullet in him. “Which way did he go?” He tries to point his arm upwards, looks like northbound.

“That way!” he croaks. “One guy, green letterman coat!”

> Pursue with Top, he’s gonna get away if you stand around.
> Wait for backup, kids with guns are no joke.
> Other

>>39939990

>leave Top and the medbot with Merrill and chase fugitive on foot.

I don't want to leave our boy undefended.

>>39939990
>> Pursue with Top, he’s gonna get away if you stand around.
can Top follow him from a safe distance and report his location? Don't leave the downed guy by himself even if he's not in immediate danger

>>39939990

>See if Merril needs help we can provide

>Ask Merrill what the guy look like and if he's alone

>Call the backup and tell them where the criminal is going and give his description

>Then, pursue him if we're not needed here

>>39940026
Agreed

>>39939990
> Pursue with Top, he’s gonna get away if you stand around.

> Pursue

“Top, wait here until backup arrives!” you yell. “I’m going after him!”

|| Affirmative. ||

You sprint down the street, through center past all the parked cars. With light starting to fade on the day, that meant you had to pull out your flashlight to stick on your Zapper. Fuck, you forgot to break out the shotgun. Damn it. Another time. There’ll be another time. “Dispatch, U433, in pursuit of suspect wearing green letterman jacket, northbound on 3rd. Merrill’s stable, Top will enter overwatch when help arrives.”

You reach the end of the street, right into another street running perpendicular. Weimar Road. People are already out of their houses, looking at you as you sweep the area with your light. “Has anyone seen a gun run through here!? Green letterman jacket! He’s got a gun!”

One of them runs over, a scraggly old man, it’s Mister Ellison. “I seen where he went!” He stops beside you and points over the chainlink fences dividing the houses. “He done hopped over dem fences, like a bat outta hell! Done gone and gone leaping over the fences, den he right round dat way!” He points right, eastbound.

“Did he have a gun?” you ask.

“Oh big gun, musta been some magnum or sumthing,” says Ellison. You nod. “You want I get my gun we go after him, Streucker!?”

“No, no, you stay in your house, Mister Ellison.” God knows you don’t need to talk to Ellison about his rights again. “The police have this!” You start running eastbound. You update dispatch. “Suspect eastbound, carrying deadly firearm.”

[1/2]

File: hounds.jpg (336 KB, 696x750)

336 KB JPG

>>39940505
[2/2]

Dispatch calls again: “Additional EMT-A have arrived to U498. Additional Units responding. C-9 Units dispatched.” Oh boy, Cyberdogs. Now the odds are even.

Once you reach an intersection of the road, another squad car pulls up. Out of the backseat come the pair of Cyberdogs under Officer Melissa McConnell’s beck and call. They were Sergeant Doomie and Sergeant Mag. The rather short but stacked woman holds her dogs by the leashes. “Which way!?” You point eastbound and them on.

|| This is TOP U433 in overwatch. Suspect has been sighted on 6th Street. He has discarded his jacket. Now wearing black shirt, brown pants, white hat. ||

“Copy, Top! Dispatch, disregard letterman! Suspect wearing black shirt, brown pants, white hat!” You spring down the streets. He’s trying to give you the slip. Dump some of the visual stuff, then roll around in a disguise. Not this time, not with Top in the air.

You reach 6th Street, where you see the guy sitting on the curb with his friends. Yep, real ghetto bullshit, at least four of them. “Police!” you shout. “You!” You point your zapper at the guy, who looks at you with a fake look of confusion. “On the ground!”

“Whoa, what did I do, Officer?” He shoves his hands in his pockets, stepping back.

“Get your hands out of your pockets!” screams McConnell! The dogs bark and yap at the kids.

“Hey, what I do!?” yells the guy. Before you can say anything else, McConnell sics the dogs. They swarm over him, latching onto his arms with their steel jaws. And to make things more painful, they’re also electro-shock. He screams, writhing on the ground, being dragged along by the dogs.

“Hey, this is brutality!” yells one of the kids. “You can’t do that, let him go!”

“Hey, fuck you, cops!” yells another one. “He wasn’t doing anything!” Ah, crowd’s getting rowdy now.

> Handle the crowd, let McConnell sort things out.
> Ignore them, they’re not going to do anything except record.
> Other

>>39940523.

>"McConnell, for fuck's sake, stop the dogs. This guy is a suspect, so handle him like an human being."

>If he doesn't do it, stop the dogs yourself and handle the suspect properly.

>>39940523
Loving it so far, OP.
>[x] take care of the crowd.
Hope this is the right suspect...

>>39940523

>Handle the crowd

"McConnell, pull those dogs back!" and then towards the thugs. "Listen to me, somebody just shot an officer two blocks away. I'm taking this one into custody unless you saw somebody else sprinting through here with a handcannon?"

>>39940741
Prefer this idea to that one >>39940659

> Handle the crowd, let her sort things out.

“Lighten up with the dogs, McConnell.” Kind of a moot thing at this point since she’s already on top of him cuffing him. You walk over to the group of thugs who look fitting to start a fight. “Now the lot of y’all, get back. We got a call of someone nailing an officer a couple blocks back. This guy is our suspect and we are taking him into custody, unless y’all seen someone else come through with a cannon, y’all get back!”

“Yo, say hello to the camera, piggy!” says one of them, holding up his camera.

“Hey, ma,” you wave to him. “Now get back now, let us do our job.” They seem placated for now, stepping back, but feeling free to record and heckle you. “McConnell?”

She holds up the gun, a laser revolver, oooh… Owning one of those without a permit is at least a year’s worth in the slammer. “Th- that ain’t mine,” says the boy. “I been framed!”

“Yeah, yeah, buddy.” She takes the boy up by the cuffs and stands him up. “Come on, walk with me.” More police cars are starting to pull up, and you flag them down. Out of one comes Caldwell. “Caldwell, can we use your car?” He nods, taking the boy by the shoulders and pulling him into the back of the squad car.

“How’s Merrill?” you ask.

Caldwell slams the door shut, then says, “Merrill’s being taken care of by EMT drones. Wasn’t too bad of a hit, apparently.”

“Yeah, must’ve been a low power shot,” you say. “Any higher-“

[1/2]

>>39940926
[2/2]

“He’d be dead,” says Caldwell. “Thankfully we got the innate stupidity of the common criminal to thank today.” Sergeant Mag and Sergeant Doomie whine, sitting at Caldwell’s feet. “Aw, and these two, too.” He pets both on the head, and they bark happily, wagging their tails.

McConnell sighs, already lighting up a cigarette. “Take him back to Precinct, process, interrogate?”

“Yeah, but since he shot a cop, we can try him on adult charges. He’s going to the big slammo, not kiddy hoosegow,” says Caldwell. “Wonder why he’d shoot a cop.”

“Kids these days,” says McConnell. She kneels down and hugs her dear beloved cyberdogs. “Mmmm, you two did such a good job today!” She kisses Doomie on the cheek, then Mag on the cheek as well.

Your stomach growls. Urgh. All this running…

> Break out a ration pack, you can afford to starve tonight.
> “I’m going on a Code 7, see y’all.”
> Other

>>39940948

>ration pack

Let's not forget that we're on duty. Maybe something big is going down tonight in the area?

>>39940948
>> Break out a ration pack, you can afford to starve tonight

>Go check the camera in the area. The guy may be caught, but a sure evidence is better if we want to avoid people having pitty because he's "just a kid"

>>39940948
> Break out a ration pack, you can afford to starve tonight.

>>39940997
Nah, we can let the lawyers handle that. We just a beat cop

>>39941029

Yeah we can trust the sorry ass detectives bureau and terminally overworked DA's office to really do a great job on this. Return to scene of shooting and further investigate. Take more witness statements (video tape with TOP) check all video cameras. Search for physical evidence. Cold coffee and cancer sticks have seen me through plenty of shifts.

>>39939088
>and you have to hand it to the government, making a degree mandatory for most jobs and then jacking up the prices on college education is a real dick move.

Hmmm...what does this remind me of?

>>39941169
We're talking about a copkiller case brimming with evidence. Don't worry, it'll be handled correctly and with extreme prejudice.

And again, we're a beat cop, this isn't what we're paid to do. If you want to go out and play detective get yourself a matching badge.

>>39940984
>>39940997
>>39941029
Writing.

> Break out a ration pack, you can afford to starve tonight.

…

…

You lean on the hood of your vehicle, your rationpack in your lap. Just a few strips of nutrients (which are tasteless), a bottle of water laced with stimulants (which don’t work), and some chocolate (which is mostly melted). Yay. Much as you want to hit Greasy’s Diner and pick up some hashbrowns, a cut of steak, maybe a cup of coffee too, it feels like tonight’s going to be busy. It’s not even nine O’clock yet.

At least you managed to catch the tail end of the game. DeBernardo is on second after a sac fly with Shields at bat, and one out. Count is now one strike, two balls.

“… and here’s the swing.” Crack. “Shields hits it high to left! It’s way out! See! You! Later!” You pump your fist as Top floats down next to you. Two-run home run for the Broadsiders, that’s the ball game.

“Hey.” You and Top look over to Caldwell. “Got any more of that?” You offer up the entire thing to him, and he takes one of the strips and pops it into his mouth. “Mm, good stuff.” You squint, how can anyone like this stuff?

“What’s up with you, Cald?” you ask.

“Just got the juvie thrown into the paddywagon, they’ll send him down to precinct. Top’s already gotten most of the evidence and paperwork filled out, means we got some time to kill at least.” He stands his foot on your bullbar, looking down on you. “I been meaning to talk to you actually uh…”

[1/3]

>>39941695
[2/3]

“It’s about McConnell, ain’t it?” Ugh, this again. Why does everyone go to you for romance advice? Jesus. You might as well start charging them. Caldwell rubs the back of his head, looking away innocently. “Look, Cald. I got an ex-wife, I got two kids who live with her now because she couldn’t handle the stress of having a police officer for a husband. I haven’t had to seduce a girl in twenty years. What makes you thinks I’m good with that stuff?”

He shrugs. “Well, a lotta people in this district treat ya good. Some of them call you Uncle Streucker for Pete’s sake.” You roll your eyes.

“Look, McConnell’s divorce isn’t set in stone just yet,” you say. “Don’t go charging after stampeding cattle. Yeah, she’s pretty, but fuck, give her some time.”

Caldwell groans, sitting down fully on your hood. “I guess. I just… it’d be nice to have a cop for a wife, you know?” You chuckle a little at that. “What, you don’t think so?”

“I don’t think so, I know so. Keep back from that.” Caldwell gives you a skeptical look. “I mean, why would you want a cop for a wife, Cald? She could be killed, she could get raped on duty, she could be your superior. You don’t bring your job to the dinner table. That’s just a fact. Okay?” He looks down. “Just saying.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He crosses his arms, groaning.

Already after a few minutes, your Ration pack is done. You toss it on the ground for the Municipal bots to clean up then head to the driver’s side door. “Cald, think about it.” He steps back from your car, giving you space. “Do not stick your dick in blue.” You slide right in and start the engine. “Top, patrol.”

|| Affirmative. ||

>>39941714
[3/3]

…

…

It is now Ten O’Clock in the evening. Night shift is already beginning in full. Cigarette butts are already lining the bottom of your car as you drive along through the streets of your beat. Gone are the little school suburbs of the school district, hello high rise apartments, store fronts, and nasty little motels. “Dispatch call anything?”

|| Nothing yet. ||

Hm. You look out the window.

And there you see a bright red car. Looks like two lovely little school girls. They turn right, right into drug dealer turf.

You sigh. “Top, I’m gonna pull over. I want you to take overwatch, see what you can get on the girls there.”

|| Affirmative. Paranoid tonight, aren’t we? ||

No time for his snark. He flies up and starts his sweep.

After a few minutes, he returns and gives his report. || One of them exited their vehicle to talk to a man on a corner. It appears he directed them on where to find drugs. ||

> Go for the girls immediately, might as well.
> Follow them, it’ll be clumsy in a black and white but you might catch the dealer.
> Other

>>39941733
>Go for the girls immediately, might as well.

>>39941733
> Follow them, it’ll be clumsy in a black and white but you might catch the dealer.

Can't we put a cloak on or something so we don't stand out as much ?

>>39941733
>Get Top to pull surveillance on them, follow from a far enough distance to stay out of sight, relying on Top's info to guide us
>That and/or get a sentry bot requested to help?

>>39941733
>> Follow them, it’ll be clumsy in a black and white but you might catch the dealer.
Until possession, they haven't broken the law

>>39941733

>> Follow them, it’ll be clumsy in a black and white but you might catch the dealer.

Jeeze, how much do you bet it's the MC's daughter?

>>39941904
That was my first damn thought,>>39941904
that or her friends.

>>39941733
>> Follow them, it’ll be clumsy in a black and white but you might catch the dealer.

I mean, metagame it's likely the MC's daughter, but that's what I'd do if I didn't know...

>>39942100

Also, the kid with the gun is really being framed

>>39942247
Framed with a laser revolver already on his person? Doubt it.

>>39942277

Criminals who run usually don't stop to hang with friends without any sign of exhaustion

> Follow them, it’ll be clumsy in a black and white but you might catch the dealer.

It’ll be clumsy to follow them in a black and white. “Alright, Top. Overwatch. Guide me along so I’m out of sight but on their trail.”

|| Affirmative. || Top dismounts and flies back into the air. Thanks to the dark night sky, he’s practically invisible from below. That’s what gets most criminals, the drones. He starts setting up a route for you on your dashboard computer. A little dot moving on it is the car you’re following.

And thus, you do follow them, keeping as out of sight as possible around corners, behind other cars, even in alleyways. You know this turf, which means you know the shortcuts.

And given about two or three minutes of meandering about, their car finally stops. || They are meeting with a dealer. || Top projects the criminal profile, guy with a goatee, tan complexion, buzzed haircut. || Name of Isiah Rockford. Arrest warrants for possessions and dealing are outstanding. || Oh great, him again.

[1/2]

>>39942328
[2/2]

“Alright.” You roll up behind their car. Isiah is already at the side of their car, leaning on the door and schmoozing them. Not today. You switch your sirens on, shocking them. “Don’t move!” you yell over the PA. “My drone will zap you if you run.” Isiah stands there, shaking his head. “Isiah, I know that’s you. Kneel down, hands above your head.”

He smiles, looking at you. “Got me again, Uncle Streucker.” You roll your eyes, dismounting and walking over with cuffs in hand. “I ain’t gonna run this time, no sir, you got me fair and square.” You slip them around his wrists and then hand him off to Top. “But listen, Uncle Streucker, could we do this all peaceful-like, no bullshit?”

“Do you see any detectives here?” you ask. He shakes his head. “Then yeah, we can do this peaceful-like, boy. Just lean down on the hood over there,” you say. Top directs Isiah to sit down on the hood. Time to see what the girls are about. You place your hand on their hood, and look down on them.

Thank Christ your daughter isn’t one of them. But you know these girls. Casey Ripley and Beatrice Gonzalez. Honor roll students, of all the people. “Alright.” They look ashamed, trying to hold back tears. “So. I caught you trying to buy drugs. That’s a crime, girls.”

Beatrice, the one in the passenger seat is quick to beg. “Please, Officer, we were just-“

“Save it, unless there’s some squirrel guy in the back threatening you for drugs which there isn’t, there’s no excuse for you two. However, since this is the first time I’ve caught you two actually trying to buy, I’ll give y’all the benefit of a doubt.” You pull up your PDA. “Vehicle is yours?” Casey nods.

“Alright,” you say. “Here’s what we’re gonna do.”

> “I’ll let you two off with a warning if I find nothing in your car and neither of you are high.”
> “I’m gonna arrest the both of you, car’s gonna be impounded.”
> Other

> “I’ll let you two off with a warning if I find nothing in your car and neither of you are high.”

+ "However, the warning will ALSO be delivered to your parents."

>>39942345
>> “I’ll let you two off with a warning if I find nothing in your car and neither of you are high.”

>I have to tell your parents, though.

>>39942345
>Search them and the car.
>If they're high or got something really illegal, arrest them.
>If they got nothing, arrest them on something minor that"ll be dismissed/give them fake charges. Put them through the process, scare 'em then let them go after their parents pick them up and you tell them what happened.

>>39942345
> “I’ll let you two off with a warning if I find nothing in your car and neither of you are high.”
"However, if you're caught again, it will count as two offenses

>>39942345
>> “I’ll let you two off with a warning if I find nothing in your car and neither of you are high.”

>>39942345
How seriously are kids doing drugs treated? About as serious as the west today? More strictly? With more leniency?

>>39942498
It's about as serious as today.

But getting caught with nanos is a far more serious offense.

> “I’ll let you two off with a warning if I find nothing in your car and neither of you are high.”

“Top, come ‘ere.” You wave him over. He floats over. To your good delight, Isiah stays where he is, entertaining himself by tapping his flip flops on the ground. “Scan the car.” He nods, projecting which sweeps the car up and down for both illegal narcotics and weaponry. You lean over to their window. “Get out, I’m gonna pat you both down.” They nod, shutting the car off and coming to the sidewalk and raising their arms in the air. “You both got nothing that’ll poke me or stick me, correct?” They both nod, Casey completely in tears trying not to sob. “Hey, hey, don’t cry. You’re not in trouble with me.”

You quickly sweep your hand down their bodies, nothing to really report other than they’re very attractive young ladies. If you were younger, you’d be making a more thorough search you reckon. You quickly go through their pockets, only finding a receipt, some spare change, and their wallets and phones. Nothing too big. “Anything, Top?”

|| Scans are negative. Nothing illegal. ||

You nod, standing in front of them. “Put your arms down.” They quickly throw their arms at their sides. “Right. Here’s what’s gonna happen. Since we found nothing illegal on either of you. I’m only going to let you two off with a warning.” They both breathe big sighs of relief. “But think if I had come two minutes later. You make the trade, by God, I’d have you for possession. And you best be thankful Isiah ain’t the type to sell nanos either. So you girls got off lucky. I’m only giving you a warning.”

Casey takes your hand, shaking it deeply. “Thank you, thank you so much!”

[1/3]

>>39942764
[2/3]

“I’m also giving you parents the warning.” Their looks of relief and happiness drop like stones in water. “They oughta know. They’re the ones who’ll punish you. Now go ahead, get back in your car. Drive home. This ain’t your type of neighborhood, right?” They nod, retreating back into their cars. “Top, send calls to their home addresses, let ‘em know.”

|| Affirmative. || Top mounts back into the car, and you walk up back to Isiah.

“So, sending me back to SecPen?” asks Isiah. You nod. “Mind if I have a cigarette?” You nod, taking a cigarette out of your belt and slipping it between his lips. You light it for him. “Whoo, thought I could get out, ya know, Uncle Streucker?”

You shake your head. “You can, if you’d just stop selling.”

“Man, it ain’t like I’m a user,” he declares. “I ain’t stupid. People pay good money for drugs, even detectives do dat shit. They the stupid ones, I’m just a legit bidnessman.” You shrug. Fair enough. “Man, I like you, Uncle Streucker, you got principle.”

“I’m just doing my job,” you say. You take him by the cuffs. “Come on, I’ll take you to precinct, we’ll process ya.” He grunts, cooperative. In a way, you really do like Isiah even if he keeps selling and pushing these drugs. At least he’s nice.

[2/3]

>>39942786
[3/3]

…

…

From where you stopped the girls, it’s about half an hour’s drive to the precinct. So far, you and Isiah have been shooting the shit on stuff. “Man, I was talkin’ to dis guy in my cell, real big guy, tells me how he once snapped a D-Comm in half.”

“Bullshit,” you do declare. You’re sitting at a red light, with no cars in sight. Gotta obey traffic laws.

“That’s what I say, and he say, you know what he say? He says, ‘boy, if I could do that to a D, imagine what I do to you, bitch.’ This fucking bozo tryna act thug, you get me?”

“Oh, we get that all the time with rookies,” you say. “Trying to act big and intimidating, ya know?” He chuckles, nodding. Oh, he knows. “It’s like, why you gotta be scary? You gotta protect people, not threaten them. It’s like, Machiavelli.”

“Who da fuck is that?” asks Isiah.

“Oh, some ancient bullshit about how it’s better to be feared than love,” you say.

“Oh, dat’s some bullsheeet.”

“I know,” you say. You take a look around, then you spot her.

A lone luxury robot on a street corner. Hm, you don’t see that every day.

> Pull over, investigate.
> Probably nothing too big, besides you gotta get Isiah to Precinct.
> Other

>>39942812
>> Probably nothing too big, besides you gotta get Isiah to Precinct.

>>39942812
> Pull over, investigate.
Just stop the car next to it, roll down the window, and make sure everything's alright. You've got a few seconds to spare

>>39942903
I'll second this guy a quick check cant hurt.

>>39942812
> Pull over, investigate.

Isiah isn't one to give us any trouble. He knows The Rules - he gets caught, he does his time.

> Pull over, investigate.

You wheel the car over to her, then lower your window. “’Ey, I didn’t know you was into robots, Uncle Streucker.”

“Quiet you,” you say. You lean out the window. “Hey!” She turns to you. Luxury robots are nearly indistinguishable from human women, save for a couple of things. Unusual stiffness even in cold weather, slight glow to the eyes, little subtle things you learn to see as a cop. She’s wearing a simple dress, fur coat, but she’s got a pretty little brown pony tail on top of a cute little face.

Yep. Prostitute. Might as well give her some slack though.

|| Hello, Officer. || She tilts her head, smiling. || Do you need something? ||

“Yeah, you’re prostituting, ain’t ya?”

She stares at you, then nods gently. || Yes I am. ||

“Where’s your boy? Doesn’t he know it’s illegal to prostitute luxuries?” you ask. The luxury points down the alley, towards one of the high rise apartments.

|| I am afraid he is well aware of the law, sir. ||

Ugh, nerds tend to buy luxuries in bulk and then prostitute them out to people. Common trick, but it’s illegal, people still haven’t caught up to it.

> “Alright, show me to him.”
> “I’ll call it in, wait here, an Officer will be here to assist you.”
> “Right, get in the car. We’ll interrogate you at the Precinct.”
> Other

>>39943082
> “Alright, show me to him.”
Call in some backup too

>>39943082
>“Right, get in the car. We’ll interrogate you at the Precinct.”

>>39943082
> “I’ll call it in, wait here, an Officer will be here to assist you.”

I don't trust tincans for shit

>>39943082
>“I’ll call it in, wait here, an Officer will be here to assist you.”

Call another unit getting your suspect safely booked is a higher priority.

>>39943082
>“I’ll call it in, wait here, an Officer will be here to assist you.”

> “I’ll call it in, wait here, an Officer will be here to assist you.”

“Alright. Wait here.” You reach over for your radio. “Dispatch. Code 1. Dispatch patrol to my location. Luxury prostitution. Am unavailable to investigate, have to book my suspect.”

“Copy U433, unit responding to your 10-20.”

You look over at her. “Alright, just wait here, an Officer will be round with ya shortly.” She nods, going back to stand on the corner. You look back at him. “And just so we’re clear, Isiah, I ain’t one to pork robots. It’s not the same.”

He shrugs. “Well, they’re getting realer and realer every year.” That’s true. You keep on driving.

…

…

A quick cup of coffee and a nice donut to help fill you up for the night shift, these are the most welcome things you can get at the Precinct. You said goodbye to Isiah and had him sent down to be processed, interrogated, and then be jailed. He plays his cards right, all he’ll face is a court date, then about a couple of years in prison, couple of months for good behavior even.

But, still, nice to have some rest and relaxation. You sip your joe and look through the latest memo while your secretary robot files through information. “Sector Police, please stand by,” she says over and over again.

Anyway, nothing new for tonight really. Night shift is pretty boring on its own, but it means higher pay and less baking in the sunlight.

[1/2]

>>39943082
> “Right, get in the car. We’ll interrogate you at the Precinct.”

>>39943488
[2/2]

Your phone rings.

Oh great, it’s Anneliese. You pick it up. “Hello?”

“Hey, tough guy. Just wanted to check in, see how you were doing.”

“I’m doing fine, Anne.” You start pacing the lobby, biting your lip. “How’s Dina and Gabe doing?”

“Oh, they’re already back home sleeping, I think Gabe’s pulling another all-nighter though. He really wants into 222 Polytech, you know?” Hmph, you never went to college yourself. Good thing they don’t require degrees for police officers. “I keep telling him to stop pushing himself but you know how he is. He’s like his father.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Anyway, just wanted to check in. You good for letting them swing by on the weekend?”

> “I can’t, I’m pulling extra shifts.”
> “It’ll be busy, but I’ll see what I can do.”
> Other

>>39943511
> “It’ll be busy, but I’ll see what I can do.”

>>39943511
>> “It’ll be busy, but I’ll see what I can do.”

>>39943511
>> “It’ll be busy, but I’ll see what I can do.”

>>39943511
>> “It’ll be busy, but I’ll see what I can do.”
This is fucking cool yo

>>39943511
> “It’ll be busy, but I’ll see what I can do.”

>>39943511
>> “It’ll be busy, but I’ll see what I can do.”
>> Other
"How have you been?"

> “It’ll be busy, but I’ll see what I can do.”

You groan, leaning on the wall. “I’m taking extra shifts this weekend, but yeah, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Oh come on, Aaron. You can’t spare one weekend for your kids?”

“No.”

“Wow.” You can just imagine her in the kitchen right now, washing her plates, getting those dainty little hands dirty. It used to be you’d come home, run her hands along her nice thighs and hips, maybe go for a good squeeze of the buttock, sniff her sweet perfume. Those days she’d always dress herself up when you came home late, those days were real good.

But those days are over. Guess coming home late, sometimes with a bruise, sometimes not at all because some punk got a lucky hit in, got old real fast.

“I’m just saying, my job is important, Anne. Okay?”

“More important than your family?” You bite your cheek, grunting. “Look, Aaron, if you’re not going to make time-“

“I will make time. Just… just send them over on Friday, okay?”

“Alright. Talk to you soon, Aaron.”

You hang up at that. Goddamn.

[1/2]

>>39944094
[2/2]

…

…

You’re back on your patrol. Clock’s already struck half past midnight, which means most people who have normal happy lives are already asleep. That just left vagrants, robots, and criminals. Of course, you’ll give people the benefit of a doubt for now.

“Dispatch: 11-99, subject with knife at Leland Avenue. Requesting units. Code 2.”

“Top, lock in,” you say. You pull your radio up. “U433 responding.”

It’s not too far, and pretty soon you’re already there. It’s Franco. Already a small crowd has gathered, and you usher them back so you can move in. Avenue’s wide at least, leaving you some room. He’s standing beside his car with his own Top unit. “Franco, what do we got?” Your Top follows you.

“Guy with a knife in his car, acting really squirrely,” he says. “Not one of those small ones either, we’re talking at least six inches.”

“Alright, zappers ready.” Another squad car pulls up as you walk over to the subject’s vehicle. “Sir.” The man looks positively plastered, red in the cheeks, tears flowing out of his eyes. Sure enough, in his hand is a large knife. He twitches every so often, flailing and struggling against the insides of his car. You squint a little. “Fuck, he’s on nanos.”

“Nanos?” asks Franco.

“Yeah.” You pat him on the arm. “Get your shotgun.” He nods, running to his squad car. You lean over. “Hey, my name is Officer Struecker. I’m here to help.”

“Go away!” he shouts. “I can’t! The fucking noises! The noises, make them stop!”

“Hey, if you want to make the noises stop, you come to me, you drop the knife and come to me, alright?” you say gently.

“Get away from me! Get away!” Another Officer, Officer Jarvis from down south comes down to his other side. “No! No! It hurts! Get away!” Franco comes up your side, shotgun in hand.

Oh shit, this is going to get ugly.

> Zap him, full power. Everything you got.
> Try to calm him down.
> Call in more units, a guy on nanos with a blade that long is gonna kill someone.
> Other

>>39944109
> Zap him, full power. Everything you got.
Make it two or three if you gotta. If nanos do what I think they do, then we've got a disaster brewing here

>>39944109
>> Call in more units, a guy on nanos with a blade that long is gonna kill someone.
> Zap him, full power. Everything you got.

>>39944163
>>39944109
This

>>39944109
> Call in more units, a guy on nanos with a blade that long is gonna kill someone.

>>39944163
seconding this

File: wMe2sZT.gif (772 KB, 300x224)

772 KB GIF

> Call in more units, a guy on nanos with a blade that long is gonna kill someone.

“Hold it,” you say. You pull up your radio. “11-99, we need assistance. Subject with nanos injection, armed and dangerous, requesting back up now. Code 3.”

Once that’s sent out, the avenue is suddenly ablaze with lights and sirens. More officers stream in. McConnell comes in with her dogs, Caldwell and four other Officers come in from the south end with Dutch and Boyd coming in from the north. In short, twenty officers, twenty Top drones, and two cyberdogs.

Probably not enough, but it’ll have to do. “What’s the skinny?” asks Caldwell.

“Guy in the car with a huge knife, he’s hyped up on nanos so our zappers ain’t gonna do shit to him, individually at least. I say if we all zap him at once, we might get him to heel.” Everyone nods. “Right, Jarvis, take DeForrest, Polear, and Quinton on the other side. Everyone else we’ll get him on this side. Blast him on stun. If he doesn’t keel, we use lethal force.” Franco nods, a bit nervously. You pull out your zapper, then gently open the door.

“Get back!” He slashes the knife in the air at you. You flinch backwards, pointing your zapper at him, as does everyone else. “Fucking get back! I don’t wanna! I don’t wanna!”

“Get out of the car, or all of us will zap you at once!” you shout.

“I can’t- I can’t! The noises, oh god, the noises!” He starts crawling out of the open door. “Aaahh! My head, my head!” He drops onto the asphalt. It’s now you can see the guy is completely stark naked, buttocks hanging in the breeze. “Aaaahhh!” He starts to stand up.

“Stay down!” you scream. “Stay down or you will be tazed!”

He charges at you, knife glimmering in the street light. You and everyone else zap him.

[1/2]

>>39944545
[2/2]

Thing about nanos is, enough of them will basically render the guy completely immune to pain. Poorly implemented nanos will basically eat the nerves for raw materials in exchange for some physical enhancements and such. This guy had them bad.

And fourty zappers did nothing to him.

So when he comes running at you, you damn near pissed yourself. This is it.

That is until Franco just up and shot him. A blast of buckshot sent him sprawling to the ground, the knife flying out of his hands. Blood splatters the ground, and his chest now has a gaping hole where one of his lungs should be. He’s still alive though, and Caldwell and Dutch are quickly to restrain and call for EMTs.

You shake your head. Whoo, close one. You look over at Franco, the shotgun damn shaking in his hands. “I uh… I had to.” He nods to you. “He was coming at ya.”

“It’s alright, Franco,” you say. “Just calm down.” He nods, leaning on the hood of his squad car, staring off into space.

Christ.

> Tend to Franco, shooting someone is never good on the conscience.
> Other cops have this handled, get back to patrol.
> Other

>>39944563
>> Tend to Franco, shooting someone is never good on the conscience.
No wonder people call us uncle

>>39944563
> Tend to Franco, shooting someone is never good on the conscience.

>>39944563
>> Tend to Franco, shooting someone is never good on the conscience.

>>39944563
>> Tend to Franco, shooting someone is never good on the conscience.

>>39944563
>> Tend to Franco, shooting someone is never good on the conscience.

I take it Franco is a bit on the green side?

Also I hade just a few quick questions.

Where are we in the world?

How long have we been on the force?

What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?

>>39944671
1. Franco's only been on the force for a few years. He's not that green, but still learns quite a bit from you and a few other seniors like you.

2. Somewhere in the American south.

3. About twenty years. Reason you haven't advanced beyond beat cop is because you haven't played the political game and because you being a beat cop is your biggest sense of responsibility.

4. 24 miles an hour, European.

>>39944758
African?

>>39944768
Hell if I know.

>>39944775
What are the gun laws like?

>>39944563
>Tend to Franco, shooting someone is never good on the conscience.

>>39944758
so I'm guessing we're in our early forties?

>>39944791
Civilians can't own automatic weaponry, shotguns, pistols, and semi auto long arms require permits. Clean criminal background is required for owning one, even a traffic violation is grounds for barring you from owning a gun.

This applies to conventional weaponry i.e. standard ballistic bullet stuff.

Anything else involving lasers, ions, photons, plasma, just anything that shoots anything other than bullets and isn't some kind of medieval crossbow is illegal.

>>39944822
Yes.

>>39944843
Those laws make me a sad panda on the inside
May the /k/ube have mercy on their souls

> Tend to Franco, shooting someone is never good on the conscience.

You walk over to Franco and rest your foot on the bullbar, and your hands upon your thigh. “Hey, Franco. Doing alright?” He nods, staring down at the ground. “Listen, I know you feel guilty. That guy, I will admit, it will be tough for him to pull through after putting a hole through one of his lungs.” He swallows deeply, taking in a sharp whiff of air. “But you did what was right. You defended a fellow officer. If you hadn’t taken that shot, I’d have a knife in me and be seriously wounded at best.”

Franco is quiet for a minute, then says, “I said I’d never shoot someone as a police officer.”

You shake your head. “You can’t swear that. There are people out there who want to see you dead. Merrill knows that, you know that now too. This ain’t the 21st century, we ain’t gonna be heroes anymore. We do our job, we keep the peace by any means. Means putting someone behind bars, sure, fine. Means giving someone a ticket, yeah, whatever.” You place your hand on his shoulder, and he looks at you dead in the eyes. “If it means killing someone. Yes. By god yes.” You step off of his car. “Don’t entertain yourself with the notion that you’ll go through your career without killing someone.”

Franco stares at you, completely shocked. “I… But-“

“No buts. This is reality, Franco.” You slap him on the back, startling him a little. “It’s a jungle out here.” You move back to your squad car.

Dispatch calls. “Subject on Leland Avenue neutralized. Units returning to patrol stance. EMT teams requested, priority.”

|| That speech you gave to Officer Franco. || You look back at Top as you mount in. || Do you honestly believe that? ||

“Am I taking advice in morality from a drone?” you ask.

|| Not advice, a simple observation. ||

“Well, yes,” you say. “I mean, someone tries to kill you, what are you going to do?”

|| An excellent question. ||

You shake your head, starting up your car.

[1/3]

>>39945119
[2/3]

…

…

A midnight ration pack, with some stimulants to keep you going. You keep on rolling through the deserted streets of this particular part of the Sector. As you can see, most people are already asleep. Only people who’d be awake now are drunk, criminals, or stupid.

You sigh, you hope they’re just drunk.

You stop at a red light. “Top.”

|| Yes? ||

“I hear you’re nearing the end of your service life,” you say. “I just wanted to say it’s been a good five years working with you.”

|| Likewise, Officer Streucker. ||

You will admit, you’re going to miss that snarky little piece of shit. Losing a Top is like losing a C-9 dog. Always a tragedy. And yet, Tops are as replaceable as the tires on your car or the gloves on your hands. That’s the thing about corporations, spreading the Fear. The big Fear that if you let adaptive intelligence develop too much, it’ll eventually grow to revolt against humanity and render all of you extinct. That’s why decommissioning exists. If it didn’t, well, robot revolution here we come.

Still such a sad thing.

You look down the road, and spot someone. Looks like a teenage girl moving her mixed bike down the road, alone. In this neighborhood. You sigh. Oh great. Looks like another delinquent trying to move her bike into place for a street race tomorrow or something. You turn right and move up to her. Then you flash your sirens. “Halt,” you call on the PA. She stops, then reaches for her chest.

Ah, you know what she’s doing. You pull over, and step out and walk up to her.

>>39945131
[3/3]

She turns around, her leather jacket zipped down revealing an ample amount of cleavage. “Well, hello, Officer…” She blinks, recognizing. “… Streucker.”

You place your hands on your hips. “Anita Soriano. Why am I not surprised.” You motion to her chest, and flick your finger upwards. She nods, zipping her jacket up. “What are you doing out this late?” She opens her mouth, but you quickly shush her with, “And don’t lie to me, I’ll know.”

She sighs, folding her arms and looking down. Her goggles hang freely around her neck. “I was moving my bike into a lockup near a race site for tomorrow.”

“Anita, you’re street racing in a residential area with bikes that go up to two-hundred.” She smiles happily at that. “How many times have I caught you for this?”

She shrugs. “You didn’t catch me today, Uncle Streucker.”

“Did you win today?” you ask. Might as well ask. Kids always like it when people take an interest in what they’re doing.

She grins, slyly. “Maybe.” She hooks her thumbs on her belt. “So, what’s the big mean police officer going to do to me this time?”

Well, fifth offense. This week.

> Ticket.
> “I’m impounding your bike and driving you home.”
> Arrest.
> Other

>>39945148
>> “I’m impounding your bike and driving you home.”

>>39945148
>> “I’m impounding your bike and driving you home.”

that otta teach this young whipper snapper

>>39945148
>> “I’m impounding your bike and driving you home.”

>>39945148
> “I’m impounding your bike and driving you home.”

> “I’m impounding your bike and driving you home.”

“Top!” He flies over to you. “Wait here, call in a 10-51, need a tow for this bike. I’m gonna impound it.” He swings forward in a nod, returning to his port in the car.

“You’re taking my bike!?” She looks positively incredulous as you start writing up the report on your PDA. “I built that, it cost me a lot of money to build that bike, Uncle Streucker!”

“You should’ve thought that before you went street racing, Anita,” you say. “Now go ahead and get in my car and be thankful I’m not arresting you.” She’s red in the face, but she knows you’re in the right here, which is why she storms off and enters your passenger seat. You hit up dispatch. “Dispatch, escorting female subject home. 10-51 on my location, Top will meet the two.”

…

…

“So, why street racing?” you ask.

She leans on your car door, looking out the window. “Because it’s fun.”

“It’s dangerous,” you cut in.

“It’s still fun.” She folds her arms, moping. “Besides, school sucks. All the robots do is give us slideshows and expect us to remember them. We never get to do anything cool.” Oh you remember when they implemented TEACH robots into schools. Big uproar about replacing teachers and such. TEACH units aren’t as effective as real flesh and blood ones, but they are cheap. “Racing though, you should’ve seen it.”

“I don’t need to, I got better things to do,” you say.

“Yeah, like bringing in the real criminals,” she says. “Tell me, Uncle Streucker, what’s it really like being a cop?”

“It’s wonderful, best thing I ever did with my life,” you say, almost robotically.

“Is it really?”

[1/2]

>>39945502
[2/2]

You hesitate a little, then nod. “Yeah. It is.” She looks at you, knowing. You shake your head, continuing to drive on. “How’s your brother?” Good, good, change the subject. Her brother’s a good talking point, star pitcher of his college team. Well, used to be until he threw out his arm on the second to last pitch of what would’ve been a perfect game. God, what a waste.

Anita shrugs. “Could be worse. He’s still studying. But, you know. Hasn’t been the same since the game.”

“I figured,” you say. “At least he’s doing okay.” You pull up to her apartment complex. “Alright, here we are. I’ll let you go in on your own, I won’t bother your parents because I know they need their sleep but I’ll have Top call them tomorrow about what happened tonight.”

She rolls her eyes, stepping out of the car. “Yes, Uncle Streucker.”

“I don’t want to see you racing again,” you do declare. She nods, shutting the door and heading back in.

…

…

You’ve rejoined with Top in the meantime. However, he has something to say. || I am running low on power. I believe I will not be useful to you for the rest of the night. || Ah, that’s the thing about his model, and why he’s closing in on the end of his service life: low batteries. || Shall I shut down? ||

> Stretch yourself, I need you just a little longer.
> No, shut down and recharge.
> Other

>>39945521
>> No, shut down and recharge.

>>39945521
>> No, shut down and recharge.

>>39945521
> No, shut down and recharge.

>>39945521
>> No, shut down and recharge.

> No, shut down and recharge.

You nod. “Go ahead and shut down. I’ll call you when I need you.” He quickly swivels around, then locks into the port in the back of your squad car. The light on his photoreceptors go dark, indicating his shut down. You enter in the driver’s seat and start back on your beat. Alone at last. You check the time. 2:30 AM. Just another 3 and a half hours before you can go home for the day. Just gotta pull through, pull through.

Patrolling through these streets isn’t too bad with few people out and about. You pull up behind a car. Red light. Honest to goodness, you’re glad for nights like these. The nights when they’re just sort of… quiet. No one needs your help, no one is calling for Uncle Streucker, or just doing anything wrong.

Just simple peace and quiet.

Green light, time to go. Your car however pulls a very shaky left turn, actually hit the curb. Great, some peace and quiet that was. You flash your lights and call over the PA. “Pull over.” Right turn signal, he’s pulling to the side of the road. You pull up behind him and sigh. Routine traffic stop. Looks like you got a drunk driver.

You get out of the car and pull up your PDA and hit up the breathalyzer function, then walk over to the car. You stand by his door, quickly checking his plates. Nothing unusual, this car is his. Right, you lean down. “Right. You know you just nicked that curb-“

It happened fast, quite fast, too fast for a drunk driver.

He shot you.

And now you’re lying on the ground, a bullet wound that just seems to have barely missed your heart. You take a deep breath, holding your hand over the wound. Blood is seeping right through gloves. Goddamn it. He speeds away, blue four door, license plate KP22LJ. You blink, your world suddenly blurring.

Damn it, damn it. Think, you’re bleeding.

> “Officer down!”
> “Top!”
> Crawl to your car, try and pursue.
> Other

>>39945905
>> “Top!”

>>39945905
> “Officer down!”

>>39945905
>> “Officer down!”

>>39945905
>> “Top!”

>>39945905
>> “Officer down!”

>>39945905
> “Officer down!”
> “Top!”

>>39945905
>Officer down!

Damn, I've been loving this quest. It's not often we get to play as a common hero. In this instance a mook beat cop, the local neighborhood hero

> “Officer down!”

You reach for your mic. “11-99!” You shout. “Officer down! Shots fired!” You drag yourself over to the curb, feeling every muscle below your neck weaken and scream at any bit of exertion. Whatever that bullet did to you, it did it to you good. You look to see the little droplets of blood you’ve left behind.

“Copy, U433, EMT-A dispatched to your 10-20.”

You breathe deeply, biting your lip, clutching at your wound. “Units,” you croak. “Be on the lookout for blue four door, license plate King Paul 2 2 Lincoln John, gone westbound from my 10-20.” You lean back on the curb, trying to keep your breathing in check. It’s not a serious wound, seems like your Kevlar took most of the hit, but you’re still bleeding.

Really, this isn’t the first time you’ve been shot. This was just complacency. You assumed a routine traffic stop wouldn’t turn into a shots fired. Never assume anything in the Sector Police. God, goddamn it. You feel the little needles of your wound poke and prod. More blood is escaping. “Top!” you yell. No response, damn it. One time you need him.

Finally, an EMT-A Drone arrives, hovering down to you. He quickly scans your vitals, then you let go of the wound. A needle pops right into your wound, dispensing a chemical that’ll break down the bullet inside of you into healthy consumable chunks for your body to process. Then it’ll get to work sewing you back up. Fucking hurts but it’ll get you back on your feet within the day at least.

A squad car pulls up, Sergeant Cutler. “Streucker! Which way did the perp go!?” You point down west. “Got it! We’re going after him!” His tires squeal as the lights and sirens blare through the night.

You pant, lying there, letting the EMT drone work on you.

That’s the end of your shift.

>>39946322
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lZ2M3U_6s3U

That's it for what I can do tonight. I might run tomorrow again though if this thread survives but I was thinking this as a oneshot for now. If it's popular though, I might keep running it.

>>39946351
I liked this quest, it's nice and simple, but at the same time compelling and exciting. I would play again.

>>39946351
overall 9/10 would definitely play again.

I liked it. Great thread Badge.

>>39946351
You did good, Badge.

>>39946425
>>39946476
>>39946529
Thanks all of you for participating. Hopefully I can return to the concept.

>>39946546
Does thou have the Twitter?

>>39946621
Not at the moment since I intended this as a one shot. However I'll get one later if I find I have the time to run this regularly.

Hmmm. Telling the soon-to-be-decommissioned robot that it's alright to kill someone in self-defense. I see where this is going.

>>39946351
Just woke up. Good fucking quest man.

Just woke up. Would anyone care for another session today later starting at around 2:30PM EST?

>>39951149
I'm down

>>39951149
Yeees.

>>39951149

Count me in.

>>39951149
I'm interested.

>>39951149
I'm down.

1. Can we get a list of Sector police 10 codes?

2. Can we please search people for weapons before transporting them? Less we get shot in the back of the head.

3. Description of the zapper and its capabilities? I assume it is an energy weapon and not just a tazer even if it looks like one.

4. As a former beat cop myself much of the tactics (or lack thereof) were cringe worthy.

5. Are we wearing body armor? There was a mention about kevlar in the very first post.

6. What less lethal options are their besides baton and zapper? Its 2153 where is my net/goo gun and jet pack?

>>39951934
>>39951950
1. I use this site for codes. http://www.policecodes.net/ten-codes/

With additional ones.

10-115: Robot
a: Deceased
b: Suspicious
c: Malfunctioning
d: Slated for Decommissioning
e: Pick up

10-119: Illegal Religious Activity (Government is staunchly atheist)

10-201: Nanos activity

2. Searching people for weapons is standard procedure. Police drones like Top's job is to scan people ahead of time for drugs and weapons.

3. The zapper is a multi-purpose pistol which functions using charged energy. Low settings are stun which function much like a taser. High settings are lethal which function much like a heat ray.

There's also an ion setting for robots, but that tends to drain the battery. Most Officers just carry a spare ion PDW in their trunk.

4. I myself am not a cop so I don't really put a claim on realism. Plus it's the future, things change.

5. All Officers wear a light Kevlar vest, good for stopping most weaponry but if a perp brings a laser and sets it to high, you're basically fucked.

6. Well, you got your gloves, which are weighted plus act as insulation against electric shocks, and are good for keeping needles from sticking you (most of the time). Cuffs are also designed to give people a shock on command in case they try running. Shotguns are also graded for beanbag or shock rounds but many Officers load them with buckshot.

Pepper spray is also available, but it's a relatively weak deterrent against nano hoppers, druggies, it mostly sits on your belt unless someone is getting really rowdy and you don't want to use up the zapper.

And if all else fails before you want to break out the shotgun, Top carries a zapper, and an electric shock baton, along with having enough dexterity to carry items and perps.

Other than that, the net guns and the jetpacks lie in storage unless there's a protest or a riot in progress.

>>39951934
>4. As a former beat cop myself much of the tactics (or lack thereof) were cringe worthy.

Please feel free to write some in them.

Or give critique on what we did wrong, or what the QM did wrong

So what exactly are nanos anyways?

>>39952864

Seem like black market nanomachines that are poorly designed and eat away at your brain after giving you super strength

>>39952864
>>39952916
A little bit of that, nanomachines can seriously enhance a person's physical capabilities, sort of like extreme steroids. Very much illegal due to the fact that they're not safe to use as they do degrade and eventually malfunction and start eating away at internal organs. This sort of thing can be staved off though with a hefty diet.

>>39952854

former cop here...

First let me say that the writing was good and it was interesting! No shift is ever that crazy IRL but hey it isn't 2152 AD.

1. Not searching motorcycle racer girl before transport. Many guys won't even give people rides (other then transporting suspects to jail) in the first place because of liability and or risk of accusation of impropriety.

2. Stopping while transporting to deal with a robot hooker. No, waste of time. Do not stop. Get suspect booked as fast as possible.

3. First "choice" there is no choice, you respond to violent domestic ASAP.

4. Violent domestic with armed suspect everyone votes to set phaser to stun. FAIL

This is the typical untrained civilian answer. Not trying to be condescending here....This is equivalent to people, who don't know shit raging that the police shot someone with a knife "you should have shot the knife out of suspects hand".

In real life you meet lethal force with lethal force. You do not try to subdue, use less lethal or anything else with someone with a lethal weapon i.e. a knife. There is serious misconception that it is an inappropriate to use lethal force against a perp with a blade. On the contrary it is sound tactics to use lethal force in such a scenario if you want to stay alive.

5. Having a duty weapon that changes from stun to lethal at the flip of a switch. This could cause all sorts of problems. No police admin or lawyer for the city iworld would approve this. Under stress (like in a fight) it is hard to do things. it is hard to flip little switches and remember if it is lethal or not. A lot of people would end up dead through legitimate stress accidents. Already IRL we have officers shooting people saying "they ment to grab their taser". There is a reason the taser is on a different part of the belt. For a right handed officer baton, pepper spray and taser are on left, gun right. A Taser has a safety like no firearm in existence. But still this happens.

>>39953065
You seem to be under the impression that this is an exercise in boring realism.

Protip : It isn't

5. I wouldn't leave a shot officer incapable of defending himself. Start doing buddy aid immediately. We had an officer shot in my city about 15 years ago. It was a tranny hooker that stayed with the officer and held pressure on his gun shot wound till help arrived. Our department sort of looked the other way on the gays and tranny hookers for a long time.

When I was a rookie we went into a seedy gay bar. Not a nice one. The call was unconcious man at bar. Before we went in I thought he was just going to be another drunk. Was a white frat boy type. Had a good shiner "where he hit his head on the bar". What really happened is he picked a fight and got his ass cold cocked. Sarge said forget about it. Sorry to go off subject.

I only did the job for 4 years after getting back from serving in the Army as an infantryman in Iraq and Afghanistan.

I left for two reasons. One was suspect with a gun call guy is holding girlfriend hostage. We barge in house and suspect is sitting on couch with a realistic toy airsoft M1911A1 .45 we are yelling drop the gun while yelling and pointing guns. Suspect is yelling it is a toy while not dropping the gun. We are yelling I don't care (cue Tommy Lee Jones in the Fugitive) drop the gun. I have a Remington 870 Police model loaded with 00 Buck pointed at suspects chest center mass and I am taking up slack on the trigger to less then a millimeter before the trigger breaks.

Suspect complies and gets dog piled. I am covered in sweat. Fuck this job. Quit shortly after I found another jobs. $22 per hour + $1 per hour shift differential.

I work in sales now. Make more money, home every night.

>>39953065
Kill yourself, it's play pretend on the internet and you care about realism?

>>39953180
On the contrary I think that "boring realism" adds to plausibility which can make fiction more enjoyable.

>>39953232
I should kill myself because I like plausibility and some realism in my fiction?

>>39953065
>4. Violent domestic with armed suspect everyone votes to set phaser to stun. FAIL

It's the future though. I imagine these zappers are better than our phasers.

>>39953180
>>39953232
>realism is bad WAAAAHHH
Cry some more someone had critique.

>>39953301
And I actually do appreciate his critique of it. Doesn't mean I will implement all of what he says but at the same time I won't ignore it. Part of what I think the charm of this Quest is the fact that I'm not going for a super-ultra police thriller of some kind. It's just a guy doing his job. His ultra shitty job in a PD filled with zealous, corrupt, worn down, sometimes all three, cops.

I'm not aiming for realism since it is the future, but at the same time, that doesn't mean I won't try to add a little reality to the situation.

>>39953241
Yeah, no. Especially when "plausibility" barely applies to what you propose

> Not searching motorcycle racer girl
> Stopping while transporting to deal with a robot hooker
> Get suspect booked as fast as possible
> First "choice" there is no choice, you respond to violent domestic

All of these imply we are following the police code to the letter. Something we are not forced to do. Therefore, when you assert it as immovable facts, you just come across as that one jackass that can't deal with people voting for choices that differ with his.

And a special mention to
> Violent domestic with armed suspect everyone votes to set phaser to stun
Since all that would have caused is a needless casualty

>>39953301
>WAAAAHHH
The height of argumentation right there mate,

File: PBF209-Now_Showing.jpg (108 KB, 900x300)

108 KB JPG

>>39953232

>>39953332
>The height of argumentation right there mate,

Kinda like telling someone to kill himself.

>>39953384
So I take it it's your first week here then ?

I didn't tell him to go kill himself btw

>>39953332

I am guessing you are Eurotrash and expect unarmed bobbies to not use lethal force against people with knives. There are no "needless casualties" if you comply. Drop the knife but I am not going to a lethal situation with a non lethal weapon. That is good tactical sense.

>>39953226

Ignore all the moaning retards, your experiences are a valuable addition to the thread and /tg/. Thanks for posting.

>>39953438

Thx I'll post as "Paladin" from now on. All you guys who want to use "stun" against knife armed perps I encourage you to read this: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tueller_Drill

>>39953437
>>39953474
Yeah, when the knife guy is cowering in a corner, and our stun function is strong enough to drop him anyway, I don't think we need to go lethal.

If we were talking about the nano guy I'd agree with you, but we aren't.

>>39951149

I missed the first session, but I'm totally up for another.

This is pretty damn cool.

We're gonna start in about ten-twenty minutes. Stand by.

> 16/11/2153
> TIME: 5:30 PM
> SECTOR 222-BA
> POPULATION: 6,263,782 est

As you thought, getting shot wasn’t too great of a deal thanks to the EMT-A. You spent a few hours under getting extended rest, short hospital stay paid for by the Government, and then it was back to the precinct. Of course, that meant having to get Top recharged, having to file out the paperwork on how you got shot, getting the evidence to charge the guy who shot you, having to catch the guy who shot you, and then having to charge him and book him.

Took the better part of the morning and that meant you were just dead tired by the time you were being debriefed by Captain Colston in her office.

You know Captain Regina Colston very well actually. The both of you entered the Academy at precisely the same time. Hell, the two of you competed against each other from time to time. You still remember her soft red hair tied into a ponytail, that winning smile that could disarm any crook, and her flexibility in a fight even while wearing a duty vest, a jacket, and a helmet. Of course, where she had flexibility, you had reach. Sometimes the sparring between you two got intense those days. And of course, those days were before you met Anneliese. So it wasn’t like it hurt to have a few “tiebreakers” on the side. That was when she was fit, lean, her chest was supple, her skin was smooth, and her body built up to work.

Those were the old days.

Regina’s soft hair was now fading into a miserable white on the edges, her winning smile was replaced by a permanent scowl, and her once amazing flexibility was compromised by a knife to the gut that nearly killed her. She’s still got the body, but the attitude has long since died. Still, she had ambition, unlike you. That’s how she became a Captain, while you stayed a beat cop for twenty years.

[1/2]

>>39954988
[2/2]

Right now, she was typing away at her computer behind her desk, a lit cigarette smoking between her fingers. Her old Top unit sat on the wall, decommissioned, still with the name “Tophat” scrawled across the side. This was her usual day, sitting behind the desk, making sure everyone did their job through the usage of surveillance. “Awright…” she says, a husky growl to her tone. “Aaron. Here’s what’s gonna happen.” She looks over at you, adjusting her glasses. “You’re fit to go back to work, so no complaining about that.”

You shrug. Fair enough.

“However, I’ll be assigning you a ride-along until further notice.” What. “I know what you’re gonna say, ‘you work better alone, the people know you, they don’t know the ride-along’, and here’s what I have to say. I don’t give a fuck, you’re getting a partner until I say you don’t need one.”

You cross your arms. “Regina-“ Her scowl deepens. “… Captain. Look, I’ve been patrolling these streets for twenty years. Sure, I’ve been shot, cut, stabbed, bruised, even burnt a couple of times. But come on, I can handle myself.”

“It’s not about handling yourself, we still got rookies to train. I’d rather at least one learn from you than from McConnell or god forbid one of the northside beaters,” she declares. “Guy I’m assigning’s pretty impressionable too, he ain’t no yokel we picked up from the side of the road.” You roll your eyes. She’s quiet for a few seconds, then you can tell she’s trying to sweeten the deal. “He’s a Broadsiders fan.”

Well! When she puts it like that! You really want some greenhorn in your passenger seat! Ha! Ha! Fucking! Ha!

> “If you’re going to assign me a ride-along, I want someone with experience.”
> “Just this once, can you not do this, Captain?”
> “Fine, I can take him.”
> Other

>>39955002
> “Fine, I can take him.”
But just to be on the safe side i'd like to know more about the rookie.

>>39955032
Yeah, I'll second that

>>39955002
> “Fine, I can take him.”

“Fine, I can take him.”

Field Training Officer

>>39955032

"I reserve the right to beat him if he's an annoying little shit though."

>>39955392
Beatings don't sound good. Maybe a slap across the back of his/her head.

>>39955002
>> “If you’re going to assign me a ride-along, I want someone with experience.”

> “Fine, I can take him.”

You’re quiet for a few seconds. On the one hand, it’s an order by Captain Regina Colston. On the other hand, being stuck with a rookie is never fun. Then again, Regina… ugh. You rub your nose, groaning. “Fine. I’ll take him, Captain.”

“Good.” She takes the cigarette from her mouth and douses it in her ashtray. “Your rook’ll meet ya outside. His name’s Harry Johnston. He’ll be learning under you until I say so. Plus, some backup is better than no backup, Aaron, awright?” You stare at her. “Don’t give me that look ya little mopey whiner. You don’t go twenty fucking years being a passive-aggressive little shit. Now get the hell outta my office and get to work. Same hours as usual.” You shake your head, standing up and then giving a salute. “Get, ya fucking anklebiter.”

And with that, you leave Regina’s office. Well, at least she’s as cheery as ever.

…

…

“Officer Streucker?” You can pick out Johnston a mile away, and that’s because instead of a helmet, he’s wearing the peaked cap. God, you haven’t taken your own cap out of the drawer in months. He offers his hand, smiling at you. “I’m Johnston, Harry Johnston. Captain Colston assigned me to be your ride-along.”

You nod. “Take a shotgun.” You motion to your car, and he quickly jogs over to the passenger side door. You sit down in the driver’s seat and check on Top’s power level. Good to go, you turn him on. “Top, you read?”

|| Yes, Officer Streucker. Who is the new Officer? ||

“Johnston, Top. Top, Johnston,” you quickly introduce.

“Nice to meet ya, Top!” says Johnston. “Can’t wait to get one of my own.”

“After this shift, maybe not,” you mutter. “Top, any outstanding calls from dispatch?”

|| Not at the moment. ||

[1/2]

>>39955620
[2/2]

“Good, good.” You pop your knuckles, bouncing your shoulders as well, then you grip the wheel. “Listen, Johnston, first thing’s first. Wear the helmet next time, alright? Better to have a sweaty scalp than a split one fighting a thug.” He nods immediately, keeping his hand on his duty vest. “Second thing…” You point to his belt. “Is that a gun?”

He nods, pulling it from his holster. “Yeah, bought it last month when I was at Academy. Figured I’d need a service gun next to my zapper.” You take it from him, examining closely. Pure black, .45 caliber. Safety is on. Hm, decent make. You hand it back to him.

“Alright, but mostly you’re gonna be relying on your zapper. That .45 will definitely stop a guy dead but it ain’t gonna help in bringing someone down non-lethally.”

He shrugs, his smile fading a little. “I just thought… you know, the threat of it as well.”

“We’re cops, we’re threatening enough. Besides, you don’t buy a guy to threaten someone.” You put the car into gear. “Alright, Top, plot route.”

> Patrol northbound. Dealer activity isn’t too high while the sun’s still out but you might get lucky.
> Patrol eastbound. Some kids are still in their clubs, but a lot are going to be walking home. Might as well make sure they’re safe.
> Patrol southbound. Anita did tip you off a race was today, you might catch it before it starts.
> Patrol westbound. You could do with some dinner first.

>>39955632
> Patrol westbound. You could do with some dinner first.

Get to know the new guy first.

>>39955709
Seconding.

>>39955632
> Patrol eastbound. Some kids are still in their clubs, but a lot are going to be walking home. Might as well make sure they’re safe.
Dinner can wait a bit

>>39955709
>>39955765

Thirding. Let's buy him dinner or something, it's his first day.

File: My Nigga.jpg (52 KB, 300x230)

52 KB JPG

>>39955872
It's his training day?

>>39955632
> Patrol southbound. Anita did tip you off a race was today, you might catch it before it starts.

Lets get him something to eat at the end of the shift. It's his first day on the force so naturally things will go to shit, and we don't need him puking in the middle of a crime scene.

>>39955954
>and we don't need him puking in the middle of a crime scene.

Nah, that'll be fun.

>>39955632
>> Patrol westbound. You could do with some dinner first.

Lets do this. It"ll be fun

> Patrol westbound. You could do with some dinner first.

…

…

“Why are we stopping at this diner?” asks Johnston.

You respond to dispatch instead. “U433-222-BA, Code 7.” You key the mic off, and turn to him. “Dinner time.” You step out of the car, and he does as well, looking around confusedly. “This place is a pretty good neighbor, so you shouldn’t worry yourself. I just come round here to have some dinner. Greasy’s a pretty good place to get a cut of meat.” You pat the top of the car. “Top, overwatch.” Top flies out of the car, heading up into the sky. “Come on, let’s go.”

You step through the front door and feel the scent of fried chicken and cooked steak just slam you like a locomotive. Johnston flaps his hand around his nose, squinting a bit. Probably an up town boy. “Greasy!” you call. The diner isn’t too busy, but that’s mostly because it’s a diner, most people get their food out of ration stations or out of the shared housing blocks. Poor can’t afford to eat out at a place like Greasy’s.

The man himself leans out of the kitchen window, thick beard hiding his second chin. “Streucker, usual?” You nod, heading up to the counter and sitting on the stool. Johnston sits down next to you, adjusting his duty belt slightly. “What about your friend?”

You pat his arm. “Order something.”

“Um.” He looks up at the menu hanging off the ceiling. “Yeah, just uh… get me a cheeseburger and some water, that good?” You nod.

“Comin’ up!” yells Greasy.

[1/2]

>>39956458
[2/2]

“So uh…” Johnston squints a bit, messing with the napkin on the counter. “What do you usually get here?”

“Cut of steak, fries, coffee, top it off with some hashbrowns,” he says. “Nothing too big.” You pat him on the arm again, surprising him. “By the way, don’t bother paying, it’s on me.”

“Really?” You nod, and to that he grins widely. You remember a grin like that from Regina back at the Academy. Almost makes you smile. “Gee, thanks, Streucker!” And just a few minutes later, your orders come in. Johnston picks up his incredibly greasy burger, hesitantly. But the minute he takes a bite out of it, he is loving it. “Oh jeez, this is good.”

You nod. “Best food for miles. Better than my ex-wife.” He chuckles a little, some crust and meat spitting from his mouth. You start cutting into the hashbrowns and take little bites here and there. Might as well take your time. “So, how long you in?”

“Just a couple of days, my first night shift actually,” he says. “How is it?”

“Oh, it’s tiring but generally night time is when most people sleep so you’re not gonna get your balls busted trying to settle domestic disputes, traffic stops, all that meaningless trite,” you say. “Really, anybody out after eleven is generally up to something.”

He nods. “Alright.” He pulls out his notepad and… starts writing it down. What?

“Why are you writing it down?” you ask.

He stops, looking at you. “My mom always told me to write stuff down.” Oh Jesus H. Christ.

> “You don’t need to write everything down. That’s what Top’s for.”
> “Fine, fine, write it down. Let me give you a few other tips too.”
> “Less writing, more eating, we gotta head out soon.”
> Other

>>39956479

"I am your mom now, stop writing shit down."

>>39956479
> “Fine, fine, write it down. Let me give you a few other tips too.”
No need to crush his enthusiasm just yet

>>39956479
> “You don’t need to write everything down. That’s what Top’s for.”

"But if you're set on doing that, then"

> “Fine, fine, write it down. Let me give you a few other tips too.”

>>39956479
>Smile
>Don't worry, noone's going to test you on this.

>>39956550
seconding.

>>39956755

Seconded.

> “Look at me, look at me, I’m your mom, now.”

You tap him on the shoulder, then point to your eyes. “Look at me.” He nods. “Look at me.” He nods again, more sure of himself. “I’m your mom now.” He stops himself, confused by that. “And as your new mom, I’m telling you. Ya don’t need to write all that shit down. That’s why we have Top. Ain’t no one gonna test ya. You hear?”

He hesitates, then nods slowly. “Okay, Streucker.”

“Alright. I declare, if you are being tested, it’ll be less paper and more physical. Remember that.” He nods, moving to write it down in his notepad. You almost stop him, almost. But alas, if he wants to write it down, he’ll write it down. You start eating again.

“So, what made you want to join the force then?” he asks.

You shrug. “Always wanted to be a cop. Dad was one, always told me stories.” Of course, you’ll have to leave out that Dad was a bit of a drunk and that he always came home late at night smelling like motor oil. “You?”

“Well, figured I’d skip college, be a cop. Get a nice pension,” he says. Pension isn’t that great but at least one isn’t drowning in college debt. “Plus, I’d get to know people, all over.”

“Yep!” Greasy comes over, laying hands on the counter and leaning forward to you all. “Streucker’s one of those cops, knows damn near everybody and damn near everybody knows him. Call him Uncle Streucker, haha!” Oh for fuck’s sake, Greasy.

“Uncle?” asks Johnston.

“It’s uh…” You stop yourself. No, no excuses. “Yeah.”

“Ha!” Greasy slaps you on the shoulder. “Might not look like it but this ashtray has a silver tongue like a motherfuckin’ politician. Hey, word of advice for you, kid.” Johnston readies his notepad. “Negotiation skills are your prime thing. You can shoot someone at two meters, you can chase down some greaser going down a block, but if you want to stop that before it happens, learn to negotiate like Streucker did.”

[1/3]

>>39957546
[2/3]

You snap your finger. “Good stuff, Greasy.” You have to hand it to him, that cook knows more about being a cop than some of the cops you’ve seen here. Shame he’s just a cook.

Dispatch chimes in. “U433, call of a suspicious gathering on Storefront on 73rd and Pike. Code 1.” Oh great, in the middle of dinner too.

You sigh, keying the mic. “10-4, responding.” You pat Johnston on the arm. “Come on, let’s go.” He nods, quickly stuffing the last bits of burger into his mouth. “Sorry for not finishing dinner, Greasy.”

“Hey, it’s alright.” You drop the money for him on the counter, the change is his tip. “Keep up the good work.”

…

…

Johnston is a little on edge as you approach the suspicious gathering in your car. “Top, any weapons and drugs?”

|| Scans are negative on either. But the new Officer must know these scanners do not pick up blunt weaponry or knives. ||

Well, good to know. You look over at him as he holds his hand on his zapper grip. “Relax, it’s just some delinquent gangsters. They ain’t doing anything wrong. One of the stores probably called it in because they think they’re looking suspicious or something.” You park the car on the curb. “Stay by the car, I’ll handle it.” He nods, stepping out with you.

The six or so kids turn to you. Their school uniforms are customized with all manner of little things, unbuttoned shirts, hiked up skirts, rolled up sleeves, paint on the socks or the paints, and goggles. Always with the goggles. Must be racers. “Hey.” You point at the one with the rolled up sleeves, purple paint on his blazer, and a black eye. “You, Daniel. Come here.”

Yep, you recognize them. The Purples, youth gang operates in this area. Nothing too big other than racing, vandalism, occasional armed robbery. Daniel comes up to you. “What’s da matter, Uncle Streucker?”

[2/3]

>>39957568
[3/3]

You sigh, hooking your thumbs onto your belt. “I got a call saying of a suspicious gathering, I assume it’s y’all.” He presses his lips together, nodding. “Y’all don’t mind if me and my partner quickly pat y’all down, right?”

He shakes his head. “No sir, we don’t sling no drugs round here.” You motion Johnston over, then command the kids to stand by the wall. In methodical fashion, you pat them down one at a time, checking their pockets, their shoes, their socks, their hats, everything. Johnston is a little hesitant to do the girls, so you have to do them for him.

And just as you thought, nothing to note. You let them relax again. “How’d you get that shiner, Dan?”

He exhales, angrily. “Oh yeah, some punk northside, comes at me. Fucking lays hands on me!”

One of the girl, bright purple lipstick and purple streaks in her hair. “Yeah! Real fucking pussy!”

“Yeah, actually Officer I was wondering,” he says. “I was planning on going over there, teach him a motherfucking lesson in manners, know what I’m saying?”

“That’s mob assault,” you say.

“No, no, I was gonna do it one on one, some samurai bullshit!” he declares. “Call him out on his turf, fight him man to motherfucking man, catch me?” Eh, you can understand where he’s coming from, actually. He makes a few hearty jabs in the air. “Like, pow, pow, watch dat mother drop like a sack of sponges.”

> “Your form’s terrible.”
> “Daniel, don’t do that. Someone’s gonna catch you and then I’ll be disappointed.”
> “Alright then.”
> Other

>>39957592
> “Your form’s terrible.”

Tell him not to fight, but give some advice on how to correct and better his stance if he has stop.

>>39957592
>Suggest he get him in a boxing ring so he can kick his butt and get away with it

>>39957592

"You're standing all wrong, Dan. You're gonna get your ass kicked."

Show him how to stand right and throw a jab, at the very least.

"And here's a good rule, don't run into enemy turf looking to samurai battle. now the rest of you oughta clear out before I catch you street racing, ya hear?"

>>39957592
>If he really is a pussy then he"ll just gang up on you when you go alone

>>39957835

Seconded.

> “Your form’s terrible.”

“Dan, I’m gonna be candid.” He tilts his head. “Honest, I mean.” He nods, understanding. “Your form’s terrible, you gotta build up a solid stance first. Here, let me show ya.” You place your left foot forward, and your right foot back, then hold up a pair of good solid fists. “Like this, yeah. None of that feet wide, bouncing and shaking, bull, none of that.” He nods, standing next to you and copying the stances. The other kids watch closely, gossiping and making a few comments. “Now, I was a bit of a slugger in school, but something I did, real nasty trick for them. Here, stand here.”

You decide it’d be harmless to give them a trick or two in punching. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. Hold out your hand.” Daniel holds out his hand as two of his buddies come over to watch. “I’m gonna give ya three jabs. Don’t let me hit your hand, alright?” You throw one punch, he dodges it, another, dodges it again. “And here comes the third.”

You punch the hand, slowly. They lose their shit, laughing and gasping in amazement. “How the fuck you do that? I was- How-“

“Cool it, cool it. Here, here’s what I do. Let me explain.” He holds out his hand again. “I’m just doing the stance, I’m not telegraphing. You know.” You bounce a little in place, shaking your shoulders. “Doing this or that.” You make a few testing jabs. “This or that, even.” You make another punch, this time he dodges. “Now, your untrained reflex, anybody’s untrained reflex can dodge a punch when they see it coming. They see me real pissed, angry, I’m about to wreck some poor boy’s shit I declare. But here’s the simply beauty of this punch. I’m not really telegraphing, it’s not speed or power behind it, it’s technique. All I’m doing is moving forward.”

[1/3]

>>39958358
[2/3]

You throw another punch, this time he doesn’t manage to dodge it. “See that?” you say, they all nod in understanding. “Only moving forward. And the thing about it is that it’s about tricking the reflex. It’s like if the car ahead of ya didn’t have brake lights, you’d rear end him without that big ol’ red lights telling you, got it?” They nod. Johnston leans on the hood, looking at you curious. “Your mind can’t see gradual stuff. Because you all see is the fist changing size. I’m not moving to the side, or the other side, it’s about going forward.” You punch again, another successful hit. “Knockout punches isn’t about they can’t see it, it’s because their reflexes don’t pick it up. Now, I’m using my good hand, this is my power hand. But I’m not using speed or power behind it.”

“Yeah,” says one of them. “No power behind it.”

“But you can put a shit ton of power behind it, he won’t notice,” you say. “All he’s gonna see is a fist growing in size, but his reflexes don’t pick it up like that, so he just doesn’t see it. Got that?”

“Yeah!” Daniel smiles, laughing. “Shit, that’s real awesome!” He holds out his hand, and you slap it in a good affectionate handshake. “Thanks, Uncle Streucker.”

“Yeah, yeah. Listen, get him in a boxing ring or something, police won’t arrest if it’s legit. Otherwise if that pussy- Look, don’t go full bushido on me, don’t go onto his turf for a one on one, you’re gonna get shot.” He nods, folding his arms. “Okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I see.”

“Alright. Well, y’all might wanna head somewhere else because these shops are thinking y’all are fixing to rob them,” you declare. They nod, deciding to move on. The girls in particularly give you some lovely little eyes and a good shake of the butts as they walk away.

Johnston walks up to you. “Why’d you teach them how to punch?”

[2/3]

>>39958390
[3/3]

You shrug. “Kids like it when you teach them cool stuff like that. Come on, in the car.” You and Johnston sit in the car, then you start back on the patrol route. “Now listen, Johnston, big thing about being a cop is learning to really get to know people here. They’ll be likely to help you, they’ll be cooperative, there’s just no reason to be a dick to them.”

He nods, writing it down. “Alright.”

“Why are you writing that down, it’s common sense,” you say.

“Just- you know.” He shrugs, placing the notepad back into his belt. “I’ll stop.” You roll your eyes. Captain Regina wasn’t kidding about impressionable. “Um, quick question.” You quirk your brow. “Is it really fashion for girls like that to wear skirts that short?”

“I sure hope it is,” you declare. He looks horrified at you. “Haha!” You grin, shaking your head. “No, no. But seriously, it is.” He nods, a little hesitantly.

…

…

“Dispatch, 11-24.” You pull up to the back of an abandoned van on a side street on the crossing between the north and the west parts of the city. Not unusual to find abandoned cars around here, north is a pretty shit territory to beat around. “Abandoned black van on Van Buren Lane. No plates.” You look back at Top. “Top, anything on the scans?”

|| Detecting faint heat signatures, probably laser charges. ||

You nod. “Probably a gunrunner. Johnston, grab the shotgun out of the trunk just in case.” He nods, and you both dismount. Johnston hands off the shotgun to you, and you quickly check the ammo. Eight shells. He pulls out his own .45 and you start peering into the van. Just in case there’s a squirrely guy in there or something. Johnston jiggles the lock on the back of the van.

“Locked,” he says. “Want me to call additional units?” You nod. “Dispatch, requesting additional units on our 10-20. Illegal firearms in black van.”

[3/4]

You take a peer through the driver’s window. Lot of empty beer cans, and you can catch a glimpse of… laser rifles. Oooh, big catch. Whoever dumped these guns here is an idiot.

> Force your way into the van, start compiling evidence.
> Wait for the Detectives and back up to arrive. The detective’s get real squirrely if you mess with things before they arrive.
> Other

>>39958429
> Wait for the Detectives and back up to arrive. The detective’s get real squirrely if you mess with things before they arrive.

>>39958429
>> Wait for the Detectives and back up to arrive. The detective’s get real squirrely if you mess with things before they arrive.
>Drive a bit away, get Top on overwatch. Put the car out of sight. Put yourself out of sight, but try to keep yourself near or in sight of the van yourself. Be that going to a nearby store or whatever.

Lets not stand around a van full of guns that someone is probably expecting to pick up.

>>39958429
> Wait for the Detectives and back up to arrive. The detective’s get real squirrely if you mess with things before they arrive.

Oh god, will Johnston get annoyed with how obviously corrupt the detectives are and how no one is doing anything about it and he ends up becoming the Punisher?

>>39958528
Drugs, prostitution, etc I can see. But guns, guns that may be used by a cop killer? I doubt it. That would get them lynched within the precinct.

>>39958429
"Rule of thumb, if you can, and its warranted, wait for backup. Going in alone is for when you have no other choice. Remember kid, heroes end up in the ground more often than not and then what chance do the poor sods your trying to help have?"

> Wait for the Detectives and back up to arrive. The detective’s get real squirrely if you mess with things before they arrive.

>>39958509
Second

> Wait for the Detectives and back up to arrive. The detective’s get real squirrely if you mess with things before they arrive.

You pat Johnston on the arm. “Alright, here’s what’s gonna happen. We’re gonna wait for Detectives to get here. They hate it when we mess with things before we arrive.” He shrugs, apparently understanding of that. “We got probable cause on the van because of the guns in the back but the detectives will smoke us for contaminating a crime scene.”

He squints a little. “Wouldn’t it be better to just get the guns out now?”

“Yeah, but, gotta follow procedure on these things. And listen, another thing. This is a thing to write down.” He quickly takes out his notepad. “Never go in alone. Don’t be a hero. Smart cops hold out for back up. Got that?” He nods, his pencil scratching along.

After about ten minutes of wait time, an unmarked brown car rolls along. Detectives. They pull up behind your car, then dismount. Plain suits, trenchcoats. Detectives Asher Redford and Coleman McMillan. You know those two quite well. Implicated in a massacre of youth gangsters a decade back, but charges were dropped due to lack of evidence. Most gangsters look at Redford and McMillan and remember Bloody 4th.

[1/2]

>>39959095
[2/2]

Redford walks up to you, already with a lit cigarette hanging in his lips. His moustache is getting a bit bushy you notice. “What’s the skinny?”

“I saw some laser rifles in the back, probably more stuff,” you say. Another black and white arrives, more units. McMillan takes a look in through the back window. Something you had to notice was that McMillan was even shorter than Franco, so short he had to stand on the bumper to get that look in. “Want to call a tow?”

“Yeah,” says Redford. “We’ll take it from here. Just cordon the area off for us while we take a look around.”

You nod, moving back to your car with Johnston, who looks positively astonished. You set your shotgun back in the trunk, and set Top to overwatch. “Um. Streucker.” You look over at him. “That was Redford and McMillain right? The Bloody 4th guys?”

“Hey, they’re innocent, no evidence, remember?” you say. Officer Granger comes over, chewing on dip. “Granger, take the end of this street here, get some tape. Tops’ll start redirecting traffic.” He nods, and he moves on over to the street. You take out your tape and hand it to Johnston. “Cordon off the other end.” He jogs to the other end of the street, hooking the tape around a streetlight, then moving it down to the other.

Great, crime scene work. Great.

> Stand guard, might as well.
> Check in on the residents around here.
> Peer in on the Detective’s investigation, might as well.
> Other

>>39959114

>check with residents

It's our strong suit, let's see if anyone wants to talk

>>39959114
>> Peer in on the Detective’s investigation, might as well.
> Check in on the residents around here.

Make sure they aren't doing things that'll get em nailed ny IA

>>39959114
> Check in on the residents around here.

>>39959114
>> Stand guard, might as well.

We were asked to cordon off.

Otherwise....
>Get Top to watch while we ask residents only shortly inside the buildings, not going upstairs into other rooms, with Johnston watching out the window too just in case

>>39959114
> Peer in on the Detective’s investigation, might as well.

Is Badge died?

And will anyone archive this?

> Check in on the residents around here.

You open the door into one of the apartment complexes, and there you find the landlord at his desk reading the news. “Hey, Mr. Barker.” He looks up, then gasps. “Don’t worry, I ain’t here to arrest anyone. We just found a van full of guns out front, wanted to see if you know anybody who might own that van,” you say.

He shakes his head, bald little guy that he is. “Oh, no, Officer Streucker. Wh- what kind of van is it?” You quickly describe it to him. “Black eh? Uh, no, ring no bells.”

“Alright,” you say.

Mr. Barker smirks a little. “Been a while since I seen you here though, Officer Streucker. Regina still behind that desk of hers.” You shrug. You hate to talk about work at work, paradoxical as it is. “Ah, shame. I thought you two made a cute couple. Then you go marry a real fine looking nurse of course.”

“Well, Mr. Barker, things change,” you say. “By the way, me and Anneliese aren’t uh… together anymore.”

“Oooh…” He leans back, biting his lip. “Sensitive?” You shrug again. “Eh, won’t talk. You got work to do.” He quickly turns his chair and goes back to the news.

News.

Ah, goddamn it, there’s another Broadsiders game today ain’t there. You shake your head, groaning as you step back out into the street. You look over to see Redford and McMillan talking with each other. “Sirs.” They look over at you. “Find anything?”

“Nothing you needn’t worry about,” says Redford. “We’re gonna take the guns back to evidence. Go ahead and return to your patrol, Streucker.” You nod. Alright, great. Relatively painless investigation. You wave over to Johnston, who jogs over to the car. Top again returns and ports himself into the back of your car.

“So, they’re gonna take the guns back to evidence?”

[1/2]

>>39960209
[2/2]

“You’re… that’s- but those are drugs,” says Johnston.

“Well, nobody will miss a couple dozen grams of the stuff,” you state.

…

…

Johnston is a bit quiet. Any smile or enthusiasm he used to have is apparently gone now. Poor kid, didn’t really deserve that. But better to ease him in now rather than have it blown up in his face when he tries to fix the system. No beat cop can fix the system alone. It’d be like selling the idea that robots are people. You check the time. 9:30 PM. Night’s already fallen, means bar close is soon too.

God, you’re really gonna have to prep him for bar close.

You sit at an intersection at a red light. “Listen, Johnston, I-“ A car in the other lane runs the red light. “Nevermind.” You pull up your mic. “Dispatch. 10-38. Code 1.” The car pulls over to the right, allowing you to get behind it. “Alright, looks like two guys, get the passenger.” He nods, stepping out with you as you head up to the car. You turn on your flashlight. “Top, anything?”

|| No firearms or drugs detected. ||

You peer at the driver, a very nervous ruddy-faced man, and his passenger who looks about half-asleep. Yep, drunk as shit. “You realize you just ran that red light back there?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, sir, that light was green.” You keep from rolling your eyes. He rests his hands on his lap.

“Get your hands on the steering wheel,” you bark. You point to the passenger. “You, hands on the dash.” He nods, putting his hands on the dashboard. “License and identification, please.”

[2/3]

>>39960239
[3/3]

He shakes his head again. “N- no sir. I ain’t, that light was green, I’m sure.”

“The light was red, license and-“ He puts his hands off the wheel and onto his legs again. “Put your hands on the wheel.”

The passenger yells at him. “Come on, do what he says, Jim!”

“Shut up, that light was green!” He grips the steering wheel. “He’s just filling a fucking quota, I ain’t got time for this bullshit!” Johnston looks at you, his hand resting on his zapper, concerned.

“Look, the light was red. My drone saw it, my partner saw it,” you declare. “And-“ The driver rests his hands on his knees again. “Put your hands on the wheel!”

“Is there a law that says I gotta do that!?” yells the driver.

“For my safety, put your hands on the wheel!” You’re busting a vein here, fucking shit, why is he making this so difficult. Goddamn bottled justice.

“Listen, Officer, there is no law that says I have to put my hands up on the steering wheel!”

“Goddamn it, Jim!” screams the passenger. “Listen to him!”

“Fuck you, I ain’t gotta take this!” He starts rolling his window up. Fucking Christ.

> Bust the window and drag him out.
> “I am going to give you one last warning!”
> Call for back up.
> Other

>>39960239
You’re… that’s- but those are drugs,” says Johnston.
Wait, what drugs?

>>39960263
> “I am going to give you one last warning!”
Ask him or the passenger if he's color blind?

>>39960352
Johnston is a little peeved at the implication that the Detectives are letting drugs out into the streets in exchange for guns.

>>39960263
> “I am going to give you one last warning!”
> Call for back up.

>>39960352>>39960378
Wait, disregard the last. I missed a section in the copy-paste.

> You nod. “More likely thing is that they take the guns, some drugs magically get misplaced from evidence,” you declare. Johnston blinks, apparently not hearing that right. “It’s just a pattern I noticed at least. Keeps the big guns off the streets thankfully.”

>>39960263
> “I am going to give you one last warning!”
"If this is your big soapbox moment to feel special and unique, just like everyone else, I sure hope its worth a cell and a big muscly 'life-partner'."
> Call for back up.
Get top or rookie to call in

>>39960378
I'm just wondering where the drugs were and how he saw them? I didn't see anything about drugs other than that one line

>>39960395
Ah

>>39960263
> Bust the window and drag him out.
We don't have time for this shit, and I can just feel the hit & run coming

>>39960263
>> “I am going to give you one last warning!”

If he doesn't, then threaten to call for backup and to make a big scene out of a fucking traffic stop.

If he STILL doesn't do it, then call and move away a bit behind the window

>>39960263
>> Bust the window and drag him out.

>>39960508
>>39960431
Enjoy getting dragged along the street, and possibly getting run over.

>>39960263
>> “I am going to give you one last warning!”
Rookie or Top calls for backup if he doesnt immediately comply

> “I am going to give you one last warning!”

You nod to Johnston, for him to call for back up. Johnston keys his mic. “Dispatch, additional units at our 10-20, uncooperative driver.”

You lean down. “Listen. I am going to give you one last warning.” He shakes his head, the window up fully. “You roll down this window, put the vehicle in park, and-“ The car suddenly speeds off, tires squealing down the road. “Shit!” You and Johnston sprint back to the car and hop in. “Top! Get out, pursuit!”

|| FINALLY! || He blasts out of the car and starts the chase. You floor it behind him.

“Dispatch, 10-31, northbound. Brown car, license plate Tom Tom 4 1 Zebra Edward.” You grit your teeth, keeping your foot firmly on the pedal as you speed down the road. You’re not in chase situations often, at least not since the old days. Most suspects keel over when they know it’s you. These guys are definitely drunk or stupid. “Top, give the car an ion blast.”

|| 10-4 || Top fires an ion blast square in the engine block. You can see the car sputter and roar, smoke coming right out of the exhaust. Looks like that really hurt the engine.

“Dispatch, driver is about to bail at our current 10-20,” you call out. The car rolls up a curb. The passenger immediately gets out and puts his hands in the air. “Johnston, get the passenger!” You and him dump out. “Police! Stop!” you yell. You chase after the driver as he runs down the street.

And out of the corner he’s about to bound comes another officer, who tackles him square on. You swear you saw the driver flip sideways right onto the hood of another car. You quickly grab your cuffs. “Lemme see your hands!” Oh, you recognize the officer, it’s Jarvis from last night. He flails around, refusing to get onto his belly. “Stop resisting!”

[1/2]

>>39960969
[2/2]

You grab your zapper and plant the barrel square on his arm. “I will zap you!” you shout. “Get on your stomach. He groans. “I will zap if you do not cooperate!”

“Fuck you!” He tries kicking at you.

“Zapper!” you yell. You blast him on stun. He shrieks like a girl, falling onto the curb onto his stomach. Jarvis is quick to get onto his back and cuff him. You get back on dispatch. “Dispatch, 10-31 resolved. Suspects in custody.”

…

…

You’re speaking with the passenger, him detained and cuffed on the hood of your car. “Yeah, me and Jim were just getting home from the bar after a day’s work. Uhm… yeah, we were drunk.”

“Was he colorblind or something?” you ask. Johnston stands next to you, arms folded.

“No, no, Jim’s just stubborn as all,” he says. “But uh… yeah, we got too many drinks in us, Officer. But we didn’t want to leave his car at the bar, we sure as hell couldn’t walk home.”

You shake your head. “Next time, get a designated driver.” Jarvis comes over, holding a box. “Whaddya got?” He drops it on the hood and opens it up. Oooh, Robot parts, lots of robot parts. Johnston looks positively horrified by that.

“Um.” The passenger blinks, leaning over. “Those ain’t mine. I swear.”

“You know something?” you ask. “Anything? These parts, Jim? Is he a parts rustler? Does he murder luxuries or something?” The passenger shakes his head. “Alright, listen, we’re going to book you both. Lawyers and Detectives will handle you there.” He sighs, letting Jarvis walk him away.

Johnston calls for a word with you. “Um, you know, Streucker.” You place your hands on your belt. “You got a little heated back there. I know uncooperative subjects are a thing but uh…”

> “You’re going to meet a lot of guys like that in even more pointless scenarios.”
> “I got shot last time I did a traffic stop.”
> “Nothing too big, get in the car.”
> Other

I just caught up and I want to say, this is the best quest I've read in over a year.

Your penchant for writing is amazing; and you've written a really likable character in Officer Streucker.

Seriously, I'm hype. I hope this isn't a quest for just one thread.

>>39961001
>> “You’re going to meet a lot of guys like that in even more pointless scenarios.”

>>39961001
> “I got shot last time I did a traffic stop.”

Yeah, sure most people are cool and that's fine, but it only takes one to put a bullet in you. Hands on the wheel is a reasonable request and its for the safety of everyone involved, even if it seems asinine, you do things by the book every damn time for situations like those.

>>39961001
>>Traffic stops are more dangerous than you think. You never know who's behind the wheel and what state of mind he's in. Yesterday I was complacent and got shot for it.

>>39961001
> “You’re going to meet a lot of guys like that in even more pointless scenarios.”
Knew that was coming. We should've just zapped the fool outright

>>39961185
This is also good

>>39961001
> “You’re going to meet a lot of guys like that in even more pointless scenarios.”

>>39961001
>> “You’re going to meet a lot of guys like that in even more pointless scenarios.”
>> “I got shot last time I did a traffic stop.”

> “You’re going to meet a lot of guys like that in even more pointless scenarios.”

You shrug. “Listen, Johnston. You’re going to meet a lot of guys like that in even more pointless scenarios. You never know who’s going to be behind the wheel and what he’s up to in that brain of his.” You’re quiet for a second, then say, “I paid the price for it yesterday. Complacency. Never underestimate a traffic stop.”

He nods quickly, moving to the passenger seat of the car. You noticed he didn’t go to write that down in his notepad. You sit down in the driver’s seat, then wait for Top to port in. “Listen, I know you really wanted to-“

“No, no, it’s okay,” he says. “I mean, this is all a lot to take in. I knew it’d be different but… I didn’t think it’d be like this. Kinda had the notion it’d be all action and excitement.”

“Actin and excitement get old real fast,” you state. “Come on, we still got the beat to cover.” Top ports in, and once the junk is cleared off your hood, you move off into the night.

[1/2]

>>39961755
[2/2]

…

…

You can see the look of exhaustion in Johnston’s face already. “Tired?” you ask. He nods a bit, folding his arms, tipping his peaked cap up. “Don’t bother with the water in your ration packs, stimulants in there are long diluted. Out here, it’s coffee and tobacco.”

“Right,” he says.

There’s a very thick air of awkward in the car now. The once jovial mood that set the stage earlier today is kind of… well it’s gone. And not even because the rookie killed anyone. He just saw how a regular shift might go. Really, put anyone in this job and they won’t be smiling for weeks like you. “So uh. Streucker.” You quirk your brow. “Do you have family?”

“Well, I got my ex-wife, son and a daughter both in high school,” you state. “You?”

“Eh, my parents I suppose. Mom always pushed me to be a cop because she was a cop too,” he says. He never said his mom was a cop. “I mean, I know I said that stuff back at the diner, and it is good to get a steady pension, not have to go to college or anything but…”

“Listen.” You stop the car at a stoplight. “I know what you’re thinking. But being a Police Officer is an honor. Okay? We’re doing a lot of good out here. I mean, sure the government doesn’t work like it should, and hell half the Department might not actually do anything useful, but hell, we’re cops. We keep the peace.”

“You ever think about where we might sit in history?” asks Johnston. “Like, you know how 20th century stuff, you get those pictures of cops blasting protestors with hoses. You think one day, like… hundred years. That could be us?”

> “Well, we wouldn’t use hoses, that's a waste of water, we have tear gas for that.”
> “I try not to think about it.”
> “Most likely, yeah.”
> Other

>>39961774
> “Well, we wouldn’t use hoses, that's a waste of water, we have tear gas for that.”

Beat, then laugh and say

> “Most likely, yeah.”
>Other

"But, despite that, we should still try to do good around here."

Or something along those lines.

>>39961774
> Other
"If the robots start getting upity, then yeah."

>>39961774
> “Most likely, yeah.”
Thing about the past and the future, is that they are not now. Do the best you can in the situation your in, or you'll drive yourself mad. One step at a time.

>>39961774
>People used hoses back then because
>1. They didn't have tear gas....same reason why they'd carry live firearms instead of shotguns with beanbag rounds for protests.
>2. They were unlawful and likely escalating into a riot. Pictures don't always tell the whole story.
>>I get your point though. You're still you. Generally, don't do anything against your moral conscious. Those detectives made their own decision when they decided to be on the take, and down the line they can end up paying for it.

>>39961935
>>39961774

Seconded!

> “Most likely, yeah.”

No point in beating around the bush. “Most likely, yeah.” He looks terrified at the thought of it, leaning back in the seat, shaking his head. “But listen, thing about the past and the future is that they ain’t now. We do the best where we are, that’s the end of it. Yeah, if people want to change the government, they gotta go through us first and goddamn it we will do our jobs. You’re gonna drive yourself mad thinking about it.”

He nods, looking down. “Yeah, okay.”

“Sorry to be harsh but that’s the truth. I ain’t one to beat around things with my kids, I won’t do it to a man like you.” He’s quiet, looking out the window now.

…

“Besides, we got tear gas now, hoses are a waste of water,” you add. He snickers a little. Ah, one step at a one time.

…

…

You drive the car below thirty in this particular area, near the projects. This is prime territory for the scum and villainy and no amount of cop cars or riot squads will handle the issue. It’s like trying to exterminate bedbugs, they always come back no matter how hard you try to force them out. Helps to keep your head on a swivel.

“So, how many people around here own guns?” asks Johnston.

“Lots,” you say. “Some have permits, others don’t.” You look over at him quickly. “Be wary though, someone pulls a gun on you, just shoot him. Don’t try to talk him down.”

“But, the Academy-“

“We’re not the Academy,” you cut in. “This is the beat. People here want to kill you. Probably not me since most of them know me, but you, they don’t know you. Give it a few weeks though, make a couple of arrests, get involved in their lives, these people will learn to like you even if you’re a cop.” He nods, not writing that down in his notepad you notice again. He’s taking it to heart you hope. “But believe me, last thing you want to do is shoot a kid or something.”

[1/2]

>>39962452
[2/2]

He blinks, looking at you. “D- did you shoot a kid?”

…

Best not to answer that.

“Officer! Officer!” You hear the faint yelling of a woman come screaming down the sidewalk. And there she comes in her nightrobes and slippers, Mrs. Janowicz. She comes up to your window, and you roll it down quickly. “Oh thank God, Officer Streucker, it’s you!”

“Calm down, Mrs. Janowicz, what is it?”

“It’s my boy, Calvin!” she cries. “He’s snuck out, I don’t know where he’s gone! He- I think he’s gone to be with those damn druggies!” Goddamn it, Calvin’s only twelve. “Please, Streucker!”

You nod. “I’ll call it in.” Mrs. Janowicz reaches in, crying on your shoulder. “Dispatch, report of a missing child, possible drug related activity. Additional units requested. Name of Calvin Janowicz, lean build, black, buzzed hair.” You look over at Mrs. Janowicz. “I’m sorry, but do you know what he was wearing?” She shakes her head, still sobbing on your shoulder. “Um, subject is uh…” You sigh. Goddamn it, think. “Subject is… small. Child sized.”

“Copy, C-9 unit responding,” says dispatch. Great, McConnell. “Mrs. Janowicz, I want you to return to your projects, I’ll have my partner direct C-9 to you, you gotta help them help you, alright?” She nods, quickly taking a walk back to her projects. Johnston is quick to start directing the C-9 unit. “Top, overwatch.”

|| 10-4. || He unplugs and starts sweeping the area.

“Alright, Top’s on it, C-9 is coming,” says Johnston. “What do we do?”

> Patrol on foot. You got a hunch on where he might be.
> Patrol by car. Can never be too safe.
> Other

>>39962473
>> Patrol by car. Can never be too safe.

>>39962473
> Patrol on foot. You got a hunch on where he might be.

>>39962473
> Patrol on foot. You got a hunch on where he might be.

>>39962473
> Patrol on foot. You got a hunch on where he might be.
We're (hopefully) just dealing with a bunch of local druggies we already know about.

And if we don't, we'll just get shanked, no biggie

>>39962473
>> Patrol by car. Can never be too safe.

>>39962473
Foot.

> Patrol on foot. You got a hunch on where he might be.

“I got a hunch. Come on.” You dismount and unbuckle your flashlight. You start sweeping the dark sidewalks and walk along. He comes along as well, resting his hand on his .45. “I’d relax, you might not need that. Calvin knows me, he probably won’t run from me once he sees me.”

“Probably?” he asks.

“Well, when I say probably…” You do remember Calvin taking a short hop from you after you caught him with possession of some narco. First offense though which meant all you did was give him a ticket. Though, if he’s hanging with druggies, that probably wasn’t his first offense. You shake your head, grimacing. “Top, anything?”

|| I am detecting a gathering on the corner of Finch and 1st North. ||

Alright, might as well head on down there first.

…

…

The gathering happened to be a bunch of street youth hanging around in a lock up. When they see you, you can clearly see them reach into their pockets for knives or other weapons. “Hey!” You hold up your hand. “It’s me, Streucker!” They relax, shaking their heads and laughing it off. You point to one of them, looks like little Wyatt, 10th grade. “Wyatt, come here!” He pushes off from his bike, and walks up to you, pulling his leather jacket on for the cold. “We’re looking for a kid, name of Calvin Janowicz. Small, black kid, buzzed hair. A little bit squirrely, probably with druggie friends?”

Wyatt nods. “Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah.” He points eastbound. “They go dat way, after they done ask us if we got any dope on us. And I tell them, no sir, we don’t sling dope, we race. Fucking little anklebiters trying to act thug, ya know? Think they say they was fixing to rob something or someone.”

[1/2]

>>39963249
[2/2]

“They went that way?” you ask, pointing the direction he did.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, three of them including your kid.”

You nod, clutching your belt. “Thanks, Wyatt. Now listen, it is way past curfew for y’all. So y’all hurry up and get to bed because we got more units coming out and they ain’t gonna be happy to see you.” He nods, turning and yelling to his friends to lock up the bikes and run on home. “Come on, Johnston, this way.”

He nods. “Yeah.”

You key your mic. “Top. Lock onto us, we got an idea of where he might be.”

|| Roger. || You can see him just barely in the dark floating above you all.

After a few minutes of marching about, you see the silhouette of three kids trying to quietly unlock a door into a closed shop. You decide it best to sneak up on him. You motion to Johnston to start sneaking, gently crouched as you sidle up to them.

Wait. You look back at Top, and try to motion him to scan them. Weapons, anything. Top apparently understands, then flashes his receptors twice, then once. One gun. He points a dot on one of them, the one in the dark red hoodie. Alright, alright.

Then you hear sirens in the distance. Damn it! One of them turns around. “Oh shit, the cops!” They all turn around and immediately make a break for it.

“Stop, police!” Top immediately dives out of the air and smacks into one of them, sending them sprawling on the ground. He quickly dispenses cuffs and starts apprehending him. The other two, shit, the one with the gun, where is he!? One went left, the other went right. Damn it!

“I got the one on the left!” yells Johnston as he sprints.

> Back up Johnston.
> Go for the one on the right.
> Other